Nothing ‘Cute’ About Nonprofits

Sure, some nonprofits (teaching moment- seriously, there’s no hyphen) plaster incredibly cute children or animals all over their marketing materials, but contrary to popular belief, nonprofit employees don’t just fill their hours talking about feelings and dreaming up theories of how we are going to save the world.

Over the years I’ve spent working in organizations to ‘change the world,’ I’ve heard friends and for-profit (with a hyphen) collaborators speak to my ‘naivety’ and tell me things like:

“Oh you’re working in a nonprofit? That’s nice of you.”

OR…

“Your job is, like, sooo cute.”

First of all – Thanks for the sentiments.

Second, because I work in a nonprofit doesn’t mean I spend my hours working on ‘special little projects.’ Since when did working to change societal systems to make the world more equitable become more juvenile than working to make rich people more money or sell exorbitant cars?

Yes, I think feelings are important (and, admittedly, so do most people who work in my offices), but we also value efficiency, data, quality, marketability, and program effectiveness. Just like for-profit professionals!

Okay, yes, there are obvious aspects of the ‘business mentality’ that many nonprofits still need to grasp-  investing in programs and not procrastinating on deadlines, yet nonprofit employees have to defy many odds to keep their organizations alive in this decade.

I’m cute because I like people, but what characteristics do my nonprofit friends and I need to have in order to make it in this sector?

First, let’s consider a typical job description I usually see for a communications whatever-

Graphic design experience, web maintenance, two years social media experience, experience writing print and e newsletters, photography skills and editing experience,video production skills, experience working with and recruiting volunteers, comfort with public speaking, experience writing press releases, event planning experience, marketing experience, ability to work extremely independently, access to own transportation…. ect.

Seriously, whoa. How is one person supposed to rock at all of these things?

Then you get to the interview- You not only have to sell all the skills you’ll be able to use from day one on the job, you have to be super knowledgeable, passionate and genuinely interested in the organization’s mission-like you’ve been in it your entire life.

To run with the nonprofit crowd you have to:

  • Hit the ground running the day you start with minimal training
  • Be resourceful- most of the time, you’re trying to produce more results with less staff and dinero
  • Have a crazy diverse skill set and be a true ‘Renaissance (Wo)man’
  • Deal with things you feel like only should happen on television

Moral of this story? Yes, all jobs have their challenges. Totally agreed. But your nonprofity friends are probably working just as hard solving crazy complex problems- just like you. Just because they want to ‘save the whales or the world’ doesn’t mean their job isn’t as valid as those who work in finance, advertising or other corporate ventures.

But then again, at the end of the day, nonprofits still vie for corporation and philanthropist dollars- so maybe we will always just someone else’s ‘little projects.’

Why men can’t own cats: Do US women reinforce sexism and gender roles?

Anyone who has ever met me knows I always had the ‘whatever you can do I can probably do too’ attitude, the unyielding advocacy for women’s equality and eradicating the impossibly achieved body image as defined by popular media.

Maybe it’s my old age, or maybe it’s my developed state of critical thinking, but I’ve found consistently viewing women as solely victims of their second-sex status doesn’t satisfy my view of the state of current affairs anymore.

When I first heard about 14- year old Julia Bluhm’s crusade to stop Seventeen from using PhotoShop I thought it was great that girls were taking steps toward media literacy. In another thought, I was reminded how different I was when I was her age. Then, I was under the impression that I would only win the approval of the other sex by adhering to what I saw in the pages of magazines I impatiently awaited for every month. I paid for this in many ways and spent many years thereafter ‘blaming’ men for what was wrong with my life and the entire world.

On one June morning during my less than awesome New Hope to Saint Paul I94 commute, I switched from a Cities 97 commercial break to just in time for a Dave Ryan morning show phone-in discussion.

The question: “Would you ever date a man who owned a cat?”

Aside from the talk show guys ripping on men who owned cats, the women who phoned in won the discussion that these guys were certainly not datable.

“I wouldn’t date a guy with a cat! It makes him too soft!”

“That’s just not right, I want someone who is tougher. If I found out a guy had a cat, that would be the deal breaker.”

Wait.. what? Am I in 2012? Do I live in the woods? In my mind, I couldn’t understand why something so small as owning a certain pet could be such a huge barrier in women’s relationship considerations.

