Art of KCF: Ritual Anxiety
Ritual Anxiety
It was sadly much longer into my time on this planet than I would like to admit that I realized not everyone lives with the constant feeling of dread, or the deep pit of worry stationed in one’s stomach. It’s probably the result of youthful naivety seeing yourself in everyone’s experiences or perhaps the other way around assuming (wrongfully) that everyone’s experiences are more like yours. The thing the psychologists like to tell you though, if you, like me, suffer from Generalized Anxiety Disorder or Panic Attacks, is that anxiety isn’t rational. Our bodies are in a constant flight or fight response, instead of one where our bodies are regulating more typically in line with our environment. We are told that our mind is being tricked by our surroundings. That our mind triggers our body into a stress response unnecessarily. That there is nothing really there, no sabertooth tiger growling in the corner of your carpeted apartment, no real “threat” for your heart rate to be elevated about, no need to figure out if it’s best to go into attack mode or flee the scene. These scenarios are playing out everyday, behind the wheel of the car, trying to relax after a hard day’s work, with pencil in hand as you settle in to take a test, in the human-made environments where we spend our time. The adrenaline is coursing through our systems, wreaking havoc with our sense of safety. For those who haven’t had the luxury of a formal diagnosis the best I can get to describing it would be to imagine you are watching a scary movie and you’re in a state of stress because something might be lurking in the darkness. It’s that feeling, all the time, without the release of the creature lunging into your full view so you can make sense of it. Anxiety is the creature that never reveals itself. It’s a shapeshifter too, sometimes the anxiety is the light. You never know. Because…
It’s not real, it’s not real. I’m safe. Nothing’s wrong.
I’ve lived with anxiety my entire life, but was made aware of this fact by experts when I was 15. Until recently I really did live beside the anxiety. The shapeshifter was my constant. Periods where I was not stressed about something were few and far between. My default was anxious even as I learned to push that deep down and muscle through it. Running and weight lifting helped. Distraction always works for a short time. But for a good two decades of my life I lived with this terrible sense of something was wrong as my default state. When I began going to the yoga studio three years ago, something wonderfully shifted and for the first time in my life, my default was calm. Anxiety was no longer my constant state. It’s been what worked for me to realign my stress response. And when I’m off my mat for too many consecutive days my system begins to revert to that terrible dread. The tightness in my shoulders, the twist in my gut, the despair in my spirit.
Connecting body to breath helps. Grounding myself helps. Being in better relationship to my environment keeps the shapeshifter at bay.
And then this year I decided why don’t I try to work for the US Census? They were advertising you could make $19-22/hour to make a difference in your community. I thought maybe I could get the money from the government back that I’d paid in and then give it back in the form of my student loan repayment. A clever shell game I thought. Nevermind that I charge $150 to $250 per hour for the community work I engage. Nevermind that I have a broader purpose on this planet to make art and share my gift with the cosmos as a mentor just reminded me. Because of Covid the process was pushed back, and to be frank, has been a cluster. I had my first interview over the phone with a beleaguered call-center employee in mid-March just as everything was shutting down. Online training began in early August with the plan of enumerators hitting the doors in Minnesota on the 9th of this month. I studiously went through the 20 hour online training. I called into the conference calls where I first had the idea that I could write a humorous essay about Gladys and Arthur and so many others who kept interrupting the roll call to say they too were on the call with the 75 of 148 others of us who understood how to mute our line. I’m not unaware of the ways that the Census has been politicized, and I am someone who remains civically engaged in my community. I felt charged to uphold this constitutional mandate even as earlier in the month I was reminding people in a public forum that the constitution inherently baked inequity into this document of “freedom.”
