"We Can't Bear it" (Barrett Edition)

There was another protest at Rep. Tom Barrett's office today, and school's on midterm break, so I went with L.  

We stood for an hour waving our signs and yelling chants and slogans. Someone halfheartedly started a rendition of "We shall Overcome," but it petered out after a stanza. There were some schoolchildren on a tour of the State Capitol and "Save our Schools" and "This is what democracy looks like" were very popular with them.

My favorite chant was the one I grabbed for the title of this post, "We Can't Bear it," with the last two words pronounced "Barrett." Clever! And fun to say.

Other things: We have 117 new refugee families in Lansing and their funding has been cut by the federal government, so fundraising is happening via Catholic Charities. 

Also, I've had it with Target and their performative politics--they've ditched DEI just as they ditched Pride displays at the first inkling of trouble. I've been boycotting them for a month already. Here's a list of companies to support and avoid. TLDR: Costco good; Amazon, Target, McDonalds bad. 

And of course, the big economic blackout is coming up on Friday.

Pic: These two earnest posters spoke to me the most. There were lots of clever posters including one with a "Musk-ito" sucking the life out of federal institutions, and an another by a laid off federal worker that said "an immigrant took my job" with a picture of Musk on it.

connecting

Last month Lisa introduced me to Jeanie, who lives and writes in my city and whom Lisa has known for twenty+ years. It has been lovely getting to know Jeanie online and then maddening to realize that we'd been at the same show of 9 to 5  but missed meeting each other and then a bit amusing to realize from a casual comment about a fundraiser for local transitional housing that our partners are in the same bicycling club. We do have concrete plans for a blogger meetup in April, but I suspect/hope we'll bump into each other before too long. 

As if all this online excitement wasn't enough, my week was sublimely elevated when I received J's lovely Mary Cassatt postcard in the mail. It took me back to when J visited the Cassatt exhibit as part of her birthday celebration in soft December sunshine in California. And as our Michigan temperatures climbed out of freezing this weekend, it felt like J's card was weaving a benevolent influence.

I was thinking of the ways we are all connected in millions of ways as I was coming home yesterday from visiting my sister's school friend, who is in some ways an intrinsic part of my sister's inner circle and community and hence mine on some level. 

I love all the stories we know about each other, all the ideas and hopes we get from each other, all the ways we know we are not alone in this world.

Pic: The spectacular sunset on my way home yesterday. Our world can be so beautiful. 

a love song / love cakes /surrounded by love

a love song

the hero in my heart feels right at home 

cheering for me, and asking to stay

I'm waiting...  for answers 

and searching for things I haven't lost

beloved, you whisper to me of love

how I can find it in myself 

__________________

I made Persian Love Cake last week from this recipe, and made it again this week with a few tweaks. I added pistachios and rose petals in the cake batter too, made a topping rather than a glaze, liberally increased the amount of sugar, rose water, and almond flour, used moulds rather than a pan, and so on to a point where it's now a different thing altogether.

I took a batch to with me to Troy when I went to visit my (actually my sister's) old school friend. I had to remind myself not to treat her like she was 15--she has an 18-year-old herself now. I took Big A's car in case I got lost because my car is all battery and I didn't want to be lost and without battery power. (And I did get lost once. Briefly.) I felt surrounded by love all day from Big A filling up his gas tank before he came home from work this morning to SQ sending me home with six boxes of food.

Pic: Love cakes cooling before being boxed up.

"do your job" / Karma

SO many of my friends showed up outside Rep. Tom Barrett's office today to protest. Titled, "Musk or Us," the protest was was supposed to get Barrett to fight back. So many people kept asking me to go to this one--I know a lot of very committed people! 

I had to keep saying no, because I had committed to coaching students in Baltimore working on their Baldwin Prize essays via Zoom. As it turned out, their heating went out and school was (and meetings were) canceled. But other related meetings took their place. Reportedly, there's another protest on Monday and I could go to that.

SD and AH sent a video of themselves chanting "Do Your Job!" and it occurred to me that basically it was a call for Barrett to perform his duty, his karma. Which made me wonder again how karma became shorthand for revenge or payback. Of course things get lost in translation, and "karma is a bitch" and "karma is a cat" are catchy sayings but distort Hindu philosophy. One of those chai-tea things that seems impossible to correct at this point.

But Rep. Barrett should do his job, his karma; he should do the right thing.

