Whenever I hear the question: “Do you still blog?” I feel my insides cringe in shame. My responses range from a variety of pre-determined excuses, including (but not limited to):
“I generate so much content for my day job that I find it too exhausting to be creative in the evening hours!”
“It’s hard to handle more screen time after a full day of eyes glazing over a LCD display.”
“But look at all of these other things I’m doing over here!”
So much unnecessary justification. In truth, I think about my blog – or moreso writing – often. As averse as I am to invasive technologies, I do wish that I could insert a Matrix-like probe into my brain in order to capture my thoughts and reflections, which could then be stored on an external drive to revisit in the future. I admire people who carry around notebooks or use apps like Evernote to function as a warehouse for their ideas. I could follow suit, but I know myself well enough at 32: I would start the practice with great gusto only to fizzle out to noncompliance in the space of a week – maybe two if I was feeling ambitious.
Why do some behaviors stick so easily while others remain allusive? Is it a matter of will or want? Do I need more external accountability to help at least establish a new norm?
Reading the essays of Roxane Gay’s “Bad Feminist” provides me needed motivation. I love her writing. It’s simple yet complex; raw and approachable. Watching another person externally process complicated emotions or unpack our bizarre social norms while constantly acknowledging their own limitations or hang-ups is so refreshing. The notion of expertise can be laughable, particularly in this time of talking heads vying for our attention on television and retweets on Twitter.
For me, writing is how I try to make sense of me and how I fit into this time and space. The world has felt over-complicated lately. We speak to each other in these floral, jargon-driven sentences that breathe style without substance. We’re dogmatic in our positions despite our claims of open-mindedness. We create our understandings of each other based on key indicators – job titles, voting records, Instagram posts.
Sometimes I feel so naïve. Why do we not naturally operate from a mindset of compassion, abundance, and love? Where does this desire to accumulate come from? How did we construct an oppressive society where few win and many lose? (and why?) And after thousands of years, why do we still operate from this playbook?
Always more questions than answers, right? And the question I most grapple with: what is my role in all of this? How do I become the change I want to see in the world? Right now, I do have a vision of leading a nonprofit organization as an Executive Director. But, white leaders dominate the nonprofit leadership landscape – would my pursuits undermine the work to dismantle inequitable systems within sector? Or is that me passing the position over to someone who isn’t committed to justice or equity?
One day at a time.