Why do we kill our bodies and minds working so hard? Why do we spend almost our entire lives sitting at a desk away from friends and family. Why do we choose to be unhappy doing labor that we often do not want to do, that puts money in the pockets of people who will not have to work a day in their life. The answer seems pretty simple: money. We need money to survive. To eat. To be happy. To do things with and for our friends and family. To give our children a good life. To get a good education. To be able to receive medical care. To have a roof over our heads. To live. Whoever said that money doesn’t make you happy was just straight up wrong, because in the system that has been put in place, you do need money to be happy. Because without it you often cannot live as happy a life. You may be sick and cant afford medical care. You could be in need of therapy or psychiatric treatment, but if you cannot afford it, it will be difficult to get that care. It could also be simple things; being unable to treat yourself to some good food after a long days work; having a day to yourself without needing to go to work; or having that car you’ve wanted since you were a kid (or even a car at all). This is not to say that one cannot be happy without money, but money sure does help.

The system that we have now is not a good one. I do not have a different plan in place, but I sure know that what we are doing now is not nearly close to perfect. It is extremely depressing to know that you have to work like 40 years just to be able to retire and enjoy the last 10-20 of them. The most interesting concept that was in one of the readings was Emotional Labor. Coming off of a shift feeling tired and drained and shitty, knowing tomorrow you have to do it all again is one of the worst feelings. It takes a large mental toll to keep a happy face on for 6 hours while eating very little and being on your feet the whole time. I would often come home and not even talk to my family because of how drained I felt. I would just quickly eat some food, go up to my room, and collapse on my bed. Expecting someone to do that for so many years while dealing with the other stressors of life is just cruel. And the only alternative being starvation? That does not sound like a system I want to participate in. It’s also just taxing on your body in general. I have not been in the workforce long, but I already have had some effects from working long hours. When I used to work as a cashier I would come home exhausted, my back and feet hurting, and my eyes strained from looking at the monitor all day. Sometimes these feelings would go away during the night, but other times they persisted. Doing something like that for years is unthinkable. I would not be able to keep doing that, I would go insane.

It is the year 2023 and we are still be ignored and left to either fend for ourselves are die during pregnancy and childbirth. Who is in charge of the pregnant body? Well, it should be a combination of the expectant mother and her medical provider(s). However, oftentimes, we are not, and this a normal attitude that needs to change since the mortality rate is alarming. An OB/GYN has a medical degree for that specific area, but does not have charge over the symptoms and ailments that come with pregnancy, so I have the final say on WHAT I want to happen during this amazing reproductive experience. Some attitudes regarding black maternal health are the same as the 17th centuries views. In the reading “African American Midwifery” talks about how the slave masters would ignore the pain and concerns of the black pregnant women because all that mattered was providing minimum care just enough so that slaves can keep reproducing MORE slaves! The mere fact that as the decades passed, more black women were entering the midwife field, was great. What better a way for a black expectant mother getting care from someone who looks like her? But, these midwives were not getting the respect or credit that they deserved, therefore; the white man was looked up as great for these medical developments. Fast forward to 2020, and the issue is still ongoing. For example, the film “Aftershock” is about the stories of families that were followed and interviewed regarding how the black woman was treated during pregnancy and childbirth, which ultimately ended in these women’s tragic death. Leaving their children with memories, have a newborn never know their mom, leaving the partner devastated and raising a child alone, and leaving families destroyed. Women are able to reproduce in order for ANYONE to be born. THE WOMB MATTERS! In the film, Sharmari is constantly telling the medical system that she is in pain and having issues, but she is ignored numerous of times, her test results are overlooked, and finally when the medical professionals realize something is in fact wrong, it is too late and another black woman has died during the childbirth experience. There has to be a change, but where does this change begin?