And so, I hit the doors. I was mostly visiting people’s second and third homes that they maintain on lakes in my neighborhood. Diligently completing the Non-Response Follow-Up (NRFU) process because these residences didn’t turn in their census questionnaire. Most people didn’t turn it in because they didn’t live there full-time, and because they mistakenly believed that if they completed the census at their primary residence they didn’t need to do it again. I assured many people they were not being double counted, but rather I just needed to update the system with this information that no one was living at that address April 1, 2020. Blah, blah, blah, for a fair and accurate count. And then about a week on the job I started feeling the shapeshifter taking hold. I began shaking behind the wheel of my car driving up people’s rural driveways. My body began having a stress response because I did not know if I was going to need to fight or fly. “Stay safe out there” white women would add as they bid farewell to me as I headed out to my next case.
Nothing’s wrong. You are safe.
“If you can read this sign, you’re in range.”
That’s not real. I’m fine.
Knock, knock, knock. Hi, I'm Kandace and I'm here with the U.S. Census.
Knock, knock, knock. Hi, I'm Kandace and I'm here with the U.S. Census.
A Confederate flag with an AR-15 printed on top of it with the words “come and take it” greets me at the top of someone’s drive.
I’m safe. This isn’t a threat. Anxiety isn’t rational.
Knock, knock, knock.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Trump 2020 Keep America Great” “Trump 2020 No More Bullshit”
Knock, knock...
Knock, knock...
It’s not real, it’s not real. I’m safe. Nothing’s wrong.
So what happens when someone once thought everything was a threat, though few things were, goes out into an environment in which threats abound? How does one reconcile the bodily response to this kind of polarizing signage? Am I safe? Is this real?
I have rarely had anxiety responses rooted in social interactions. My anxiety is internally driven, not externally. I’ve done plenty of work in my life that have required cold calls, and unsolicited asks of strangers. I worked for the University of Kansas Endowment making fundraising calls to Jayhawk alums when I was 18. I did fundraising canvassing for a major political party where I stood on sidewalks and solicited people for money for political candidates when I moved to Minneapolis. I’ve door knocked and canvassed for social causes, and political candidates pretty much every election since I was old enough to vote. I am no stranger to interacting with strangers. And yet the times we are in are quite different than the early 2000s, or even the 2010s. I do not consider myself someone who is easily shaken by rude people, though I am increasingly surprised by the number of people who are incredibly rude. I am the kind of person who believes humans are inherently good. I have a lot of optimism for the world I believe we can make in community with one another. Though, what I saw in three weeks on the doors in my rural community has shaken my confidence. So much so that the gift of fresh veggies from someone’s garden cannot outweigh the shift I’ve felt inside.
Am I safe? Is this real? Is something wrong?
I was enumerating a home and walked up to an older, white gentleman who said I was going to need to get closer because he was hard of hearing. We chatted about the skunk who had tore up his lawn. He shared this home was basically his hunting cabin because he likes to hunt duck. As he spoke and I took my info down in this Department of Commerce issued iPhone, I began to take in the hat he wore. A weathered baseball cap that announced his lifetime membership in the NRA. And then I noticed his t-shirt also had some kind of inflammatory message about “let them try to take my guns.” He was the nicest guy. Gentle as could be. We were having a fine interaction besides me having to take my mask off so I could speak louder and more clearly for his hearing impairment. But then again, I was only there to take his information, not his guns for his hunting hobby. So who really knows.
But my nerves were shot. I’d been yelled at by white men for “trespassing” even though I was authorized by the federal government to collect information. “Who gave you the right?” Lobbed from white men turning red with rage, spit flying from their tight mouths. The conservative rhetoric would have you believe that people like me are overly sensitive and are determined to take away their rights to the life they believe they are entitled to. Maybe they’re right. I didn’t actually get shot out there. Just threatened a few times. Lot of jokes about it. “Please don’t shoot me” I implored Gerald after I came to his house another time after he joked he’d shoot the next enumerator who came to his door again. He’d already filled out the census you see.