Pic: SD and AH sent me a picture of the crowd outside Rep. Tom Barrett's office. 

"It's all takin' and no givin'"

So I was a bit euphoric when I wrote yesterday's post. It feels good to solve a problem so easily. But I just know my parents would not approve of me making withdrawals from that account. I know they already gave it to me and it's mine to do whatever I wish with it and all that. But I feel bad. They'd be hurt about it. They would say they sacrificed a lot to give it to me. And yes, I guess they did sacrifice things like impromptu trips to Turkey when they were young to save it for me. I've also been feeling bad about Big A, who makes many times more than I do, but shares everything equally, and here I am spending a private stash I claimed was not for spending. But it's done. And I'm mostly glad I did it. 

Anyway.

Money is so weird. And I don't want to keep thinking about it and feeling anxious. 

But L took me to see 9 to 5 The Musical this evening and I had to continue to think about money some more. About 80% of the audience was women--as if the wage gap isn't an issue that ought to concern everyone. It was a terrific show and a lively and engaged audience. Bless Dolly Parton for making it all feel snappy and hummable at least.

"should I stay or should I go"

"Good Morning Akka," my baby sis texted me around 2:30 am... and then my mom got on the chat too and the three of us we were just... yakking for a while... (This is one of the many reasons my sleep patterns are so fucked.) And then, things got urgent. My mom who watches a lot of Turkish TV shows and has wanted to go to Turkey for a while and knows that Istanbul is huge on my list of places to visit because I'm a history nerd suggested we all go to Turkey together. She'd pay for my air ticket, she said. The three of us could share a suite. How about next week? We should go!

I asked Big A if I should go. (That's right, he usually works nights, so he was up reading beside me too; yet another reason my sleep is messed up.) He said to go for it. I have midterm break coming up next week and so I thought I could actually do it. But this morning, I looked at my calendar and realized that next week I'm in charge of the WGS sessions of the Michigan Academy conference and have board meetings, and am not completely off. Also, I was kind of looking forward to unwinding for a bit, and I'm a bit freaked out about planes falling out the sky. I'll probably stay.

I'm glad to see my mom is willing to spend that much money though. This was probably going to come from her "kum-kum money." (Kum-kum is sindoor/vermillion/the red powder Hindu women use in their hair as a marker of their married status.) Back in the day before middle-class Indian women worked, this was the money families gave their daughters when they got married so they wouldn't have to ask their husbands when they wanted to treat themselves to something. In Victorian novels, "Pin Money" seems to work this way? The amount varied according to the family. My grandmother's kum-kum money at her wedding was several mango orchards and required a manager and became the inheritance handed down to her own four daughters (including my mother). Unofficially, kum-kum money also worked as an emergency fund that could help women leave, if they decided they should go. 

Although Big A and I have everything in both our names, I still (and always will) have my kum-kum money in a separate account (I promised my parents this). And it's going to come in useful because just this morning, someone dear said they'd need help making their mortgage this month, and I know without consulting anyone that I am going to be able to be able to help. They'll be able to stay. 

Pic: Jumble of things on a shelf at work. I love that picture in the center with At reading to Nu so much... This was also around the time At had just discovered The Clash and loved belting out "Should I Stay or Should I go" as a punchline to everything.

stay unruly

In a recent post StephLove mentioned how when she visited her kid at Oberlin, she was "charmed by paper snowflakes in the windows surrounding a “Free Palestine” sign" because it made her "think about what it’s like to be in college, close enough to your childhood to make paper snowflakes, but old enough to be politically engaged."

I've thought about that image often since reading it, and it always makes me smile. It is particularly endearing. And it describes young people and their hopefulness and creativity perfectly... 

And in some way it also describes everyone I know. 

All of us making time outside of mandated work to create something or reach out to someone or share thoughts or start a conversation or make a difference are pushing back against a system that's built to keep people in narrowly-defined and isolated channels. 

I love the unruly nature of this. The system cannot rule us.

Yesterday, I looked up from typing just in time to see Nu (probably taking a break from homework) pick up an old party-favor-bubble-bottle that has been sitting on the table forever and blow out a stream of bubbles. I'm glad I caught that. That bubbling moment of playfulness in my child and the unexpected bubbles in my day.

Pic: Outside the window, are the icicles I think of as "the fangs of winter." Inside, my jasmine is budding profusely. Last May, a single bloom was so fragrant I nearly went mad with happiness. Fingers crossed for these buds.