How Are You Handling It? | An Illustrated Column By Ezra W Smith

What a month, huh?

As a person who is overwhelmed easily, I tried to stay offline as much as I could. I was never really reading the news that much, but eventually I stopped going to my usual information sources as well, because… guess what! Even blogs about art and crafts eventually started to only talk about COVID-19. Even lesbian podcasts, even sustainable fashion brands… I couldn’t take it anymore. So I replaced podcasts with audiobooks, and decided to only check the official recommendations of the country of my residence once per two days to know what is going on.

Another hard thing was that the majority of people (at least on social media) seemed to mostly be dealing with boredom and isolation. While I was still working as usual from home plus trying to homeschool my seven-year-old. For the last 3 weeks I was doing two full time jobs at the same time, keeping my home clean and preparing food, and taking care of 2 pets (one with chronic health issues). I wasn’t bored. I was scared and overwhelmed and stressed and under so much pressure. I wanted to yell at people— “what is wrong with you! How can you be tired of doing nothing! What the hell! Your only job is keeping yourselves entertained! This is not a real struggle!”

However I didn’t yell at anyone, even on the internet. In fact I didn’t even complain to any of my friends or anyone else about my situation. I decided that devaluing other people’s struggle in these difficult times is cruel and unproductive. Also I happened to have a child reasonably early in life, so now I find myself in a situation where I have a primary-schooler, but none of my friends have any kids at all and are maybe just starting to think about it now. So I knew nobody would relate. People would feel bad for me, but would not know what to say. Awkward. So I didn’t talk to anyone. Instead I stopped checking my Instagram, stopped listening to podcasts, stopped texting people and focused on actually doing my 2 jobs. Long story short, I survived. And this weekend spring break started so I no longer have to homeschool my child. For the whole week! What a lucky girl I am.

After this quick update on my life, let me finally get to the point. In this column I meant to talk not about myself (for once), but about a friend of mine. Let’s call her Magda.

Magda is the head of an animal shelter. She collects cats and dogs from the streets, takes care of their health, spays or neuters them at the vet clinic, and finds lovely new homes for these animals. The shelter can only function because of the volunteers - people who choose to spend their free time helping this animals, feeding them, socializing with them, giving them the love and attention they need. However, in this difficult situation we all found ourselves in, the government has decided to forbid for now any volunteering that is not connected to COVID-19. And so the shelter had to be closed for the time being. This is how Magda ended up with 6 dogs in a two-bedroom apartment.

But taking care of the animals, managing volunteers, buying supplies for the shelter, is not all of Magda’s job. She also needs to get money for the shelter. Somehow.

In order to do so, Magda has a very beautiful Instagram account where she shares professionally done photos of animals, tells their stories, and encourages people to donate money for the shelter and adopt a pet. And she has to continue to do that now as well. Because even though the shelter is shut down, the rent for it has to be paid, and medications for sick pets have to be purchased.

Three weeks into quarantine, Magda posted to the shelter’s Instagram account a beautiful picture of her, sitting on the couch, surrounded by five sleeping dogs. Her stylish apartment looked amazing, there was a beautiful antique lamp next to the couch. It looked like a cover of a magazine. She and the dogs looked so peaceful and relaxed.

I commented “beautiful”. A second later I got a message from Magda saying “call me.”

I dialed her number. She was crying, several dogs were barking in the background. And then she told me what kind of hell she had been in for the last couple of weeks. So the shelter was closed. She had 6 dogs at home who didn’t really like each other. Well, not all of them.

More than once a day there was a fight. More than once a day she would fail to take a certain dog out on time and they would poop or pee in the apartment. More than once a day an aggressive dog that is basically living in her bathroom was having a nervous breakdown, throwing itself against the bathroom door, and growling for 15-25 minutes straight. They peed on the couch, they made holes in her blanket, and they destroyed her absent boyfriend’s favorite shoes. So now she thinks he’ll break up with her when he comes back (the guy is quarantining with his parents in the countryside). And meanwhile, Magda is not mad at the dogs at all; she is exhausted.

She ran out of photos to post on Instagram from before, and so she is trying to photograph those 6 dogs that she currently has in the house. She basically cleans one little area of the house at a time, then tricks some dog to go there with tasty food and takes a picture. She doesn’t want people to see the chaos in her house. Because… well it is humiliating. She is ashamed of what her cute apartment has become.

She doesn’t want to discourage people from adopting animals from the shelter by showing them how hard it can be.

That conversation made me think of a certain chapter of the book about minimalism I am currently reading. It’s called “The More of Less” by Joshua Becker. The chapter was basically about how comparing ourselves to others makes us feel embarrassed by all the wrong things. Joshua basically writes about how people feel bad about not having as “nice” (meaning expensive) things as people around them. Not looking successful. Not looking respectable.

We get embarrassed that our clothes are not from the right brands (whether it’s luxury brands or sustainable ones), that our vehicles cost less then our neighbors’, or that our houses are smaller than our guests’.