Then I got to thinking that as a woman, I could own a cat, sure, but if I owned a very masculine pit bull guys would think of me as cool.. right?

Then my mind spiraled..I thought of all the things activities I can do without being judged too heavily by those of each sex. I can go to the Avengers movie and get points from the opposite sex, or I could watch Sex and the City for the 12th time and no one would care. I could go play basketball followed by a dinner date with a just a girl friend to talk about my personal life and no one would even question it.

Even though these thoughts may seem like I am picking the issue apart, I know it’s about the larger societal issue. While women may feel their sex means barriers for them, I feel I have much more elasticity in what my identity can be than some of my male peers.

I had the privilege of growing up under the care of an outstanding man and father, Joel Steffl.  Joel in some ways treated me as his son, taking me hunting & fishing, carting me to my karate classes and attending most every one of my soccer and basketball games. He also jumped at any chance to spend genuine time with me, cook for me, do dishes with me, and assumed the housework that needed attention without batting an eye.

But guess what? Joel loves cats. If my dad was the type of guy who constantly worried about conserving his masculine identity, would I have been able to have such an exceptional relationship with my father? Would I have turned into the person today who can even think about the benefits of bending gendered norms?

What about my roommate? Tristin just so happens to have a cat that he loves to the end of the Earth. I’m dating this Tristin and I never thought twice of Micah being a deal breaker.

Is Tristin tough? What does he need to be tough for? Tough so he can protect me? From what? Tough so that he never wants to talk about anything? Tough so that as a woman I can never really relate to anything he’s thinking? Tough that as a woman I want to be the person that can get to him like no one else can?

Get real, (some of you) women. If we don’t expect to be held to impossible body standards, we can’t possibly hold men to these standards of masculinity.

What happens to our guys when we place them into these boxes of what they should be and what they can’t be? Do these norms determine how women are ultimately treated? Instead of only focusing on the victimization of girls, we need to right the norms and systems by focusing on what our boys need for healthy socialization and development.

Let them have cats!

Watch the video. It explains the ‘Man Box’ thoughtfully.

Confessions of a Liberal Arts Major

As I look at my volunteer year in retrospect and see myself where I am today, I am not sure how to feel about what the year experience really meant for my life or my professional development. Going into my year of service I felt like a lot of my hard work through college paid off (finally) as I was actually going somewhere. If anyone would have ever told me the day I was getting onto the New York bound aircraft at MSP that I was going to move back to Minnesota after my year was up, work Whole Foods (WF) and an unpaid internship for three months I would have probably broke down in tears or decided not to believe them.

But…. that’s what happened and I must admit I did break down in tears on several occasions wondering what all of this “pain, anguish and degradation” of running a WF meat slicer really meant for my previously much (maybe over)examined life.

Through the intense two-week long WF opening store training, I met many of my new co-workers previously out of work and stoked for their new grocery store opportunity. In between learning about WF’ “noble” mission, “organic standards”, and how (supposedly) terrible unions are, I was able to get a feel for what brought this team of 50 year-old cashier women, meat guys who reminded me of my father, bro-ish produce boys, and alternative-ish looking college grads to come and work at a grocery store for $10 an hour.

Even though I liked hearing the stories of the old ladies who just didn’t want to be retired anymore and the previous WF employees who just transferred because they loved the corporation, like any human I was drawn to those who were like me- the 23- 26 year-olds, the college grads.

There were a few I found who looked like I would genuinely hang out with and talk college stuff with. The girl who just got back from teaching English in China who was also a sociology major, the brilliant looking philosophy major who was early-on sort of promoted, the hard-working girl in the kitchen who graduated with religious studies, the super cool psychology major, and the history major who also did a service year prior to joining WF League.

(Just to name a few.)

While everyone has their reasons for working at WF, I couldn’t help but link all of these people and their backgrounds together. I couldn’t help but wonder why I was just like them, why I found myself serving up Sonoma Chicken Salad and Apple Almond Quinoa in pint sized containers to Patagonia clad, gluten hating customers who assumed I barely graduated high school.

