The COVID-19 pandemic has taught me a very valuable life lesson: putting myself first isn't selfish. In fact, it’s the only way to survive. And while some of my recent actions may at first glace appear to be self serving, I believe a person should only be thought of as selfish when they forget to take others into account after they have first considered their own needs. Self only is selfish. Self first is setting healthy boundaries, believing in your own dreams and standing up for yourself with as much fervor as you'd stand up for someone else.
2 weeks ago I quit my job. I knew that it will leave my boss, the team I supervised and my coworkers with more work and some tough days ahead. I also knew that I was no longer happy there and that I needed to leave for my own mental health’s sake. I left to etch permanently in stone that I come first in my life and that I have to make the choices that are best for me.
It’s risky to change jobs at a time like this. It feels a little like jumping off a cliff. At times, it feels crazy to leave well paying, stable employment when so many people are unemployed and searching for work to cover their bills. As a regularly anxious person, I strangely feel the calmest and most at peace I have in over a year. Some things cost money, other things cost parts of ourselves we can’t get back. We each have to decide what our soul is worth.
The position I held was already challenging in the office. I had been there for 3 years, but never felt I had my feet under me in a real way. When we began working remotely in March, I realized how much more challenging the job could be! And I felt worn out, anxious and emotionally exhausted every day. I worried I was no longer an effective leader for my team and that I was not able to keep them safe in a way that let me sleep at night. I felt myself dreading work on a daily basis and worrying most of Sunday about the Monday looming over me.
Part of my struggle was that I did not establish real boundaries early on. This meant that once we transitioned to work from home, work and home bled together in a disastrous way. I took hotline calls at my dining room table, did hours of database work in my art studio and responded to colleagues on both my work and personal phones. I recognized quickly that working like this was not healthy for me. I need separation from work to let go of each day and be ready for the next.
I also waited a few months into the pandemic to start exercising. I spent the first few months literally just sitting in my anxiety. I gained weight which hurt my self esteem. And I let my frustration and resentment at work build. In late May, I started getting up at 6am and walking before work. It helped me to feel less anxious, but didn't change how I felt about my job. Every day, as I made my way to the park and back, I listened to podcasts about self-care and wellness. I listened to women I admire talk about self worth and realized I had not been valuing myself. I became more resolute with each walk: pandemic or not, it was time to find a new job. I decided this time around, I was going to put myself first.
I could think of a million reasons why it wasn't a good time to transition to a new job. I worried about how it would affect my coworkers and clients and all of the risks involved. I felt guilty about wanting to leave but too worn out to keep doing it any longer. I started looking at job postings and applying for positions at non-profits that excited me. And I got an interview! We met via zoom, talked on the phone, sent emails. And when they made me an offer, I took the leap.
There is no way to know how well this new role will fit or how long I’ll stay in it. But I know I am giving myself a chance to be optimistic and taking a risk for the sake of my happiness. I know that this decision feels like I am putting myself first. And that feels amazing.
If you are like me and find yourself putting the worry of letting people down or the fear of causing others stress above your own well being, its time to do better. It is time to show up for yourself, time to stop valuing other’s wellness more than you value your own. The truth is that no-one can do this for you and it wont be easy. It is not a linear process and you will have to work at it to get it right. It means reminding yourself often to stop and consider things before agreeing to them and saying no when something isn't serving you. It means being your own advocate and being careful not to let yourself down. In the end, we are each responsible for our own happiness and have to put the work in to maintain it.
Wishing you peace, love and work that fulfills you without draining your energy.
As a Victim Advocate, I have worked with many clients in toxic relationships, who know they are not in a healthy situation but also deeply love their abuser. They are torn between wanting to leave and feeling guilty for even thinking of abandoning someone who needs them. Once you have worked so hard on a relationship and invested so much in the other party, it can be very hard to let go. I feel much the same way about my current relationship with the Country where I live. I hate the way it treats me, but I am not yet ready to leave.
In many ways, America is one of the greatest places in the world to live. The safety, abundance and freedom are largely unmatched. However, COVID-19 and our government’s mishandling of it has shown how drastically that can change. We have all seen over the past few months that a series of bad decisions can effect every single one of us and risk all of our lives so quickly.
