New Year’s Revolutions

My husband is a music teacher, and he recently asked one of his favorite students to write down a list of “New Year’s Music Resolutions.” When she came back, she presented him with her “New Year’s Revolutions,” which he corrected, but found oddly moving. When he told me about this, I was moved too—the idea of a ten-year-old girl starting a revolution felt extremely timely and appropriate. So this year, in addition to my resolutions (no drinking, more sleep, better study habits, etc), I’m making a list of revolutions.

  1. Attend a goddamn protest. My excuse last year was that I worked weekends, so I didn’t have the free time to go show my support for the Women’s March, Science March, etc. I was in California at the time of the badass August protest in Boston, so I was extra unavailable. But now? I have weekends off. There was no defensible reason that I wasn’t at the anniversary of the Women’s March over last weekend. The actual reason? I didn’t even know it was happening until I saw people’s IG posts. I know I’m in a grad school bubble, but I passionately care about these issues, and need to hit the streets to show my support. Throwing occasional money at causes isn’t the same as showing up and fighting. No more slacktivism in 2018.
  2. Buy all organic. Time to put my money where my mouth is. The only way to increase demand for natural, local, and organic foods is to literally increase demand for them. Even though, to quote my ex-boyfriend’s tweet, there’s “no ethical consumption under capitalism,” we can at least fucking try. It’s great that a carton of eggs is 89 cents, but it won’t kill me to buy the cage-free. And it’s not more expensive to buy organic! I mean, per unit, maybe, but you’d be amazed at how much you save when you stop buying processed foods and start buying whole.
  3. Believe in myself. I know this sounds wicked stupid, but for me, a depressive, possible-ADHD-sufferer and probable codependent, believing in myself is a radical, political act. The idea that I deserve a happiness and a good life is an entirely foreign concept to me. When you’re 26 and in grad school, you get asked what you’re going to do with your life constantly, and my answer thus far has been a giant question mark. Not because I don’t want a bright future, but because I’ve never had hopes, dreams, or goals. I didn’t believe that I could. This year, I’m going to write a script, look for internships, keep this blog going, and work on myself in therapy. Being a mess is not “cute” or “creative.” It’s weak.
  4. Curb my spending and shop local. Refer back to the “no ethical consumption under capitalism” notion. In my heart of hearts, I am a lil’ socialist, but in my habits I am basically a corporate monster. I believe in universal basic income, health care, and education, but do literally nothing to work towards those outcomes. “Shopping local” isn’t exactly socialist, but when my money supports local businesses in my community, or women-owned businesses, I feel less shame about parting with it. Why do I have a Starbucks gold card when my local coffee shop has way better coffee (and a way better points system)? Now, to kick the Amazon habit…
  5. Go minimal. This goes along with #4—I DO NOT NEED SO MUCH STUFF. I know I’m in the “accumulation” phase of life—newly married, young, building my identity, yadda yadda yadda—but who ever said that being an adult meant being inundated with THINGS? I’ve been donating and consigning clothes with thredUP, selling my old textbooks on Amazon, and bringing my housewares and miscellaneous items to charity shops. My aspirational self is one that has a capsule wardrobe and lives a Marie Kondo/Swedish Death Cleaning-approved life, but one step at a time.
  6. Speak up. In the current political climate, I’m afraid to use my voice. Not here, or screaming into the Twitter void, but in person. I hate bringing up the subject of politics in conversation, unless I know the affiliation of the persons present. I hate conflict, and it seems that people on the, well, wrong side of history, have very loud, aggressive voices. Since they support him, and the general shadiness of the current incarnation of the GOP, they aren’t amenable to reason. I can’t argue, because they’ve abandoned all logic. My goal for 2018 is to be an ally, and speak up when I hear ignorant people use racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, Islamophobic (Jesus Christ this list is long) language and not back down in the face of dissent. POC, LGBTQ folx, and every other person who is marginalized by the current system deserve better than my meek support and retweets.

Fight the power!

xoxo,

c

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Aging Out

Well, it had to happen eventually. Me turning 26 next month, I mean. Twenty-six. Finally, I’ve crossed to the other side of what my imagination was capable of imagining. As a kid or a teen, 25 seemed so adult. That was the age I’d always planned to get married (I did) and start thinking about having kids (I haven’t). But that was it. Everything after 25 was blank and dark. I didn’t, don’t, have a plan.