My co-workers would make conversation during our daily tasks regarding “my story” and on more than one occasion when I said I graduated college over a year ago I heard replies that pierced my heart. Things like, “Oh you graduated college and you’re doing the same thing as me who didn’t even go to school?” or “Looks like you’re not doing anything even after you spent all that money for a piece of paper,” or “I can barely read and write and I’m getting paid more than you with your degree.”

I wondered why hadn’t I really known that my numerous jobs and near perfect grades in my sociology major and minors in mass communications and rhetorical and applied English wouldn’t have really landed me something more concrete than this now that I am a year and a half graduated? Was it worth taking subjects that I truly enjoyed and loved most every paper and assignment of? Or was it unrealistic, irresponsible, and frivolous to spend money on a major that people constantly asked, “Well, what do you do with that?”

On many of the occasions when I was sweeping the floors, carrying dishes, or smiling through gritted teeth to help a condescending customer, I thought to myself maybe all of those papers examining Marx, Durkheim, food deserts, systematic racism etc. were possibly a waste of time when I should have been learning things like accounting, marketing, programming, math, or science…. As terrible as that sounded to me.

Do the sociology majors, the history majors, and the philosophy majors have any place in 2012 society? Should any incoming, bright-eyed, freshmen be deterred from studying the social sciences and arts because they may have a tough time finding a job to legitimatize their degree? What makes a job legitimate for a person with a diploma?

Even though my Social Theory, Sociology and the Global Politics of Food, Social Inequality, and Expository Writing courses don’t really translate into creating Excel documents, designing curricula, supervising part-time staff or managing a budget- but that doesn’t mean my hours pouring over these texts and creating these papers were spent in vain.

I believe that my sociology and writing classes made me into the person I am today- creative, analytical, and knowledgeable about people and the systems that govern our world. I like what I learned through my major and am thankful for the priorities, life views and values I have because of it. Because I reach for a life of fulfillment. So I guess, even if my major is pushing me to take the longer, harder way into full, well-paying employment- I have to step back and realize that I spent a great amount of time developing myself and my true character- something that many college graduates may not be able to say as confidently. I know that with this well-built base I will be able to enjoy life and my jobs for years and years to come.

One Nation, Indivisible, with Libraries and Justice for All?

Sunday morning I awoke with great aspirations for the day: research, job hunt, yoga, get milk, and most importantly, get myself out of the overdue library book delinquency that I find myself in more often than not. My first stop-Brooklyn Public Library’s (BPL) Sunset Park branch to return my three unfinished classic books to avoid my $6.85 fine from spiraling upward.

No, that isn’t even the end of my library book hoarding, I still had three more in my backpack to return to the Manhattan library system. Even though I wasn’t elated about the idea of having to go to the forgiving librarian at the counter with my new books to check out explaining some reason I couldn’t pay my $8.50 fine on this certain day, I was still thrilled to have the time to make my way to the Mid-Manhattan location. As a post-grad volunteer, getting a library card has almost brought me to as many places and has entertained me almost as much as my monthly Metrocards.

Every day I have ample time and can deviate from my work and community schedule, I anticipate walking through the rows of shelves, seeing the multi-colored covers, reading the alluring titles, running my fingers through the crisp or worn pages to find the right book(s) to take home with me. Back in my community, I am always reminded that I am not the only post-grad volunteer who misses being surrounded by books, and filled with new adventures or perspectives as my roommates always share a new book suggestion or thought-provoking synopsis. Without the Brooklyn and Manhattan branches, I wouldn’t have been able to fill many of my long commutes and lazy nights with classic works, travel novels, feminist theory, nerdy sociology, or tips on digital photography.

This morning I walked into my favorite library without a book in mind and hopes of a book choosing me instead, and I was greeted by a small, welcoming, white-haired librarian asking me, “Hello, would you like to sign a letter for the library?”

Instantly, my mind darted back to the email I received earlier in the week from the BPL stating that they may be facing $25 million(!) in budget cuts.

Without pause, I picked up a pencil and started filling in my contact information and probed her with questions about the proposed cuts for the Manhattan system.

Even though she probably explained the dire situation to tens of people before me, with passion and attentiveness in her voice she explained, “The city has proposed $40 million in budget cuts, which would close 12 of our library locations. Of the locations left, they would only be open four days a week. This also results in cutting our full-time staff’s hours down to part-time status and we will have to lay off 687 current staff.”

