NORMAL PEOPLE by SALLY ROONEY

It can be argued that the enlightened embrace concepts like:

• I am more than my story
• The past does not define me
• Once this is over, we will get back to normal

Normal People by Sally Rooney is a book where not one word is written unless it's severely needed to tell the story of Marianne (shy and from a rich family) and Connell (popular and from a poorer family). It's minimalist. The words, the plot, the characters, the timeline. 

Perhaps it's the absence of the superfluous that the reader is able to see and feel the gravity of what might usually go unnoticed or be deemed as"no big deal."

Am I more than my story? Maybe. But maybe I am also very much my story. A story with highs and lows. A story with characters of all sorts. The good ones and the horrible ones. A story that exists, even if I shout at it that I'm more than it. Because in my quiet, I know that even if other things are about happen to me, what has already happened will always be so.

Does the past not define me? Maybe. But maybe it influences me. Like the influence that Marianne's father's violence has had on Marianne, her brother (Alan), and her mother (Denise). Maybe it influences me to inflict it (like Alan), to receive it (like Marianne), or to deny it (like Denise). The violence, that is. 

Once the violence is over, or that other weird thing is over, will we get back to normal? Or is the violence, or that other weird thing just embedded into and therefore part of normal? Is there such a thing as a normal person living in a normal time?

But maybe as I learn to survive the normalized abnormality of it all, I learn the beauty of awareness and the power of coping. And in the face of having to endure another painful thing, I realize that I can face it. I can survive it. I can grow from it. Because I've already been through worse. My story tells me so.

REVISE ALONE, CREATE TOGETHER

ON DECEMBER 23, 2018 I READ HEAVY BY KIESE LAYMON AND WROTE THIS REVIEW:

Two days from now when all the Christmas gifts have been opened I’ll probably realize my best gift was actually delivered two days before, when I finished reading @kieselaymon‘s incredible book: Heavy. Nine days from now as I try to name a word or resolution to usher in the New Year as I try to become better, I will remember how Heavy illustrates how easy it is to name and declare and resolve ... but not so easy to actually take the disciplined steps to become better. A better feminist. Better anti-racist. Better eater. Better exerciser. Better wife. Better mother. Better artist. Better than my assorted addictions. Better human. There is one particular point that questions the cliche about “we did the best we could” when we think about our past ... and questioning whether that’s always true. Do we do the best we can in any moment? Not me. Not by a mile. I like when writing unpacks cliches like that. What a great book. 

ON JUNE 3, 2020, I READ THESE WORDS THAT LAYMON POSTED ON HIS INSTAGRAM REGARDING PENDANTS INSCRIBED WITH SENTENCES THAT HE WEARS:

I wear two sentences around my neck. One from Lucille Clifton says, "they ask me to remember but they want me to remember their memories and I keep on remembering mine." The other from James Baldwin says, "The very time I thought I was lost, my dungeon shook and my chains fell off." I don't believe in superheroes but I believe in super sentences. People and their sentences save people and their sentences. People and their sentences humiliate, torture and kill people and their sentences. My sentences and my actions have done both. I want us and our sentences to live dynamic lives draped in tender touch. I want us to revise alone and create together ... We need to live. We need to revise. It does not have to be this way.

Right now our country is going through a totally amazing awakening. We are realizing that just because something has always been done a certain way doesn't mean that it has to be done that way forever. We are realizing the urgency to revise and create.

I see us attempting to make all sorts of revisions in how we practice everything: art, business, politics, family, friendships.

Part one is finding a quiet space to think honestly and to identify needed revisions: in my heart, my home, my community. Part two is going into the world to make the case for the revisions as we together create a path forward. In this process, we lose patience for all sorts of reasons: You don't understand. You are taking too long. Where were you years ago when I was screaming about it? What do you mean abolish, that's too extreme. What do you mean reform, that's not enough.

It's difficult to create together with people who are at different stages of understanding, with ideas for revisions as diverse and unique as each human being is.

