Note: This essay will appear in the author’s forthcoming book, 10 Easy Steps to Creating a New Society.
One of the most notorious crises in the United States is the ugly and never-ending confrontational relationship between the State (the police) and communities of color, particularly African Americans. Before we take another step into this centuries-old dance of violence, let’s clarify a few points:
- While one can trace the practice of policing as far back historically as 27 BC in ancient Rome, the heart, soul and meat-on-the-bones of modern policing in the United States was inspired by the slave patrols of the southern states.
- Although more white people are killed by the police in the United States than other ethnic groups because of their sheer numbers, a much higher percentage of Black people are shot in high profile and questionable extrajudicial killings.
- The practice of authorities or police killing unarmed Black people has a 400 years old history in the US.
- The nation’s extraordinarily high incarceration rate of Black men relative to the overall incarceration rate in the world reflects a punitive, industrial construct.
- The dramatic level of income inequality in 2020, especially as it relates to race, is rooted in systems that have worked against Black wealth creation for centuries.
- Ongoing neighborhood segregation, under-funding of schools, under-employment, and general racial discrimination fuel a permanent underclass in the African American community that police departments are used to “keep in check.”
In many ways, police violence against Black people stems from an infrastructure that doesn’t value Black lives and that seeks to actively thwart efforts by Black and Brown people to create lives of quality and dignity.
I was recently invited to moderate an online panel discussion organized by Tilt West, a nonprofit dedicated to fostering conversation on art, humanity, and community. My fellow panelists included Wisdom Amouzou, an activist, diversity expert, and principal of Empower Community High School; Bianca Mikhan, a poet and artist who focuses on mental and spiritual health in marginalized communities; and Lady Speech, a spiritual coach and advocate for LGBTQ communities. We were invited to reflect on Black safety in the face of ongoing police violence. I started our conversation by asking that we reimagine what safety might be. Is it solely about protecting ourselves from those who seek to kill us? Or does the notion of Black safety provoke a deeper question about finding true security in the quality of our lives? Is it both and more?
Mikhan argued for an idea of safety that reaches beyond our individual selves so that we may survive and thrive collectively. She believes that true safety is found in compassion. Mikhan’s remarks raised hard questions about humanity. She reflected on the fact that some people have responded to the COVID19 pandemic by buying guns, while others have baked bread. She said that we’ve been forced to ask the question of who we want to be as a society when we grow up, which provokes further questions such as whether we believe that people are fundamentally good. For Mikahn, it is our ability to apply our greatest selves to small domestic challenges that prepares us to create a bigger, better version of humanity.
Amouzou asserted that a truly safe environment requires three essential elements: freedom from threat, or not having to deal with the possibility of death on an ongoing basis; freedom from fear, or accepting that threat is part of the human experience; and peace, or living in a world where you can successfully manage threat and fear.
Lady Speech made the case that true safety is rooted in our relationship with Mother Earth. The broken relationship between humanity and the Earth creates the conditions which lead to state-sponsored violence. White supremacy and capitalism have disconnected us from Mother Earth and have resulted in a fear-based approach to life that shows up in all of our institutions. Lady Speech added that the 400 years of violence inflicted on African Americans has not been lost on Mother Earth, who is responding to the energy of this pain and trauma.
Our conversation also touched on what it feels like to walk around in a state of constant fear. Amouzou suggested that he manages this fear by mentally and emotionally departing from America. Mikhan responded that this kind of mental departure is essential to survival in American society. By contrast, Lady Speech believes that we must first come to terms with our traumatic history; we must acknowledge the effects that our violent history has on the present, by seeing the ways that the rapes of children and adults that were a common part of the African American slave experience impact our community even today.
My conversation with these three seers led me to create a list of seven ways that we might establish true safety and make it a way of life going forward.
1. Bring back our connection to our ancestors. One of the most common indigenous African philosophical constructs is the idea of ancestral veneration. A basic scientific principle is that energy is never destroyed; it is simply transformed. This principle must also apply to human energy. Ancient people understood this as a basic truth of human experience and felt profound, ongoing connection with their ancestors. This connection helped them face challenges from a position of strength and with a perception of protection and safety.
