Image compliments of Muchacha Fanzine on Instagram
The world is wild.
It’s been a while since I’ve written. Nearly 3 months. And so much has happened in that time. The genocide in Gaza enters its eight month and the occupation of Palestine enters its 76th year. I’ve lived in Boston for over a year now and I’ve almost had my job for a year. Vale and I have been together for almost all of that time.
The world is wild.
Last night on Instagram, I watched the NYPD slam college students into the pavement and throw a few down stairs. I watched as brave and tenacious students stood firm in the truth. What the NYPD did was atrocious, but the show of resistance was beautiful.
The world is wild.
In the months that I’ve been incognito, I’ve tried to write one of these a few times. But each time, I just didn’t have it in me. While the last year has been one of the best of my life and definitely one of the best in many, many years, I’m exhausted. I didn’t have the energy to move my fingers across the keyboard and turn my thoughts into something cogent. I think I’m finally emerging from that dark place though.
It’s fitting I find my words on this day. Today is a special day for pagans, wiccans, and other witchy folk. It’s Beltane, the second and last springtime sabbat. Beltane is a fire and fertility celebration. And on this day that we celebrate creation, I can once again create.
Part of why I haven’t written is I didn’t know what to say or share. Everything felt frivolous. Or performative. Should I write about the protests I attended? About what I’m reading? What I ate for lunch? Nothing felt right.
But now, the words come. It helps that I quit my second job. I no longer work in a restaurant on the weekends. Instead, I’m walking dogs for extra cash. And let me tell you, spending time at the beach with my new friends has done wonders for my mental health.
But even with that escape, I still feel like I’m teetering. At any moment I feel like I could descend into darkness, into a space I’m so scared to reenter. The problem with bipolar is you never know when the tipping point will come. One minute you’re ok and the next the spiral downwards or up starts. And I’ve been dealt a pretty shitty hand lately. Last week, we buried my Nonie. So yeah, I’m not ok.
But it feels better writing it down, admitting to the struggle. I drove from Boston to the Midwest to say goodbye to Nonie and then spent the week with my family before the funeral. I drove over 2,000 miles roundtrip and had time to reflect. I realized a few things. One, I missed the calm of a road trip. That special kind of feeling that descends when you’ve got nothing in front of you but some tunes, the open road, and a Speedway frozen coke. Two, while Nonie’s death made me sad, I was already there. Three, life is really, really hard right now.
Technically, I have a disability. I don’t always feel ok with taking on that mantle. I feel like I don’t deserve to call myself disabled, even though clinically and legally I qualify. And while I’m not shy about talking about my bipolar, I’ve kept it quiet in certain circumstances. I am not open about my diagnosis at work. I’m afraid if they know no one will take me seriously anymore. I’m afraid I’ll be looked at like I can’t do the job, or worse, with pity.
It’s not hard to find out my diagnosis. I mean, if you Google my name and look through my Substack it’s all there. But it’s also not something I share with everyone. I’ve felt like maybe it’s time to change that. I’ve had some really hard days lately. Days when I could’ve used an accommodation. Days when I could’ve used a break. Hell, I’m having one of those days today.
Anyways, I found my words on this fertility festival. Even though my brain is a dark swirl. Even though the world seems to be burning down around us.
But maybe the world is burning because it’s supposed to. Beltane is a fire festival. It’s a time for purification and rebirth. It makes sense that on Beltane’s eve student activists across the country would show us a new world is possible. A world that can rise from the charred remnants of the old one. A world full of liberation. A world I hope I see in my lifetime.
I was inspired to write, but by what I’m not sure. Maybe I wanted to grasp for the light of creativity in my own mind. Maybe I wanted to memorialize my thoughts about what happened last night, to have a document of my reaction. Maybe I just had the itch in my fingers.
What I know is this. The world that we live in right now can’t continue as is. I shouldn't have to live in a world where I’m afraid to share my diagnosis. A world that beats you down so much creativity is considered a luxury. A world where multiple genocides - genocides that could be stopped with the stroke of a pen - exist. But on this Beltane, I believe that the old world is fading and a new one is beginning.
I read somewhere recently that it takes about 3.5% of a population to create a social tipping point. Basically, when that number is reached, society begins to change. 3.5% of the United States is about 12 million people. There are 18 million college students in the US. The students are the tipping point.
I had a conversation with my mom last week where I made a comment about how the United States is fucked. She told me she hates that I feel that way. I don’t necessarily mean that as a bad thing. We are fucked. The system cannot continue as is. It just can’t. Take my apartment for example. My shitty studio apartment that I moved into because it was the only place available. Vale and I are moving, in part because they raised the rent to $2550. Two thousand five hundred and fifty dollars a month for a single room. How is that ok? How is that legal?
We’ve reached a tipping point. A tipping point that we’re not going to vote ourselves out of. The new world will be born out of community organizing. It will be built around kitchen tables and student encampments. I have no faith in the United States government. Everything that’s happened governmentally in my lifetime has done nothing but seed distrust. I don’t believe in the U.S., but I believe in us. I believe in the collective. I believe in community.
The student encampments have given so many across the globe hope. We’ve seen the community mobilize around these encampments to protect young people from the state. We’re seen folks passing food through the gates of Columbia after the administration locked the students in and tried to starve them out. I’ve seen it in the protests I attend, where folks pass out granola bars and masks. We keep each other safe.
In that world, I won’t have to be afraid of telling people about my diagnosis. I won’t be afraid each time I get a news alert on my phone. My shitty apartment wouldn’t be rented out for $2550. It’s a world that’s not perfect, but at least it’s founded on liberation, not on genocide and slavery.
I don’t really have a closing thought. This essay is a little bit of a mess but I think that’s ok. I kind of just dumped all my thoughts onto the page, something I usually reserve just for my journal. I’ll end with this. On this Beltane, I hope you look into the fire and see a vision of a new world. An end is coming, but so is a rebirth.
Free Palestine. Liberation Now.