I am optimistic, though. To be part of a generation where a coalition to revise for the better is broader than it has ever been. I want to show up to the quiet to do the hard work of revising alone. I want to show up to the loud to do the hard work of creating together, even if that involves difficult debates ... including the most important one on the table right now between abolish versus reform.

Revise.
Create.
Revise.
Create.

MOBILIZATION v ORGANIZATION

MOBILIZATION
I've been reading a book titled No Shortcuts: Organizing for Power in the New Gilded Age by Jane McAlevey. McAlevey is an extraordinary union organizer who has lots to teach about how to bring about change.

The most mind-blowing takeaway for me has been that mobilization is not organization.

Examples of mobilization include: marches, rallies, putting a black square on our social media handles, and protests at airports (to name a few). People can be mobilized rather quickly because people only need to read a headline to get fired up and then to show up. Sometimes, they don't even need to read a headline. I remember when I was a graduate student at UCLA and there was an issue that some of us were thinking about protesting. And one of my colleagues said "Do we want a bunch of people to come and get naked? I know a bunch of people who will do that if I just give them a call."

We saw mobilization happen when Trump issued Executive Order 13769 in early 2017, also known as The Muslim Travel Ban. Thousands of people mobilized in airports to protest this ban. It happened fast and it took my breath away to witness what I view as our nation's salt of the earth decide quickly to come out and stand up for justice. Prior to the airport protests was the Women's March when the entire world mobilized to march and protest the sinful administration.

ORGANIZATION
What makes organization different from mobilization is that it takes a very long time. It takes lots of conversations not only about how nice or mean an individual is, but how functional or dysfunctional systems are.

This morning on The Daily NYTimes podcast with Michael Barbara, I was blown away by the reporting by Shalia Dewan who presented eye-opening information about why it is almost impossible to create positive reform within law enforcement.

When there is a complaint about a cop, the internal affairs division kicks in to investigate. In other words, the police are being left to police themselves. When there is a complaint that is investigated, police use the argument of precedent to protect a bad cop. In other words, if there is a precedent of leniency for a misbehaving cop, that precedent is used to argue for the same leniency for the bad behavior of the moment.

President Obama released his statement about our current crisis a couple of days ago. In it, he said:

"If we want to b ring about real change, then the choice isn't between protest and politics. We have to do both. We have to mobilize to raise awareness, and we have to organize and cast our ballots to make sure that we elect candidates who will act on reform."

This afternoon, President Obama provided comments via television to underscore the importance of both mobilization (which is what we are seeing all around us) and the difficult and arduous work of organization. I think the organization part has many prongs. It's organizing to vote and get good people into office. It's also thinking locally and talking with neighbors about a matter like police reform, use the points that journalists like Dewan unearth, and then latching onto our city leaders and not letting them off the hook for a very long time until reforms are made.

LISTENERS
McAlevey notes that the way to find the true organizers in a movement is to find the ones who are listening, not performing. Organizing leaders listen more than they speak, they read and think and converse in order to understand the complexities of an issue, and they dig into the work with a tenacity that lasts not a day or a week or a month ... but years. A lifetime, actually.

WHERE'S ANDREA? #blacklivesmatter

When I was a new immigrant to this country, I was the only girl of Korean descent in the elementary school that I attended in Bakersfield, California. Amy B. Seibert School. There was a bully named Andrea who used to slap my face regularly.I told my family about this and Marilyn, from our sponsoring American family, started coaching me with my limited English skills and told me the next time it happened, I should look at Andrea in the face and say "Stop it!" And so I did. But it didn't work.

So the next thing I knew, Marilyn accompanied me to school and asked me "Where's Andrea?" I pointed her out and witnessed Marilyn going over to talk to Andrea and telling her in no uncertain terms that she was to stop slapping me. 

It worked. Part of the reason it worked is because Marilyn was a pillar in the community. A woman of stature. Her husband was also a pillar. They, along with their three children are the Americans who helped us find our footing, doused us with love, and cheered for our success. The Wulfekuehler family. 