G.A.S.P.

After signing my name, I read over the flyer she handed me that revealed other library offerings that were on the chopping block in the wake of the crippling cuts-

  • 380,000 fewer slots for children’s classes and programs, 3.1 million fewer children’s items
  • 9,300 fewer programs for kids and teens
  • 14,200 fewer slots for career counseling and job classes for adults
  • $1.9 million fewer computer sessions
  • $3.7 million fewer visits to libraries

Putting this into perspective, 1 in 4 of these patrons have ZERO alternatives to services the library offers.

Not only is this a cause for concern because of all the immediate problems explained above, one has to consider the compounding problems that can result from this grave decision.

New York is one of the most densely populated areas in the world. Within 300 miles, the global economic system is emulated through Manhattan and the Boroughs. According to a March 30, 2011  NYDailyNews article by Albor Ruiz,”While for hundreds of thousands of people putting food on the table is a daily struggle, Forbes magazine reported that New York is home to more billionaires – 58 – than any city in the U.S.”

What do all of these billionaires do with all of their money?

The article also sheds light on the facts that, “With the state facing a $10 billion deficit, effective action to alleviate the hunger crisis is a long shot. What should be expected are Draconian cuts to education, health care and other social services….The coming months will be the usual smooth sailing for the richest New Yorkers, but the majority of city residents will find themselves struggling to stay afloat in even rougher economic waters.”

With the New York school system already in dire need of reform that will not and cannot happen fast enough, a quality education has become so much more of a privilege for the select already well-off few and less of a right for those not born into stellar circumstances.  How does the government expect to ensure a democracy without healthy, employed, well-educated, informed and politically engaged citizens without access to any resources? Without an education, the marginalized have less of a voice in the political system and face even more problems securing their basic needs.

Our country was founded upon the principles that everyone would have the ability to govern themselves, behave according to their own free will, and take responsibility for their own actions. This is the true meaning of liberty that is taken away when those in power lack their own individual responsibility, institute bad government policy, exploit people and businesses with power and influence.

Taking our libraries away is one more step in taking our liberties away. Cutting our resources not only jeopardizes our equality but jeopardizes our health and vitality as a nation. Having a government that is less hesitant about slashing funds for healthcare, education and social services than extending a millionaire tax seriously needs to reevaluate.

Give us our libraries, or you might as well give us death.

Take ACTION!

Why politicians should consider adopting a cat: Making the US a humane society

By the date stamp of my last post, one could think that the luster on NYC has worn off, I don’t have anything profound to say, or I’ve just fallen off the writing wagon. All of these may be half-truths but I’ve actually taken a not-so-intentional NYC blogging hiatus as a result of the realization of my impending job search and major life decisions I have to make when my GSV year is over in… August?

For me this results in spending my free time clicking through job sites, pouring over cover letter and resume books, and tweaking my resumes so they are just so (which is never so enough). Not to mention making myself physically sick with stress of not knowing where I am going next.

Whenever I scour job posting descriptions and requested qualifications and then look at my own resume, I many times ask myself, “Where are all of these people getting all of these years of experience? How does one person have all of these skills?” Followed by, “How am I seriously ever going to find a job that fits my skill set in my favorite geographical location?”

One thing that adds to my job search confusion is the fact that I go to work the next day and am thrown into teaching a career management class to at-risk high school students. (In reality, I find myself being almost willing to pay someone to teach ME this stuff). Teaching these classes is both humbling and pretty scary to process.

When I give out the job-readiness worksheets I created, I get concerned at the responses I get:

1.     What kind of job would you like to get when you graduate from high school? (We spent the greater part of two class periods working on this)

Most common answer: Anything that makes lots of money.

Then I ask these juniors or seniors aloud, ”Like what?”

I most commonly was told: A football player, father, basketball player, and coke dealer. (The only girl in the class was told she’d be a stripper.)

2.     What attributes do you have that an employer would want to hire you?

Most common answers: “Nothing” or “I don’t have any.”

From marking these papers to having class discussions about what they want their lives to be like after high school, they most commonly wanted: kids, a house, and a lot of money. The greater part of these students has yet to even hold a summer job but expressed that they’d figure out what to do after they graduate.