I will be the first to confess feeling bad about all of these things. My daughter is going to a private school. It is a priority for me to give her a healthy and stress-free environment to study with fewer people in class, professional staff who are well-paid and love kids, and a psychologist available to her at all times. My school experience was a horrifying nightmare with hardcore bullying and exhausted teachers who worked long hours and got very little money for their jobs, who had miserable lives and were incapable of liking children at that point. My gentle, shy daughter cannot go throw this, I decided once and for all. But omg! How difficult it is for me to afford it. All of the other parents are 10-15 years older than me - I assume they were making money in their 20s and 30s and then had kids. I feel ashamed of my tiny apartment when other parents bring their children for playdates. I feel weird saying I don’t have a car so I can’t drive my daughter to their three-floor house outside of the city. I feel bad about my worn carpet and the fact that I don’t have a dryer. I am so not like them.

Joshua writes about how our current culture normalizes the pursuit of appearances, possessions, and selfish gain. I would just add that we are basically forced to live up to this universal idea of success: a nice clean (big enough) house, stylish clothes, productivity, financial security. We don’t think our lives are worth showing to others if we don’t at least look like we have achieved that mythical “success”. I think it is very much applicable to Magda’s or, for that matter, my situation.

Joshua writes, “…this feeling of embarrassment stems from our baseline understanding of normal. Nobody feels embarrassed for just being normal. Yet our understanding of normal is entirely subjective, based on the measurements most often defined by the social groups with which we surround ourselves.”

Magda is not feeling normal at the moment because she took foster dogs in, something she is always asking other people to do, but she can’t handle it. She is failing at  being happy with these dogs. And of course she was never advocating adopting 6 incompatible dogs at the same time to a small apartment. But I can see how that might feel like a failure to her.

I don’t feel normal at the moment because I am supposed to be bored, and I am supposed to turn this boredom into productivity. That’s what everyone else, it seems, has been doing. I am supposed to be writing a book or drawing a graphic novel that will make me famous. And instead I am so tired I don’t remember who I am anymore, and wearing the same sweatpants for 16 days in a row.

And on a bigger scale, I don’t feel normal because I find myself among people who actually can afford private school without major sacrifices, who maybe had a better start in life or just more time to build a career and make money before they had kids than I did.

I feel unrelatable. I feel like I'm a failure.

However Joshua continues in the book: “What if we are getting embarrassed over all the wrong things? What if instead of being embarrassed because our house seems too small, we became embarrassed over the amount of unused space.” Just think of all the electricity we spend to heat those huge houses we don’t need, and how that impacts our planet.

What if instead of being embarrassed over no car, we would be embarrassed by the amount of pollution our cars produce?

What if instead of being embarrassed by not being capable of buying a third LOL doll this year, we would be embarrassed by the amount of plastic we collect in our houses and its impact on our planet?

What if instead of being embarrassed by not having a clean house with six foster dogs that had no other place to go, we would be embarrassed by breeding even more dogs, buying them for their looks and kicking them out when they fail to fulfill our expectations of a perfect pet, then let people like Magda take care of the rest?

 “What if excess became the cause of embarrassment? And responsible living that championed generosity became the norm?” – Joshua concludes.

I am certain that both Magda and I suffer significantly more because we need to be handling everything perfectly and also are expected to let everyone else know how perfectly we are handling it. The reality is that we are not handling it perfectly.

And that’s okay. It’s a difficult, unusual, weird stressful time. And not all of us have to handle it with grace. Some of us are just going to be exhausted and have a messy house. And I think it’s okay. It’s not our jobs to fulfill other people’s expectations of how we are supposed to be handling it. 

Our only job is to survive.

The Abuser Is Invisible | Sexual Assault Awareness Month

According to UN Women — the United Nations entity dedicated to gender equality and the empowerment of women, approximately 15 million adolescents worldwide (aged 15-19) have experienced some form of sexual violence. It's estimated that 35 percent of women have experienced physical or sexual violence at some point in their lives. When we look at some national studies, the numbers are up to 70 percent. Statistically, sexual crimes are often perpetrated by someone the victim knows- a friend of the family, a romantic partner, an acquaintance. Why then, does the global narrative around violence continue to frame the abuser as the stranger in a dark alley at night? And why do we continue to believe that's the only danger we should be protecting ourselves from?

I grew up listening to my mom tell the same story: There was a man who dragged around a potato sack looking for kids to steal. As a child I imagined  an ogre who lived in the darkness with magical powers- he could smell fear from a great distance and hear thoughts. As a result, I believed safety could only look like  home and that dark places were dangerous. And while the ogre may be of children’s nightmares, my fear of being alone in the dark has never completely gone away, neither at home nor anywhere else. Years later, friends in college would share similar anecdotes from childhood. These stories created a narrative of fear, teaching us as children to watch out for dark alleys and streets, without actually naming, showing or trusting us to know what danger is. News sources also often reinforce the stereotype of "stranger danger" by highlighting outlier cases to a much more insidious reality: It is more common for sexual violence to be committed inside our own homes than on the streets we've been raised to be wary of. And that's what we need to talk about. 

