March 2022: doing hard things that make space for ease in my life
up, moving with ease.
letting go of what doesn’t
serve me. let it break.
hey yall…
My affirmation this past week was, “I can do hard things.” It would pop into my head in the moments I needed it most; when I needed to push through a temporary trial and see myself through to the other side. While I love this affirmation, recent conversations have reminded me that it is not a replacement for seeking spaces where I exist with ease. I can do hard things, yes. AND struggle does not define my existence. When a hard moment (or chapter) has passed, I seek the lesson in it or find a way to shift things under my control to ensure ease in the future.
When a week is rough because I’ve over-scheduled myself, I see it through. Then I rearrange future weeks to better align with my needs. I can do hard things AND I make space for ease in my life.
When an interaction with someone is challenging or icky, I navigate the situation. Then I set boundaries and share clear expectations. I can do hard things AND I make space for ease in my life.
“I can do hard things,” doesn’t require that hard things take up all the space in my life. It doesn’t require that we suffer with people or in spaces that cut us down or diminish us. Sometimes the hard thing is saying no, taking the break, resting, or moving away from what doesn’t serve us.
So maybe my new affirmation is, “I can do hard things that make space for ease in my life.”
be mindful of where you say my name…
NOTE: this subtitle is not some coded warning or a passive aggressive message to anyone. I just thought it was a fitting title.
A few weeks ago I saw a tweet from Better Allies sharing five things “allies” could do to sponsor co-workers from “underrepresented” groups. Maybe in a future newsletter I’ll write about why I put “ “ around those words. As I read the suggested actions, I nodded my head and thought about the ways that others have sponsored me throughout my career. I wouldn’t be where I am today without people speaking my name in rooms where I wasn’t present, with folks who had influence.
But my mind soon shifted to times when my name was shared in rooms where I wasn’t present, with folks who had influence AND little know-how, capacity, or desire to create safe and affirming spaces for people from communities and cultures that have been historically and continuously marginalized and disenfranchised. I was underrepresented in those spaces for a reason; by design.
When I reflect on the times I’ve joined communities that purported themselves to be “welcoming” or “ready for change and transformation” without evidence of how historically shut-out community members are surviving or thriving in that space, I recall feelings of being hyper-visible and invisible at the same time. How jarring is that?
In one of those spaces, I was one of few dark-skinned people in a leadership position. And not dark in the way yall say “tall, dark, and handsome” and mean a tanned white man (I NEVER understood that phrase…dark where?!).
Everyone knew my name from day one because I had a highly publicized new role. All eyes were on me and what I could do to bring swift transformation to the organization (for issues that had been growing roots and blooming sad flowers for longer than I was alive). I felt hyper-visible.
But as much as the organization shared a desire for change, I found myself being left out of key conversations and decision making meetings that impacted the work I was set out to do. I was made aware of decisions after they were decided, my direct requests to be included were ignored, and discussions about my work product were taking place without me present to provide the depth of understanding needed. There were times when I would look up and wonder, “Am I invisible? Did I not share my needs clearly?” I also found myself regretting sharing boundaries about my health and wellness because they were used as an excuse for why I wasn’t reached out to.
The other impact this space had on me was physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion from trying to use EVERY tool in my toolbox to survive a place that had me questioning my abilities and my experiences. I meditated more, tried to do expressive art as an outlet, created playlists to get me hype for going into work, and had multiple networks I reached out to for consult, venting, and strategy sessions. After a full day’s work, I was using the rest of my energy to process what was happening to me at work. It was depleting and impacted my ability to show up for myself fully. I was drained before the day started and resentful by the time the day ended. At a certain point I realized it wasn’t about me finding the right tool to help me thrive. What I was experiencing was unhealthy and toxic. Instead of using the tools to get me into work, I used them to support me as I made my exit plan from that environment.
