Ain’t I a woman? February 2, 2023

It’s so easy to deal in tropes and stereotypes. Thoughtful, nuanced description is much, much harder. Pushing past the subconscious instinct (what I, in my day job, know as “implicit bias”) requires self-awareness and humility. Most of all, it requires a commitment to humanity.

Humanity. I mean, the idea that we are human and by virtue of said humanity, are deserving of dignity. The dignity of being seen. The danger of racism, the very real work of sexism, homophobia, xenophobia – all the isms and phobias – is that they strip the subject of their humanity. The perpetrator no longer sees the subject for themselves, rather the subject is just an animated object representing a group.

Thus, Black History Month (and all the months), becomes a time to restore humanity to people of African descent. The names that are shared, the firsts, the heroes, the giants, the shoulders upon which we stand – that is all done to make others see Black people. When we say enough all we did, all we accomplish, we are demanding to take up space and be known.

But this, too, is insidious; for it bases our humanity on two dangerous things: achievement and approval. What happens to the one who fails to achieve? What about when the baseline for approval is moved? This is why the demand to stop killing Black people is often reduced to the good works of the victim or the plea to the (white) majority.

The truth is that our humanity is because we are. A hard truth for those of us conditioned to prove our value and earn our space. But – to bring Jesus in – this is the radical truth of the Cross and empty Tomb. His grace allows us to simply exist. And, His sacrifice shows us what it means to believe in the radical humanity of others.

If true love is the willingness to lay down one’s life for the other, perhaps the question this Black History Month is whether we are seen as human enough for true love. I know the answer – do you?

___

Also, yes. Ate, recorded, did not exercise.

Friends February 1, 2023

What a generic word: friend. We attach that label (with some qualifiers) to so many – school friend; work friend; childhood friend; married friend; child’s friend…the list goes on.

Tonight, I’m grateful for my friends. I spent a few hours at a belated birthday dinner with two friends who let me be my full self through equal parts affirming me and calling me out on my bs (“being hit by a bus is not a healthy way to think!” Who knew??). They told me that who I am, by virtue of my existence, is enough.

And, I marveled because while I have had that experience before, it’s been with my longtime friends. The ones I’ve know for many, many years. While these women are friends; they are, as Drake would say, new friends.

So, I’m grateful for new friendship. Friends who see me for who I am, today. Friends without the baggage but with all of the compassion. Friends who say, “you’re better than that” and mean it. Friends who commiserate and scheme and drink. Friends who promise to throw the bachelorette or bridal shower, not taking the place of the longtime but in honor of the now.

Todays 90 day lesson: Be open. Be open to new friends. To vulnerable friends. To being the good friend.

Also – didn’t exercise, didn’t record all my food, did be a good friend and have fun with my friends – so all in all, win.

Self-compassion: day 2(1) January 31, 2023

My therapist continues to tell me to be more compassionate towards myself. To treat myself with the care and grace I show others. To talk to myself the way I talk to my friends.

In that vein: I failed to post yesterday for the first day of my 90 day challenge. And that’s ok.

I ate the way I was supposed to. I didn’t workout because I was swamped with work and, honestly, up until 1 getting stuff done. A combo of working hard and not smart and being forgetful of a major obligation. Self compassion says, girl you got it done. You got through the work day. You’re fine.

Today. I ate too little, didn’t exercise, but had a good therapy appointment and made it through work. Small victories.

Maybe the goal of these 90 days isn’t building habits around nutrition and movement. Maybe it’s practicing 90 days of self-compassion.

90 days January 29, 2023

I’ve given myself a 90 day challenge and will be tracking here for my own accountability. At minimum, I will share that I 1) completed my food tracking on my app, 2) worked out for at least 15 min( or why not), 3) my emotional state. At best, I’ll do real reflection on the day or something…we’ll see.

There are any number of reasons for doing this, not the least of which are physical. I’m sure I’ll share in one of the posts. At the top, though, is that I just need to do it. Nike. Bars.

All I’ve got. Later, skaters.

Starting again December 30, 2022

My therapist told me that I should start journaling. I laughed.

I’ve always wanted to be a person who journals. I love the idea of stacks of beautiful notebooks filled with my nonsensical, whimsical, sometimes meaningful and maybe profound thoughts that my grandchildren would find and learn from about life (how’s that for a run on sentence).

I’m not. I told her I’m not and she told me that the reason for that is because I always have to be perfect and since I didn’t know how to be perfect at journaling, I wouldn’t do it. FWIW, this is why she gets paid the big bucks.

I told her that the closest I’ve ever come to journaling is this erstwhile blog – so she challenged me to start back up. Writing whatever comes to mind, when it comes to mind. Processing my complex feelings about being an immigrant, getting married, DEIB as work/profession and my cynicism about whether it’s sustainable, Christianity and my love for Jesus but growing discomfort (but not disdain?) for many western Christians – etc. We agreed that the world has moved past blogs, therefore, no perfection can be found using an old platform. Convoluted logic, to be sure, but here we are. Also, again, why I am paying her the big bucks.

So, blame her for the revival of this thing. I’m doing it before Jan 1 to remove all of the new year new me pressure and just make it the thing I do.

Let’s see how this goes, friends.