The numbers above reflect that most perpetrators of sexual crimes are not strangers to us, nor someone who lurks in the darkness.They are our parents, our significant others, a family friend or a neighbor. They reside in our personal and professional circles. In reality, people who commit harm are not invisible because their actions are subtle, but rather because families often don’t have the tools to identify red flags in behavior. Children are socialized in ways that often make them vulnerable to harm. Even today, it is still common in Western culture for children to be “seen and not heard”, to be considered the property of adults, and to defer to adults in all things. How we socialize children then based on their gender, can have lasting impacts well into adulthood.Historically, we've misinterpreted the threat, misleading our children to avoid  the danger that lives on the streets and in dark alleys, without preparing them to identify and respond to the threat when it looks friendly and familiar. Statistically, this is not exponential, this reality has always been there. 

Now more than ever, raising awareness around childhood sexual abuse and its long term impact on survivors and their communities reverberations through their adult lives is essential to build a better and safer future. Generations and generations of children who couldn't speak up, nor defend themselves against the people  were supposed to protect them, keep them safe and love them. By learning the stories behind these numbers, we are able to identify the root causes of violence, working to address it by teaching our children how to identify harm and how to ask for help. 

For the past two decades though, many organizations across the country have been working to prevent sexual violence in childhood. For instance, NSVRC—the National Sexual Violence Resource Center provides information for survivors, friends and family; advocates and educators. Along with channels like RAINN—the Rape, Abuse, & Incest National Network, NSVRC offers helpful and clarifying tools such as online resources, connection to local services for survivors, and a database on state laws around reporting, in order to prevent and respond to sexual violence through collaboration and resource sharing. At EmpowHer NY, we believe that ending sexual violence must start with us, in our communities, in our families and with our children.

Source:
https://www.unwomen.org/en/about-us/about-un-women
https://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/pdf/can/CSA-factsheet508.pdf
https://www.nsvrc.org/preventing-child-sexual-abuse-resources
https://www.rainn.org/safety-parents

Need help?

Call 800-656-4673 to be connected with a trained staff member from a sexual assault service provider in your area.

Aren't We All a Naked Tomato Wearing a Robe? | Chronicles Of The Young Immigrant Women

It's the first time you can hear the birds singing at Lexington Avenue. It was a pretty quiet morning before the window on the second floor opened. This woman, who's holding a very loud phone, puts her head out. She's using the speaker as she talks to this other woman. Birds flew away of course.

- I don't use clothes anymore. To be more specific, eight days ago I got a light beige robe - you know I can't really have white stuff - and I've been wearing it ever since.

- Well I'm doing this yoga every morning with this guy from Asia. I've been wanting to connect with myself for a while now. Yesterday I thought about planting tomatoes on my balcony.

- How do you know he's from Asia? The last thing I wanna do is connect with myself. I don't even know if I'll have wifi inside there. I mean what resources am I going to use to figure what I'm feeling other than google?

- Maybe he is from India. Is India in Asia? Wait, no clothes? So are you naked right now?

- No I have my robe on. Just told you I got one.

An ambulance is crossing the avenue so they wait in silence. When it's finally gone the woman at the window lights up a cigarette.

- Is this a lighter sound? Are you still smoking?

- No. I mean, sometimes. Actually why do you even care? You should be immersing yourself in ice cream and smoke too. Like every other human being in their twenties in the middle of a pandemic.

- You know, this is going to be over soon. And by the way haven't you heard about what this thing does to your lungs?

- Anyone that smokes knows that.

- I'm talking about the coronavirus!

- I'm not even thinking about it. Have you seen that movie Parasite?

- I tried to, but I couldn't really follow the subtitles. 

If a bird could shit on someone's head right now, I'm pretty sure it would be on this woman's. Birds are all immigrants and they probably have to learn the local language to be around the city every season. How hard is it for a bird to be flying to different places so many times? Do the birds have a home to come back to? Do they come back? Considering that half of the world was colonized by the European pattern, which means stealing lands and acting as if they own and saved everything. I wouldn't be surprised if most birds lost their home too. Like the indigenous people, because we killed it. This is literally what the world's been up to for a long time. Just killing everything that looks like home. In the end, aren't we all parasites on this planet? Including the birds? Personally, I hate everyone who didn't watch that movie.

- Maybe that's why you don't understand when I talk. 

- What do you mean?

- Joo know English is not my first language. 

- I don't get it.

- Nada. How are you going to plant tomatoes in your balcony? — The woman asked while puffing the smoke.

- I still have to figure this out.

- Do you know where tomatoes come from?

- No. Do you?

- I don't. Shouldn't we know? Wondering if they were always out there. 

The silence now is because the cigarette is done and she's smashing it against the wall. It falls on the windowsill. 

- Shit.

- What? — Her voice sounds scared.

- Nothing 

She puts half of her body out the window to pick it up and finally throws it away.

- They were probably.

- What?

- The tomatoes!

- Oh.

- How about like when Adam and Eve were alive?

- Were they ever alive?

- I don't believe so.

- Me neither.

- Why did you bring this up then?

- The tomato thing?

- No, Adam and Eve.

- I don't know, it just came to my mind.

- Do you think our society is ever going to be what Adam and Eve are for us now?

- An example of sin?

- No. What? I guess?! It could—but that's not what I mean. What I'm trying to say is what if we become a fairytale? Just a story that some people believe and some people don't?

- That's too complex.

- Well I forgot you didn't even watch Parasite. — She said very angry.

- What's up with you?

- I'm tired of you ignoring where things come from.