The blunders our government has made are magnified by a large part of the population deciding not to take measures to keep others safe. Many Americans have decided to risk other’s lives for their own immediate comfort. Or worse, to use this issue to take a political stance. Whether they are following the President and his selfish, deceitful messages or truly just do not believe in the potential this virus has to kill, I don’t know. What I do know is that wearing a mask is scientifically proven to slow the spread and it is the least we can all do to keep each other alive.
This year, my extended family won’t have our annual beach trip, which we have done every year of my life. It wasn’t worth the personal risk to each of us, or the risk that we would in any way help this virus to continue to spread. On social media, I have been hiding the profiles of friends who chose to visit public beaches, get on planes for vacation, or otherwise push back against the restrictions in place. While I understand everyone’s desire to enjoy their summer and have a sense of normal, I believe we will all have to make big sacrifices to get through this. And summer vacation is a much easier sacrifice for me than the lives of the people I love. I won’t judge you for your decisions, but please know that many of us have given up a lot for the greater good.
When my husband and I went to Japan in 2016, it was hard not to compare it to America. I envied the cleanliness and lack of litter, the quiet on public transportation, and the consideration people showed to each other. In Japan, there have been less than 1000 deaths due to COVID-19. I’m sure many factors play into this, but one glaring difference is that when they were asked to wear masks the Japanese people all just put them on. They already wear masks if they are sick, have bad breath, the pollen count is high, etc. Out of consideration for each other, the Japanese people did not choose to see mask wearing as political, but as considerate and necessary.
In this country, police brutality, systemic racism and widespread discrimination already make it hard for many of us to feel safe. This virus has proven there is also no equality or safety when it comes to our health. While some parts of the world have come together to get through this, America has beat that same old drum of personal responsibility. Accepting that we are all in this together is too big of a risk for the wealthy and those in power. It would mean that things like universal health care, criminal justice reform and humane immigration laws are necessary, so that we can ALL be well. And as a society, many don’t believe we all deserve to be well.
I struggle with where to go from here. I can let this make me hate the country where I was born and raised, and have experienced privilege and comfort in an endless list of ways. I could try to find another Country to make my home and leave. But to me that feels like defeat. It would mean I’ve given up any hope of making this place better for the next generation and let those who seek to destroy what we’ve built win. Instead, I will beg you, my friends, family and the internet at large to put on a mask in public. To stay 6 feet away from each other and stay home when you can. To take this seriously, because it truly is life or death for us all. We are in this together and the only way out of this mess is to put each other first.
As a black woman, in America, during a global pandemic and Civil Rights Movement, I have a lot of feelings. Even unpacking whether I’m black, or brown, or bi-racial takes more energy than I seem to have these days. Justifying where I belong has been a lifelong struggle. But in America, if you know the history, you know that whenever it matters, one drop of black blood means you are black. And my life experiences have reaffirmed that. While I have been told that I do not look “that black,” I have also been called colored and a nigger to my face.
I’ve written many blog posts about my garden and my art. Somehow sharing my anxiety or stress during these uncertain times seems so much harder. I can second guess myself into submission so easily. And I’m starting to see that this coping mechanism is unhealthy and is deeply rooted in my identity as a black woman.
I have become so accustomed to overthinking things that it has become a reflex. For a long time I felt like this was just me being thoughtful or at worst overly cautious. During all this time at home for reflection, I’ve started to see that this is a harmful self-protective habit. That my drive for perfection is born out of fear that I am not good enough. Living in a society where black and brown women are among the least valued, I have a constant nagging worry that what I have to share does not have value. That I am not worthy.
In my career, it is the managers and supervisors of color who have worked to teach me that I do have value and power. I will never forget my Director when I was a Child Advocate sliding me a note during a meeting at the mayor’s office which simply said “you have a voice.” He gave me a small turtle figurine from his office when he retired, and it has lived on every desk I’ve had since. It came with a note that said “sometimes you have to stick your neck out.” He always pushed me to be brave and to stand up for my clients with unwavering strength. To trust my gut and live in the decisions I make.
I have been praised by coworkers at many jobs for being bold in meetings and saying what others are afraid to. Yet often, I feel I’m screaming into the wind. I worry after each meeting that I’ve said too much or pushed too hard. I balance the fear of being labeled the angry black woman with the fear that stifling my voice will cause me permanent damage. I know there is a lot of internal work to be done to forgive myself for all the times I held in things that I should have said and to let go of all the times I have not trusted myself or used my voice to its full potential.
