January

It’s been a while… I promise: In July, I was working on a letter for you. And in August. September, November. It was the same letter, centered around the same quote, taking slightly different iterations each time. I think there were a couple of things at work: 1) The topic of the letter scared me, though I didn’t realize that when I started it. 2) I didn’t want to wrestle with it. 3) It was easier to avoid. In July, I wanted to write about citizenship and belonging: The ways we truly don’t belong, the ways we are made to feel as if we don’t, and the ways we separate our own selves. It felt relevant—I was reading things and conversations kept coming up that touched on those topics. It was the 4th of July and then Juneteenth. To be honest, I was feeling frustrated (by basic conversations—people not knowing what Juneteenth was, people talking about race and racial politics with less than a 101 understanding). I was not feeling generous. But I also liked and was liked by someone—someone out of my comfort zone who is kind but doesn’t share many of my politics, whose approach to the world is similar to mine in some ways and very different in others, who is white and grew up in the South—and I was struggling to reconcile what it all *meant* (oh, the plight of being a ruminator), especially since I was in the midst of a dating hiatus. I was scared—that it was too much, that I wasn’t ready, that I would be repeating old patterns (all which turned out to be true in a sense). But I also found myself less frustrated with what he did not know, more willing to explain, more willing to go back and forth. It didn’t feel like he had an agenda (though maybe I did). It felt like he was just listening. Here is another truth: This will not be that letter. * In July, in service of the vanished quote, I spoke with Eric Eddings, a host and producer for The Nod (soon to be a daily video show on Quibi), about telling the stories of black people. Eric was gracious with his time and in sharing his work. Listen for a taste of what that letter might have been like. Listen to hear the vanished quote. And listen for a great conversation with someone doing incredible work. Explore more of Eric’s work: The Deacons — Eric tells us about a group in 1960s Bogalusa, Louisiana called the Deacons for Defense and Justice. The Deacons mobilized on the day of Malcolm X’s assassination to protect black families against the Klan. As a kid, Eric’s mother was one of those who were protected. The Rise and Fall of Black TV (feat. Erika Alexander) — Eric and Erika’s rapport is tangible in this piece where she discusses being on some of the most iconic black shows of all time (so far): The Cosby Show and Living Single. The Hairstons Part 1: Snakes on a Plantation — Ever Lee Hairston grew up on the same plantation that her ancestors worked on—and that is still owned by the people who enslaved her family. This is her story. (And yes, Ms. Hairston is alive right now.) The Hairstons Part 2: Diary of a Mad Black Cousin — Somewhere in North Carolina, there’s a joint family reunion every year for the descendants of those who were enslaved and those who owned slaves. But this particular year? Ever Lee Hairston has decided she’s had enough. * * * And now, on to January. I heard this song on the radio last week. It came on while I was pulling my car into the garage. As the synths swelled and Maxwell crooned, I closed the garage door, sat in the car with only headlights as illumination, and listened. Maxwell’s singing about a love he once had—it didn’t work out and it left him broken. There’s always an opportunity to love again, but now he’s at a crossroads: He could choose to stay in his brokenness and let time pass him by, or he could try to work it all out. I’ve been listening to this song a lot since I heard it. It’s not even as if this was the first time I’ve ever heard it, but it was the first time I heard it since I’ve been an adult, and the first time I heard it where I really understood what was being sung. Now, I’m an R&B girl, but it just feels like a higher frequency vibe. The song isn’t conclusive, but it *feels* like he’s finally ready to work it out. I think the important thing, the thing that resonates, is that he has a choice and he recognizes it. On a certain level, it may feel more comfortable to remain broken. Brokenness is the devil he knows; healing may be the devil he doesn’t. (And let’s make no mistake: the process of healing? It can certainly feel like a devil.) But actively choosing to heal opens the door to so much more. Even outside of the topic at hand, I’ve been thinking about discipline and (life) work and building toward living my ideal life. I think that’s part of why it resonates—it feels like a new year’s song. Or maybe my new year’s song. Since I was fifteen or so, the new year has always brought on something like a mini existential crisis. I remember sitting at church during the watch night service, scribbling down thoughts about being fifteen and what I hoped to accomplish when I was sixteen. My new year and *the* new year always coincide. For the most part, every year since then, and maybe some years before then, I’ve approached the new year with at least a little bit of dread. In my mind, getting older meant less time to accomplish what I wanted to, less time to be “gifted” or a “prodigy.” This year felt different though. The idea of 27 seemed comfortable, rather than scary. 