By now you probably know someone, or know someone who knows someone who is positive or has died from the virus. And even if you don’t, you’ve seen the virtual funerals, body bags, refrigerator truck morgues, plain wooden caskets and mass graves on the news.
One of the Corona paradoxes has been that in order to survive together we must stay apart. We’re practicing physical and social distancing but still need to maintain social connection in ways old and new. We’re desperate for it – on phones and online chat rooms, on balconies, across driveways, on the other side of a window or street or world – we’re reaching out with space in between.
In 1871, novelist Lewis Carroll wrote the sequel to his 1865 classic, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, called Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There. In it he described an alternate universe, where things are contrary to the real world. The Covid-19 pandemic is a potent opportunity to use it as a kind of mirror, to see things from an alternative perspective for what might be hiding in plain sight.
The only thing making me write this blog right now is stubbornness. You see, I made a commitment at the beginning of 2020 to a year of Radical Resilience. Not just to be committed to doing the things I say I want to do, or to enduring whatever comes, but to do both of those things with a vengeance. Now, resilience is a grand and lofty word. It actually pretties up what is really going on. I liked the sound of it as my New Year’s resolution. But what I actually need is stubbornness. Gritty, dug in, mean and ornery, in it ‘til the wheels fall off.
Yes, he actually said it. After weeks of deflecting when asked about the lagging rollout of coronavirus testing, our President said, “No, I’m not responsible at all.” Some of his predecessors had a different take on what should be expected of a leader. Harry Truman had a sign on his desk that read “The buck stops here.” John F. Kennedy urged citizens to “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”
My friend A’Lelia Bundles has been the keeper of her family’s history almost all her life. She is the great great granddaughter and biographer of Sarah Breedlove, more famously known as Madam C. J. Walker, the nation’s first female self-made millionaire.
What a blast I had at the recent convention of Black Nurses Rock in Biloxi, Mississippi. I was invited to give a morning welcome address and the conference’s closing keynote, something I have done quite a few times for various organizations. But there were some elements that made this event especially exceptional.
Maybe it was the revelations from the first accusations against Harvey Weinstein, or the release of the president’s “grab ‘em by the pussy” recording. But sometime in the last two years, I decided to write down every time I could remember being sexually assaulted, threatened, or harassed. I started in single digit childhood and counted nearly two dozen instances by the time I stopped counting at age 35.
As soon as I saw the commercials for this new network comedy, Bob Hearts Abishola, I was intrigued. Truth be told, I did not hold out much hope that this sitcom would authentically depict the lives of immigrant Nigerians in America without succumbing to culturally ignorant stereotypes and dumbed-down dialogue. That seems to be the general way of sitcoms.
If you’ve ever taken a dance, exercise or yoga class, you know what is meant by the core. Or perhaps you just think you do. Since the start of 2020 I’ve been taking twice weekly private yoga instruction. 10 sessions in, and I can already see the difference. And it’s not just the yoga. My wellness intention encompasses many other elements – meditation, journaling, massage, acupuncture, eliminating sugar and white flour, taking supplements, and drinking more water on a regular basis.