My husband often points out when I over explain things or tell him the same thing in multiple ways, even when he got it the first time and is agreeing with me. He believes my fear of not being heard has led me to continue trying to win people over, even when we are on the same side. I feel myself doing this all the time, but my anxiety pushes me to keep confirming that we do agree. To seek validation that I am not getting in other places. Worry that I have not been understood and will be misrepresented or judged harshly can keep me up all night.
Since the murder of George Floyd our society has changed. Many people are waking up to the injustices people of color have faced for centuries for the first time. Many people are angry, for reasons that are deeply personal. We will all have to find where we fit in the Civil Rights Movement currently underway. I know that I have to use my voice to help the clients I currently have, to protect my family’s safety and to know I have not shrunken from an opportunity to make things better. I’m still not sure exactly what that actually looks like for me.
What I know is that I wear this brown skin every day. A few years ago, my husband and I were pulled over in our apartment complex parking lot and were surrounded by police with rifles drawn. Even once they knew we lived there, they held us, asking questions with guns in our faces until they felt they had humiliated us and asserted their power sufficiently. I thought we might die that night and my heart raced for what felt like an eternity afterwards. A split second could have meant one or both of our lives ended right there, because we tried to go get Taco Bell.
The people I love with my entire being wear their brown skin out into the world every day too. I worry every time my husband drives anywhere that he’ll get pulled over and the officer will find him to be a threat. That my brother will get in an argument with a white woman, and she’ll make sure she wins using this racist system to her advantage. A few weeks ago, two white women tried to run my dad off the road, yelling racial slurs at him. A child called him a nigger and was praised by his mother.
I certainly don't have the answers. But I know that being a black woman right now feels more difficult than it ever has. I know that I’m working hard to be professional and human. That trying to survive a global pandemic and watching racism be celebrated by our President at the same time is beyond exhausting. I know that I am here for you, if I can help you. And that the support of my family and friends has a lot to do with my survival and desire to continue to grow. I know that I don't want my anxiety to win or to feel silenced ever again.
So here I am, standing in a desire to be better, in the midst of an environment where nothing feels stable or safe. And I am hoping we can help each other get through this.
It has been 16 weeks since we began self isolating due to COVID-19. And 13 weeks since I put potting soil and seeds into cardboard egg cartons to start my first garden. This garden has brought me so much peace and calm during such an uncertain time. When I’m tending the plants I’m able to shut out the news and social media and my job. Its become a moving meditation, a way to reset when my anxiety is high or my mind needs help to quiet.
This week, one tiny zucchini started to form! Its about 5 inches long now and I’m amazed every time I lift the giant leaf it is hiding under to see how its doing. A group of tomatoes appeared Saturday morning that definitely wasn't there when I checked the garden on Friday. Our radishes grew a tall stalk with small light purple flowers at the top. And the cantaloupe has attached itself firmly to its bamboo stakes and is covered in flowers.
A few weeks ago, I started getting up early and going for a walk every day. Its so quiet in the morning and when I pass another person, which is rare, it’s easy to keep good distance. I smile passing rabbits eating clover in yards and admire the landscaping of the homes in our neighborhood. I listen to podcasts or music and establish a calm base for the morning.
When I get back from my walk I water the garden and check each plant, curious to see what new growth has happened over night. I noticed that the most well establish gardens get watered in the morning, which Google confirmed will prevent the plants in pots from getting moldy if they are too damp overnight. So I adjusted, but only after having lost all of my cucumber seedlings to mold.
I started new cucumber seeds today, directly in the pots outside in the garden. Perhaps it’s too late in the year, but I figured it was worth a try. Hopefully these will fare better, now that the weather is more stable and I’ve done more research.
I’m learning I have to work hard toward each plant’s survival and have a backup plan, just in case they don't make it. Nature is fickle. And when it comes to gardening, the weather often does not feel like its on my side. But my plants are resilient beyond my wildest imagination and knowing I can always start over has empowered me to experiment and be creative.
This summer will look much different than most. Instead of planning a week away on vacation, or mourning the vacation lost, I’m determined to make home the oasis I need. We updated our patio with rocks beneath our feet and Adirondack chairs. In the evening I can sit and admire my garden, knowing each plant is there because I slowed down enough to help it into existence.