27 is still new, but it feels kind of like it’s the age I’m supposed to be. Like I’m doing the work. I’ve been in the process of letting go of what I think *should* be and the desire to achieve or accomplish something at a specific age. I’m starting to recognize that if I am lucky to live a long life, it will always be a process of becoming. And that, in itself, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. All that to say, I’ve been MIA here but not in my life. It’s easy for a new week, a new month, a new year to get lost in the grind. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like we’ve already been in 2020 for a while. But at the same time, there are so many individual new years for each of us: our birthdays, an anniversary, a breakup, the start of school. Another time to say, yes, I’ve been renewed—even if it kinda feels like s**t in the process. * * * Things I’ve Liked Recently: Book: The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read by Philippa Perry — The title rings true, but it’s also a book I’m glad I read as a person who isn’t a parent but has little people in her life. Perry is a psychotherapist and with this book, she wants readers to understand how their own upbringings (or even occurrences in their family line) can affect how they give care. She discusses ways to validate the feelings of little people (and also how to validate your own, if that wasn’t something that was taught to you), ways to break old cycles, and how to encourage your child’s voice and trust in themselves. Personally, I think it’s worth reading for people who don’t have kids and people who do, as well as people who may be on the fence because of unresolved family trauma. Podcast Episode: LEVEL UP 2018 by Call Your Girlfriend — Have I mentioned that I’ve been really into personal growth for, like, my whole life? Then maybe it won’t come as a surprise that I appreciated this particular thing. Every year, Aminatou Sow and Ann Friedman have a podcast episode centered around the new year. On this year’s episode, Friedman mentioned something someone had said on 2018’s episode, so I went back to listen. In it, Sabrina Hersei Issa lays out her accountability plan—which includes scheduling a monthly personal inventory day. The rest of the episode is so-so, in my opinion, but I found this bit pretty revelatory. Software: 1Password — Have you basically had the same password, in a couple variations, for every single one of your accounts since 5th grade? (Previously guilty.) If yes, 1Password may just change your life. You only have to remember one password (I promise, mine is not a variation of the 5th grade password)—once you unlock the app, it will create, enter, and remember auto-generated, hard-to-crack passwords for all of your important accounts. I was a little skeptical before taking the plunge—I didn’t think I needed a password manager. But it really has changed the game. YouTube — It’s kind of to the point where I could probably cancel all my streaming services, but I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube. Dave Ramsey’s straight-talk financial advice, Bon Appétit’s Gourmet Makes, Glamour’s Money Diaries (this one is incredible. I also appreciate this one), Jennelle Eliana’s van life, Stephanie Buttermore’s fitness videos, Chloe Ting’s workouts, The Cut’s Truth or Drink. Podcast Series: Making Beyoncé — Ever wanted to know how Beyoncé became… Beyoncé? This three-episode podcast series will give you a clue. I listened while driving up to Calistoga for a solo birthday trip. (Plus, if you’ve ever been interested in how Obama became Obama or Oprah, Oprah, check out their previous seasons.) Recipe: Chicken-Lentil Soup with Jammy Onions — Despite having access to a dining hall, or maybe because of it, I used to cook a decent amount in college. I didn’t care how many ingredients there were in a recipe as long as it sounded good. As I’ve aged and cooking has become more of a “have-to” than a “want-to,” I’ve found myself disliking it. That’s something I want to change. This soup was one of the first recipes I made to try and get myself out of that rut—it’s light, filling, and comforting (the jammy onions and yogurt really take it to another level). Most importantly (for me), it doesn’t have too many ingredients and doesn’t take an incredible amount of time. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit witness.substack.com