Sitting at my desk at home grappling with my plight of how to best showcase my college GPA, relevant jobs, awards, leadership opportunities, and various (I mean various) volunteer activities to fit onto one page… I stop and think about how much easier it was when I was in high school to find a job and how those experiences gave me the skills and references I needed to achieve so many greater things.

I then think, “If I am stressing about my current job search situation, I wonder how my students Vlad, Frankie, Corey, Janice, and Benjamin (just to name a few) will fair when they reach my age.”

In another conversation with a student:

“So, why don’t you have an idea of what you want to do after you graduate?”

-“Because this is Brooklyn, there’s no opportunities to find out what you’re good at and no one [teachers/parents] thinks you’ll amount to anything.”

This got me thinking back to 2004 when I was their age (actually younger), and was working for the cities of New Ulm and Sleepy Eye as a lifeguard and water safety instructor. I found myself motivated by father to make money and was pushed into levels of responsibility I didn’t think I was ready for at 15 and 16 years of age. My time on the clock increased my bank account in addition to my sense of self, outlook on life, confidence, social skills, and ultimately opened doors for me to go on to work my way through college. I had experiences working in the Twin Cities with AmeriCorps, attained residential life roles, and positions with Upward Bound, and ultimately led me on my journey to NYC.

Fast forward to 2011 and I find myself sitting on my commute reading a discarded AM New York headline Bloomberg’s Budget Cuts Affects the Elderly and Young. I see that the projected budget proposes, “Summer job participants drop by 32 percent in fiscal 2011 — a decrease the city blamed on federal and state cuts — from 52,255 to 35,612 [teen jobs].”

I read on to find…”The Mayor’s budget looks to lay off 8,500 teachers and 10,000 other city employees, including more than 3,000 police officers and 1,000 firefighters.”

As I am well aware, this isn’t just in NYC but also is occurring on the federal level as can be seen in Congress’ plan to reduce their deficits by slashing service programs such as AmeriCorps, Senior Corps and Learn & Serve America. (Volunteer service which gives participants stipends and education rewards after their term is over.)

Fun fact: In addition to cutting education and jobs, NYC is proposing to cut Medicare and close thousands of senior living centers.

Back on the federal level, conservative President hopefuls are pushing for the defunding of Planned Parenthood (PP), which provides health care and medical services to low-income and uninsured women and children. PP is basically under attack by conservative Tea Partiers because the organization also provides abortion services.

What doesn’t add up to me is why these politicians advocating so tirelessly to “protect the innocent unborn children.” Once these children get their first gasps of worldly air and truly become American citizens, the government is seemingly stripping every resource away from them and preventing them from receiving the basic necessities of life. In the ways they are slashing funds, these innocent children are being forgotten and left to fight to obtain the little resources they can. Basically, our conservative leaders fight hard to make sure every unborn child is given life, but then wish them an ironic, guffawed, “Hey kid good luck, sink or swim.”

Firstly, why cut funding for the health of these newborns and their mothers who take care of them and determine their quality of life.. for the rest of their lives?

Secondly, why cut billions of dollars to the education systems to have these new citizens find themselves in over-crowded kindergarten classrooms and pass through grades without giving them chance to have access to an education that will make them competitive not only in their cities or nation, but on a global level?

Thirdly, why cut summer jobs and other professions to give both young and old valuable skills to increase the productivity, economic health, and overall well-being of our citizens and our country?

I think the citizens (myself included) need to start asking our leaders some of the same questions my parents asked me in high school when I was campaigning and begging my parents for weeks for the adoption of my kitten Lucky.

They asked if me questions like, “If you get this cat will you be able to feed it, brush it, play with it, and take care of it? Will you be able to keep this cat happy because it’s your responsibility when you get it. The cat didn’t choose to be your pet.”

It’s really the simple but most fundamental questions our leaders have to ask themselves when reevaluating budgets as to what money will be necessary to the longevity, happiness, and vitality of our youth, our people, our nation and our world.

Living on $200 a month gets you tofu, cereal, soy milk and… happiness?! What?

When I told my family and close friends I was moving to New York City and living off of $200 spending money a month, people raised their eyebrows, questioned why I would even consider it, told me it was pretty much impossible, and foresaw that I’d be unhappy.