As week 6 since starting seeds rolled around, it was finally warm enough to plant my seedlings outside! No more threat of frost, no more nights below freezing. Sunday, May 17th I spent the day giving each seedling its own pot on the landing next to our porch, filling in the dirt around them gently. As with every step, this came with lessons to be learned.
• I snapped a quick group photo once they were all in their new homes then I stood back and looked. Quite a few had drooped over and were in complete shock. I just knew I had killed them all! I watered each plant then made myself go inside and leave them alone. I reminded myself that I can give them what they need to survive, but I have to trust nature to do the rest. Thankfully, the next morning they had all perked back up and looked happy in larger pots.
• Sunday night I checked the weather for the upcoming week and my heart sank. Wind gusting up to 35 mph was in the forecast for every day. I considered building a barrier to shield my delicate plants, but have neither the supplies or motivation to actually do that. So Monday morning, as the wind started to get wild, I brought 2 of each type of plant back inside. I moved the rest onto our porch where they will be shielded from the wind by the house. And again I reminded myself that I cannot control the outcome and have to trust nature. Plants are extraordinarily resilient my sister reminded me. Allow them the space to be great!
• Nature can be frustrating and downright cruel at times and that’s ok, because well, it has to be! Every howl of wind reminds me that my plants are out there and I move closer towards accepting that I cannot control if they make it or not. If they survive this, I feel like they can survive anything! And if they don’t, I have a backup plan. Always have a backup plan.
• The last lesson for today, there is no point in comparing yourself or your achievements to anyone else’s. You aren’t them, so you will never get the same result. And that’s the beauty of being individuals. In the first few weeks, I joined gardening groups online, followed local veggie farms on IG, and texted with friends and family to compare notes. That led me to feeling like a total failure when others started harvesting produce and sharing photos of their plants organized in neat rows, with fences in place, irrigation, you name it. I remind myself that I live in Pennsylvania, and its been cold here. And this is my first year, during a pandemic, which prevents me from walking into a store and buying the supplies I need.
In the end, I feel proud of what I accomplished so far. I learned a huge amount about starting seeds. I have a backup plan in place and am working on my attachment to each seedling. They are living beings too and just like the rest of us, all they can do is try their best to make it! I’m practicing letting go of expectations and being gentle with myself when there are setbacks or unexpected struggles along the way.
It’s been 4 weeks since I started seeds in my first attempt to grow veggies. And for the most part our seedlings are thriving. They continue to teach me lessons daily and I’m thoroughly enjoying the process!
• Saturday, I put the seedlings outside for the first time, to start the hardening off process. They sat on the porch for an hour while it was 65 degrees and breezy. I set a timer and did other yard work and worried about them the whole time! The first time I came back to check on them, I found one of the zucchini seedlings lying over on its dirt and adjusted the stakes. I was very relieved when it was time to move them back inside. I feel protective of them and keep having to remind myself they can’t stay inside all season. They need way more than this one window can provide.
• Although many of our seedlings are thriving, the beets and lettuce I started are leggy and weak. I shopped for seeds by purchasing whatever the grocery store had left. And I planted them all the same way when I got home from the store... in cardboard egg cartons filled with potting soil. A quick google search (and text to a fellow gardener to confirm) taught me that beets (and lettuce) don’t like to be transplanted. They should be planted in nice rows, right in the ground. Luckily I have plenty of seeds left over, so I can start again when I move the others out to their pots. In the meantime, out of some sense of loyalty or maybe stubbornness, I have continued trying to nurse these guys back to life anyway.
• This week, I will leave the plants outside for progressively longer periods of time each day, so they are ready to handle the elements once they are transplanted. Just like anyone else, they need to build up their strength, get a taste of what they are in for, and then have a chance to recover. It also gives me a chance to adjust to not being able to keep my eye on them. I’ll check the weather forecast in the meantime and place a Lowe’s curbside order for some fencing and posts, to keep the local wildlife out.
Life is all about the balance of holding on and letting go. I’ll keep working to find the balance, in this and all things.
Lessons learned in my first two weeks of veggie container gardening:
• The first thing I do every morning when I come downstairs is to check on our radiator garden. I lift the makeshift greenhouse tops I created to hold heat in, by stapling plastic to the cardboard lids. 6 days after planting them, the zucchini sprouts started pushing through the dirt. It felt like a huge success and I was so relieved I’d done something right. Every morning after there were more sprouts! Having something to look forward to is great for my soul.
