How are you doing?

Lately, I’ve run out of creative, small talk-ish responses to when folks ask me how I am doing..  I’ve now resigned to just a soft smile and ‘I’m doing okay.’

I’m not lying… I am doing okay. I mean, I’m graduating in 27 days…I got my very first full time job interview at a place within the very narrow field of sexual assault advocacy (which is actually tough to come by).. so you know, all things considered, I’m doing okay.

Every now and again though, I get a weird tug on my heart strings and it reminds me that Donald Trump is president elect. A man who loudly endorses xenophobia, transphobia, homophobia, sexual assault as “locker room talk,”islamophobia, white supremacy, ableism, and the list goes on.  We’ve chosen him to represent us to the remainder of the globe. This dude. It’s all just wild.

I’ve seen folks move on from sadness to beginning the process of normalizing this. I’m not mad, really.. It’s human nature to take something so traumatic and violent, namely electing this dude, and immediately try to find a way to rationalize things. Otherwise, how would any of us ever sleep at night?

What bothers me is this move to normalize this person’s dialogue and rhetoric…

“Give it a chance”

“He might not be so bad”

“It’ll be okay”

Really? For whom exactly will it be okay? What bodies will benefit or even minimally impact?

I’m a queer, immigrant, woman of color, and a sexual assault survivor.

Where exactly am I supposed to seek shelter? Where do I find the safety that’s been so violently taken from me?

This expectation that it’s now November 24 and therefore I should be over it.. I should just accept it. 

Accept that I’m not welcome here.

Accept that my beloved friends will have their rights stripped from them further

Accept that folks a community that I love and am a part of will be hurt even more.

Accept that despite working toward it, I won’t be able to dry all the tears that I want to.

Accept this violent bursting of my safety bubble followed by an attempt to take boiling emotions and make them lukewarm so that the we don’t disturb the peace.

I hope that soon I will be able to move from this, at times, paralyzing sadness soon.

I have every intention in being active in resistance, in allyship, and in radical love for myself and for others.

Please feel free to share thoughts. I’d love to hear from you. I’d love to build community.

We don’t talk about death

Whenever I feel fear or uneasiness I am no longer able to engage in discussions. I shut down.

Today in class when were discussing Trumpet, specifically the question regarding the smell of death in the room shortly after Joss’s death, I felt myself unable to pay attention. I tried to take notes to keep myself engaged or read along with the passages being read but my mind was scattered and I did not feel present.

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Too early to bloom

As a young girl, I started undergoing puberty quite soon. It began at 8 years old to be exact, such that, without medical intervention, I could have gotten my period by age 10. Alarmed, my parents scrambled to find a solution that would both conserve my innocence and manage the unruly growth that didn’t fit the proper timeline.

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