It feels like we’re playing a game of apocalyptic Bingo and each new headline matches a spot on the board. Two tech billionaires are challenging each other to a literal cage match. US universities must now ignore race in admissions but are free to continue using legacy status in their decisions (a practice that only exacerbates systemic inequality). To top it all off, Earth just had its hottest day ever recorded on July 4th— an all-American irony for the world’s top per capita emitter of greenhouse gases.
In times like these, writing can feel futile. What is the point when so many other professions seem more important, more urgent, more necessary?
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When I was drafting this essay, it began as a defense of cynicism. To exist in this society is to endure all the ways that modernity has failed us. What is the point of saving up for retirement when I don’t know that I’ll ever earn enough to be able to retire? Or whether the planet will still be inhabitable once I reach old age? If the world is going to burn down no matter what I do, it sounds much nicer to ignore it and ease my despair with shopping. Instead of being tormented by the idea of living ethically in a capitalist society (and whether that’s even possible), I could simply look hot and be stupid while New York City sinks into the Atlantic.
But then I realized that was quite depressing. People want hope, even if you have to do your darndest to dredge it up! (I am nothing if not a people pleaser). And so I took stock of my own life: Why do I persist? What keeps me tethered to this world? Of course, my friends, family, boyfriend (and cats) supply joy and love. Unexpected glimpses of beauty and joy round out the edges of my days. And writing provides a sense of purpose.
I’m very aware that my platform is small and my voice can be drowned out by those louder and pithier than me. When I’ve vocalized my opinions and concerns, I’ve sometimes been told to stop complaining and be grateful for what I have. And, to be clear, I am grateful. I am privileged in a myriad of ways that others on this planet (and in this country) are not. I will never be docked two-thirds of my pay for making a mistake at work. My passport won’t be confiscated by an exploitative employer. I will be safe from the very worst consequences of climate change. But I keep going because I believe in challenging the system we live in. There shouldn’t be a height requirement— how much adversity have you faced?— for exposing the world for what it is and dreaming of a better one.
For much of my life, I feared speaking up. I was anxious and worried that my ideas were unimportant and unoriginal. A million thoughts would race through my head but I’d keep my mouth closed. Who cares what I have to say? I had crippled my own voice before even beginning to use it. Eventually, I gained enough confidence to push past my fear and insecurities.
In her paper, “The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action”, writer and poet Audre Lorde explores her brush with mortality and how it elucidated the importance of language. She writes, “I was going to die, if not sooner then later, whether or not I had ever spoken myself. My silences had not protected me. Your silence will not protect you”. Within my own life, it takes daily reminders to cement this idea and the value of writing. It can educate and entertain. It can impact culture and spur revolution. It can provide hope that a better future is out there and within reach. More than anything, I write this essay as a reminder to myself. And if we do continue hurtling towards annihilation, at least I can say I did something I enjoyed on the way there.
Here are a few things I read/listened to/etc this week:
Maintenance Phase did an episode on Pilates! And teaser: Pilates is named after some German guy! Learn about Joseph Pilates and more on this auditory journey through workout history :)
The NYT Ethicist recently encouraged someone to keep bothering their fat friend about being fat (despite said friend expressly asking them not to).
covered it on her Substack and broke down how it perpetuates weight stigma. In short— being either skinny or fat is not a marker of health. Stop worrying about other people’s weight!Wilfred Chan at Curbed wrote about New York’s first Narcan vending machine. It’s stopping overdoses and saving lives! The vending machine also offers maxi pads, toothbrushes, fentanyl test strips, and other items (all for free).
- recently wrote about how to pack for summer travel in a carry-on. Very good timing for me specifically (me, the center of the universe, etc) because I’m traveling this week(!!!). I don’t own all of the clothing items she mentions, but still helpful!
That’s all for this week :)
ttyl, Mia