I am tired of working. I work at a very high pace profession that requires a lot of interaction with people and walking. There are times where I have to push and slide people onto beds. This has taken a toll on my body. There was a time where I worked Monday-Sunday (I know, I am crazy for even thinking that this was a good idea) because we were very short staffed and the overtime sounded really nice. However, just because it sounded nice two weeks before the actual shift doesn’t mean it was actually worth it when I was working. After working with a person from prison to getting yelled at and cursed out by older people for moving them I was done. I was tired physically, emotionally and mentally. I didn’t want to go to work and even contemplated calling out because of how bad it got but I knew that I could push through. There were some days where I just sat in my car 30 minutes before my shift just staring into space and completely zoning out because of how much I didn’t want to go inside and interact with people. Everytime I talked to anyone I had to act happy even if I had just seen someone passed out on their bed and a code was called on them. However, I finally saw the light. That sunday night I was so tired but so happy knowing that I am done with the week and thought about how I WILL NEVER PICK UP CRAZY SHIFTS. This was definitely a learning experience for me and I don’t think that I would ever work like that again unless it is in the summer where I don’t have to worry about classwork. My job had taken such a mental toll on me that I had to ask my professors for extensions on some of the assignments because I simply could not get them done in a timely manner. Even though I needed the money, my education is worth wayyy more and I would never compromise it like that again. This reminds me of Arlie Hochschild from ‘The Concept Creep of ‘Emotional Labor’ where she said that emotional labor is “the work of managing one’s own emotions that was required by certain professions”. I related to this so much because I had to put on this fake smile everytime I interacted with people because I couldn’t show them that I was going through a tough time since they are probably going through something worse.

As someone who’s studying psychology and has been interested in the psychology and physiology of sleep, I’m always thinking about how sleep affects the mind and body. This summer after reading up on sleep, I went out of my way to improve my sleep schedule as much as I could. I was consistently getting about 8 hours of sleep and waking up at a reasonable time. I was able to do this because I was living at home and I was totally on my own schedule. Going to sleep was something that I really looked forward to everyday. 

Moving back on campus, I found it really hard to sleep, simply due to the different environment. Something about the different beds and the blinds that don’t block the light keep me from getting good quality sleep. I also started a new job that required me to work at very late and early hours. These shifts would take time out of my schedule that I need for sleep, and when I did get to sleep it wasn’t the quality that I needed. Talking about the different ways that labor affects the body in class made me really consider if what I’m doing is worth it. 

On one hand, I really value my health and I usually try my best to make sure I’m doing healthy things. Losing sleep could lead to serious long and short term health issues. On the other hand, I also need money to do things that I enjoy and pay for things that I need. I want to be able to go out and eat with friends without cutting into my savings, but I also want to be awake and present while I’m doing it. 

Losing sleep from my job also might be affecting how well I’m able to learn in school. In all of my classes I often find myself fighting to stay awake. If I’m tired I don’t have as much capacity to pay attention, and if I’m not paying attention the memories from my classes won’t be as strong. Overall, it feels like a lose-lose situation.

There’s a callus on my elbow I hide all the time, I’m always wearing long sleeves or something that covers my upper arm because it makes me super self-conscious, since the skin is all dark and dry (no matter how much I moisturize and exfoliate). I noticed it one day after coming home from work, I was putting on my pajamas when my mom walked in and in the most aghast tone possible, she asked “What’s wrong with your arm?!” I looked at myself in the mirror and almost started bawling because I had a huge dark, scaly, dry callus on my elbow; I immediately freaked out “WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?! WHAT DO I DO!?” Now, I will always be honest and true to myself, so please respect my acknowledgment that I am EXTREMELY vain, this was a huge blow to my self-image, I’M SUPPOSED TO BE SMOOTH AND PINK AROUND THE EDGES; like a goddamn water-color painting (the unrealistic expectation of my appearance is a conversation for a different post)! After examining the area for a minute with my mom she came to the conclusion that I got it from work, from wearing long sleeves every day due to the dress code (scrubs and such) and the position I was sitting while at my desk taking calls (leaning on the chair arms to be closer to the phone), and that revelation was…super annoying. I do a lot to take care of myself and this job supplemented my habits…but now was it the cause for me to buy MORE self-care bullshit? And not only that, now I had something else I wanted to hide other than my dark circles, slight weight loss, and stress acne…. ALL FROM THE SAME SOURCE! That’s when I started to think “If anyone outside of work sees me, they better pretend they didn’t, this isn’t who I am” and remembering that thought process, we end up at this little post because why is it so often that we have to separate ourselves into something we’re not in order to achieve monetary gain?