It’s going to take me a while to recover from the three weeks I had on the trail. As someone living with anxiety, I tend to be someone who ruminates over interactions. The Census work began taking over my dreams. And it certainly wreaked havoc on my sense of safety. As I was driving to the post office the other day, following county highway three between fields of corn and soybeans I started shaking for no reason. "I’m safe. Nothing’s wrong," I told myself. My body disagrees.
What do we make of the collective anxiety we’re feeling? At what point will we shift toward a community that is build on reciprocity? I don’t have answers, just questions, because I don’t feel safe. And I don’t want to leave in fear, anger, or frustration. And I’m making a home in rural Minnesota with Vaimo. I quit this job on Saturday. No regrets. Just questions about how do we make community where freedom can be felt by each of us? I wish all those who harmed me, healing.
I’m safe. Everything’s fine. No worries.
What I’m Reading
If my rational/irrational anxiety response confuses you, please pick up this volume. It probably didn’t help that I was reading this volume again as I was heading out to speak with my neighbors about their homes. Each of the essays thoughtfully engages the difficulties Black, Indigenous and People of Color have searching for a good life, for freedom, for autonomy, for the fulfillment of their dreams in Minnesota. I have the pleasure of facilitating a conversation with four of the contributors to this volume on Sept 2nd. Join us! Let's strive for a Minnesota where we can all thrive.
Artist Offerings
- This beautiful compilation of memories and lessons to honor the loss of the incomparable philosopher Maria Lugones
- This thought provoking opinion piece by Caroline Randall Williams about Confederate monuments
- An academic friend suggested I learn more about Zoe Todd who is an Métis scholar artist - an anthropologist, writer and a painter of fish. I love seeing other models of people who are multidisciplinary in this way. Also, this is the kind of fish content I need in the ChicFinn Cottage.
- In love with Susan Chen’s thoughtful work as an Asian American artist in conversation with the art history canon and asking really good questions about race and belonging through painting.
- As if we didn’t already have enough reasons to save the post office.
- 50 years since the Chicano Moratorium - not familiar? This amazing LATimes coverage will catch you up
- I have written contributions in two collections that have been recently highlighted in Ms. Magazine and Poet’s & Writers. So good to see writing moving in the world.
Creative Ritual
Happy to report I sold out my edition of my Femme Legacy prints that I posted for sale earlier this month! I am very grateful for the support. With the proceeds of the sale I was able to reinvest in service of my studio goals and purchase some scraping tools to get the carpet glue off of my concrete floors in my studio. A new ritual in the studio is spending time scraping the floor; a little everyday will one day make for a clean[er] floor! Which I really need to keep working on because I am going to be one of the six members of the upcoming Lake Region Arts Council Artist Cohort and as a part of the networking opportunity will get the pleasure of having a video completed about me and my work! That studio floor needs to be shining for our big debut! I also learned early this month that the Otter Tail County Storymapping project I proposed has been accepted and will be supported with grant funding. I’ll be highlighting Latinx foodways in Otter Tail County over the next year. I am excited to be able to do work in which I believe! Now that I left my Census position I cannot wait to get my 25 hours a week back that I had dedicated to shift work. Those 25 hours are going to be put to good use in my studio in the month of September. As a reminder if you’d like to keep up with my daily studio practice follow me on FB at the Art of KCF.
Questions to Ponder
What does community look like to you?
How do you prepare yourself so as to be in community with others?
What values guide your interactions with others?
What do you need to heal in order to show up for your community?
Thanks for journeying with me. I hope, as always, that you take what you need and leave the rest for someone else, or for another time.
-KCF
PS: Are you enjoying this newsletter? Do you know someone else who would enjoy it too? Could you recommend it to a friend? I appreciate you as a member of the community of which I wish to be a part. Thank you in advance for sharing the work.
PS: Are you enjoying this newsletter? Do you know someone else who would enjoy it too? Could you recommend it to a friend? I appreciate you as a member of the community of which I wish to be a part. Thank you in advance for sharing the work.
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