emotional labor

2016 -- whew, what a little poem I wrote and left in my draft folder.  Why not just share it too?  It's just a relevant now.

Listening to my niece's songs of choice in the car
I paid attention to the lyrics and I noticed some themes
I noticed themes I remember from my youth
Ideas of womanhood that are perhaps just starting to fade

That our worth as women and femmes is in our ability to give
To give
And give
And give

Primarily to give to men

To give them everything we are
Everything we have
And in return
We are loved

Maybe

This is what I believed in for so long
That my worth lies in what I can give to others
That my emotional labor is what defines my goodness, my heart, my soul
And that work is never meant to be for myself

I think perhaps this is the thing that is breaking
That is no longer enough
I can't measure my happiness in how others feel towards me
I can't measure my happiness in whether they stay

thoughts after an interview

I wrote this way back in 2020 after interviewing for an HR role with a big Bay Area nonprofit.  And in re-reading it, still seems relevant.  So I thought I'd post it after all. 

She says... 

"The culture in nonprofits and the payscale is very different than in tech companies"

"Culture isn't as big of a part of what we do"

Ok but here's the thing "culture" happens anytime more than two humans get together. It's just the name for the norms we establish in groups. Whether you purposefully work on it or not, it's there.

So a good question to ask is why are you ignoring it? Do you not know this? Does organic culture just appeal to you, because putting conscious work into it feels contrived?

Or, is it because in the face of the capitalism and the very real harm and oppression faced by your clients, this seems like a luxury to pay attention to? Are you too focused on surviving to put energy towards thriving?

This goes to the pay scale thing too. Because it's expensive as fuck to live here. We all know this. Why wouldn't you pay a living wage? Isn't that part of the justice you're working towards also?

This all links together. We live our mission through our work, aka what we do with our time and energy and bodies and minds. Our work includes the space within which it's done.

White supremacist capitalist patriarchy makes that seem impossible. But it can't be. We're doing the impossible all the time, aren't we? For our clients? Why not ourselves too? Not instead of...but ALSO.

Yeah I know well the culture of nonprofits. Self-sacrifice, overwork, scraping by, inevitable burnout.... why are we continuing to accept this?

Also, I know SOME of y'all have Directors making $$$. So.... 

Shoe string budgets doing vital work....I get it. But we've got to figure out a better way.  We're perpetuating suffering while trying to stamp out suffering...it doesn't make sense!

I suppose I feel like I can write again because no one reads blogs anymore anyway

I think I stopped sharing my writing (and, really, stopped writing mostly) because I just didn't feel like I had anything to say.  Other people were saying the things I thought and saying it better, reaching more people, than I could.  

Something I forgot, though, is that sometimes (often in fact) when I sit down to write, something comes out that I wasn't even expecting.  It's like a dialogue with parts of myself that are not at the forefront of my mind.  That's how my Master's thesis came together in the end, just seeing what came out.

And anyway, no one reads blogs anymore, right?  So really, this is probably just for me.

And the thing is, I do always have thoughts and feelings ready to burst out of me, ones that are conscious, but I don't want to share them with others  Especially the last few years.  These thoughts and feelings are a bummer, and I feel like the world is enough of a bummer without me adding to it.  

People have told me that they like that I keep it real, they appreciate it about me, but truthfully I don't believe them.  I figure they say that because they are trying to be nice.  

I guess it's possible they are being honest, that maybe other people are also feeling down and it helps to know they're not alone, but it's a tricky thing to me because while I never want to paper over real pain or things that need to be said (I know the power in sharing those things) I also know how focusing on everything that's wrong makes it so easy to miss things that are good, and in my life not feeling good is like this hungry ghost that haunts me and it is so greedy, always wanting more.  It's easy to sink into that feeling of despair, to just keep feeding it, and I worry sometimes that if I let myself go I'll never come back.

You know, I've spent my entire adult life looking for a place to belong, a way to spend my time (and bring in money) that felt more good than bad?  I've shown up at every job I've ever had like "here I am! put me to use! I have so much to give!" and the amount of rejection I've experienced, when I really count it up, is astounding.  There have been a scant few exceptions, but unfortunately none have paid our bills in the long term, especially not with the way stuff like rent has gone up and up at the same time (you know we used to be able to rent a place for less than $1,000? wild).  That much instability and rejection is hard for anyone, in fact I've been seeing stuff lately talking about how traumatic it is to lose your job and I almost laugh at the amount of trauma that means I've gone through...but when you are neurodivergent (ADHD) and thus don't quite understand what you're doing "wrong" AND you have rejection sensitivity the pain is SO intense.

