Deconstructing (it’s a long one)
Growing up in a more conservative, religious (Episcopalian to be exact–Also known as the Church of England, which was formed by Henry VIII after wanting to divorce Queen Catherine, the church said no, he said ‘fuck it i’ll make my own church’ and he did. So think Catholic lite), traditional, always eager for the next adventure household with a propensity for all forms of entertainment (including the arts) in the 90s was incredibly shaping. My parents lived through the rise of Americanism during the Reagan era and benefited greatly from the U.S. becoming the center point for global economics. It was a time where you could truly try and build your own path, find your cheap stretch of land and lean into what the height of capitalism ‘success’ looked like–if you had the privilege so many minorities and oppressed people do not. And I have to make sure to add–my parents worked incredibly hard to give themselves and us kids so much that they could have only dreamed of. I never want to discredit the fact that they are among the scrappy ones who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. But it would also be irresponsible of me to not acknowledge the fact that success such as this is often far easier for people who have historically benefited from the ingrained systematic issues that we can track through our history. We are not free from systematic racism, systematic classism, systematic sexism, systematic ableism, systematic religious beliefs that have built our country, culture and economy. In order for us to ‘succeed’ in America you have to have the resources to do so. And that includes having the money to stay alive–quite literally. And there is a clear relation between those who have had more privileges than others being wealthier and in turn have the resources they need in order to find ‘success’. All of this to say–my white, conservative, somewhat religious, travel savvy household with a propensity towards the art of entertainment set a foundation that I have been deconstructing for a long time, even if I didn’t quite know that’s what I was doing.
As a 90s millennial I share one incredibly shifting experience that has almost defined our generation–witnessing in real time (at a very young age, I was 9 years old) the twin towers crumble to the ground on national television. Like many of those in my age group, September 9, 2001 is ingrained in our minds as core memories. Witnessing almost 3000 people die on live tv from a very formative age did, indeed, leave a very lasting effect. I remember learning that there are people out there that want to hurt other people. Of course, I was nine and didn’t understand the complex issues involved in that part of history, but I do remember the world became a much scarier place. I now know we can actively call such an experience trauma, and for a kid trying to understand what it is to be a human it was a very impactful moment–my mental health has been greatly affected, I get anxiety watching news to this day. We haven’t stopped witnessing traumatic events on our tv’s since September 9, 2001. We see hate, violence, death and deep fear on a regular basis and we have been forced into a space of normalized trauma.
Having a generational trauma that sits in such a display of real violence has shaped us. The foundations of us rumbled, perhaps even cracked in some cases. And as I have actively learned, it’s very hard to build a life on rocky ground.
We are the generation that remembers life before the internet, the beautiful nostalgia of it all. We grew up with the rise of social media (a few OG faves of mine–Neopets while on AIM with my friends, Habba Hotel [the early days felt like the wild west] and myspace to name a few). We learned how to grow and adapt to the ever changing world of technology and how it impacts our daily lives. And we have taken on the weight of generational trauma that comes with such experiences.
Having access to the internet from a young age has provided me with a sea of information to sift through and experiences to learn from–both mine and others in my circles. The access to information and the gift of seeing other humans in their way of existing through their experience as someone just trying to figure out how to find a life they love has been more shaping than I could have ever imagined.
I have always felt like the redheaded step child of the clan (I can say it, I am a redhead), trying to understand the world I was brought into and the systems at play that try to control the life you live. Seeing how all the history I’ve been taught, the rules and the laws of our society I’ve tried to live, all the expectations our culture burdens women with, has gotten me here. When I was around 10, 11 maybe (I think it might have been a little younger I truly don’t remember) I had the first big moment that started the path too overthinking, to being so hyper aware of yourself you only shift to external validation. The BMI changed on an international level almost overnight with very little research, understand and knowledge about what it is to have a body and what “healthy” can look like and every doctor visit changed for me. I got a lecture everytime about my weight as a kid and the threat of childhood obesity and diabetes. I had never been aware of my body before because I was just constantly IN my body, but the shift to learning the outside world perceives me and will find the things about me that are ‘not good’ or ‘not ok’ was the first time I truly felt like there was something wrong with me. I don’t think I’ve fully ever been able to escape the experience of living a lot of my tween/teen years obsessing over how the outside world saw me and how I defined my worth by being ‘acceptable’ to other people, especially those I craved validation from.
These days that neural pathway is developing callouses, much harder to tear apart–in fact there is an extra layer of protection now even! That wound and its voice has quieted greatly over the years but I still instinctually feel myself checking my profile in the mirrors I meet. But despite it all, it heals. In fact, I look at myself in mirrors and find that I actually dig how I look but most importantly–feel.
The foundation that I was raised on is complicated. So many experiences have shaped me deeply, blazing painful tracks into my mind that are always easier to follow the more they are visited. But I have been deeply privileged to have been and to be a part of my family that has in turn been privileged. And if there are a few things my parents truly instilled in me it’s follow your dreams, do your own research before coming to a conclusion (being a science obsessed nerd has always had its perks) and when a new adventure calls you better follow the opportunity. And here I am, finding that new adventure in the middle of a class war that has led to extreme identity politics because the corporate greed that American capitalism allowed to happen by putting the dollar on a fucking pedestal and making it a competition to get more and more money because if you don’t you won’t be able to pay your bills and live in a house and if you don’t have a house you can live in you will be arrested for being unhoused but sorry “that’s just the way it is, people choose to live that way but I’m only going to pay you the least amount I can so I can profit the most off of your labor and in order to keep you working for me I’m going to threaten you with the potential of loosing your job and finding yourself in the worst possible place” kind of society that uses fear to control us (truly they do, do the research if you need to) and we are facing the snowball of fascism that is starting to gain more momentum and the only things that protect us as humans are our legal rights (the Constitution and our Laws) are about to go out the window (Look up Project 2025 if you haven’t yet, the Fascist Christian Nationalist have more control than they should) and facing the inevitable of whatever our future holds is really fucking hard to do but I’m doing it anyway and that starts with following my dreams and the new adventure of taking care of myself is facing my debilitating mental illness—depression (with hefty sides of anxiety).
Feeling forced to fit yourself into a box that only comes in one size is an impossible task, really. One that can make you feel like everything about you is wrong. The forced stop of regular society in 2020 due to Covid-19 brought both a blessing and a curse. The pain of so desperately wanting to return to ‘normal’ but the lessons of ‘look at the kind of normal you can have’. The time I had to sit with myself and start slowly peeling back the layers of the parts of me that have had the most success in the outward validation I so greatly depended on was shifting in ways I could have never imagined.
I’m finding my way back to the person I want to be, that kid who wants to jump into any adventure, especially if it means she can help other people (and animals). It has come at a steep price, but one I would pay time and time again.
It’s really hard to have to find ways to take care of yourself when you are trying to find a way to live in a society that has always said you’re wrong. But I’m learning it’s manageable to face your realities when you follow what feels right. And that often includes facing the truths you are deeply afraid to see.
Set boundaries. Respect everyone until they give you a reason not to (and they can lose it quickly, it’s ok). Be kind to everyone you meet, they could be fighting bigger fights than you could ever imagine. Believe people when they share their pain with you. Question what you have been taught, treat it like a science experiment–you’ll learn a lot along the way. Be willing to take accountability for the hurt you have done, or the wrongs you have believed. Everyone deserves grace and love, but be picky about who gets what you have to give. Do hard things, that’s the only way to learn what you are capable of. Be brave and listen when people are speaking. You never know what story they are going to tell.