Andrea heard Marilyn loud and clear. Even though I was different, I mattered. If someone had said to Marilyn "But what about Andrea? Doesn't she matter too?" Marilyn probably would have said "Of course she matters. But I'm here not because someone is slapping Andrea. I'm here because Jenny is being slapped. And I'm not going to not do or say anything about that." I think that when a nation has a long-standing track record of killing unarmed Black people, it is not illogical for someone witnessing that to speak up. And when the witness stands to speak, they may say something like "Stop it!" Or a collective community of witnesses may say it another way, like #BlackLivesMatter

To me, those three words don't mean that other lives don't matter. Because of course Jenny matters and Andrea matters too. This great nation protects the right for Marilyn to speak up and get involved and it protects a collective group of like-minded and concerned witnesses to stand together ... to state the case and shine light on matters of importance. 

(I am reposting today, this story of mine which I originally posted on July 12, 2016. Today, as our nation is hurting, and as some people STILL don't understand that saying a person's life matters isn't saying that another person's life doesn't matter, I hope this story helps create some understanding. One day much after that fateful day in 1974, I overheard my mom asking Marilyn how we could ever repay her. And you know what Marilyn said back to my mom? She told her to pay her back by passing along the kind of love and support that the Dohs received from the Wulfekuehlers onto another person or persons in need, whoever or wherever or whenever that may be.)

I DON'T KNOW

YESTERDAY
Yesterday, my daughter Monica and I joined our Santa Ana friends to participate in a multi-mile march to support Black Lives Matter and to support the seeking of justice for George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breanna Taylor, and countless other Black Americans lost to systemic racism. Andrea (one of Monica's closest friends from childhood) impressed me with her strong and fearless activism as she held a bullhorn and led a lot of the chants for all of us.

At one point during the march, Andrea shouted "What do we want?"
And we shouted back "Justice!"
"When do we want it?" Andrea continued.
"Now," we yelled.

And then she shouted something that I'd never heard at a march: "How do we get it?"

And as soon as that question came out of Andrea's bullhorn, we all started looking at each other as many of us started saying to one another "I don't know." I also said it to people around me: "I don't know."

TODAY
Today I woke up with blisters on my feet and opened the link that contained President Obama's remarks about our current situation. His words served as a balm for me and many others I'm sure, as we remain parched to hear words from our leaders that can start healing and motivating us. One of the things he said was as follows:

"If we want to bring about real change, then the choice isn't between protest and politics. We have to do both. We have to mobilize to raise awareness, and we have to organize and cast our ballots to make sure that we elect candidates who will act on reform."

THE OTHER DAY
The other day I listened to a great episode of Esther Perel's podcast where she was providing marriage counseling for an American couple living in Nigeria during this pandemic. As the couple shared their relationship challenges, one big takeaway that Esther helped facilitate is that sometimes, when one spouse is hurting, the other spouse might feel the need to "solve" the hurt.

But the thing is that sometimes there isn't a clear cut solution and sometimes, the solution comes from a place different than the spouse. Or sometimes, there may be a road toward a solution but rather than playing savior to the problem, the most helpful thing that a spouse can say is as follows:

"I'm sorry. This sucks." 

ALSO TODAY
One of my good friends Shamanie checked in with me to see how my family is doing. She knows that my husband has had some major health issues, including a recent emergency scare where he spent some time in an Intensive Care Unit. Shamanie asked me "Can I order food to be delivered for your dinner to give you a break?" And I said "Thanks but I'll save that offer for a future rainy day." And she said "I'm here for you." And I said, "I know. Just knowing that you are is a balm."

TOMORROW
I don't know the answer to the question that Andrea stated through the bullhorn. The question on all of our minds.

But I think "I don't know" is a valuable and valid response and I think President Obama is correct. It's not protest OR politics. It's protest AND politics. It's staying engaged and educated and using the gifts and skills that the universe has bestowed upon me to be a balm and authentic ally. To stay engaged, work on my heart and correct it as needed, live out my values instead of over-editing myself lest I rock the boat. To practice virtue rather than just signaling it and using all that this universe has given me for this very brief life (my art, my writing, my teaching, my music, my family) to support protest AND politics in a direction that feels right and just. Not to try to overreach my role and become the savior with the solution but a strong and fearless ally who can stand up and with and say "I'm sorry. This sucks."