President Obama was elected President during my senior year of high school, which means the ACA-related mandate that kids can stay on their parents’ health insurance until age 26 was just a fact of my teens and twenties. I got to make my way through college without worrying about healthcare. Sure, I haven’t had dental for a while, but I take excellent care of my teeth and hope to go for a cleaning/checkup soon. I got to experience inexpensive preventative and emergency care, thanks to a decision that allowed me to benefit from the health insurance my father’s company provides us. I have gotten antibiotics to stave off sinus infections and UTIs. I’ve gotten my regular paps. I’ve even been tested for STIs/HIV—something monogamous people rarely feel they need to do. I have a wrist and back brace for when hard work turns into aches and pains.

I rarely visit doctors, because I’m rarely sick. The above list is a compilation of nearly a decade of experiences. I’m the queen of holistic remedies. It’s not unheard of for me to drink raw apple cider, or eat a whole garlic clove. I diffuse essential oils and apply them topically. I truly believe in my heart of hearts that local honey can help with seasonal allergies. I have been very lucky in my life. Not everyone I know has been so lucky.

Several people in my life whom I love dearly have suffered from seizures, Type I diabetes, cancer—things that herbal tea and meditation won’t cure. So, as I’m panicking, approaching my 26th birthday worried about my own access to care, I can’t stop thinking about them. That list of pre-existing conditions? I have exactly one: history of depression. Pretty much every person I know has more—just one of my family members has four on this partial list alone. This list is ableist, transphobic, misogynist, and cruel.

So, I’m turning 26. I finally have to cut the last remaining cord to my parents and get my own insurance. As stressful as it all is, I know, again, that I’m lucky. I’m a privileged, married, white woman, a born citizen of the U.S. I’m employed and educated, living in a blue state where care options are plentiful. I won’t be bankrupted trying to care for myself. But I am such a minuscule sliver of the population. The health insurance I pay for, I’ll rarely need or use.

Speaker Ryan said something, when talking a few months ago about the AHCA: “Why should healthy people pay for sick people to have healthcare?”

I paraphrase, but that sentence is the distillation of the expressed sentiments.

I don’t know, Speaker Ryan. Why should safe drivers pay for reckless ones? Why should financially responsible people pay for over-spenders’ overdraft fees?

We are one people. Every citizen, born, naturalized, and aspiring, is valuable. Their lives are valuable.

The same hypocrites who are pro-life and #AllLivesMatter are plotting to take healthcare away from millions of Americans, which will kill thousands. This is murder—it is a premeditated assault on the poor and disadvantaged, the disabled, the sick.

I am so lucky. I will probably escape from this nightmare unscathed. But because I’m unaffected, at least for now, I’m strong and healthy enough to fight for those that can’t fight for themselves. #Slacktivism is easy—real activism is really hard. I’m not even there yet. I just contacted my rep for the first time on July 4th. I’m a monthly donor to the ACLU and Planned Parenthood, but I can’t afford to send them as much as I’d like.

Luckily, my best friend is a woke bae who has marched and prioritized civic engagement like a boss. She has alerted me to a few dope resources that are the perfect intro to doing your part.

***

WTF Just Happened Today – This is a daily briefing on what the government is up to. If North Korea is testing missiles, you can read about it here. If the GOP is still whining about Hillary’s e-mails, it’ll be on here. It’s so hard to keep every crazy thing that’s happened straight!

5calls – 5calls is a site that provides call scripts and contact information for State Reps, Senators, AGs, etc. Reps work for us—make sure they’re legislating your values by calling them.

Countable – Countable provides summaries of past and present bills, plus the information on how your reps have voted. It helps you make those calls armed with the facts. For instance, my rep, whom I voted for and who I feel represents most of my values, recently voted for an extremely shitty, xenophobic bill. Hell no.

Democratic Socialists of America – I still haven’t taken the plunge and joined the DSA, but it’s only a matter of time. Yes, we need to buck the 2-party system (France and Britain’s recent elections are compelling evidence as to why), but I’m hoping my beloved Dems can get it together and swerve left. The DSA is doing super important work at the local level though, so check them out. Just don’t put a rose emoji in your Twitter display name, or I’ll disown you.

***

Well, that post took an unexpected turn. What started as a personal reflection about getting older somehow turned into a call for political action. Lately, it’s been hard not to think in the plural. As the rights of other Americans are stripped away, WE supersedes ME. Grammatically-questionable platitude aside, we’ve got to get to work. 2018 is coming up fast. I’ll be 27 by the midterms—maybe I’ll have some of this figured out by then.