It was the dead of winter and I’d just reported for my Park Slope Food Co-op shift. The squad leader on duty asked if I was willing to be a “walker”, a job that involves accompanying shoppers and their groceries to their homes and returning the carts that held said groceries back to the store. It is, as you can imagine, weather-specific.
“Absolutely not, thank you,” said I, my tropical genes shuddering at the thought of frigid small talk and snowdrift negotiation. “It’s far too freezing for me.”
The squad leader nodded, but a lady who’d overheard the exchange (and was obviously the type to wear sandals in 20-degree temps) piped up.
“You’re being ridiculous. It’s not even that cold out.”
“Are you inside my body?” I asked. “If so, by all means, feel free to dictate how I respond to meteorology.” The realization that she’d been checked washed over her, turning her face as red as the organic beets in aisle three. The squad leader (proving his role was well-deserved) swooped in and sent me to the express checkout lane, far enough away so that my eye daggers couldn’t stab Interrupty McNoserson. All was well.
Was my response to that woman petty?
Remember the ex-boss with whom I severed ties last year? After the truth of her particular brand of bullshit became undeniable, I went through her social media profiles and undid seven years’ worth of “likes”. I exploited her delinquency in removing my access from those same profiles to expunge any record of myself from them. I deleted my glowing, no-longer applicable Yelp review.
Was that petty? Or protection?
I flash-froze a relationship when my then-pal called me “Stalinesque” for expressing pain around murderous cops. I did the same with the racially problematic and financially sketchy chiropractor for whom I briefly worked and who showered crocodile tears when I quit because I “wasn’t nice” in calling out her advantage-taking. I’ve unfriended a distant uncle who showed his entire misogynoirist ass regarding activist and founder of the #metoo movement, Tarana Burke. I choose to love the majority of both sides of my biological family from a tremendous psychological if not physical distance.
Is all that petty, or is it self-preservation?
“Cancel culture” is a popular concept these days, and I’m here for it. Life’s too short and we’re worth too much to allow harmful behavior in our lives, especially from those who claim to be in our corner. Now, I’m not suggesting we jettison the work of bridging gaps or finding happy mediums; that’s just another unhealthy extreme and we’re all walking each other home anyway (plus, as Caribbean grandmas say: “don’t cut off your nose to spite your face”). Instead, let’s encourage practices of discernment, compassion, and energetic responsibility while maintaining awareness that mistreatment is mistreatment, no matter the source.
T.I.P’s theme for 2018 is “BOUNDARIES.” I invite you to examine where yours are. Where are we being called to create or destroy them? Can we access the conviction necessary to maintain them in the face of objections of those made uncomfortable by their presence and who would shame us for standing up for our wellbeing because it shakes the table? It’s easy to course-correct a virtual stranger in a grocery store; it can be a bit more difficult to do so with people whose opinions we value and with whom we want to enjoy harmonious relationships. Here’s the thing, though – the most important harmonious relationship we maintain is the one with ourselves.
“Are you inside my body?”
There’s pressure to be polite and understanding, to make concessions, to meet halfway those who would oppress us (there’s that word again) for the sake of “peace” or “family” or what have you. We routinely ask and are asked by the people in our lives to silence the parts of ourselves that intuitively know when we’re being abused (there’s that word again); to swallow our hurt and accept bad behavior “because that’s your parent/what about your karma/it’s just the way it is”. To which I reply: bullshit. In every one of the examples listed above, I chose to honor myself, preserve my sanity, and protect my reputation by removing toxicity from my mind/body/spirit space. And to those who might read this and think, “Well, maybe she could’ve done this or that or this or that, I ask –
“Are you inside my body?”
Instead of judging, perhaps investigate why someone standing up for themselves is a trigger. Explore whether you can access the empathy required to imagine what it takes to slice a loved one out of your life because their limited beliefs and patterns are a danger to that life. Can you exist in non-judgment of those who – for the sake of their existence – see no choice but that choice?
We have the right to remove ANY and ALL energies that are not of service to us – regardless of what, where, or who they might be. People, habits, thought patterns, etc. We also have the right to tell (with patience and compassion, hopefully) anyone who takes issue with it to fuck straight off.
You are inside your body. This is your experience. You have a right to own it – every part of it – on your terms.
Word.