To give my money to progressive Democrats. To have ready my comfy shoes if there is a march to show solidarity. To make brush strokes on a canvas to help illustrate what the fuck is going on. To sing a song that might comfort someone. To order dinner for a friend if she needs and wants it. To make these investments today because of tomorrow. It's coming fast.

AMERICAN DIRT by Jeanine Cummins

Jeanine Cummins, author of American Dirt has been caught in a storm of criticism for being a non-Mexicana to have written a novel about Mexicanos crossing the border from Mexico to the USA. By foot, by train, by car, in the blazing sun, in the pouring rain, and by sheer determination to survive the brutal journey.

How dare Cummins spend years researching the lives of the people in Mexico. How dare she use that research to develop characters like Lydia and Luca, who have witnessed their loved ones brutally massacred by one of the many omnipresent drug cartels in Mexico. And characters like Rebeca and Soledad who as young pretty females have the added burden of surviving the atrocities that young pretty females survive as they flee from their nightmares. And salt-of-the-earth light-skinned characters whose empathy causes them to put out jugs of water in the middle of a desert so that the Lydias and Lucas and Rebecas and Soledads can stay hydrated and walk another day.

How dare she construct a story that raises awareness about the ultimate appropriation of stripping the word "America" to have it mean 'Merica where 'Mericans speak 'Merican and Mexicans speak Mexican and should get their lazy brown asses out of 'Merica and go back to their own country, God damn it.

How dare the US citizen Cummins fall in love with and marry an undocumented immigrant and in the process witness and understand how in-the-shadows undocumented immigrants exist in 'Merica, with the stigma and the scapegoating that populists like Trump cast on them.

I close this book grateful to know that Lydia and Luca make it to el norte. And I wonder about the days ahead of them ... the dirt in the houses they will clean, the dirt on the fruit they will dust off and pick.

I walk this earth looking at the dirt below me and catch myself when I assume that dirt exists where it has always been ... but deep down knowing that dirt (like all things) travels, beyond borders that are constructed and imagined, as we rightfully aspire for the dream of belonging. And in that dream, witnessing Luca becoming the valedictorian who dares to speak about the dignity of survival and how survival is the foundation to actualizing.

How dare he.

COMMONWEALTH by Ann Patchett

In the first few pages of COMMONWEALTH by Ann Patchett, we learn that a kiss between a man and a woman who are not supposed to kiss, kiss. After the forbidden act, we see all of the ways in which lives (of the man, woman, and their respective children) are forever altered and affected.

During the course of the book, the reader is made to wonder how these lives could have avoided some of the pain that we are made to correlate to that kiss.

This reminds me of the kind of thinking that kicks in in real life when something bad happens to me. Like a car accident. And I immediately start wondering to myself: "If only I hadn't left the house at that hour ... or if only I would have taken a different offramp." And on and on. Wishful correlations that convince me in the moment that if only I could have done X, then Y wouldn't have happened. If only.

And then I wake up from that wishful thinking and call my insurance, call triple A, call everyone else in my life who help me recover. Eventually, the acuteness of the pain and the regret dissipate. Because other things happen. Other joys. Other accidents. Other regrets. Other fortunes. Other victories. Other deaths ... where I become blanketed by a mature calm that teaches me that without the accident, I would never know the joy that has blossomed from it. 

Franny (the daughter of the woman who kissed the man) grows up and takes on a lover with a famous writer who is many many years her senior. He learns of her biography and writes a novel based on it and titles it COMMONWEALTH. It is an act that upsets and invigorates everyone involved.

How dare he.
It is not his story to tell.
It is not anyone's to tell.

And like an image of a person in a mirror holding a thing who is holding a thing (without end), I realize that I am holding a book titled COMMONWEALTH written not by Franny's lover, but by Ann Patchett. And as the book concludes with Franny remembering a story that she never told her lover and therefore never made it into COMMONWEALTH and therefore thinks she has protected it from being told, I realize it has made it into Patchett's COMMONWEALTH, and wonder if stories belong to anyone or everyone.