• The power of the sun is incredibly strong! I rotate the seedlings 90 degrees every morning. By lunchtime they are all facing south again. They lean strongly towards the sunlight and I can almost see them gaining power from it.
• ACE hardware is doing curbside pickup due to COVID-19. I placed my order last Thursday morning, excitedly filling my online cart with soil, mulch, landscaping rocks and chairs for our porch. Overnight the soil was cancelled and I felt panicked that I wouldn’t have a home for my seedlings if I couldn’t find dirt for the pots I purchased. After a few phone calls with our local ACE, who were super nice, they put my soil on hold and a week later I was able to pick up the whole order.
• Gardening is a mix of carefully measured attentiveness and patience. I won’t be able to move my seedlings outside until mid-May, when I’m sure there won’t be frost or any more freak snowstorms. Until then, I can keep them safe and warm inside, giving them small amounts of water daily. I know once they go out in their planters, I won’t be able to watch over them so closely anymore... it already makes me nervous!
• In this uncertain time, having something to care for that peacefully accepts what I have to offer at the moment, has been amazingly therapeutic. These seeds, purchased on a whim at the grocery store, were a great experiment. They bring hope we can grow food on our own, for some sense of sustainability. And an easy distraction.
• This experiment is easily shareable! Because I didn’t feel confident they would really sprout, I put many seeds in each cardboard egg cup. Soon I realized that I had way more seedlings than planters. It really sunk in when a stranger on Reddit told me I’d be drowning in zucchini if I planted all the seedlings I’d grown. I repotted a few of each thing and left them on our porch for a good friend to pick up. She’s now caring for them on her window sill. Another friend and her daughter started seeds and had questions. We’ve been consulting via text, sending update photos back and forth. We cheer each other on and share the excitement of new sprouts. It makes it so much more fun to be in it together.
• Stay tuned for future updates... these seedlings will live inside until it’s safe to move them to planters on our front porch. I’ve got plans to acclimate them slowly, giving them progressively more time outside each day. I’ll water them on dry days and hope the neighborhood wildlife doesn’t eat our produce before we can!
Recap of Duality: First Friday with 4StoriesUp and Vsaleth Art
On the First Friday in June, Alicia (Vsaleth Art) and I took over the Philly Art Collective for a collaborative art show. We each brought a pile of artwork we made for the event, some of our old favorites and a few we made together. In preparation for the event, Alicia gave me 6 canvases that she poured with acrylic paint and I used them as backgrounds for collage. It came together perfectly.
DistantStarr (my husband) provided music throughout the event, playing beats I have the privilege of listening to him hand craft at home. The vibe was funky and comfortable.
Alicia’s band, At Best, performed an acoustic set that filled the space for the crowd that gathered.
We interspersed our pieces, based on color and size, in a single row around the room. Friends, family and so many strangers walked slowly around the perimeter studying each one.
We filled the space with good vibes and basked in the opportunity to shine. It felt surreal to stand in a room filled with my art. When I began this journey I never imagined a gallery would give me free rein to plan an event like this.
For now, I’m looking forward to the group shows coming up... and to planning another solo event when the opportunity arises. Having one under my belt, I feel I’ve shaken any nerves about my ability to do it. Now I know I CAN do it. And it felt amazing!
Today I put the finishing touches on my studio... the small room tucked behind our kitchen and the final room to paint in our new home! I hung artwork, stood figurines in front of my supplies and windexed the glass desktop. I sat in the chair for the first time and used my cutting mat to trim supplies for a project. And it felt amazing. I carved a small space out for my creativity to be free...
Last night I displayed my collages and a collection of up-cycled cigar boxes as part of the HERspace Women’s Art Festival at Open Space in Philly. This was only the second time I’ve hung my art on gallery walls... and it felt just as amazing as the first time.
I was a little more prepared this time, having made an official “4StoriesUp” sign and determined a layout in advance that allows me to fit more pieces in my allotted space. A table for my boxes and small collages gave me a spot to stash my stuff and somewhere to rest my wine throughout the night.
The room filled quickly with a diverse crowd of college students, families and passers by. I got to know the artists closest to me, what they create and where they are from. Rather than comparing myself to the others, I just wanted to celebrate how amazing each of them was.
