Decompiling Oppression #141
Sam McVeety
Joy is not the opposite of grief. Grief is the opposite of indifference.
When I thought about what I wanted to write about the past weekend, I kept coming back to these words, written in Prentice Hemphill's What it Takes to Heal (quoting Malkia Devich-Cyril). How to explain the ocean of feeling that one day can hold, beginning with loss and ending with an outpouring of joy?
Saturday morning, I woke up to the news from Minnesota: the assassinations of Melissa Hortman and her husband, Mark. Minnesota is where I was born; it is where I took my first steps and began the journey to where I am today. I learned later that my parents, still living there, had heard her speak at the annual Humphrey-Mondale dinner the night before. I stumbled into my day, seeking the familiarity of routine while still trying to let myself feel the anger and sadness of the moment.
That evening, I found myself somewhere else entirely: surrounded by friends at a comedy show, smiling, laughing, feeling light. There's something about this contrast that feels vulgar to write, and yet, I think it's important that we let these moments of seeming contradiction exist. All the more so, when joy can feel so fleeting, when there are so many moments that pull us back into the manufactured chaos of creeping authoritarianism. That is what I want to do here, to notice this tension, and center joy.
It's apt, that this is all happening against the backdrop of Pride Month, an observance that is no stranger to joy, yes, but also to grief. Perhaps it's no coincidence that some of the most joyful spaces I experience come from communities that are all too familiar with grief. That very night, the show in question was a particular one: the Black Trans Comedy Showcase, put on by the Lavender Rights Project. Now in its fourth year, the format is simple: bring comedians and community together in an event that celebrates queerness, an event that refuses to cede joy to those who would lace laughter with bigotry. It is a breathtaking space to share, one where I feel both moments of togetherness and times to be a gracious guest.
Joy can be a gathering; it can also be a place. The past year introduced me and my husband to Charlie's Queer Books, a small shop in Seattle's Fremont neighborhood. The decor is pink; the mascot is a purple bear with an expression of curiosity. The collection is lovingly curated, from a children's section with stuffed animals, to cookbooks, to stickers, to an entire romance section helpfully annotated by relevant gender identity. It would fit snuggly in the universe of TJ Klune's The House in the Cerulean Sea, a warm hug of a story about embracing who you are.
Indeed, joy can be stories, stories which themselves weave together joy and grief. Joy can be the whimsy and tenderness of Ryka Aoki's Light from Uncommon Stars or the furious decolonial drumbeat of R.F. Kuang's Babel. Lately, joy has been the haunting lyrical beauty of Simon Jimenez's The Vanished Birds and its thousand longing fires.
How do we help ourselves find our way back to joy? We can construct it in our environment. We can plan to share joyful spaces with each other. We can find it in ritual, or in spontaneity. We can notice what brings us joy, and then shape our future towards those conditions. Grief will find us, whether we want it to or not, but we can prepare our hearts to hold joy alongside.
Here are this week's invitations:
Personal: Where are you finding joy, amidst grief and struggle?
Communal: How can we share our joyful spaces and habits with each other?
Solidarity: Support the Lavender Rights Project and the Western States Center and their work to build and protect community power.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
FAQ
Can I share this newsletter with non-Googlers? Yes! Feel free to forward this note externally; it does not contain confidential information.
Is this an official Google newsletter? Nope. The views expressed in this newsletter are not the official position of Google, and we are not affiliated with any particular ERG.
I am leaving Google or transferring to another bet. Can I still receive this newsletter? Yes! You can join the external list here.