2. Embrace Ubuntu. Ancestral veneration is rooted in the concept of Ubuntu. This idea says that “a person is a person because of other persons.” In other words, none of us exists alone; we are not really individuals. We belong to a collective of people who have existed for millenia. This understanding stands in direct conflict with the Western notion of rugged individualism. True safety may be found by tapping into the genetic memory of that indigenous wisdom.
3. Take the painting off the wall. If you go back far enough (and sometimes not that far) almost every ethnic group has used song and dance, not for the purpose of artistic display, but as an integrated part of daily life. Somehow, in Western civilization, art has become something we collect and view at a distance, like a painting on the wall of a museum. Perhaps re-engaging with spontaneous music and dance would bring us closer to a way of life more in keeping with a safe environment. There is safety in the release provided by song and dance.
4. Focus on quality of life. One of my own anecdotal observations is that when people have a decent quality of life, they are less likely to accept an unsafe environment. They become committed to maintaining their safety, the safety of their family, and the safety of their community. Conversely, when people’s lives are precarious, they will often end up in unpredictable, perilous, and unsafe circumstances. The math here is not that hard.
5. Defund the police. Yes, I know this phrase is a lightning rod, but that’s only because it has been highly politicized. Something is genuinely amiss with police funding. According to a New York TImes report from June 12th, 2020, city police budgets across the country have risen by millions of dollars annually — even during lean years for city finances, and even despite a steep nationwide decline in violent crime that began in the early 1990s. More dollars are being funneled to police departments to fight the “ghost” of an out-of-control crime rate, and this has come at the expense of funding for other city services. Police departments have also grown more militarized, equipped with assault-style weapons and even tanks from arms makers. “Defunding the police” doesn’t mean eliminating police from your city. It simply means that resources should be focused on necessary services that address mental health, food scarcity, addiction, and other challenges that have been exacerbated by massive income inequality, and not merely on adding more armed men and women on the streets, which often only invites violent altercations. Police budgets should not be tied to political whim, but to overall crime trends and statistics. Science, data, and truth should still matter.
6. Support Relationships. The more we devote time and resources to developing and strengthening relationships among family and friends, the more we can tap into those relationships to help family members overcome challenges instead of leaving that responsibility to the police. Traditionally, family has been the first line of defense in a crisis. Without this support, we call on the police to step in where family could be the first call. Of course, there are times when the police should be called, but imagine a society that supports families and provides more family-based services.
7. Stop creating the “Procariat.”If you combine the words precarious (unstable) with proletariat (working class), you create the word Procariat. Millions of Americans live the life of the Procariat — the unstable working class — especially African Americans. If you cannot plan for the next eighteen months, you are living an unsafe life. If your household is food insecure, you are living an unsafe life. If you don’t know where your next paycheck will come from, you are living an unsafe life. When we start to address these issues, we will improve safety for African Americans and halt the perpetuation of the Procariat.
We have opportunities to do something about safety; they are not beyond us. They don’t even require us to leave the comfort of our homes. They do, however, require a shared philosophy of Ubuntu that helps us understand that when others around us are unsafe, we are all unsafe.
How to Be A Witch, Wizard, or Warlock in Today’s Economy
Those who sought the illusion — it is done
Outdated bones impose the mundane
To discover the True
Do so with nothing
Seek not belief to remain
Hang up on people in real life the way they hang up on people in movies
Raise your right hand to the heavens and bring down
lightning to match the ground
It’s possible to communicate directly with
your chosen reality initiations
Become manifestations of The Witch
Who would say that pleasure isn’t useful?