If you’re considering sponsoring someone, make sure you’re speaking their name and endorsing them with people who are affirming and demonstrate the ability to notice, name, and redress inequities. If you’re sponsoring someone who would be “the only one” in that space, don’t assume their presence will be the catalyst for change. If an organization hasn’t been actively addressing the factors that are contributing to people being “underrepresented” in their space, don’t sponsor someone to be the token. I don’t want to be sponsored for emotional labor. Your sponsorship comes with responsibility beyond just saying someone’s name. Don’t speak my name to predators and performers of equity. Endorse me in spaces where folks like me (and others who are continuously shut-out, erased, and undervalued) are seen for the fullness of our humanity, listened to for our ingenuity and expansive thinking, valued even when we make mistakes, and affirmed through equitable practices and policies. Anything less and you’re complicit.
let our children play…
When this is one of the first videos you see in the morning, it changes your day. It influences your mood and creates space for imaginative play and creativity with whatever emerges.
Ki’s “celebration & affirmation of the Black child’s imagination” is not just a declaration to “Let our children play,” as they put it, but also a piece of art. The digital collages they created are vibrant and bold with glee. The collages say even more than the words that appear alongside them.
Each time Ki, creator and curator of Woke Kindergarten, shares a 60 second text, I think more expansively about ways to affirm and teach our young ones, especially those most impacted by diminishing narratives and aggressive unjust policies, procedures, and practices on an ongoing basis. Watch Play, Black Child! and see what gets sparked for you. How might you incorporate collaging and digital collaging into your work with young people…and young people at heart?
share a resource…
Each month you’re invited to share resources with our Community on our Collective Resource Bank. As we stride into March, let’s share tools and resources we use to infuse visual arts across disciplines. Taking inspiration from Ki, how can the visual arts be used to teach concepts in other disciplines or as a tool for students to share their learning?
Feel free to also share resources in previous month columns. Let’s keep the resource bank growing.
rest as resistance…
I’m leaning into leisure.
On March 4, the Nap Ministry tweeted about a 1915 law that forced Black women to work, even if they didn’t need the income. When I searched about the law I found this newspaper clipping. It didn’t take long for the audacity and lack of regard for humanity to be present. The ownership mentality, the ableism, the paternalism, the command of other people’s body and time etched its way into my memory. I was reminded that the current restrictions and violations of human rights we’re seeing, especially in relationship to body autonomy, are not new and have been placed upon us for the benefit of those with the most privilege and power.
At first I read this clipping with disgust and anger.
Then I reread the clipping from another angle…inspiration. Where I saw restriction of these Black women’s time and energy, I considered ways to resist with rest. How might I reimagine my own way of life, unlearning the social conditioning that my value lies in what I can produce, and design a life the centers play, discovery, joy, and…rest.
Rest is Resistance because white supremacy and capitalism criminalized and commodified Black people and our rest.
— The Nap Ministry (@TheNapMinistry) March 5, 2022
Instead of “Regardless of whether they want to or have to,” I have autonomy over the work I engage in. I say no, not only when I’m at capacity, but also when I’m not interested, when it encroaches on time with loved ones, or because I’m taken care of and have no need for additional work on my plate.
Instead of “are to be put to work, put in jail or fined heavily,” I do not punish myself for resting and not working. I do not fill my schedule to prove my worth and value.
Instead of “class of loafers,” I celebrate my friends and family when they take personal days, when they use their sick days, when they take vacations and center down time, when they retire, when they exit spaces that cause them harm, when they sit, chill, laugh, and just be.
Instead of, “engage in some useful occupation,” I recognize the value in every person regardless of what they produce or provide. I honor and respect every occupation. I am grateful for and inspired by the expansive ways that people share their gifts and genius with the world.
Instead of, “requiring all able-bodied men to work at least five days per week,” I block days off on my calendar regularly, just because. And what needs to get done, still gets done. And I call out ableism, within myself and around me.
Over the past few years I’ve been following Tricia Hersey’s scholarship around rest as resistance. As I continue to reflect on my past physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion, her scholarship and words of wisdom are lights on my pathway to a more healthy existence.
How are you resting, family? Black women, what do you have the audacity to do in the name of rest as resistance?
