I feel weepy from deep sadness and gratefulness.
This year feels very different. I usually spend the few days leading up to my birthday reflecting on the past 12 months - I would read through my journal entries and sit with it. And then I will set up intentions for the next year. It’s been a good mid year rhythm because I have the same ritual at the end/beginning of the year. But this year feels so very different.
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Not every year feels like I have lived 48 lifetimes. I don’t think I’ve felt this kind of low and sorrow in my life ever. I certainly have never witnessed the extent of evil inflicted on humans in real time and in this visceral way ever. I definitely don’t think I’ve seen through colonialism, imperialism, and capitalism so clearly before. I also have never felt so connected to my people in such a raw and tender way before.
I wrote a journal entry last summer that I was waking up with no anxiety and feeling light. Last summer was delicious - I was rediscovering myself and creative power in a dazzling way after a breakup from a terrifying relationship. I did this personal art series with self portraits and poetry about recommitting to myself and questioning how much pleasure and self focus is too much. I pushed back on the premise that was taught in the christian tradition that I am born broken and depraved through exploring the affects of thinking that of myself as a femme of color. (Below are images from my INDULGE series on instagram and a post I wrote on my birthday a year ago.)
I look back at that time a year ago, and I barely recognize her.
I feel little echoes of her sometimes. I’m almost jealous of her. To exist with so much life force, lightness, and creative energy. The things she will see, feel and do in the next few months is completely unfathomable to her.
She has no idea that she will witness the genocide of Palestinians with details that will be burned into her heart and mind forever. She has no idea that she will see bags and bags of body parts. So so so…too many dead children. Babies with no heads. Blood smeared on hospital floors. Details from too many stories of families being obliterated. The rape, the torture, the unfathomable evils committed by the IOF. She has no idea what she will learn about how the greed of the US and imperial powers are ravishing Congo, Sudan, Haiti, and so many places in the global south that is just as disgusting and evil as what she will be live streaming from Palestine.
She has no idea how her heart will break and break until her body gives out.
She has no idea how direct action and organizing will become a lifeline for her spirit.
She has no idea how she basically will have to say goodbye to her social world as she knows it and create a new community.
A few lessons from existing for 35 years:
* Pursuing collective liberation also means there has to be integrity in every part of life. That means I have to always be interrogating my internalized anti Blackness, classism, ableism, policing, patriarchy, homophobia, transphobia etc. How I treat my friends and myself on the day to day counts.
* It’s not about perfection. As a recovering perfectionist, I’m always catching myself in trying to attain perfection in how I calculate how to use my energy the best way for liberation. That’s impossible to do perfectly. It’s more like a stumbling one foot in front of the other and trusting that I’m generally in the right trajectory.
* Being intimate and well acquainted with grief is the foundation of how I can keep on going. The loss isn’t going to stop. Actually, witnessing the truth of suffering will just increase. So being able to dance with grief and honor the loss is crucial on this path.
* No matter what circle or community I’m in, people are messy. Trauma is present and people who are power/control hungry will find spaces where people want belonging. All I know is that the solution isn’t as simple as leaving or cutting people out (however I want that to be true), but that’s for another substack post.
* My determination of what can be possible is measured by what I’m willing to sacrifice. This one is a bummer…wish it wasn’t true. The seduction of capitalism is strong. The pull of class supremacy is compelling. And I feel it every day. I am working on expanding my capacity to fight for TRUE safety and TRUE comfort. I want to be able to embody the fact that I would fight for it at any cost - not out of saviorism but communal responsibility.
* Remembering what an honor it is to be alive in my body during this time will always be something I will ground myself in forever. I am chosen, anointed, and destined to be here right now. Right here. No coincidence that my lineages have led me to this point. What an honor.
For my birthday, please donate $35 to Walid, Maysoon, and their kids! Here is the fundraiser link.
Caption from the instagram post: This week ARI (Artists for Radical Imagination) are uplifting the campaign of Walid and his wife, Maysoon, for #fridaysforfalestin. Maysoon, their four daughters (including three year old twins), and their son were preparing for their dream home before October 7th. Since then, their home was destroyed and they have been displaced six times. They are currently sheltering in a tent in Deer Al-balah. Please help their family survive.
Finally. F**K ISRAEL. F**K AMERICA. F**K BILLIONAIRES. F**K COLONIALISM. F**K IMPERIALISM. F**K PATRIARCHY. F**K CAPITALISM. F**K THE POLICE. F**K PRISONS.
NONE OF US ARE FREE UNTIL ALL OF US ARE FREE.
What does Liberatory Imagination spark in me today?
I want to move in a way like I can see actual liberation globally in my lifetime. What would I do if that’s attainable? How would I wake up and go to sleep? How would I take care of my body? How would I relate to my community? What would my daily rhythms be like? What would trust in community feel like?
Tiffany’s Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