The Witch always tells me to form the defeat
and make off with the storm
as an act of makeup
and lack of academy
Let the cowards of false kindness
mistake power for magick
Let them have their placards
& petty commendations
Beware of tricks
says The Witch —
Stick with spells
We, Patron Saints of Troubled Times
We
bang our heads
in a whisper, screaming
to a lord We don’t think
maybe might be out there
All of our altars
rendered hollow wind
candles blown out, waiting
despite heaven’s backlog
for so many candidates to
finally be canonized
Reaching for the
language of ordainment
its distance further all the time
not realizing We are all
already fluent
Kingdom Come
ain’t coming through
so We must seize the
means of production and
baptize our own damned selves
Act as ye have faith
and faith shall be given
to We
But We is not
an empty office
Our newfound abilities
must be brought to bear
transmute thoughts and prayers
into actions both grand and fragile
Be of service to one and other
with no thought of reward
no fanfare or tithing
no pedestal or pulpit
We are all We and
no one stands higher
than anyone
Ibadan
auntie grows ewedu in the backyard
Ibadan is a handful of lemongrass boiled with rainwater
the purest form of my father I know
here, he smiles in love letters to old girlfriends
runs his fingers through the rusted gate of his elementary school
and we all breathe easier here
the generator is twisted into ivy breaking through the brick of the outer gate
the red dirt marks everything
coats uncle’s pressed suit
grows into your blood
follows you the way a souvenir cannot
this is unconquerable land
wildflowers have overtaken the old foreign tire company
your sugar does not grow here
I’ve never met a land that rains like your grandmother bathing you
scraping with wise hands in a tin bucket
this is where I want my bones rested
where the sun is always showing off
where poverty is just another word the British made up
where the melon vines stretch eagerly up to our urging hands
Here
We are familiar with laughter
The way America is familiar with debt
We live
Loud and up close
Off-grid
Off-schedule
Here
We
Know
How
To
Live
Ghazal for Spring
For now, let us hang our pain and worry on the closest hook
and admire the army of tulips stretching outside, it is spring.
If you will, turn off the news and be still for a moment,
listen to the loud sound of silence that sings, it is spring.
The coyotes and deer and bear have begun to reclaim the land
the water is clearer, the air fresh, the fish are swimming, it is spring.
Mother Earth is shedding the old like a snake, curando heridas abiertas
showing us the love in sacrifice and growth; que hermoso, verdad? Es Primavera.
Chase the smile welling inside you, even if you feel that it’s fleeting,
it is proof the sun always has your back, it is spring.
Do not walk around the promise of new beginnings as if tomorrow will
foolishly repeat the mistakes of yesterday; seeds are sprouting, it is spring.
Forget not, there is a warm body in front of each shadow,
a heart beating, a mind conspiring, a spirit opening, it is spring.
This morning, entangled bodies made love as the cold rain fell softly outside,
physical distance morphing into metaphor; climax, equinox, it is spring.
The wind is howling outside, the hood is a siren that’s not sounding,
I’m contemplating what will blossom from all of this, it is spring.
soul (noun)
the principle of life, feeling, thought, and action in humans, regarded as a distinct entity separate from the body, and commonly held to be separable in existence from the body
philanthropy (noun, plural: philanthropies)
altruistic concern for human welfare and advancement
If you believe you are too small to make a difference, you haven’t yet spent the night with a mosquito. — African proverb
Giving First
by Bianca Mikahn
Awe inspiring collectives can
be found in the tiniest corners of nature
Neurons, insects, birds
like starlings blanketing the sky
To live
Thrive
to have enough
maybe to distribute
in spite of inhibited acquisition
Inflate new ideas with pressed upon lungs
lift upon air with seemingly clipped wings
manifest this philanthropic soul
We’ve always built the boots and the straps
and the sinew tensed for pulling
We’ve always responded to struggle with familiar capability
an extra ladle dished onto an unplanned plate
an extra blanket on a bed laced
foot to head to foot with cousins
giving first
Consistent solemn promises to never stand idle
in the face of our brethren’s need
in the face of our sistren’s loss
in the face of vicious threat
There is active work to inhibit our vision
machines reading biometrics as though a computer camera
could recognize our flesh more clearly than a neighbor’s caring eye
This narrative of destitution endless, monolithic
almost always inaccurately reported