        I think I have the patience of a protestant christian GOD, because the way I don’t hang up on every rude parent that calls the office, it’s actually astounding. For context, I work in the health care industry, so that means I’m in a strange in between of knowing how these people feel but also…I’m part of the WORST system in country. So, you’re lowkey screwed if you talk to me, BUT THAT’S NOT MY FAULT! It’s really hard being on the phone with so many upset parents who just want to help their kids, who resort to insulting me and my workplace, only for me to have to follow a script. I have to disconnect, I have to put my anger, sadness, compassion aside in order to get through hours’ worth of calls or else I’d be getting a lot of complaints. It’s especially hard to do this when I’m a super emotional person outside of work, I cry at everything and get really loud when I’m excited, but I got to hold my tongue and watch what I say when I’m talking to a Mama Bear on line 3. It’s kind of fucked up, I’m a not machine and I was hired for my “personality” according to my last employee evaluation, so why am I being forced to suppress myself this way? It’s such a redundant question because I know why things are this way, it’s a system that sucks the energy of the lesser in order to feed the people on top, capitalist vampires. I’ve sacrificed my emotional well-being, over-worked my physical capabilities, and all for what? So that I can go to a sale at Victoria Secret every once in a while, AND ONLY when there’s a sale?

      I don’t get enough for what I give, nobody ever does, because we’re at the bottom. We can be pushed around, sexually harassed, thrown out like yesterday’s news for whatever reason just because someone in power wants to! They don’t see you for who you are, they see you for what they can take from you, like a demon possessing a body. Here’s a little side tangent story, my mom works at a little grocery store for some extra money, and they recently had a new hire for management. She said he was a handsome young black man, very capable and super polite, he was really good at his job, and everyone liked him despite only just starting there. Well, he got fired the other day. You’re probably rolling your eyes thinking “of course he did” but hold on! Let me tell you why! My man got fired because he was filling up his water bottle…. yeah. Apparently, it was considered “robbery” and they kicked him to the curb. LITERALLY MAKE THAT MAKE SENSE?? IT WAS LITERALLY TAP WATER Y’ALL! My mom continued her story by saying she thinks the head manager (the dude who fired the young guy) didn’t like how much they were paying the new hire, so they decided to fire him for that arbitrary reason, just so they can hire someone else for less. That’s totally illegal, mind you, and the guy can definitely sue…but is it worth it? Would you go through the trouble? You’re probably making a face and thinking “I have enough on my plate, I’d just go somewhere else”, because honestly who has time for that nonsense? But getting back on topic, they didn’t see the guy for what he was worth or how he was improving the work environment, they saw numbers they didn’t like and did cut out what they thought the reason; even if it meant leaving this man without a source of income. Boils my blood, honestly.

         There really wasn’t much of a structure to this post, but labor takes away more than what’s humanly reasonable, than what’s humane. It doesn’t end once you clock out, you carry the burden with you for the rest of the day, you feel used up and tired, you look decayed and have scars on your skin; work just consumes people. There isn’t much else in life because of the cycle that’s been created in our society, you work day in and day out and a lot of people can’t afford the luxury of rest because it’s time that’s being wasted! Money, money, money. That’s all anyone ever needs today. That’s all we can receive because nothing else is substantial. Thank you, capitalism! Thank you, consumerism; you really know how to make a body happy. If you ever happen to see me at work, looking dead inside and ready to jump off the building, that isn’t me. That’s a shell of who I am, just pretend you didn’t see me, alright?

I’ve noticed a significant shift in recent times where many people of African descent are embracing and celebrating their African heritage. When I was younger, identifying as African was often met with negative stereotypes and misconceptions. People would associate Africa with huts, monkeys, and wildlife, and I’ll never forget the hurtful term “African booty scratcher,” which was used to devalue and ridicule Africans, likening them to monkeys.

Furthermore, there was a time when having dark skin was stigmatized, almost akin to the discrimination faced by people of color in the 1950s. In the past, women within my own community often favored lighter-skinned individuals, desiring men who resembled figures like Chris Brown. I recall my high school days when those of us with darker skin were mocked and made to feel inferior. Now, it’s astonishing how the tables have turned. Today, I can’t go to a club without receiving compliments on my skin or appearance, as dark skin is now considered a desirable trend.

In the world of music, artists like Burna Boy, Wizkid, and Davido have risen to prominence, with Afrobeat becoming a dominant force in 2023. These artists’ music is frequently played at clubs, reflecting the broader shift in cultural preferences.

