On staying.
Vol. 72
In This Issue: ESSAY | NOW READ THIS | RESOURCE SHARING | BOOK NOOK | FINAL FRAME
On Staying.
This past weekend marked the 25th anniversary of my moving to Madison. A whole quarter century lived in the same place. It’s sort of wild to think about, even after all this time, and so many lives/chapters lived here. How did so much time pass without my leaving? Why did I stay? Why does anyone decide to move on from or stick it out in a place?
Prior to coming here, I’d been moved around a couple of times as a kid. Not so much as other friends with military or immigrant or just traveling-for-work parents. My dad was a minister and, thankfully, a fairly well-liked one. That meant we moved a bit but not excessively.
I was born and spent the first little while of my life in one place, then moved halfway through the third grade to another, then again after my sophomore year of high school to yet another. I was familiar enough with the idea of leaving and starting over somewhere new that the prospect of doing it again for college was not at all scary, but exciting. I was even more delighted because, for once, I would get to choose where I’d go.
I had two good friends who were a year ahead of me and ended up rooming together at the University of Wisconsin. During my senior year of high school, I went to visit them in Madison, a place I’d never been before, and pretty quickly fell in love with the idea of moving there, too. I didn’t have the grades to get into the UW, especially as an out-of-state student, but I tested well and gave good essay, so a small, liberal arts school in town offered me the probationary acceptance I needed to get to the city. What college I went to had never been something I gave a lot of thought to. Where I went to live was the much more interesting question.
And so in August of 2000, I filled my mom’s old 1991 Ford Aerostar minivan with my meager possessions and drove it from Oklahoma to Wisconsin, where I moved into my first apartment. I was thrilled. I still have my journal entry from that first week of living truly on my own, filled with enthusiastic descriptions of setting up my account at the credit union, finding a grocery store, and curb shopping for necessities I couldn’t fit in the van. I was excited to begin my life on my own terms, broke and running from various small traumas but filled with possibility.
This past week, I found myself helping a friend move out of their place, placing items on the curb that they couldn’t fit in their car for a move east. I thought about that 18-year-old version of me who didn’t know what this new life might bring but also never expected to stay in one place for so long. But this thing had happened in the meantime–slowly but steadily and sometimes without my noticing–that I also hadn’t expected. Especially as I thought about leaving, many times, and watched countless other friends move on, it caught me somewhat by surprise that I’d put down roots.
It’s an interesting phrase, to say one “put down roots.” I like how it implies becoming part of the landscape, the soil, nourished by the rain in that particular location and its weather patterns. Other roots grow into you, too, connecting you to all the living things around you.
It makes me think of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s imploring us to “become indigenous” to a place, which is to say, to truly become and act like a part of the local community–human and more-than-human alike. To feel connection and a responsibility.
I believe it’s possible to do that without staying physically in the same place your whole life. The whole Earth is connected, after all, and I think achieving that status is more a mental/spiritual attitude than anything. Still, being able to make a home in one place for an extended period of time can definitely be a leg up in the process.
I know and love several people who are happiest when moving around on a regular basis. And I know many people who have lived in the same town or state their whole lives who are equally content. Then there are those I’ve seen run from place to place, hoping that a change of scenery alone will change their personal circumstances for the better but never really finding that peace. And those who feel stuck in place, unable to leave for various reasons and crawling out of their skin with the desire to go.
I hadn’t expected to be someone who would stay for so long. I nearly left several times: Once for London, when we thought my partner’s job would move us there. Another time for New York, when one of my best friends moved out there and I thought I needed to follow.
But time and again as I’ve had the privilege to travel and fall in love with different places and people, I realized that I also always, without fail, loved coming back to Madison. This at times infuriating and deeply flawed city is also where I feel the most connected and held. Over the years, I’ve learned the value of that feeling–for me, anyway–is quite literally priceless.
So I have settled myself into the bittersweet role of both welcome wagon and waver-from-the-shore for people coming and going from my chosen home. This city is a fairly transient one, after all, between the university, the seat of state government, and myriad other reasons people move to and then away. I see it a lot, too, especially being part of the community of musicians and artists of which Madison enjoys an outsized embarrassment of riches–but does precious little to meaningfully support in a way that makes it possible to make any kind of living (the Madison/Wisconsin musician diaspora is real).