Moving to a city that is the pinnacle of popular culture, the capital of commercialism, one of the greatest shopping and food Meccas on the planet with any thing one could possibly want to get, eat, or do just a subway ride away- I knew it would not be the most comfortable of situations I’ve put myself in before.

In the beginning months, I would spend my weekends mystified by all the places I could go and see- and I wasn’t even on vacation. I was taken by the flashy storefronts, the colors of the hip garments, shiny jewelry, wonder of the events being advertised, and all of the different foods to taste.. someday. Through all of these afternoons, it was only looking, barely touching, and rarely ever buying- unless it was cheap food to fuel my legs to take me a few more blocks to reach a subway bound for another stop to explore or to my Sunset Park home.

After the initial wonder wore off, I realized how much I had to say no consistently through my days off- how many old clothes I could not replace with all of these new ones I saw everywhere, how much penny counting I’d resort to, how many food items I’d resist over $5.00, and how many events and experiences NYC offers that were out of my reach. I realized I was no longer middle/working class that I was in Minnesota- and it was brought to my attention that I am even eligible for food stamps.

When I was explaining my living situation to the Rocawear, Air Jordan, Gucci, Ralph Lauren, and Coogi clad students I teach, they couldn’t believe it either. They responded with, “Ms. Valerie, you can’t live like that!” and then explained to me how I could get money through housing (I get my house paid for) and food assistance. One of my students asked me, “Why do you wear the same beat up Nikes every day?” “Do you want me to get you UGGs? I got hookups.” Or “You don’t go out and spend money? Your life must be boring, I feel bad for you.”

After times like these when your actual economic status as a full-time volunteer is realized, it’s so much easier to focus on what you can’t buy, why you actually willingly chose this counter-culture lifestyle in a city where popular culture is pouring into all of your senses with most everything you see in the streets and buildings, and on the bodies of other people, in their words, values, world-views, ideas, and thought processes.

Riding the N train in lower to mid-Manhattan gives me a glimpse of many other 20 something just grads who embraced society’s expectations and snagged a job in the city. I see these people who probably make more in a day than I do in a month, wear stiff business attire, well-pressed skirts, flawlessly painted makeup, salon-like hair and strategically matching shoes and jackets, while I stand next to them looking juvenile in my frayed jeans, jacket, and shoes I wear most every day without makeup and hair in a ponytail.

At first I tried to suppress my feelings of inadequacy in not finding a well paying job right after graduation.  I only imagined what their homes were like when they got out of the subways and stepped through their doors after long nights of barhopping, dinning, and shopping. I imagined flat screen televisions, high white carpets, double beds near tall windows with breathtaking city skyline views.

As my feelings of inadequacy burned, something was missing. Even though I felt monetarily and culturally inferior to my more wealthy counterparts, I didn’t feel envious and certainly didn’t wish to exchange places with them. Weird.

I loved the fact that I wasn’t having to dress up, put on a show, or “buy” my friendships with others. I’ve found that living in “solidarity” with my social network makes me be okay with not being willing to put a costume on, spending my Saturdays shopping, spending tens of dollars bellying up to bars and drinking my nights away in empty conversation and company.

As Willard Spiegelman examines in his publication, Seven Pleasures: Essays on Ordinary Happiness, “Is the plutocrat necessarily happier than the day laborer? Envy not the wealthy, but the contented.” (9)

Thinking about Americans who live in an age where there is an abundance of resources, food, and entertainment- it seems we should be one of the happiest, most contented people who’ve lived on this Earth yet. But somehow capitalism, media, technology, values and ultimately our culture- has set us up to have some of the biggest problems ever encountered by generations before.

Spiegelman also presents that Americans seek happiness with instant gratification and therefore, we live in a culture of:

“Giddily self-obsessed [people] eager for pleasure, advancement, wealth and well-being versus those who lived in the Old World sophisticate with a tragic and communitarian philosophy tested in the fires of centuries of war, deprivation, and sorrow. The world has seen happy Europeans, melancholy Americans.” (13)

During my volunteer year, I haven’t had the chance to access much instant gratification to make my days and weekends better when I may feel my life might be lacking in any way. Without money, I’ve had to hold myself to a higher standard by finding what I can do for myself to make myself really happy, not what the green paper in my wallet could do for me or the higher numbers on my bank statement. I’ve had to find what can truly make me happy in life besides acquiring things to put in my room, things I can adorn my body with, or swiping my debit/credit card. Happiness means looking for the good in each day, in each person around you and within yourself to make you happy, in what you can do for others and for yourself, not the quick fixes promised by corporate America or popular culture.