I’ve never met a welfare queen, only families in need
Of course currency is a limited tool
truthfully the weakest resource we own
It cannot respond and understand the way a heart might
does not plan and engage the way a mind might
Capitally seems to allow mastery of life experience
but experience was not always currency’s pet
once it roamed unbridled in the countenance of tribes and villages
general understanding of our inherent value
How does humanity save itself
from the maw of industrial greed
how do we fly free without risking ourselves prey
In these schools, swarms, herds, flocks
We could be the murmuration of the starlings
Each winged partner coordinating
with its seven most immediate counterparts
Creating a pulsing cloud of iridescent black
a visual spectacle of thousands sweeping pulling dipping redoubling
This phenomenon actually born an illustrious dance of defense
no scientist able to identify how such vast flocks maneuver
with complete cohesion
infinite lives spared through responding to neighbors with
speed grace and accuracy
no single fowl leading the flock
all movements governed collectively maintaining motion so fluid
it makes the blood in our human veins ache and race with wonder
This intimacy with wind currents
this result of countless butterfly effects
crashing over each other’s inevitability
tidal wave tendencies
tipping points defying gravity
organizing for the sake of survival
Beautiful causation in response to considerable peril
not just our capability, but our responsibility
Every finger and feather and wing and buck and prayer essential
One might think in this fecund wilderness of a world
only the largest most aggressive entities are allowed to procure safety
But the numbers we might find our strength in are endless
and brilliantly adept at converting the horizon into vistas of sweeping change
When our little pieces adjust into the perfect places
we ascend
a pulsing sky bound mosaic
Lifting past the antiquated naysayers
And back into the soaring arms
of our people
A Letter to Black Femmes
Black femme.
You night sky,
You starless galaxy
You
stars for eyes.
You
are so full of empty
of womb
of creation
You
balance of holy fire
You misunderstanding
You
misunderstood
You
so beautiful
so lawless
so… dark
They branded you that, you know?
“dark,” “black,” “demon,”
You
all reclamation
all “yin,” “rebirth,”
You
beaten spine still straight
you clawed teeth
you rip them apart with rhetoric
and discourse.
You
all community,
all let’s talk this through
all “What is ailing you, my love?”
Them
tired of hearing about how black you are,
How straight your hair is not
Wishing
you’d just blend in
Wishing you’d stop being all bold colored font
You
all redefining black as beautiful
nappy as galaxy
You all proud
them all scared
You not running
them all shaking.
You
You
You
stand tall against the wind
You recognize your skin as baobab tree
You all deeply rooted
You
wondering about your roots
on a land that feels like sand
You clinging onto the depths of empty
You know empty
You’ve claimed it
made it friend
You know what happens here,
in a starless night,
in a planet-less galaxy
in the largest womb ever known.
Here
is where you have always
created best
Love Poem for Everything
When I can’t stay inside my own head
let alone this half-haunted apartment.
When I bust down the door into space.
When I lie in the middle of the busy road.
When I turn my head up to the night sky
and I let it consume me.
Car honks.
The distant hum of punk rock
diving out of bars.
The sound of stale beer
on the floor
warped wood panels
some guy trash-talking
football punchy soapbox manifestos
floating down streams of consciousness.
Fingers snapping like they’re trying to start a fire
the only thing getting laid is bricks.
Underground and in the bookstores
dreaming of 90s children’s television shows
dreaming of 60s communism parties
and why shouldn’t they?
The flag is torn in decades it’s only pieced back together in time.
Jills in jackboots
souls in shoes
transient life in constant hearts
sheep in wolves clothing
Hawaiian shirts at funerals
crowded buses on their 36 hustle
taking the elitist drunks to The People’s Republic of Boulder
taking trustafarians to Denver, Queen City of the Cranes*
the dying hunt for empanadas for streetlights
dripping with light
closing their eyes at 2 am
but not tired.
For the devil’s curly hair! Patrolling Cap Hill at 3 am for a pulse
singing improv ethereal gutter moon chainsaw garage dumpster surf punk to the dead trees
we made this whole thing up!
For the queen bitches on Mars
revealing armor in striptease, in unwavering loud truth
vulvas slapped like stickers on masculine walls
calling not for destruction
but reminding the Bukowskis it’s getting dark outside
you’d better let your bluebird free.