Overall, it’s remarkable how perceptions have evolved. In the past, being African was met with fear and shame to the extent that some of us would even pretend to be Jamaican or Dominican to avoid the negative stereotypes. Today, many people are eager to engage with African culture, whether it’s through Afrobeat music, adopting accents, or showing an appreciation for dark-skinned individuals.

     I am a part of a 7v7 co-ed soccer league called Volo in Baltimore. This league was marketed as a social league and even invites you to go to the bar across the street after games with your team. My team had played multiple games together, and we had no real hierarchy up until the last game – it was pretty much just a free-for-all and we got to know each other well enough to have a good time. The last game was different though, as one of my teammates showed up with the idea that he would be “coach.” This changed everything. He decided the starting line up and everything was normal for the first few minutes of the game. 

     The shift happened a little later. It was about time for substitutions to be made. Usually we make subs quickly and by our own decisions. “Coach” decided that a few specific people were best to sub in, and so they did what he said and the others waited patiently on the sidelines. No one was making their own substitutions. Everyone was listening to “coach.” This continued throughout the first half. I was frustrated that he did not decide to tell me to substitute, so I went ahead and picked someone to substitute with. The game ended with some people not having played much at all. They whispered under their breath how annoyed they were.

     What I found interesting about this is that no one agreed that “coach” should make the decisions or call the shots. Yet everyone did as they were told because of what he called himself. The only reason I was able to break out of it and make my own substitution was because I realized in the moment that he had created a structure of power and we have all been conditioned to act accordingly when power commands us. By letting us know his new label as “coach,” and using his body to play the part, he gave himself permission to make the decisions and took that permission away from us. The team did not even notice how we were no longer allowing our bodies to move freely in the same space that we had just last game. It was truly fascinating.

An added outcome after ruminating on this experience:

     For some reason, this experience playing soccer and making my own substitution instead of waiting for someone to “let” me has also allowed me to start correcting people on my pronouns. I have never ever! ever! been able to do it until these past few weeks, and now I have done it twice. I think that it was very powerful for me to see the way power acted in this way, realize that it was nobody’s intention to take anything away from anyone else (“coach” never got mad at people for not doing what he expected), but still see everyone so paralyzed because of the way we have learned to act in response to power. In personal interactions when I am misgendered, there is a similar paralyzing feeling that I am not allowed or not supposed to correct someone, but really we are just two people and it is okay. I am glad to have learned this and continue to think a lot about what it means for me!

For those who are not familiar Olivia Rodrigo’s second album GUTS is about being a teenage woman, in that she is both infantilized, sexualized, and criticized for everything all at the same time. This vague sort of womanhood compounded with the lens of fame creates a specific bubble of control that she both has because of money plus relatability and does not have because of media and perceptions. The introductory song on GUTS titled “all-American bitch” highlights the sort of pressure that has become a part of life for her and many others. The track primarily has a soft and dainty sound with semi-satirical lyrics that project an “I’m always perfect and amazing” kind of mentality with lyrics including “I feel for your every little issue, I know just what you mean” and “Coca-Cola bottles that I only use to curl my hair”. The very feminine sound of the verses is contrasted by the anger and resentment in the chorus where Rodrigo proclaims herself “a perfect all-American bitch/ with perfect all-American lips/ and perfect all-American hips”. She must be perfect both in the soft girlish way of being a great listener as well as in sexy objectification way of her body being “all-American” too. Being perfect in two seemingly contrasting ways is emotional labor to me. While she can write a song that a lot of women relate to the industry and the world still looks to her to be all-American. To not complain in interviews and when compared to others, to not feel her emotions and heartbreak through songs, to not be too sexy or too unappealing. Even in song writing and singing as the Beck article put it, she is “monitored for [her] ability to produce an emotion”. As touring kicks off in February Rodrigo will be compelled to sing with the same emotions of heartbreak, anger, and love as she did when first producing the album even if she feels none of those in the present moment. 

The outro perfectly sums up the emotional labor of feeling like you must be perfect, so much so that it was a TikTok trend to put your own scenarios and frustration over the lines “All the time/ I’m grateful all the time/ I’m sexy, and I’m kind/ I’m pretty when I cry”. Not everyone is always a pop star with millions of eyes on them and has making others feel things as a full-time job, but the pressure to be perfect in every situation is one that many relate to.