May and June 2020: What Do We Do With Grief
Right, so…it’s been two months since I’ve posted, and, look, I know apologies don’t mean much in the way of these things, but I’m sorry for the delay. I normally write a monthly update but I…not-so-accidentally skipped May. So this will be it for May and June!
Where to begin? The protests. The pandemic and Trump’s mind-boggling politicization of it. JK Rowling posting a TERF manifesto on her blog. Etc. Etc. Etc.
I’m sure most of you know that June is Pride month, and that this June in particular was a unique and difficult Pride. The entire month was an exercise in grief—grief mingled with celebration, celebration mixed with anger and fear. Because of COVID, parades and parties were cancelled, and many have been stuck at home in potentially dangerous or unstable living situations. And while the lockdowns are totally necessary for public health, this has made many queer people feel like we’re back in our closets, regressing back to obscurity.
For the queer community, some of us have joked that this June wasn’t Pride month, it was Wrath. Everything that’s happening is reminding us Pride was always more than a party. It takes us back to the roots; it’s a stark reminder of Stonewall and the Black trans women who started it.
Marsha P Johnson and Sylvia Rivera; two prominent trans rights activists
But for many people, especially many who are not white or who are not cis, they don’t need those reminders. They never had the privilege of forgetting.
Even if you aren’t American, I probably don’t need to explain to you how the brutal murders of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd sparked huge uprisings against police violence and racism all over the world this past month.
In the weeks since Floyd’s murder, I’ve seen almost all of my friends, including myself, donate, protest, and read anti-racist works. All of this is an effort to educate ourselves, to stand in solidarity, to become better at being actively anti-racist ourselves. We (read: white people) should have been doing this before—and some were—but it shouldn’t have taken so long. (Check out Code Switch’s episode, Why Now, White People?)
art by Sacrée Frangine, duo artists Célia Amroune and Aline Kpade
What we’re seeing is a collective grief response. It’s what we’re doing with our grief.
Well, in the wake of so much horror—a pandemic that’s taken over 120,000 lives in America alone and only seems to be getting worse; police brutality that has blinded people, abused them, killed them without recourse—it feels a bit selfish to mention another loss, my own personal grief.
But this is my blog, and a monthly update should be personal, right?
Korea is handling the pandemic well, although Daejeon is seeing a small uptick and schools might close next week. For now, we’re still back at work, masked up and soaked in hand sanitizer. Meeting my new students has made the days pass a little quicker, but things are a little wonky with the new regulations and schedule changes.
I talked last month about my decision to stay in Korea, and yeah, I think I made the right choice. I might have to make it again. My coteacher asked me the other day, “What if Corona is still bad next year?” Now that was a question I had not thought about…and will continue to not think about until much later.
Oh, and I’ve been trying that whole dating thing again (it’s going well, thank you for asking). Cafes and restaurants are still open here, but my friends and I have taken up cooking at home and skateboarding after as our Sunday ritual.
And then, I got news. I wrote this section on June 22nd:
My dog passed away this morning. Copper, age 13, a golden retriever and the sweetest dog to ever live.
His favorite thing to do was lay in the sun-warmed grass or watch cars pass by out the window. True to his breed, he’d “retrieve” slippers, only so you would have to get up and take them away from him. He loved the water, he loved running, he loved other dogs and he loved us. And we loved him so so much.
I should take solace in that he had a great life and we loved him with every inch of our souls. But for now, I’m just sad. And my loved ones reminded me that it’s okay to be sad. So I will be, for just a while.
What will I do with this grief, one that holds so much less anger? This is the sort of grief I sit with on my own. I don’t want to make art out of it, and that’s usually what I do with super strong emotions.
But really, between reading and watching and learning, I’ve found it hard to have the energy to draw at all, or to come to this blog and talk about irrelevant things like traveling. It just seems so frivolous. And it’s not like any of us are getting out much anyway, right?
So instead of talking about myself some more, here are some of my favorite resources to learn from this month:
For Harriet (great youtube channel, lots of interviews and Kim is amazing)
White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo (book by a white author for white audiences; about how and why white folks react with defensiveness, fear, or guilt around topics of race)
13th (documentary on Netflix about the prison industrial complex and how it affects Black and Latine people disproportionately)
Code Switch (podcast on race)
Nowhitesaviors (instagram account)
Blacklivesmatters.carrd.co (website with a huge list of donations and anti racism resources)
Streaming playlists (ad revenue will go to BLM causes)
I also encourage everyone to donate to Black owned businesses and organizations, especially those that support Black Trans women. I’ve donated to Homeless Black Trans Women’s fund, which is a fund for women in Atlanta, as well as the Dallas Bail Fund.
Also, COVID 19 has been disproportionately affecting Native American and Indigenous communities, so take a look at these funds if you’d like to help:
Thanks for reading, and stay safe and healthy!