Instead pursuing the institutional, synthetic materials that are supposed to make my life better in this millennium, I’ve had to resort to activities that barely cost a dime including reading, walking, looking, dancing, listening, swimming, and writing- things that bring us back to the basics.. of what we are supposed to enjoy as humans- others, ourselves, and our Earth.

“We must celebrate soberly, not giddily or smugly life’s ordinary pleasures. If we are lucky- these will suffice.” (Spiegelman, 4)

From Silent to Spirited….

At the beginning of my volunteering journey, I knew my past work and personal experiences set me up to prepared for community living, social concepts, and simplistic challenges that I would face on a day-to-day basis but found that I was far behind in understanding the abstract concept of whatever spirituality is.

During my orientation and continuing on throughout the beginning of my time in New York, people would talk about spirituality, spiritual journeys, “finding yourself,” and “defining yourself. “

I found my brain shutting down when I heard these questions because I thought they were pretty cheesy. I would look blankly at my supervisors’ or fellow volunteers’ faces when they would begin to describe spirituality to me – much like how I spent my years sitting in Mr. Demaris’ geometry or algebra classes.  I just didn’t get it.

For some time, I felt inadequate and maybe far below of the league of my peers who seemed to be able to explain it to me.

When I was asked, “How is your spiritual life going?” I thought to myself, “Well, I’m not frequently going to church, I wonder if there’s even anything beyond this Earth, and I never pray… so it probably sucks.”

I felt like I knew what spirituality was, knew spiritual people like the Buddhists who can meditate for hours on end, but was nothing like them- nor did I want to be

Being spiritual to me was reciting memorized prayers, genuflecting, being silent, obedient, compliant, altruistic, and all with extreme self-control- basically just another in the herd of a flock of sheep, or possessing a dishrag personality. To me, this is what I was taught how to be a good person, and student.

How was this supposed to bring me the inner peace people talk about? How was this being able to allow me to define myself if I have no voice or can only allow myself to think a certain way?

I hadn’t a clue how to even go about answering these spirituality questions, until one of my peers put it plainly to me that being spiritual and being religious can be two entirely separate entities.

When I picked up Richard Sax’s book, Girls on the Edge: The Four Factors Driving the New Crisis for Girls, I found some of his points to put some things in perspective.

Sax presents:

By many objective standards girls today should be happier than their grandmothers were at their age with their increased choices and opportunities… but yet many girls are failing to develop an inner life, that sturdy core of personality that women before had in abundance. (6)

Being that things are material and superficial, many girls fixate on trying to define themselves as one thing by fitting into something tangible and real. Many girls try to fit in but stand out at the same time and want to define themselves as the smartest, the prettiest, the thinnest, the most athletic.. ect and fail to know themselves without those titles.

After reading Sax’s research and wisdom- I remembered my issues with wanting to be something –est but failing along with my confusion of being spiritual and religious- not what it was to be a good person, or to even be a person. I didn’t know who I was because I was mainly worried about how much I was working, how much money I was making, what grades I was getting, what size my clothes were, who I was impressing, who I was hanging out with, how easy going I was, and how much self-control I was exercising through working out.

People would ask me what I liked to do, and I would stare at them for a few moments, with nothing coming to mind and tell them where I worked or what I was studying and quickly turned the conversation back to them.

After many transformations in my life because of significant people and lifestyle changes, I’ve come to know life to be much better being “spirited” instead of religiously spiritual. For me, instead of seeking solace in external things and beings such as an ultimate power or material things, I am forced to take personal responsibility and value my abilities and self.

After a life of fitting in and not being noticed, I have found that life is so much better, and richer without being obedient to everyone else around you but to yourself.

Life is better when you get to taste the world, soberly dance on the sidewalk without a care of what those around you think, being able to strike up a conversation with anyone around you, express your opinion, and being comfortable hanging out with yourself for a whole day. These things make life more fulfilling and allows you to be yourself around….yourself.