For eyes in round glasses
sporadic jolts of childhood boom snap clap nursery rhymes
driving cow towns over moons and potato anthems stories
reminders that this here is what we have
and what we have is the space to be, still
that there is value in alleys that live between banks and bars
like breaths in Gibson.
Guitars still being played
marches, rallies, protests, strikes, riots
all still being played
Dylan still being played
paint slapped on shirts on sweaters
and when they ask “what does it mean?” we’ll say
good question.
and when they ask “what does it mean?” we’ll say
be patient, they’ll figure it out someday.
Outside the window
there are metric tons of humanity
crashing against each other
like two oceans thrown together
swallowing entire continents.
Our children will eat our mistakes
like Breakfast of Champions
their poetry will be lethal to hate.
as we begin to shrink back into the Earth
we will know to look up to them.
Our children will never trip on a phone cord.
They will grow flowers in the plots of our graves.
They will sing in octaves that we’ve never heard.
They won’t know industry
or need
they won’t need to
my hope is
they will bloom organic
in houses made of opened blood cells.
Our children will shine
and cheers with love potions.
They will see through owl’s eyes.
They will make each other’s beds.
Our children will eat at one long table;
the longest wickedest table we’ve ever seen.
Our children will bear witness to our history.
Our children will correct our story.
They will put us in their paintings
and display our failures in public hangings.
Our children will reclaim the daytime for the sun.
Our children will shatter glass ceilings with fists made of flowers.
They will stare each other in the eyes when they communicate.
They won’t open their mouths.
When we die, our children will live
and it will be so damn hard on them
that someday they too will die.
Hear me now:
uncork your neck and pour out your spirit
my friends, my sisters, my brothers
I say this to you urgently
as a tragic skeleton wrapped in painful comedy.
if it is a sign you are looking for, make your home on highways.
I say this to you my friends, my sisters, my brothers
my sons and daughters.
I do not sleep much these days,
but when I do I dream of you
and of you and of you
and I wake up so confused
because if it wasn’t for the Heaven I huddle around me
I worry I’d find myself living in Hell
so thank you to the Heavens for existing right now
thank you, Earth, for gravity
thank you, Wind, for levity
thank you, Water, for movement
and thank you, Fire
for giving us something to circle around.
I say this to you, my friends, my sisters, my brothers
I love you.
I love your death and I love your rebirth.
I love your broken womb, your unwatched fire
your five-course meal of disaster
that you offer me on a dirty platter
and I love you not in the next moment but in this one.
I love your wealth and your company and your energy
for I will die poor and tired and alone.
Every single one of us will die poor and tired and alone.
Thank you to the warm hand that carries my dead skull home, into this half-haunted apartment
where I close my door and rest
dreaming of everything.
In this period of physical distancing, Tilt West is launching a new series called, “Writer of the Week,” in which we will feature a poem or reflection from members of our community. We begin this series with poet, performer, and activist, Suzi Q. Smith who inspires us daily with her Poems for the End of the World.
Mezzo Sopranos Get the Sad Songs
Did you hear the one about the long lines around
the gun shop and the sold out bullets
and the empty grocery store shelves in the United States?
What will happen when our lights are out?
I hope we sing like the people in Italy.
I only really know two arias, one of which is “Lascia Te Mi Morire”
translation: bring me my death
so I don’t think I’ll sing that one,
but I’ll tell you this:
I’ll sing before I shoot,
I’ll sing before I shoot,
ain’t never been afraid of heaven anyhow.
On a crisp September day in 1994, while my friends headed out for a hike in the Shenandoah’s, I lay in my apartment in bed. Ordinarily, I would have joined them. But three weeks earlier, I had suddenly become unable to sit or stand, and severely limited in walking. Those three weeks would stretch to more than 15 years, during which most of my time would be spent in physical isolation and in bed.