She probably doesn't know where her robe came from either. It's the end of the phone call. And maybe of the world, too.

Was It Flirting Or Harassment? | Sexual Assault Awareness Month

As most of us know, the title above is a battle itself. We don't want to judge a situation too quickly, but clarification around the issue is essential in order to identify what is harmless and what is not. Nowadays, society is trying to elucidate the cultural nuances of behavior between men and women so we all can navigate these encounters better. When I talked to my editor about sharing my personal experience, her first response was: "Only if you're comfortable with it." and that made all the difference.

Since we've chatted previously about nonviolent communication, I'm committed to narrate the facts of this story and share my feelings towards them, not my opinion. But, before we jump into it, a quick disclaimer: the names on this article are fictitious to protect the privacy of those involved.

It happened a year ago when Anthony, a popular and upstanding student at my school, entered the classroom. He was notorious for his kindness towards others, and the teachers were very complimentary of him. That day, our teacher was late when Anthony arrived and greeted everyone. He looked at me with a big smile on his face.

— Wow! Look at your hair!, he said.

— Thanks! New hair product. I responded.

— You really aroused me now., he commented.

It felt like a punch in my stomach, my heart immediately raced and I was suddenly short of breath. I looked around me and everybody else kept chatting. For a second, I doubted it myself. Did he really say that? 

— Do you know what aroused means?, I asked. 

— Yeah!, he answered. 

— Come on. You look stunning!, he continued.

I meant to protest right away, but I didn't want to cause any embarrassment to him or others. After all, women must be pleasant in social circles, not disruptive, as I recalled being taught while growing up.

— I don't think you can actually say that to me., I finally said. 

The expression on his face remained friendly.

— I mean, it's just an opinion. I'm allowed to express my opinion, right?, he questioned.

— I guess so but, did you mean aroused by my hair?, I asked, trying to read the situation.

— Oh, don't make me say where else I'm aroused by., He answered. 

There it was: The moral punch I needed. The spoken proof that I wasn't hallucinating the inappropriateness of that interaction. It was real, but it felt like I couldn't say anything else back. I felt uncomfortable and ashamed, even though none of my colleagues were looking at me. I felt compelled to, at least, smile at him before leaving the classroom. My first thoughts were: He was a nice guy; he made a comment in front of the class and nobody reacted to it; and he had the right to speak his mind.

I didn't understand why I was so upset until I ran into Danny, a dear friend to whom I felt I could rely on. After learning about what happened, she brainstormed: Anthony was in fact a nice person; however, nice people do bad things too; everybody has the right to speak their minds and so do I; and if anyone's behavior makes me feel uncomfortable or intimidated, I have the right to address that too. She finally concluded: "If it makes you uncomfortable, it's not ok." With her words in my mind, I went back to the classroom and faced my worst fear: to cause disruption in a room full of people on behalf of my own well being.

— Hi, Anthony. About that aroused comment you made: I don't think you did it deliberately to hurt me but, it really made me feel uncomfortable. Could you, please, not talk to me like that again?, I requested.

The friendly look on his face didn't change

—  Hi, I know. I realized, after I said it aloud, that I've crossed a boundary here. I'm really sorry. It was disrespectful to talk to you like that and I didn't mean it that way. , He said.

The classmates stopped talking but didn't interfere at all. The room remained in silence while Anthony and I talked. The exact situation I was trying to avoid. He apologized once again and I accepted it. Then, the teacher arrived, the class finally started and no one ever commented on it for the rest of that Wednesday morning.

Many men around the world have been taught to behave however they please because there will be no consequences to them. The saddest truth is: sometimes, there's no desire to hurt women, but there's validation to this kind of behavior simply because men can. A privilege granted to them in this inherently patriarchal society we live in. Maybe Anthony was one of them.

Many women around the world have been taught the same truth and, for years throughout History, they have been compelled to accept this truth. Currently though, many women worldwide are also being taught to address these issues in order to navigate situations like mine, without being judged or ashamed. And I'm one of them.

Need help?

Call 800-656-4673 to be connected with a trained staff member from a sexual assault service provider in your area.

Nonviolent Communication - A Bridge Between Ourselves and The Men We Love

Among many theories and approaches on dialogue through nonviolent communication, there are some foundational keys to this practice that I'd like to dissect. I found self-knowledge, expressiveness and empathy, to name a few, good starters of productive communication. To convey a need and/or a feeling is challenging, to convey it from a place of frustration or pain, is ever harder. However, once the situation is given, how to go from the cloudiness of convergent opinions to a place of understanding and mutual respect? It's likely that we will find strength while we present ourselves vulnerable to someone we love and, if you think that's possible too, this article is for you. 

I have men in my life that I really admire and care about. Even in a world where many, many women have been hurt and degraded by a patriarchal society, I've found men who are worth having faith in. A father, a brother, a significant other, a male friend. Once we effectively communicate what we need, in order to feel safe, loved and heard, we build this bridge that allows us to walk towards a, not equal, but quite closer path of awareness of each other.

 To accomplish that, educating others about our history, fears, dreams and, most importantly, our needs, is key. We educate people around us every single day and by doing that, we set important boundaries for both ends. It's inherently human to enter a discussion with the desire to win it. Either from defensiveness or from the presumed sensation of being heard. 