I’m in awe... of the other artists I shared the space with, of my own art hanging on gallery walls, of my work being appreciated and purchased by strangers!
Moravian Pottery and Tile Works - Quick, Local Adventure
Today my friend Gina and I took a journey to a local piece of history I had been dying to explore. On a sunny, but cold, Sunday morning we spent $5 each to take the 40 minute tour of the Moravian Pottery and Tile Works, a Bucks County artifact. Built in 1912 by Henry C. Mercer as a tile factory, this building was rehabbed in the 60′s by the County and still operates!
The tour starts with a 15 minute video explaining the history of the factory, the process of creating tile in the traditional way, and the story behind Mercer’s work. We sat in rows of white chairs, a fire burning in the fireplace behind us, with a small group watching the video.
The tour is self guided and signs throughout the building lead the way. We were relieved to see we could go at our own pace and didn’t need to stay with the group or keep up.
Some tiles stand out and have their own stories about the mold that made them or a new design Mercer had successfully created to get to that result. He found influence all over the world, from different time periods and religious influences. The tiles throughout the building tell of a story of a man who saw beauty and art everywhere.
The views through the antique windows are breathtaking and complex. Grass now grows in the a courtyard that was once used to store coal for the steam engine and clay from local farms (a fact I learned during the video).
The tour winds through the 2 story building and the cellar, where clay is stored once its ready for use. There are a few narrow stairways and low ceilings to beware of and many doors to open, all of which seemed to have a different latch mechanism!
The original machinery has all been perfectly preserved and laid out so that visitors can see the process start to finish.
The tour comes to a climax in the workshop, where artists are hard at work fulfilling architectural tile orders and tiles to be sold in the gift shop. Four full time artists work there creating tile using Mercer’s traditional processes. One artist told us that he graduated from Temple’s Tyler School of Art having studied ceramics. He has worked there for the last 18 years. As he spoke, he calmly kneaded clay and cut it in thin slices to be molded.
The tour winds through a few last rooms displaying larger, more artistic pieces and original equipment used by Mercer and the artisans he employed. Tile Works still has an apprenticeship program and offers classes for local artists who want to learn the craft.
As every museum tour does, it all ends in the gift shop. There are beautiful photos of their tile in modern kitchens and adorning fireplaces. Visitors can purchase individual tiles ranging from small tokens to large pieces of mosaic artwork. This hour long experience is a trip through history and a view of artists working to preserve and do it justice.
On Saturday, February 17th, I participated in a Pop-Up Art Gallery at Open Space, 1014 N. Marshall Street, Philadelphia. This event, hosted by the Philly Art Collective, featured 30 artists and vendors. This was my first experience showing my collage art in person and I was so honored to be selected!
Set up went quickly and my amazing husband helped me get my art on the wall in three even rows. I learned some valuable lessons to help me prepare for next time and added a few items to the art show packing list. It felt seriously amazing to see my art on a gallery wall. Like maybe I have to own the title “artist” now, even if it still feels strange.
My neighbors for the evening were a good friend, Angela, who creates 8 bit art and a new friend, Frankie, who paints incredible portraits.
The snow started really coming down right around opening time, but the place filled up quickly. People browsed the art on the walls and spoke to the artists. I got to talk about the materials I use, how I got started and my love of Exact-o Knives and record covers to interested art lovers.
I was positioned behind the live Clash of the Canvasses painting competition, giving me a front row seat. The theme was Futurism and both evolved into finished pieces over the course of the 3 hour party. These ladies painted with such poise, despite the DJ booth to their left and art lovers conversing and moving around them.
Every artist included in the show was so talented, it was hard not to feel a little out of place! But positive feedback filled the space and the support and encouragement was amazing. I spoke to Temple students, seasoned artists, and many like me who fall somewhere in between.
Dipping my toe into the art world by participating in this show was the best encouragement. Being around such talent, the best inspiration. Having veteran artists complement my work, motivation to really earn such praise.
More opportunities to see 4StoriesUp Art in person coming soon...
Thank you Philly Art Museum for Pay What You Wish Sunday!
Every first Sunday (and Wednesday evenings) admission to the Philadelphia Museum of Art is “pay what you wish.” Regular admission is $20, so for an social worker/ artist/ step-mom like me, this is a huge deal! In January, my friend Lily and I took a quick journey through the museum on Pay What You Wish Sunday to celebrate her birthday.