That evening, my friends brought their day back to me. They arrived at my door with goldenrods and purple asters, newly harvested apples, and groceries to prepare a fall feast. As we dined, they described their hike in vivid detail — recounting how the verdant hills were beginning to turn, spotted with vibrant reds from a few precocious oaks and the nascent yellows of ash trees. This vicarious tour and their companionship helped me to feel as though nothing had changed, even though — for me — much had.
The funny thing about sudden life change is that the world continues to move impossibly forward. Aspects of one’s former life intrude into the present, demanding attention. Like many people with disabilities, I learned quickly to adapt my job as well. By using available technology, I was able to continue to work.
Figuring out how to navigate in new circumstances is essential to living one’s best life. I offer a few reflections and resources, since most of us now are experiencing some form of isolation.
Thought # 1: Continue to do your thing — just do it differently.
Even though digital technology is ubiquitous, relying on technology as a mainstay may feel initially cold and awkward. As professors struggle to get courses up on line, a law professor friend mentioned that she asked students to introduce their pets to break the ice and add warmth in her first online class. Tilt West Board Member, Bianca Mikhan, who is a hip hop performer, put out a call on Facebook, inviting others to join her in a freestyle challenge. Improvisation seems an apt metaphor for the adjustments we are making right now — we are all freestyling.
Whatever your passion, find ways to engage it. While binging on junk food and entertainment might feel good in the short run, those empty calories are unlikely to sustain you in the same way that things that are meaningful to you will. If you have access to the internet — there are so many opportunities.
Museums large and small offer their collections online for your viewing pleasure. Here is a list of more than 2500 museum collections. If a smaller, more intimate art-viewing experience suits you better, art galleries also have their work online.
The Met Opera, the Berlin Philharmonic, and others are hosting regular “quarantine soirees”. Film festivals are placing their programming online, adding to the variety of online film collections that already exist. Broadway plays are available, and Broadway actors are livestreaming as well. One of my favorite signs of ingenuity to emerge of late is the “Social Distancing Festival.” When so many arts events were cancelled, this initiative decided to support artists by putting their performances online — a “win-win” that offers everything from comedy to trivia contests to poetry readings and more.
Popular music more your thing? Here is a list of musicians from John Legend to Willie Nelson who are livestreaming concerts. I started to put together a silly thematic playlist of online music videos that reflect this moment– songs like “Don’t Stand So Close to Me,” by the Police, and (since I was dancing to it by myself) Billy Idol’s “Dancing with Myself,” Janelle Monae’s “Dance Apocalyptic,” Gloria Gaynor’s “I will Survive,” and many more.
Books. Books. Books. Quiet time is wonderful for reading. Thousands of titles are freely available from the New York Public Library; there are also sources of free audiobooks. Local authors are doing readings and offering their thoughts, like this series from Suzi Q Smith. And if art is your thing, here is a shameless plug for the Tilt West Journal, which features poetry, essay, and visual and time-based artwork.
Missing the refuge of nature? Take these incredible tours of the National Parks. Animal videos more your thing? I have a friend who fosters puppies and puts videos and photographs of their progress online, which have become a regular tonic for me. Choose whatever soothes you and gives you meaning and solace.
Thought # 2: Continue to connect with people and to be active.
It’s not just important to connect to the world and your work, we have to continue to connect with one another. Social distancing is a bit of a misnomer. Community is more important than ever, even as we practice physical distancing.
These days, I do a lot of speaking (or I did before the onset of COVID-19). Recently, I was asked to give a talk about resilience and healing, and I learned that the most important tool for building resilience is cultural and social support. Social scientists have found that even people who are profoundly isolated, like those in solitary confinement, find ways to communicate with those around them, such as by tapping on the walls. They suggest that we can all develop a “tapping response.”
Fortunately, most of us are not in circumstances as extreme — we simply have to move our connections online. In about five minutes, I will join a virtual cocktail party organized by a friend in NYC. Tomorrow, I have a virtual tea planned with a friend who I haven’t seen since law school. I’ve scheduled zoom calls with friends in other cities; one of them, who organizes social gatherings for a great project called Looking for America, is going to work with me to curate a series of virtual dinner parties with people who don’t often come together.