Currently, social media has set a new precedent that emerged as a massive behind-the-screen pattern of behavior. Catchy headlines, shortened dialogues, rapid consumption of large amounts of content at once, all of that with very little time to process and very little time to give our brains a rest. Hence, the anxiety around the uncertainty of receiving that attention we might need.

The game strategy behind nonviolent communication is opinion versus feeling, in which opinions can be defeated or challenged while feelings are innate to humans. I can address an opinion but, can I feel someone else's feelings? On the other hand, opinions are seeds in a vast land of assumptions. That being said, let's get started!

Self-knowledge is the home of nonviolent communication.

The very important first step is self-knowledge. The more we are able to identify and study our own emotions and do the inner work tracking their path, the less conflicting the communication will be. We simply can't argue emotions, instead, we can observe and learn from them.

Once our emotions are acknowledged, it's time to name them.

When we name what and how we feel, we give the other person the opportunity to navigate the situation, and they're able to make a decision on where to go from there. That's when healing begins. And that works on the other way around as well. By giving someone the benefit of the doubt, we're setting ourselves free from the toxic world of preconceived intentions. If our own intentions are, sometimes, mysterious to us, how could we assure somebody else's?

The willingness to learn from each other shapes relationships.

I once read this book called The Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés in which I learned, as a woman, that it is essential to identify people's willingness to learn. The more we listen to one's perspective, the more we effectively convey, by example, that we can commit to a more constructive dialogue. As we enter a conversation in which either one, the other or both aren't willing to learn something from that situation, the discussion, commonly, becomes pointless.

Dialogue is key to building fulfilling relationships. And, regardless of how long these relationships last, we need to find a way to speak our minds in a respectful way, giving others the space to speak theirs too. It doesn't have to happen right now-- you will know when it feels right to start the conversation. Communication doesn't have to be hurtful to be effective. And most importantly, the dialogue has to happen consensually, because the goal is to understand each other's needs and boundaries. We won't advance a step further unless we're ready to. And one last piece of advice: Enter these conversations with the willingness to exit them a different person than you were before.

The Story Behind the History | Women’s History Month

Every year, we celebrate Women’s History Month as a social exercise to honor the accomplishments women have conquered throughout History. A lot of us though don't know the story behind this commemoration. As an effort to demonstrate how we've gotten this far in society regarding the women's right to vote, for instance. Here's a brief timeline of events that illustrates how Women's History Month came to life.

In 1975, the Commission on the Status of Women was founded in the County of Sonoma, California. Back then, they realized the lack of knowledge regarding the history of women in schools and within the community. With the purpose of educating the youth about important victories of women in the history of the United States, they put together several events about women's history in order to educate young students. To that end, an educational task force of the county of Sonoma created a celebration they called "Women's History Week" as a measure to increase awareness about women's history in 1978.

The following year, Molly Murphy MacGregor, one of the co-founders of the National Women's History Project (known nowadays as National Women's History Alliance), was invited to participate in The Women's History Institute at Sarah Lawrence College, which had one of its chairs occupied by Gerda Lerner, a notorious historian and feminist author who participated in the development of degree programs in women's history. During the event, when the participants learned about how successful the event the county of Sonoma hosted was, they decided to create a similar celebration within their schools and communities. Therefore, they agreed to pursue the consolidation of a "National Women's History Week". Their efforts came to a promising outcome, President Carter issued the first presidential proclamation declaring the Week of March, 8th of 1980 as National Women's History Week in 1980.

From that moment on, State departments of education across the country encouraged the celebration of Women's History Week as effective measures to achieve fairness goals in classrooms and within society. Each year though, the dates of celebration would change and new efforts would be required to secure the national celebratory week for women. A few years later, in 1986, about fourteen states in America declared March as Women's History Month. The following year, the Congress declared March as National Women's History Month permanently.

Since then, institutions all over the country have committed to enhance awareness around the history of women who fought to make this accomplishment come true.  The AWHI, which stands for Smithsonian American Women's History Institute, has put together an effort to amplify the historical archive of the deeds American women have conquered. Their goal is to acknowledge and also disseminate their stories and victories in order to honor these women and also empower other citizens.

An interesting fact about the National Women's History Month is that, every year,  the non-profit organization NWHA, which stands for National Women's History Alliance, chooses a theme. For 2020, they declared the theme will be "Valiant Women of the Vote", that honors women who have fought for the right to vote in the United States. In times where the world seems to simultaneously experience a wave of conservative leaderships in politics, it's crucial to learn the history of women who shaped the world we live in. 

In History, from time to time, many accomplishments women conquered haven't been told yet. Their trajectory, battles and concessions to make this country a better place to live. They dedicated their lives to their own generation and to the future ones and, as an outcome, we can learn which role we'll play in society by acknowledging History, and not in spite of it.