The last few years has been no exception, with 4 layoffs over two years (jesus).  But lately I find myself longing for 2020 because at least with that layoff they did it ethically, with a decent severance, and we had the boosted unemployment amounts so I could actually pay my bills with it.  I got a career coach, I spent time really thinking about what I wanted out of a career and where to focus myself, I took a class in that!  It was a really productive time in a lot of ways and got me on a track that I still think is a good one for me, even if it's not in step with what I'm finding in the job market right now.  I need another break like that, but our dwindling savings says that's not possible and I just need to keep pushing to find something, anything.

What a terrible system. 

But I'm stuck.  Or at least I feel stuck.  Even people I've known who have tried working around this system still seem stuck in it to me.

And there's the hungry ghost of hopelessness.

say her name

A drawn color image of Breonna Taylor with flowers in the background.  The words "SAY HER NAME, BREONNA TAYLOR" are at the bottom.

writing furiously

i've been thinking a lot lately about who i was and what i was doing a decade ago, a decade and a half.  i was writing writing writing writing.  writing furiously.  writing on my blog.  writing comments on other people's blogs.  writing on message boards.  writing to my friends. 

in person interaction was a lot more limited and frankly that's the way i wanted it.  there's no block button irl.  there's no time to erase, edit, rewrite.  it's not safe.

of course, I learned that the internet isn't safe either.  "sticks and stones" is bullshit WORDS FUCKING HURT whether they're yelled at you in person or typed.  online you can be swarmed, you can be doxxed.  you can be thrown out of virtual community with little effort (this is where that accessible block button shows it's shadow side).

but i took comfort in the distance created by the screen.  frankly, I still do.  if there's a difficult thing to be said, something full of emotions, i'd still rather write it/type it out before i have to deliver it.  because i know words hurt.  I know words are limited, meanings multiple, interpretation real and imagined; and being misunderstood is incredibly painful for me.  and because when i'm in the middle of emotions, I have a very hard time feeling and articulating what I'm feeling at the same time. 

i don't write like that anymore really.  i journal for myself, often lately.  i share the words of others on ig and fb.  i listen and read more.  i'm working on being present with my feelings and not trying to rush through them to articulation.  i'm trying to be more curious.  i talk things through with people i trust and love.  sometimes i wonder what is better, and then I think "not better or worse, just different".  i reflect more now.  i'm learning how to have joy in my life (i hope).  i'm finding that's easier in person.

it also seems like the blogosphere is not what it was.  do people read blogs anymore?  if you are reading this, hi.  :)  but also there's a freedom in anonymity.  it's nice to write this way again after so long.  and maybe some of what i've been working on will be good to share.  maybe it would be nice to be able to trace my evolution here...  if i do, it will be very different than it used to be.

anyway, in the style of my old blogs I will share what I'm reading right now -- adrienne marie brown's "Pleasure Activism" on advice from my sister/friend/life coach/spiritual advisor, Natasha.  It's been interesting, and i'd recommend it.  especially if you, like me, have been trying to find ways to bring more joy into your life, but not divorce it from the very-serious-politics that matter to you.

also, I saw a couple of drafts I left here from 4 years ago and was stunned how much they resonate with my current inner work, i'll probably edit and roll those out also. 

with love and solidarity in joy and chaos,
whatsername

In Memory of Stacey

In loving memory of a real one who I know I quoted multiple times on this blog over the years.  Stacey Park Milbern left us on her 33rd birthday, and none of us were ready.  But she left us a huge legacy.

The #StaceyTaughtUs Syllabus

[caption: a picture of Stacey in her chair, smiling and holding a sign that reads "cherished"]

Social Justice and Reactivity; Reflections on a conversation between Joe Rogan and Jamie Kilstein

Who'd have thunk THIS is what I'd feel the need to write about after such an absence...

In 2016, I was really invested in the podcast Citizen Radio and it's hosts.  And when accusations of predatory behavior came out about Jamie Kilstein, I was honestly devastated.  This was someone who I had promoted, supported monetarily, given his music album as gifts to loved ones... And then other people I was invested in said he had acted in a predatory manner towards them, aggressively enough that they ended their friendship with him.

When he disappeared in the face of these accusations, and even in the midst of my grief and upset, I honestly wished the best for him.  I hoped that he would take time off to reckon with and heal the damage we all knew he had.  That he had TOLD us he had.  I hoped he wouldn't hurt or kill himself.  I hoped that the consequences of his actions wouldn't suffocate him.  I hoped we wouldn't hear from him for years.

Well, in just the past couple of days I learned that he re-emerged.  And today I listened to his interview on the Joe Rogan podcast.  When it was over, I simply let silence enter the car as I sorted through really, really mixed feelings.  Their conversation brought up SO MUCH stuff for me.

Joe and Jamie talked a lot about what I would call the "reactive" culture we currently live in.  They spoke about the way that people simply react to things, instead of taking time with them.  They spoke about the way in which folks will be labeled as a "traitor" to the cause and excommunicated from social justice circles.  The spoke about the way in which people are immersed in communities that go from one outrage to another without rest or reflection.