I feel some wistfulness about it, especially at this time of year when so many people are moving in or out. I see young folks sweatily hauling used couches into second floor flats and packing hatchbacks with boxes and I wonder if they’ll stay or go, what this chapter of life will bring for them, if this will become a home.
Mostly what I feel is contentment and gratitude. Things could have gone so many different ways at different times in my life. All of my decisions, the vagaries of the timeline, and sheer luck have led me to a pretty damn good place, all told. Things could change at any time and against my will (they often do). For now, even though it means watching so many people I love pass through on their own journeys, I’m just happy to be here to witness it all.
Now Read This.
“Trump Attacking D.C. is Not a Distraction” [W. Kamau Bell]
Some people say that Trump taking control over the D.C. police and sending federal troops there is just a distraction. They say this is just a way for Trump to get our attention away from his relationship with his good friend Jeffrey Epstein. In response, I say THERE ARE FEDERAL TROOPS IN WASHINGTON D.C. AND DONALD TRUMP HAS TAKEN CONTROL OVER THE POLICE! AND HE IS THREATENING TO DO THIS IN OTHER CITIES!!!
"'Crime' and the Occupation of D.C." [Spender Ackerman at Forever Wars]
The point of seizing local policing powers in Washington; augmenting them with the truly dizzying variety of federal policing agencies in the District; supplementing them with the D.C. National Guard; and now adding deployments of Guard forces from Republican governors in three states is to criminalize undesirable populations.
“Starving and Abandoned: A Palestinian American Child in Israeli Detention” [Jasper Nathaniel]
On Wednesday, I spoke with the family of Mohammed Zaher Ibrahim, the 16-year-old Palestinian American boy who has been jailed in Israel’s notorious Megiddo prison since February, accused of throwing a rock on an empty street. He has lost at least a quarter of his body weight and has contracted a severe case of scabies. They have every reason to fear for his life and are desperate to get him home before he meets the same fate as several of his fellow prisoners, who have died from torture, disease, and starvation. As I wrote last week, until a July 31 Guardian story, the Western press had never mentioned his name, and since then, not a single major American outlet has covered it, despite his family’s desperate pleas for help.
“Revolutions Are Built on Failure” [Margaret Killjoy]
A better world is always possible, because a worse world is always possible. There is this grand drama that’s been playing out since probably the beginning of humanity but certainly since the beginning of empire, the state, hierarchy, capitalism, and all of that shit. There’s a grand drama between oppression and liberation, and all of us are actors in that drama whether we conceive of ourselves that way or not.
So I can tell you a better world is possible, and I can tell you that fighting for a better world has immediate value. Even when we don’t “win” and create some utopian society, we “win” because through our actions we can often prevent at least some level of suffering. Our victories are hard to measure, because we don’t live in the even worse world we would live in if it weren’t for the collective work we all put in.
Resource Sharing.
I was just introduced to the existence of this incredibly cool resource: The Queer Liberation Library. It’s a free, online collection of LGBTQ+ literature and other information that you can access via the Libby/OverDrive apps (also great resources).
Related: Several public libraries in large cities now offer free library cards to teens 14-21 years old regardless of where they live, as part of an effort called Books Unbanned.
Book Nook.
Just finished reading “One Day, Everyone Will Have Been Against This” by Omar El Akkad and…wow. An absolute gut punch of a read, in the most needed way.
Akkad gives American exceptionalism, neo-liberalism, and extractive capitalism the unsparing dressing down they richly deserve. And while it can be a lot to process and take in, it’s all deeply necessary. It’s also a love letter to people all over the world who are doing what they can, in ways large and small, to build a better world, show solidarity with those in pain/danger, and buck the toxic systems that are all too easy to go along with.
The book is both eye-opening and strangely inspiring, and I can’t recommend it enough.
Finale Frame.
‘Til Next Time.
Things I’m doing instead of opening my phone to scroll social media while on break this month: doodling, texting a friend, staring at the clouds/birds/weather, daydreaming, reading essays/books/other people’s newsletters, stretching, drinking water. Any other ideas? Send ‘em my way. xoxo
Free Palestine.
