I've had conversations with my students this week about the work of raising anti-racist children. Many of us were raised in a time when we were taught to be colorblind, that this was the best way to move forward as a society. Everything that I have read and learned as an adult contradicts this. The truth is that we do notice difference, starting when children are quite young. When we parents do not acknowledge differences, kids learn that this is something that we should not talk about and we may actually attribute more weight to the differences through our inability to discuss them. I would encourage you to check out the chapter in the book Freakonomics about this issue. For very young children, I would encourage you to not shy away from their questions and acknowledgements of all kinds of differences. I would also encourage you to have diverse representations of different people in the your toys, books, media, etc. We cannot always wait for our children to bring up questions around difficult subjects. We must get over our own discomfort (which often means doing our own work first) in order to be there for our kids.
I wrote the following thoughts before the death of George Floyd, but I think that our appreciation of joy is still important. In fact, it is what can fuel us to do the hard work of dismantling racism that lies ahead.
Many of us have been asking ourselves about surviving vs. thriving. In the short term, it seemed fine to eat junk food, watch a lot of tv, and just get through the day. But now we are seeing no immediate end to the current situation and wondering when that surviving expectation needs to turn to thriving. Maybe we need to shift the question. Maybe our whole days or weeks are not surviving or thriving. Perhaps instead we can look moment to moment. Notice the moments of thriving and savor them. Notice the moments of surviving and feel grateful for those, too.
Each day has some of each feeling—some moments where we are just getting through (sometimes by the mere skin of our teeth) and some where we can expect more from ourselves, where we can be better versions of ourselves. Where we repair and build connections.
No one thrives all the time. In particular, right now realistic expectations seem important. Notice the moments you are doing well, celebrate them. And in the moments when you find yourself not living up to your expectations, forgive yourself. These are hard times and your are doing good work.
Remember that it’s okay to care about yourself and to care about the world. Again, it’s a both/and not either/or.
It’s okay to seize your joy, to savor it and also to feel deeply the sadness of the moment.
Here are two more reflections on finding joy that I’ve appreciated this week.
The Joy of Imaginary Homesteading in Los Angeles
by Heather Havrilesky
Yesterday, my husband found a large baby bird in our yard. It was the size of a cantaloupe and had gray wings with tendrils of yellow fuzz sticking out of them. Someone online said we should keep it hydrated, so I went outside with a dropper and a jar of water, expecting it to be afraid of me.
Instead, it drank from the dropper several times, and then groomed itself patiently while I sat a few inches away.
By the time my husband returned from the neighbor’s house to ask if they were missing a baby chicken, I was already daydreaming about building a hutch and collecting eggs every morning. The neighbor said the bird was a baby pigeon. They had a pigeon already, and they’d be happy to adopt another one.
I guess they saved me from the humiliation of a summer spent hoping my baby pigeon would lay eggs soon.
But that humbling feels like an appropriate corrective for someone who spends so many hours daydreaming about living off cherry tomatoes during a pandemic. I’m also growing basil and sage in containers on the driveway in front of our garage. Yesterday, I baked cinnamon rolls and made pierogi from scratch. Today I’ll plant flower seeds and green beans and make cheese bread. I also have a book to write, but I’m not doing much of that.
My baking and cultivating amounts to a bourgeois distraction at a time when 135 million are facing food shortages. I should be saving every cent to feed the homeless instead. I should be teaching my kids to sew their own clothes, not so we can share a group hallucination of some “Little House on the Prairie” lifestyle, but so we’ll stop buying unnecessary junk and save our extra money for the people who will die without it.
Sometimes it feels like all joy leads back to guilt and darkness right now. I have to remind myself that calming activities and even distractions are necessary for balance, to steel myself for the long road ahead. I can still be pragmatic and prepare to be of service. It’s not self-indulgent to hoard joy itself. If that means I end up trying to coax a driveway into the shape of a tiny farm, so be it. I’m going to try to relish every spot of sunshine I can find.
Joy Is Not Made To Be A Crumb
by Mary Oliver
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate.
Give in to it.
There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be.
We are not wise, and not very often kind.
And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left.
Perhaps this is its way of fighting back,
that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world.
It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins.
Anyway, that’s often the case.
Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty.
Joy is not made to be a crumb.