Sources:

https://sonomacounty.ca.gov/Commission-on-Status-of-Women/History/ 

https://womenshistorymonth.gov

https://www.unwomen.org/en/csw 

https://nationalwomenshistoryalliance.org 

https://www.womenshistory.org 

https://www.loc.gov/exhibitions/women-fight-for-the-vote/about-this-exhibition/#explore-the-exhibit  

More Time & Less Stuff | An Illustrated Column By Ezra W Smith

By no means am I this fancy person who loves shopping. Until recently when thinking of the person who might have too many things, I was imagining Cher from the movie “Clueless”. I love Cher dearly, but she is not someone I can easily identify with. She is young, I am 30. She has money, I have rent that eats 60% of everything I make every month. I shop in vintage and secondhand stores (mostly due to lack of funds), I watched “True Cost” four times, I live in a small apartment with two other people, and I don’t have a separate room for my clothes like Carrie Bradshaw.

Ezra W Smith

And still, somehow, I have too many things. Not just clothes. But also clothes.

I have moved four times to another country in the last decade, and every time there were a few boxes of clothes I donated or threw away. Clothes accumulate wherever I live. Just like dust, appearing slowly but undeniably until you can’t breathe anymore.

And 80% of the clothes are that annoying “not quite right” type. Pants that are comfortable but only if you don’t sit in them for two hours. A blouse that is just slightly too small, so it unbuttons itself right where my breasts are. Not often. But often enough that you are anxious the whole time you are wearing it. Shoes that leave your feet bleeding, but only if you walk for more than 2 bus stops. And you know that. But somehow you still end up walking for quite a bit.

I believe that the problem is not the amount of clothes, but the amount of those “not quite right” clothes. This is what makes you wonder what to wear for more than a few seconds and blankly stare at the open wardrobe.

Granted, I didn’t really spend that much money on those clothes but even (let’s say) a few dollars per item is a fair amount, considering that during my intense moving around I got rid of about 35 boxes of stuff. Would I want to have that money now? Absolutely.

But even if I was going to spend it… How many hours of therapy could I pay for with this money? Even if just a few, that could make my life much better. Maybe if I hadn’t spent that money on clothes, I could afford a pet, another living soul, whose company would significantly improve my mental health.

And another perspective on this: as Henry David Thoreau once said, “The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.” How many hours did I need to work to make that money? Quite a few. Was losing that precious time worth those clothes I don’t even remember now? We don’t buy things with money; we buy them with hours from our lives.

How many hours could I have not worked in the past if I hadn’t spent all of the money I was making on stuff I didn’t really need?

And the last thing. Did wearing or owning all those clothes make me happier? Uhm… I do not recall that.

Honestly, I don’t think there are people who are getting happier by buying stuff – no research ever supported that. It may result in temporary joy for some, but the happiness found in buying a new item rarely lasts longer than a few days. In my case, rather a few hours.

And every time I saw something I liked at the store, I was imagining the time and the place I would wear it. One time last year I was thinking for a couple of days how cool it would be to actually finally enroll in Ph.D. studies. I always wanted to be a doctor. Not a real doctor, just a “Dr.” before my name. Ross Geller type of doctor. And then I saw that brown jacket. I swear to god, just like in a movie, I saw that really nice, serious-looking brown suit jacket and I immediately imagined myself in a big auditorium teaching 1st-year university students.

I bought the jacket. And it’s a “not quite right” jacket (imagine that!). The sleeves are too long. I told myself I will take it to the tailor, but I probably won’t. 

This is a very toxic concept. Brands sell you your dreams, not the actual clothes. And I arrogantly thought I was not like that. They can’t sell me cheap fast-fashion crap by hiring a supermodel to advertise it. I don’t want to be a supermodel. I don’t want to walk on the streets of Paris, light as a butterfly and all men looking at me. I have been to Paris – it’s not my thing. I like my very not-model-like body, and I have no interest in attracting men.

I don’t even shop in mass market. But I am a product of the society I grew up in, I watch commercials, and I have dreams. The thing is, in very limited situations will a huge amount of clothes help us achieve those dreams.

I bought the jacket. Which might or might not be a big deal. I bought it in a secondhand store for relatively little money. Certainly nothing to beat myself up over. A better question is: did I enroll in Ph.D. studies? Nope, I did not.  

So my latest insight about shopping is not that it is preventing me from studying. I figured, the reason I didn’t try to buy less and move toward having a more minimalist wardrobe is the fact that always, for as long as I can remember, I have been rewarding myself with stuff.

And the opposite: deciding to not buy clothes always sounded like a restriction, a punishment. I never wanted the clothes; I wanted that immediate boost of joy and the feeling that I was moving toward my dreams.

And I was never thinking about how much space that stuff will take up in my home and in my life.

Recommendations:

“The Beauty Myth” Naomi Wolf, book.

BeMoreWithLess.com, site and newsletter.  

Episode “Minimalism” of the “Be Uncluttered” podcast.

Giving Women a Seat At The Table — An Interview With Founder Ingrid Silva

The next time you attend one of our events, you'll see Ingrid Silva orchestrating the team of women that runs EmpowHer NY, a non-profit organization born in December of 2017 with the purpose of giving women a voice. Ingrid has a captivating smile and the eyes of the youth, always enchanted by a world filled with possibilities. 

When you chat with her, she will want to learn about you. Your name. Your dreams. I remember when we first met and she asked me: "Tell me more about yourself!", and it sounded just like an old friend you haven't seen in years, who's very excited to hear what is new in your life.