The walk up the “Rocky Stairs” was frigid in the 5 degree early afternoon sun, but view was worth it! The entrance was packed, so we got a minute to enjoy the Skyline before cramming ourselves inside the doors.
The line moves quickly, even when an average of 8000 people come through the museum’s doors every first Sunday. And the cashier remained friendly, even as I asked nosey questions about how busy first Sundays get!
We started with Old Masters Now: Celebrating the Johnson Collection, which is only there through February 19th and definitely worth a visit. This collection of European art was full of rich colors, bold frames and a wide variety of subjects. I was mesmerized...
We spent some time in the Japanese Tea House, walking the paths and peeking through bamboo window panes to see the details up close. It had the feel of a genuine tea house and visitors seemed to instinctively know to speak softer in this space.
So many things caught my eye during our brief visit, in small galleries, around corners and tucked along hallways. There were ornate rooms decorated with antique furniture and lush fabrics and clay figures emerging from the walls. We found paper art by Korean designers, the Moorish Chief painting I’ve seen on many occasions, and figures from an Indian Temple I was seeing for the first time.
Admission, even on Pay What You Can Sunday, includes the Museum’s Main Building, the Perelman Building, the Rodin Museum and the Historic House on Cedar Grove. Parking is free if you are willing to walk a few blocks after hunting for a spot on the street. The museum has an awesome, but museum priced, gift shop and a cafe. And free coat check!
I’m already plotting to return on a first Sunday in the Spring to visit the areas we didn’t get to that day... and maybe swing back through a few of our favorites.
The Women’s March on Washington... From Where I Stood.
On Saturday, January 21st, 2017, I stood with ~500,000 diverse, determined human beings to send a message to the Country’s new president, his administration and his followers. We were there to give a rally cry for justice. To show this new administration that we will not quietly allow our rights to be stripped away. That we will not passively be disrespected, ignored and treated as less than.
The day was overwhelmingly positive, inspiring and empowering. Each speaker took the stage full of pride in those of us awaiting their words. For me, being in the same space as Angela Davis was the most profound moment. It brought to light that we are still fighting for the same things that folks have been fighting decades for. But she hasn’t given up, hasn’t lessened her hope for a better day to come, hasn’t allowed herself to be silenced or diminished.
I left feeling hope… something that the Inauguration the day before had seriously damaged. I left with a renewed sense of my own power. And a new fire to stand up for what I know to be right, for those vulnerable populations that need a champion, for my family and those I love. I know that I have to continue to stand up, because there’s far too much to lose. I stand for my son with disabilities, who may no longer have his rights under the ADA protected by the Federal Government. For my transgender nephew, who must use the nurse’s bathroom because his school will not honor his gender. For my black husband, family and friends who are at an increasing risk of police brutality and understand that our laws and government will not protect them if the worst happens. For myself and all other women whose right to determine what’s best for our bodies is quickly being eroded. I stand for everyone that this new administration has decided does not matter. We do matter! And the women of the world will not let it be forgotten.
Returning home after one of the most inspiring days of my life, I saw so many naysayers on social media speaking out against the marches happening around the world. These people have nothing real to contribute and hide behind their keyboard and screens, seeking to diminish the truth. Some of us are ready for action and stood on the pavement to prove it. I’ve tried hard to use my online voice to educate those who do not understand the purpose of these marches. I’ve tried to remind people that safety, access to healthcare, and education are rights ALL humans should enjoy. That this new administration is working to destroy things that help the poor, to evict those who are not Christian and white, to make the rich even richer at our expense. But some minds are not pliable… they refuse to be changed, refuse to see any light. Those folks, perhaps, are a lost cause. Too full of hate and greed to be brought over to rational thinking. Too ready to fight the wrong enemy.
I am a Social Worker, not a journalist. But I have something to say, for anyone who cares to listen. I have worked with those who are marginalized, vulnerable and struggling throughout my career. I have fought for those that our new president seeks to erase from the Bill of Rights. And I am not going anywhere. You will hear my voice, as it grows louder and more full of fire. Our collective battle cry will not go unheard.
Today, I remain full of pride. Around the world people took a stand, and regardless of anyone who seek to diminish it, an impact was made. They will see the effects of our dissent. They will fear the power we possess. Maybe not today… but we will fight until they do! One day they will see that we are magic.