And I have to agree with them on this point -- our society is highly reactive.  People on all parts of the political spectrum do this.  And this manifests differently from group to group, but there are certainly a lot of shared characteristics.

Jamie spoke about how being forced to take a step back from the way he was living his life has made it so that he is so much more healthy now.  And this reflects my own journey, and that of close friends of mine during this year.  It reflects things I've heard discussed on other podcasts, like The Friend Zone, where being "selfish" and disconnecting from the internet and taking time to meditate and read books is needed healing in our reactive world.  This made me happy.  I wanted such healing for him.

Jamie and Joe both spoke about how taking time with things is important.  They both talked about how this reactivity is a negative thing.

And then they played a clip from a confrontation between protesters and the President of a college.  And as this woman spoke with pain, and anger, and years of trauma in her voice -- they laughed.

After talking about how he has reflected on what brought him to the dire point he was in last year, as he spoke about how much he did not like the person he had become and how many issues there were to reckon with there -- Jamie also denounced the idea that his behavior had ever been predatory, and denied that there was anything he needed to learn on that front.

When discussing the very concept of predatory behavior in men, Joe characterized it as "just how men act" when they are seeking sex.

Then he went on to deny rape culture exists.

Beneath the anger I felt listening to this, I felt so sad, and so tired. 

They'd both utterly missed the point.

-------------

I remember a year or so ago I was having a conversation with one of my best friends about a guy I was into at the time.  I was telling them that this guy sometimes says things that are kinda racist, and it bothers me.  I was wondering if I should give up on him.  I'll never forget what my friend, a queer Afro-Latino Caribbean man, said to me: "well that depends on whether you want to let him be human."

I was stunned into silence.  I felt keenly embarrassed.  This is someone who knows me well, who knows my heart and mind as well as anyone alive.  Someone who is not afraid to call out racism, not afraid to call out homophobia, to tell someone who cut us off in the supermarket exactly how and why she's rude.  Not some shrinking violet who will accept challenges to his humanity without a fight.

But here he was, telling me it's ok to let someone be human.  Meaning, to be flawed.  Meaning, to have room to grow.

That's not an easy thing.

But it is a necessary thing.

I remember when he and I were living together while I was in college, when I was most immersed in the social justice circles of the Bay Area, when I was at my most unforgiving and reactive.  I remember being introduced to the idea of Transformative Justice through INCITE! Women of Color Against Violence and feeling immediately how important such work is, I embracing it.  If you went by their words, most of my cohort embraced it too. But if you went by actions...many of them were also incredibly intolerant of the humanity of others.  I found this over and over again.  Perfection was demanded, or you were out.  I would even call the way some were treated as straight up abusive.  Tearing people down when they fucked up -- when fucking up is human.

So when Joe and Jamie were talking about this thing that happens on the left, I knew what they meant.  Yes, it's real.

But here's the thing that gets me when I talk or listen to white cis men like Jamie and Joe have these conversations -- they will say all this against reactivity and have all this analysis of how it effected them and constrained or hurt them -- and then will turn around and laugh and have no patience for those expressing their hurt and pain in ways they don't understand or agree with.  And that's where they lose me.

Because as far as I can see, the thing that will bring us away from reactivity isn't self-justification of our own actions and perspective -- it's COMPASSION.

Compassion.

Compassion is the thing I found lacking in my experiences with some people and activist groups, and is also the thing I FOUND among those with whom I'm still connected and learning; compassion is the thing that allows us to be human, to speak to pain someone else caused kindly but honestly, to reclaim what is ours to work on and let go what is not.  What allows us to be soft and feel the feelings underneath our triggers and egos and speak our truth and have healthy boundaries and also allows the people around us to still be human.

Compassion for OURSELVES and others.

I wish I had a grand ending thought to close on, but that's it, and that's what I've been working on for myself.  None of this is easy, but it's so important and so painful and so needed.  And although it took me a year to finish this, here it is and I hope someone else gets something out of it. 

As Soon As You Put Me Down I Run Away

When my friend Natasha did Reiki on me a few weeks ago she noted that in my solar plexus chakra there was an intense and deep seated well of shame.  Juxtaposing this, as she worked on this area she got a very clear image of her child running away joyfully with his father chasing him.

Before she was even halfway through describing this image of her child I was welling up with tears.

That child was me.

As soon as I could walk - I was running.  Ironically I detest running now, but as a toddler and child you couldn't stop me.  It was such a common thing that it became a trope of telling childhood stories about me.  In fact while Natasha was recounting this I thought of one image in particular, one that hasn't left me since.