By the age of eighteen, Ingrid moved to New York to become a classic ballet dancer at the Dance Theater of Harlem. Although she remembers being pleasantly surprised by seeing other young black ballet dancers for the first time in her career, she noticed that many of them didn't have a voice.

Photo by Red Skirt Media

Photo by Red Skirt Media

"We came to a point where women need to have a voice without being called a rebel. We just need to convey how we feel and be heard."

As the only platform to feature daily TakeOvers — a space on social media (Instagram stories) where women share their routines and experiences, EmpowHer NY soon created its own sorority who shares a variety of interests and yet, seamlessly connect with each other. However, by growing up surrounded by women who would sit together to tell stories, Ingrid believed in the power of togetherness. Then, the first EmpowHer NY's event took place. Women from all sorts of backgrounds met and, somehow, found themselves on the same page.

We talked about the future of the platform and the goals for the next few years. Driven by the fundamental value of diversity, Ingrid envisions this sorority prosper in the educational field within the community in order to create job opportunities and workshops that capacitate these women. While reaching its audience globally, EmpowHer NY manages to address current issues faced by women and also design an audacious plan for the future.

"Among so many platforms focused on addressing current issues and solving urgent needs, EmpowHer NY has an eye in a sustainable future."

A distance between two realities became noticeable though. Successful women with solid careers on one side, and women who haven't gotten there yet on the other. If the closer a certain reality is to us, the more we can relate to it, how do we build a bridge that connects us all? Ingrid anticipates that "Somehow, what we have to say will sparkle something in someone else. A simple story can inspire somebody somewhere in the world. Inspiration is key. Diversity is very important to achieve that."

The TakeOvers are one of these bridges EmpowHer NY wanted to build, consequently, they set a new precedent of how our community engages. Women have witnessed how freeing it is to speak up and have their voices heard. Hence, women from other countries started to connect and exchange lessons and opportunities within themselves.

"I never intended to create a platform that was purely business driven. It wasn't in my mind to connect with people with thousands of followers. I wanted a platform made of people like us. Anonymous yet inspirational women with a story to tell."

I then recalled how much I wanted to become a writer in New York since I was a little girl, and how the lack of representation back then has impacted my path. But now, after I've learned how Ingrid has beaten every single odd against her to be where she is, it felt like something has sparkled in me. When you learn stories like hers, not only you begin to heal but you also grow the strength you need to move forward.

EmpowHer NY has assembled a community of women who uplift each other in an environment where it's safe to be who you are. "On a daily basis, we struggle with things we might think other people don't. The education part of this platform I'm talking about takes place when we share our struggles and listen to somebody else's struggles too. Every time we listen to them, we learn something. We educate ourselves through someone else's story. Every time we learn one's story, our inner-judgement tends to decrease." she reflects.

Photo by Caroline Biazotto

Photo by Caroline Biazotto

The main goal for 2020 is to create more workshops to capacitate women in the workspace. "As a non-profit organization, we want to become one of the biggest network/education/work opportunity platforms of the world in the next five years." Ingrid envisages. "We want to take these events and workshops to places where people don't have these resources. We want to take EmpowHer NY to other countries and, ahead in the future, partnership with schools in order to teach girls from early ages to build this foundation of self-discovery and self-confidence to achieve their goals in life."

In a world built on the premise of survival of the fittest, minorities speak in the name of their battles. Hence, niches become stronger as these minorities arise. Although these minorities strengthen their autonomy and open the conversation about their particular battles, they often don't talk to each other.

"I don't want to divide people into categories. In this platform, mothers, entrepreneurs, business women and artists will have a space. I want to unify all these women so they grow as much as they can. It doesn't matter in which category you fit, You are welcome here."

"Everything that happened in my life, happened organically." Ingrid remembers. So it did with EmpowHer NY, that hosted other events after that first one, so women could chat, have a cup of coffee and exchange. Stories, laughs, and opportunities as organically as she foresaw. "After you reach a certain visibility in the media and you do something for someone. You don't do it for obligation, but because the world lacks lots of opportunities. It's not a matter of you being good enough. You are good. It's a matter of someone, out there, listening to you."

Photo by Caroline Biazotto

Photo by Caroline Biazotto

As we relaunch EmpowHer NY early in 2020 with a new strategy and approach, Ingrid delivers an important message to this generation. "EmpowHer NY is a social catalyst that ignites the conversation about women breaking through the glass ceiling imposed by society, and living authentically according to their truth by the values of collaboration, authenticity, respect and boldness." And for the new decade, bolder goals. "Our ultimate goal is to become one of the most influential, feminist and empowering platforms. For that, we will hold onto the ideology of keep believing in the power of community and unity. We see togetherness as a solution to gender equality, making a difference in how women are perceived and treated in society, receiving the value we've been fighting for and deserve. Where a woman doesn't need to prove she's it worth it because this is not open to question. She is worth it. We envision a world where gender equality will be embodied into a society with tolerance and empathy above gender and competition. Our promise is to continue to give voice to more and more women all over the world, inspiring others to share their journeys, challenges and achievements, while connecting people and continue to lead the dialogue about empowerment according to different perspectives."

