Number 208

 Resiliency, Maybe?

Going back to the beginning, the first question to answer is: "Why?" Why did I want to participate in the EKWL program? Three reasons, really. (1) I had just taken on a position of leadership for the Holy Grounds breakfast program, and thought the EKWL program would be beneficial; (2) I thought it would help me begin to network with other social service organizations and their leaders in the Mankato community; and (3) I felt that hanging out with a group of woman all day once a month would be a lot of fun.

The question now is: "How did all that work out?"

Interesting question, because, to be honest, the program hasn't really informed the way that I do my job at Holy Grounds. It hasn't really helped when it comes to networking with other area social service agencies. And being among a group of women all day was not the "fun" experience that I thought it would be.

Sounds like a colossal waste of time, huh?

To the contrary, though it didn't meet my initial expectations it did provide many opportunities for growth: emotional, intellectual, and, thanks to Dr. Deb, even physical. Let me give you one example.

Ceceli asked us last month to reflect upon the question of how each of us become the woman we are today, and how does that impact our individual leadership style. In the moment, that question was daunting. Now a month later, the answer seems kind of obvious. Who we are, and how we lead is purely a product of the live each one of us has lived up to this point. To that end, I am a leader who wants to set a good example for the volunteers that I oversee. I want to be a leader who can admit to mistakes (my own - not other people's!). I want to be open to questions and concerns about the way things are done, and I want the volunteers to feel empowered to make decisions on their own, without worrying about being second-guessed by me.

But I'm not sure what this has to do with the woman I am today. And that brings me to the crux of one of the two things that I want to say to all of you today. I'll get to the second thing in a bit.

Of all the subjects over the course of the program, the one that I had the most visceral reaction to was "Resiliency." In February we listened to two extraordinary women tell their stories of resiliency. They both left the country of their birth during times of horrible violence to settle in a new land where most of the people didn't speak their native tongue. "Holy shit!" I thought to myself, "I'm not sure I could have done that." (Which, I'm assuming, was not the intended takeaway hoped for by the EKWL coordinators.)

But, from there, my mind drifted to one of my least favorite cliches: The "I could never do what you do." An example: I have a friend who has a child with exceptional special needs. The list of things she must do to provide the exemplary, loving care that she does is long and exhaustive, and I marvel at her efforts. And though I may wonder to myself if I could do what she does, I've never said it out loud (well, until now). As a parent, I was not presented with the challenges that my friend must deal with, but I am hopeful that if I had been, I would have learned how to care for my child in much the same way my friend cares for hers. In other words, what seems extraordinary to me, is her normal. 

Back to our February meeting, I found myself reflecting that I have been privileged enough to never be in a position where I felt that leaving everything behind and moving to a strange new land was the best choice available to me. Could I have made the same brave choice our two friends did? I don't know, and I hope I never do.

Resiliency is, to me, the ability to keep moving forward in the face of struggle. Imagine Dory's mantra from the movie Finding Nemo: "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming." Sometimes, maybe, we might even overcome different hardships that get put in each of our paths. Maybe that should have been my takeaway from the two presentations. But "hardship" is a difficult thing to define. Often, what is challenging for one of us, is easy for another. And the infinite variety of circumstances that makes up all our lives scrambles up the concept of "hardship" even further. In my life, I have had to try and move on after my parents divorced when I was 11, a broken engagement in my early 20s, a lifetime of anxiety and depression exacerbated by undiagnosed gender dysphoria, and the sudden, way-to-early death of my wife when I was 50.

Maybe some of you have experienced the same, or similar experiences. I'm sure we could fill one of these white boards with all sorts of "hardships" we have had to move on from and try to overcome. And "overcome" is another dicey word to deal with, because 'over-coming' something can be a messy, years long process with a success rate that rarely reaches 100%. We all have scars - literally and figuratively.

Now, bringing it back to that day in February, I found myself thinking that everyone of us in that room already understood what resiliency was, as well as what it took to deal with hardship. It's hard as hell. Somedays feel like failure, and somedays it's all you can do to get out of bed, but resiliency exists in every tentative step forward. And as I think upon all of us, and our journey this year, I feel a swell of pride, because what I have learned is how incredibly strong each and every one of us is.

Now to the other thing I want to say. Thank you.

I have spent huge hunks of my life wondering where I fit in. Though this has proven to be an elusive challenge, a big piece of this puzzle fell into place with my realization a little over five years ago that I was a trans woman. But 'realizing' it was (and is), much different that 'living' it. Thankfully a perverse sense of humor helps. When Ceceli asked us to ponder about how we've become the women we are, my first thought was 'surgery.' Bad jokes aside, I was petrified last September that I would not be accepted by the rest of you...

quick aside: I don't have the first clue why I'm trans, and when I first began exploring my gender identity I did not want this to be the answer. But after 50 years I was committed to being as honest with myself as I could. When I finally declared my truth out loud one day in therapy, I felt a peace and a calm that had eluded me all my life. Still, I have no idea why I'm trans...

But you did accept me. And for someone who has spent as much time as I have wondering where I fit in, I can't even begin tell you how special that has been for me. So once again, thank you.

Number 207

 A Group of Morons...

... in eastern Oregon want to secede from Oregon and join Idaho. This is entirely political, as many of the folks who live in the eastern part of the state are Republican, while the majority of Oregon's population, which lives in the western part of the state, tend to be Democrat. The folks in the east want to join Idaho, because they feel as if they (and issues important to them), are being ignored by the Oregon state legislature. By joining Idaho, a reliably Republican state, our friends from eastern Oregon believe they will be better represented by a state legislature more philosophically aligned with their point of view.

Personally, I think this is a genius idea. Our friends in eastern Oregon are on to something. In fact I don't think they go far enough. I think we should redraw the borders to all 50 states. And in order to ensure equal representation we start by dividing the population of the United States by 50 (330,000,000/50), to get an approximate population for each new state somewhere between 6.5 to 7 million folks.

Start at the eastern tip of Maine, the southern tip of Florida or Texas, or even the western tip of the Aleutian Islands of Alaska and carve up the country in chunks that approximate 6.75 million people.

Of course that means that the New York metropolitan area, just by itself, would equal three states. And out in the west, where the buffalo roam, Nebraska, North and South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho (remember Idaho?), would combine to become a single state. Comparatively that would give New York City (alone) six U.S. senators and thirty U.S. representatives, while our new western geographical monstrosity would have two U.S. senators and ten U.S. representatives.

The area that makes up Southern California, with the San Francisco Bay area thrown in for kicks, would alone be divided into five states. For those keeping score that equals ten more senators and fifty more reps. In other words, our friends in eastern Oregon should be careful of what they wish for. If (and hopefully when), our country rids itself of the completely undemocratic electoral college and begins electing  presidents based upon popular vote alone (you know, they way every other election is settled), the results would leave them catatonic. So, yeah, eastern Oregon, thanks for the great idea.