The Importance of Thinking Small
It’s been a month. Believe me, I know. That morning after the presidential election—when I woke up early, rolled over, checked my phone, and stared at the ceiling for an hour—feels like forever ago. I have lived entire lifetimes since then. Haven’t you?
Before any of us even had a chance to take a breath that morning, the headlines began screaming at us about all the terrible things that would now come to pass. Duh, I thought. We already know. Can you give us some moments??
As for the election results themselves, I was unsurprised but disappointed. A little bit heartbroken. A little bit numb. But after that came a renewed determination to continue caring for and supporting those who need it most. Because I don’t want to spend the next four years being eaten up inside by my own anger.
Two days after election day, I skipped town.
No, I didn’t flee the country. It was a pre-planned writing retreat, one I’d been invited to join nearly eight months ago (!). And though it felt weird to embark upon a writing retreat just two days after the shit had hit the fan, I packed up my car anyway, and I drove two hours away, and I holed up in a large house in the middle of nowhere with four other writers, and it was exactly what I needed. I worked on an in-progress essay and I worked on an in-progress embroidery project and I led late morning yoga classes and I threw my money at the local bookshop and the local cidery and I laughed a lot.
The trip was like the living embodiment of what Feminist Book Club Executive Director Sally Mercedes wrote the day after the election.
In a letter she sent out to subscribers, she described waking up that morning feeling surprisingly grounded. Then she hopped onto social media and saw nothing but despair. She wrote that…
… this is when it really hit me that a big reason I wasn’t feeling that way is because of ... the community we have here, and the amazing people in it who care so, so deeply. Who care about each other, about the world, about co-creating what comes next.
... [T]his is the time for community. This is the time for mobilization. This is the time for playing with and working towards alternative forms of care, democracy, economy, justice.
This is also the time for grief, for rage. And even that is better in community.
YES. I feel this so hard. And so, I present to you my three guiding principles for the year(s) ahead:
Community. Hold tight to your community. Don’t be afraid to lean on them. Don’t forget that they need you, too. And if you feel motivated to make change, remember that these are your people, and they can help you. We’re stronger together.
I am finding community in so many places these days. My writer-friends. My mom friends. The Feminist Book Club. My old social justice choir. Nurture the communities of which you’re already a part. Look for new ways to connect with others. This is what will help carry you through the days ahead.
Care. We can’t change what happened on November 5. All we can do is keep moving forward, looking to those who can most use our help and giving it when we can.
For me, that’s meant continuing to contribute to my local mutual aid organization. Sending gifts to those in need through the Transanta initiative. Donating to a NJ-based organization called the Pink Haven Collective. Culling my closet of superfluous coats for a local coat drive. Singing in a pickup choir during an interfaith service for the Transgender Day of Remembrance.
I am hungry for more and new ways to care for others. If you are, too, you don’t have to reinvent the wheel. Look for local initiatives in your community.
And maybe share some of your favorites in the comments below.
Support Small, Local Businesses. As we inch our way ever deeper into the holiday season, I feel strongly that we can also have a positive impact by shopping small and/or shopping local. Some of my favorite small/local businesses:
Add some of your own below!
How have you been caring for yourself and others?
On the Internets
I’m not gonna lie. I’ve been very head down, avoiding the news, doing my thing. But still…
This piece on The 19th questions whether another People’s March is the answer, and shares why community organizing may be the way to go this time around.
Ever practical, Teen Vogue recommends what to do before the Trump administration takes office in January.
Back on The 19th, we see what may come next for transgender folks.
The Center for Anti-Violence Education shared these tips on how to call folks in at family gatherings. They posted it for Thanksgiving, but December will likely bring many opportunities to put this advice into action.
Everything I Accomplished Despite Life
I did up a list of eight twisted fairy tales for Book Riot.
As part of the leadership team at Feminist Book Club, I’ve been participating in their new video chat segment: FBC Weekly. They’re a lot of fun to record, and I’ve ended up talking about everything from ordering heads off Etsy to coveting the recipe for a fruit tart I recently tried to opining over what mall store I’d like to live in if the mall were converted into a senior living facility. These segments are only available to members of the FBC community, which you can join right here. And if that’s not your bag, we’re still looking for GoFundMe donations.
I posted an offhand comment to Threads about wanting to start a magazine called Indoorsy that’s about emotional eating and needlework and the pros and cons of various types of wearable blankets and The People seem interested. And now I’m mulling over the idea of producing a one-off digital zine that I use to raise money for local social justice organizations and do I need to be talked off the ledge or is this an idea with legs? 👀
Necessary for My Sanity This Past Month
I mean, aside from the writing retreat…
the strawberry and brie empanadas I made using homemade strawberry pan jam.
the informal gathering I attended with my former social justice choir, where we decided we definitely needed a book club, but with singing instead of books.
the aforementioned Transgender Day of Remembrance service. It was upsetting but also gorgeous and nourishing and I felt so much gratitude to be given the opportunity to be in community with everyone else there. Also, I’m wondering if it’s weird to join a church just because I like their choir director.
the Roaring ’20s party I was invited to, and the necklace and earrings I found at a local antique shop when I was trying to put together an outfit for it.
the generative prompt workshop my writing group put together on a whim. Best two hours on Zoom ever. Flew by.
the advance reading copy I received for Holly Brickley’s Deep Cuts, which was described as a mix between High Fidelity and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow.
Rivers Solomon’s Model Home, which I purchased on a whim, and which was gorgeously written and creepy AF.
Gus Moreno’s This Thing Between Us, which I acquired while on my writing retreat, and which was also goddamn creepy.
Robin Wall Kimmerer’s The Serviceberry, which just came out! I learned about it from an FBC colleague when I was on the verge of re-reading Braiding Sweetgrass and, my god, this is the bite-sized dose of wisdom we all need right now. Much like Braiding Sweetgrass, it’s about abundance and the gift economy and living in reciprocity with the earth and with each other. So so so so timely.
Hot Takes
My Mood at This Very Moment
Your retreat sounds heavenly! Thanks for sharing your guiding principles for navigating the rough terrain ahead. I am reading and being changed by “The Serviceberry,” too.