Spring, so nice
I had a work call this morning with someone I’ve admired for a long time. “We should’ve FaceTimed, I never see your face,” he told me. A common problem for email artists like myself. “Let’s just imagine we both look great. The sun is shining on us, it’s spring.”
Imagination is so great. The geranium that my boyfriend rescued from a bodega is blooming again in the window. The sun was indeed shining today. The air in spring always feels potent, heavy with prospects and awakenings. The blustery wind? Just helping seeds travel. The showers? Honey, those are just future flowers. The radiator in our bedroom has a weird smell that a Google search can’t determine. I am sharing that as a radical act of vulnerability; Shawn’s radiator is stinky for no real reason (it’s not mold, and I’m not going insane). That? Is springtime. I imagine it has something to do with the larger horrors, but nevertheless I persist. And I hope you do too.
In the vein of imagination, I’ve fancied myself a scientist these days. I’m not sure the exact mechanisms behind this, but I’m pretty sure you can tell how bad things are by the Instagram stories of muscle bunny neoliberal gays. One of the many subjects I’ve been observing went from thirst traps (let’s call that the baseline in this study) to being hyper political during the time of Momala (the first spike, let’s say a 2) to posting about being in Miami post-election (let’s call that a 4 on the Bunny Scale). From there it escalated to a group dance with his mom and brother to the Greatest Showman (This is Me). I say that’s a hard 6. All of this seems relatively par for the course–once every four years someone otherwise politically inactive yells at people who actually know what’s happening; an election happens and they go on vacation; they cling to comfort; and then, usually, things return to normal. This time, however, instead of another vacation post (a return down to 4), our subject seems to be in his city of residence, largely silent, only sharing clothed photos. This is bad. This is easily an 8.
For those who do not know discomfort, the decision to not seek comfort at all costs is a warning sign.
I don’t know how to not feel the dissonance in the air right now. I am trying to learn from the spring, and it is bringing me some hope. Nature returns and finds ways. As a species, we have undergone many political winters, and yet we still bloom again. Does this mean I’m not scared? No, I’m scared. Is watching students be disappeared from college campuses and the White House meme-ify mass deportation akin to the natural cycle of winter? Not quite. But, as history shows us, we can find better ways forward.
I gathered some friends in my home recently to eat cake and chat about everything happening. One very smart friend shared that it’s easy to toss money at something and feel like you’ve done good, but it’s often even more important to give your time (I’m paraphrasing if she’s reading this, but it’s stuck with me). We have to shake up our comfort while we have it—be face to face with others, giving time and energy as much as we toss impersonal donations (money is great when it goes to the right place, don’t get me wrong).
We must remind ourselves of cycles and what remains good in this world. I know that that might feel cheap or overly simple when so much evil continues to show it’s face, but it is true. We mustn’t lose our humor and our little jokes and our ability to connect. And we must be ready to get uncomfortable to ensure we don’t. “If your advocacy hasn’t cost you something, it might just be a performance.” Been thinking about that a lot lately too.
Sharing some ways to plug in for now, let’s be in touch, divas xo
NYC:
-Volunteer for the Zohran Mamdani campaign to help freeze rents, and make NYC a place for that is livable for the working class: sign up here
-Volunteer with Sylvia River Law Project
-Volunteer with NY Plover Project
Feel free to share other things with me and I’ll include in my next newsletter x