There's a home movie I've seen a few times of my Dad and I in Tahoe, probably in the summer as I don't remember there being snow.  I think he and my Mom are laughing as they film me.  Or maybe they were just laughing when they showed it to me.  Either way, my Dad is holding me and then he puts me down -- and I promptly take off running in the opposite direction of both of them. I'm small, so he is able to keep up with me fairly easily, but it really was remarkable to watch.  If they'd taken their eyes off of me for a second I'd have gone quite a ways before they could have caught me.  But they're clearly used to this.

I was a fearless child.  I gave exactly zero fucks and you couldn't tell me anything.

I don't really remember now what that felt like.

See, remember the other thing that Natasha got from my chakra energy?  Shame. Intense shame.

That child?  Didn't make it past elementary school.

I guess maybe that's normal.  We do a lot of growing in those years.  But by the time I hit junior high school you wouldn't have recognized me in that child.  Hell, you wouldn't have recognized me as that child by the time 4th grade came to an end.

Part of me is glad of this.  That child was starting to grow into someone that was arrogant and self-righteous.  I can still be rather self-righteous, so gods only know what would have happened if I was left unchecked to develop.  Actually, I think I do kind of know -- I probably would have turned out a lot like Jennifer Lawrence.  I have a lot of empathy (and endless critique) for J Law because gods do I see her.  Do I know her.  Us Leos are SO MUCH if we never learn how to be humble.

Another part of me is kinda pissed that things turned out as they did.  Because through bullies and a constantly anxious mother and poor boundaries I turned into someone who takes everything deeply personally, who was shamed repeatedly for who I was, who felt fear of the world around me and closed myself off to so many experiences because of it.  My teenage and adult life have been spent trying to get 1/8th of that fearless confidence back.  And it's only now, in my early 30s, that maybe I'm just starting to get there.

And yeah maybe that kid would have turned into an asshole if left unchecked.  But they weren't one yet.  They were just a little tomboy femme wanting to experience the world, trusting that their parents had their back, that if they fell down they could get back up, that if they bumped their head they'd be ok after a good cry.  She just wanted to express herself fully, to sing, dance, express -- to enjoy life.  And when I think about her I want to cry, for so many reasons but perhaps foremost because I know they were me, but they feel like a stranger.

Can I re-integrate that energy and harness it for good?  Can I experience that fearlessness and joy again?  Can I come to a humility that isn't based in shame and second-guessing my self-knowledge but in compassionate, non-judgmental and honest assessment of my actions?  I hope so.  That's what I'm working on now.

Singing, I can hear them singing, when the rain had washed away all these scattered dreams

A week after returning home from the trial I had another dream of my Aunt.

We were having a family dinner out at a restaurant.  Everything felt comfortable and familiar.  I was home in Sonoma County, everyone in the family was there, we were having a good time.  I was seated next to my Aunt and near my Grandma (her mother, who died the year before my Aunt Robin did).  We were talking, I was so happy and thought to myself that I never thought I would get to have moments like this again... and I realized I must be dreaming.  The look on my Aunty's face told me I was right, I was dreaming, and I burst into tears and hugged her tightly.  She cried too.  All the grief I've felt over the years came out and I sobbed.

Once I caught my breath we talked.  I don't remember what was said but the emotions passing back and forth were ones of sorrow and grief and anger and love -- that weird mix of things when someone is taken away from you, that mix of things that chokes your throat and is kind of impossible to find the words for.   And I got back from her sadness, that she missed us, missed being alive, but also that she was OK.  She felt peaceful, and light; she wasn't weighed down by all this shit anymore.  She'd figured some things out, and was happy.

Dinner was over and we got up to walk out, still talking.  Now we were talking happily, but again it was more feelings passing between us and I don't remember the words.  She took my Grandma's hand, and loving feelings passed between all of us as we walked out of the restaurant chatting together.  The doors opened into blinding daylight and the dream was over.

This time when I woke up all I felt was joy.  We had told each other the things we needed to.  It was OK.  For the first time since I lost her, I think, I felt like it would actually be ok -- that healing would actually be possible.  I felt connected to her again.

My Grandma has visited me since she died, but Robin never had.  Not until these couple of weeks.  I'm so grateful for both visits, because I think the first made the second possible, and paired together they are honest to my experience of this horrible thing that happened.   It's been almost a month and while various feelings have come up, I have felt more at peace about things than I did over the last 7 years.  It's not over, and I need to not always keep it to myself, but what remains is the sense that healing is possible, and is happening.  My ancestors are with me, even when I can't feel them, and for that I am incredibly grateful.

As I look at next week, and the final sentencing hearing, I hope I close the door on David Frostick and use all I've been through productively in my life.  He's ruled more of my life than I ever wanted.  That's just a reality.  And maybe I'll feel differently if he ever comes up for parole.  But for now, I want that to come to an ending.  He is a vampire, siphoning the life off of those around him, and I don't need to feed him anymore.  He can take back everything that's his.  I'm keeping what's mine, and that's my Aunt, my family and my future.