This is hard for me. I have to be honest - some things that happened before Christmas made me feel as though I lost my voice, any right I had to talk in a room full of people. Resistance fell away. Who was I to say that Trump broke the law?
What happened?
I lost a job I was assured was mine. No, it wasn't an important job, only ten hours a week. I'd worked with these children for two and a half years as a volunteer. The teacher I was working with was simply trying to get me a paid position for what I was already doing and in the process of losing the job, I lost her friendship too. That was an awful hit to my self-esteem.
See, I was trying to argue a point and the HR people didn't want to hear it. I have to admit to you that I wasn't feeling well that afternoon. I didn't argue well or wisely. I didn't know when to stop.
Two nights ago, I told Mike I thought I lost the job because I was willing to argue a point. He was in the living room then. I was in the kitchen. He paused his movie.
"That's not why," he said.
"What?" I asked. I walked into the living room with hands goobered from loading dirty dishes.
"You lost the job because they think you're weird."
It was like a punch to the gut.
"I am weird. I was more weird that day because I didn't feel well, but I am weird. I'm not dangerous and I'm honest, but--"
"Nothing you say or do is going to change their minds."
"I know, but I can't even volunteer for them now."
And I wandered back into the kitchen so I could cry on my own and pretend Mike didn't know I was doing it. He knew.
Eventually, I sniffled enough, finished the load of dishes, and went into the living room and sat down next to him.
"You've got to love me, you know," I said as he patted my shoulder over the cat who sat on his pillow between us.
I had spent a whole year arguing against Trump's administration and I'd grown confidence in what I had to say. Plus, I felt great about all the hours I spent volunteering for kids and it was all stripped away in one fell swoop. I'd been righteous. I'd been righteous about so much of my life. When I encountered something that was wrong or illegal or both, I finally stood up. I took a stand.
Except these HR people didn't want any discussion about their practices and their counterweight opinions overruled two and a half years of dedication I had shown. In fact, I'd volunteered weekly for that school district since 2006. Now I can't even volunteer, let alone get paid for my work. And even though I suspect I lost the job because I argued a point poorly and didn't know when to stop, no one there has explained exactly what they think went wrong. They left me in the dark. I hate being left in the dark when someone thinks I've done something wrong.
I feel like I've lost my voice.
I've written every single day for seven years and almost every day for twenty-two. That came to a screeching halt three weeks ago. I'm fighting it. I resolved to look at the inertia in human nature that has us so far down the track of climate change that polar bears are starving to death and swimming for days trying to find ice from which to hunt. I'm trying to overcome eco-anxiety and read about bleached coral, about extreme weather, about the Larson C ice shelf in Antarctica that is supposed to break off any day now.
But I'm still battling to speak out. It's hard.
Who am I to try to fight the status quo? I'm an ordinary woman. I don't even have a job.
I can't even earn enough from my last book, Angry Housewife Fights Tyranny, to justify writing another one. Oh, that is hard to admit. Yesterday, I had to argue with a bookstore owner that sold a few books that they should pay me the last $5.49 that they've owed me since October. Five freaking dollars.
So, if you're reading this, you should be forewarned: I am weird. I'm ordinary. I don't have any special skills except that I try to write every day, except that I care, except that I think someone needs to stand up and speak out. Who else if not me, a weird ordinary woman who didn't get the job she'd been doing for two an a half years?
What else do I have to do?
Inertia doesn't get broken down with silence. Nothing will change unless more of us speak out, act out, be willing to look weird.
Thank you for listening, jules
What happened?
I lost a job I was assured was mine. No, it wasn't an important job, only ten hours a week. I'd worked with these children for two and a half years as a volunteer. The teacher I was working with was simply trying to get me a paid position for what I was already doing and in the process of losing the job, I lost her friendship too. That was an awful hit to my self-esteem.
See, I was trying to argue a point and the HR people didn't want to hear it. I have to admit to you that I wasn't feeling well that afternoon. I didn't argue well or wisely. I didn't know when to stop.
Two nights ago, I told Mike I thought I lost the job because I was willing to argue a point. He was in the living room then. I was in the kitchen. He paused his movie.
"That's not why," he said.
"What?" I asked. I walked into the living room with hands goobered from loading dirty dishes.
"You lost the job because they think you're weird."
It was like a punch to the gut.
"I am weird. I was more weird that day because I didn't feel well, but I am weird. I'm not dangerous and I'm honest, but--"
"Nothing you say or do is going to change their minds."
"I know, but I can't even volunteer for them now."
And I wandered back into the kitchen so I could cry on my own and pretend Mike didn't know I was doing it. He knew.
Eventually, I sniffled enough, finished the load of dishes, and went into the living room and sat down next to him.
"You've got to love me, you know," I said as he patted my shoulder over the cat who sat on his pillow between us.
I had spent a whole year arguing against Trump's administration and I'd grown confidence in what I had to say. Plus, I felt great about all the hours I spent volunteering for kids and it was all stripped away in one fell swoop. I'd been righteous. I'd been righteous about so much of my life. When I encountered something that was wrong or illegal or both, I finally stood up. I took a stand.
Except these HR people didn't want any discussion about their practices and their counterweight opinions overruled two and a half years of dedication I had shown. In fact, I'd volunteered weekly for that school district since 2006. Now I can't even volunteer, let alone get paid for my work. And even though I suspect I lost the job because I argued a point poorly and didn't know when to stop, no one there has explained exactly what they think went wrong. They left me in the dark. I hate being left in the dark when someone thinks I've done something wrong.
I feel like I've lost my voice.
I've written every single day for seven years and almost every day for twenty-two. That came to a screeching halt three weeks ago. I'm fighting it. I resolved to look at the inertia in human nature that has us so far down the track of climate change that polar bears are starving to death and swimming for days trying to find ice from which to hunt. I'm trying to overcome eco-anxiety and read about bleached coral, about extreme weather, about the Larson C ice shelf in Antarctica that is supposed to break off any day now.
But I'm still battling to speak out. It's hard.
Who am I to try to fight the status quo? I'm an ordinary woman. I don't even have a job.
I can't even earn enough from my last book, Angry Housewife Fights Tyranny, to justify writing another one. Oh, that is hard to admit. Yesterday, I had to argue with a bookstore owner that sold a few books that they should pay me the last $5.49 that they've owed me since October. Five freaking dollars.
So, if you're reading this, you should be forewarned: I am weird. I'm ordinary. I don't have any special skills except that I try to write every day, except that I care, except that I think someone needs to stand up and speak out. Who else if not me, a weird ordinary woman who didn't get the job she'd been doing for two an a half years?
What else do I have to do?
Inertia doesn't get broken down with silence. Nothing will change unless more of us speak out, act out, be willing to look weird.
Thank you for listening, jules
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