I’ve been putting off writing these thoughts out, because there’s this layer of shame…or maybe fear of judgement. In the past decade, I’ve heard myself say many times that part of the way to get free is to build my own businesses and support other Black/brown businesses. I don’t think that it’s all untrue, but the more that the veil is lifted, the more I see the lie of capitalism.
There’s this trope of millennial femmes (think NastyGal and Glossier) finding financial “freedom” in creating our own business path, because f**k the man. And we don’t need men to provide for us, because we can also become badass bosses. Drenched in white liberal “feminism,” I now see how I fell for it in my own artist way.
In my early 20’s, I wanted to see if I could make a living off of my art and music. So vividly, I remember recognizing my youth and that it was my time to take my shot. With gig work, I HUSTLED. I did pop up’s at crate & barrel, madewell, and other commercial spots. The narrative in those years was “you can make your passion/hobby into a money making business!”
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A few years in, I recognized that it felt bad in my body.
I decided to stop trying to make money through my art and to protect my art process.
And that cycle happened a few more rounds. Try to make money off of art and then stopped - because it felt bad.
More than a decade later, I’m 9 months into having quit my ok-paying full time job doing marketing and sales. The past 9 months have drastically radicalized me more than I could have imagined. There isn’t a bone in my body that wants to have a career or run a “successful” business. I literally couldn’t give two f***s.
I can barely find a thread of motivation to even think about what happens when I finally drain all of my resources (which is coming up soon.) I know I’m depressed, but I think it’s more than that. With the grief and limited energy, it’s torture to think that I have to expend my energy just so that I can get my basic needs met…like a roof over my head and food.
My life is meant to lived in truthful connection with people and the land. In this hellscape of a reality, the only thing that matters is doing my part in the collective that brings us closer to collective liberation. A liberation where we all have all our needs are met materially, relationally, and spiritually. A liberation where there isn’t exploitation, slavery, prisons, and genocide. Is that too much to ask for??
Until that world is here, my life (and I believe ALL of our lives) should center our liberation. Not in an obligatory way, but in a way that honors our Spirit.
I don’t want to be a girlboss.
But from where I stand right now, it sometimes feels like lesser of two evils? At least I can minimize the exploitation? I have no idea. All I know is that I don’t want to be an entrepreneur, but I feel unconsensually forced into it…because working for a corporation sounds way worse.
I feel some shame around it, because it feels so privileged to be in this position.
Witnessing genocide and exploitation because of greed and profit has stripped away all motivation of feeding the capitalism machine in any way. It has stripped away all drive to build “stability” for my future. I feel cornered.
What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?
A world where hustling isn’t revered. Where there’s ease that our local and global neighbors have everything they need and are in communion with the land. A world where there aren’t winners at the expense of losers. A world where imagination is so expansive of what we could build.
(photo taken by my friend Amera)
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