I have also been touched by the people who have reached out to me. Perhaps most poignant, friends who are working on the front lines in epicenters of COVID-19, an epidemiologist at the University of Washington and an infectious disease doctor, emailed to see how I was doing.
It remains important to be as physically active as your circumstances allow. Some of us can still venture outside while practicing safe physical distancing: I am enormously grateful for my ability to be in nature in Colorado. But there are other options as well. With gyms shuttered, many are offering free classes via livestream. A group called Dancing Alone Together provides a range of high-end virtual classes. I have friend locally who set up a group called “Covid Connection” of virtual gatherings focused on fitness and wellness.
Making an effort to schedule social events and to exercise can help in another way as well, by urging us forward in setting new routines. In times of uncertainty, routine and schedule give a sense of control. These changed circumstances could go on for some time. While routine helps, we must recognize that there may be moments when we have energy to set up all kinds of virtual activities and moments when those efforts flag. Thus, it also seems important that we not expect consistent levels of performance or positivity from ourselves.
Thought # 3: Try something new.
Unusual circumstances can be a great time to try something new. My love of art began with me starting to draw while bedridden — and it is now a huge passion in my life.
The Cleveland Intercity Ballet is offering free online ballet classes. A celebrated master chef is offering virtual online cooking classes. For those who really want to dig in, there are literally hundreds of high level academic classes offered online. I mentioned drop in exercise classes: last week I took a virtual hip hop dance class. I am notorious — despite my friends’ best efforts to intervene tracing all the way back to college (no, I can’t blame it on the fact that my legs did not work for awhile) — for dancing like a white woman. The advantage of dancing by myself? No witnesses!
Changed circumstances may create a vacuum you can fill with a project you’ve been wanting to do for some time — be it writing, gardening, or spring cleaning.
You might even find solace by leaning into the silence. I’m not a quiet person by any stretch — not a natural meditator — but I have learned the benefits of deep breathing, meditation, and visualization. For many years, I have meditated for an hour every day, because it calms a nervous system amped up by severe, long-term pain. We all need calming tools, especially now. And there are so many apps available and lots of groups offering free, even five minute meditation sessions.
Thought # 4: Reach out to those in greatest need.
Most important, let’s remember to take care of each other, because we are in this together. The point of public health is to recognize that our health is interdependent, and that our actions and precautions affect one another.
It is important to remember that not everyone is equally situated. The other thing I learned about resilience is that it has much more to do with what comes to us from the outside than what lies within us. It turns out that things like whether someone gets sick leave, how soon insurance money comes through after a natural disaster, having stable housing and ready access to food, and even whether a group is subjected to discrimination, matters much more than a positive attitude to resilience and survival.
We are all stressed and anxious, but some of us are suffering more than others. Some have greater vulnerabilities, be they related to health, mental health, or economic and social circumstances. In many ways, my suggestions feel very privileged: they offer paltry aid to those who are home schooling children while telecommuting, or those struggling with immanent financial and health hardship. I have concerns for so many of us. I worry about people in prison and homeless shelters who cannot effectively isolate. I worry and am writing about the rationing of healthcare that is likely to come, and its effect on those of us whose lives will be accorded less value.
Having worked in two public health crises — HIV/AIDS and the overdose crisis –-I have seen how these times can bring out both the best and the worst in us. Managing our fear is important. I loved reading a recent article in the Seattle Timesabout how the virus has created an “epidemic of people helping people.”
Check on friends who are expressing feelings of vulnerability or neighbors who are older, house-bound by their disabilities, or lack support. If you can, donate to local food banks. Schools are being cancelled, and many families rely on the food that educational institutions provide. I’ve been heartened by my friends who are counselors offering free sessions to those in need. I have the crisis center hotline at the ready, in case someone I talk to needs the kind of professional support I am unable to provide. I know others who are organizing the delivery of food and medicine. I remain ever grateful to those clinicians on the front lines, and to those who continue to work in and stock stores and pharmacies. We all have different things to offer in these times. Giving back and feeling gratitude are important for their own sake; they have the added benefit of building mental and physical resilience as well.
With much love and my best wishes for your safety and for kindness.