Her words made me think about the past generations of women who fought and gave their lives so we could stand here today and talk. It's vital to acknowledge the victories we've accomplished, but always keeping an eye in the future. For this generation and the ones yet to come, Ingrid asserts "If we're able to land this foundation, I believe things will be easier in the future because when these future generations come and understand what we've done, they will fight other battles. Perhaps, it will no longer be for voice or space. We might have a generation of women building businesses with their resources for further female generations. Representation is the foundation for this model of business to be sustainable. Because if we don't see, we don't think it's possible."

I didn't see many of my childhood friends accomplish their dreams, nor did Ingrid. Nevertheless, we persisted. It's a challenging path we want to soften for the next generations. Later, we thought of isolated women in remote parts of the world who don't have a voice. Women with physical and emotional scars due to domestic violence. Single mothers with full-time jobs attempting to change careers. Women who are trapped in inappropriate situations in the workplace and have nobody to talk to. Women who are gaslighted in their homes and offices. Girls with their hearts filled with dreams and no resources to accomplish them. EmpowHer NY wants to reach these women and listen to what they have to say. The more bridges we build, the more futures we might be able to change.

Welcome Home | Chronicles Of The Young Immigrant Women

I’m waiting to cross the street on my way back home – Brooklyn, New York, when I see this woman holding 3 or 4 balloons. One of them is pink and shiny and it says “welcome home!.” She’s also holding her purse, some plastic bags and a cake. Nothing weird, we see women carrying more than they should everyday (take this anyway you want). To me, she's a perfect-happy-character from a French movie and I now have my own script for her, ready to shoot after the light is green again.

I notice that we have a lot in common and this kind of connection happens around here, as walking in Manhattan does feel like a constant déjà vu sometimes. 

Fact is, I'm  always holding a lot more than I should as well, and the way she pretends to be okay when she’s actually eating her hair that’s coming into her mouth because of the wind, just makes me feel less lonely for a second. Regardless if she seems to be a happier version of me doing all of that or not, I do wonder if someone ever looked at me like this. I wouldn't fit in a happy french character though. Make a me the not-so-manic not-so-dreamy pixie Latina girl. Considering that I might be the only soul on the block making assumptions about this woman before I cross the street, on my way to never seeing her again, I have now the rare feeling of being free of competition in the "concrete jungle where dreams are made of." Wait, if I keep wandering about I'll lose what could be her story. 

Quickly, here's what I guess: she is late and trying to find a way to check the time on her phone, that's why she keeps moving her purse up and down. She's ready to surprise someone that is coming back home. A happier version of me, clumsy and late for something important like a warm welcoming party. “He’s home again!” she must be thinking . Or maybe “she’s home again!” (honestly hoping she's gay). Or grandma’s home, or the mom, the roommie is back (as if it's possible to love your roommate in New York) but whatever it is the human connection she might have, it's gotta be a wonderful person, acknowledging it's the end of Tuesday, street's busy and she can barely stand on those shoes. 

It's noticeable– nothing will blow away the joy she has, not even if she has an itchy nose. Which would be a complete nightmare as she has no hands to deal with such a tragedy. No doubts, she's meeting a wonderful person. Maybe they’re coming home for the first time I think. Might be that she hasn't seen them for quite a while. She loves them. Likely I'm thinking this because I want her to be the perfect scenario of my own feelings and wishes. And how can I not want this when she’s so happy? 

Happy to be carrying more than she can handle, happy that she’s going I don’t know where. Happy, against the wind and her hair that keeps coming into her mouth and happy, even if it’s rush hour. She is… joy. She's pure joy. On the other side of the street I'm in black, my hair is back, no wind takes a single strand away from my ponytail. No cakes for me because my joy will come when I'm free of sugar. No balloons for me because if no one will welcome me why should I welcome someone? The happy me will learn how to be bitter and free of expectations. No happy walk back home for me, because I don't even know what the hell (or heaven) is home anymore. Is she from here?

The light is green, she’s crossing the street when suddenly the wind takes the “welcome home” balloon away from her. Up to the goddamn sky as if Jesus hasn't had enough of welcoming parties. Damn it, life! Worst or best part is, she doesn’t notice the balloon is flying away. I’m thinking maybe I should say something but she is happy as a clam and I simply… can’t. I can’t be the person who's gonna tell her something went wrong, even with all the effort she's putting into this mission. She passes by. 

I can't help but wonder about the real meaning of that balloon. I imagine the smile she opened to the store-guy next to her when she found it. I can see the store-guy wishing he would get a balloon too, because like me, her and everyone in this city, he misses someone. I can’t help but smile too. Not at her, at the wind. I'm breathing out as I realize I'm not ready for this plot twist. 

I never expect life to take away the meanings I give to things. But it does, all the time. It's not that I’m sad about it. Just sucks not to have a break from this constantly resignification the immigrant life requires. Now, it's me going back on my way home without balloons or a cake or running late. But I do let my hair down. 

Here am I. Writing about random people and random moments just to say I can’t wait to be the person she’s coming to surprise. I can't wait to surprise someone. I can't wait to welcome someone or to be welcomed. Again or for the first time. 

I’m writing about a woman and a store guy and all of us living far from the land where we were born– I won't say home though. Home is the hardest resignification. I want to give balloons to someone that is coming back. I want to come back even if it's only for those seconds I have before crossing the street. 

I miss home.