A girl’s life worth living is one where she knows how to walk, talk, laugh, dance, smile, cry, shout, love, and hate, perfectly and sincerely. Which brings us back to simply being human.

Thanksgiving beyond construction paper turkeys..

My enthusiasm for sentimental holiday traditionalism has eroded increasingly with each passing year- especially for the Thanksgiving weekend. Over time, I learned the myths of our beloved national holiday and grew to dislike celebrating the propagandized day of peace which makes us forget about the horrendous years of domination and slaughter that were inflicted on the indigenous peoples of our country.

Despite my discontent for the holiday, and in keeping the tradition of giving thanks- set in motion during my school years of making the colorful construction paper hand-print turkeys and writing lists of I was most thankful for, I still take the time every year to stop, collaborate, and really think about what life has given to me.

I distinctly remember making this craft and writing an exhaustive list in Sr. Audrey’s second grade classroom which was decorated with fall colors, had windows looking out into the forbidden slough, and had crucifixes, statues of The Virgin Mary, coat hooks, and chalkboards adorning the walls.

(I remember many times the chalkboard closest to the door displayed my name with a checkmark indicating I was that much closer to getting detention for my most common offenses of: being in the wrong place when it was my turn to read out loud, thinking we were on a Hail Mary instead of an Our Father when praying the rosary, talking to my best friend Cassie in the back of class, or having my shoe untied as we stood in our segregated lines.)

After washing and rubbing off the dried glue from our hands and obediently throwing away scraps of brown, yellow, and red construction paper, the class read what we were thanking God for this year. After hearing the typical second grader response, “I am thankful for my family, food, and my friends” twelve times, I thought I was clever and original by chiming in that I was thankful for my hamster.

Thinking back to my second grade Thanksgiving and every year after, I realize my classmates’ lists became more complex and elaborate including specific talents, different opportunities, or significant people in their lives- but no one ever thought about being fortunate for attending the school that made us think about this topic.

The students, of course, thought most every other school was better- unless it came to athletic rivalries. St. Mary’s was “ghetto” because our buildings weren’t exactly new, our science lab was built in the 1950s and we were still using it, our computers seemed to get dated quickly, and we didn’t have the budget or the courses of the public schools. Public school was better mostly because it was “easier,” they never had homework, didn’t have to go to church or attend regular religion classes, and didn’t have a dress code, dress code fines and gum fines.

I must admit, I didn’t exactly enjoy leaving my locker empty at the end of the day only to have all of its contents loaded into my bubble gum pink backpack to do my hours of studying and homework that night after I got home from work or sporting events.  Even though my teachers gave me all of this homework, I really didn’t HAVE to do it, but I did for fear of disappointing my parents.

I didn’t start appreciating or even knowing the importance of a good elementary and high school education and the support of my parents until I reached college, and I now see it every single 10:30-6:30 work day that I complete in Grady High School in Brooklyn.

Every day I go to work, I feel fortunate not only for the learning environment that was carefully fostered and enforced at St. Mary’s but how that shaped my life, and the life experiences that were made possible to me through everything I learned there- most of the concepts not from my seemingly evil geometry book or copy of Pride and Prejudice.

While dress codes, fines, and going to church during school hours may seem unfathomable to the students at Grady High School, students of St. Mary’s can’t even imagine how a school environment with metal detectors, security guards, recruiting gangs, uninvolved parents, an overall disillusionment for the system, and a graduation rate of 40% can inhibit learning and ultimately life chances.  I never knew how easy it was to learn at St. Mary’s and never understood how a good education is the greatest privilege that a child can receive.

It’s sad that many appreciations have to occur in hindsight- but better late than never? My education (AND THE SUPPORT/DRIVE FROM MY PARENTS) gave me the invaluable gift of critical thinking- to question things such as propagandized holidays, and the desire to dig for deeper meanings in myself, which leads me into different adventures and allows me a great quality and appreciation of life. Without St. Mary’s, I probably wouldn’t be a lover of reading, writing, questioning, and conversing- and certainly not the person I am today.

Yes for graduating with a gold cord and having my family there to share it with.

Same Nikes…New Eyes.

After my second day of work in Brooklyn, I rode the R train home exhausted and hungry with my eyes gazing down to my 2-year-old Nikes. I passed the many local stops on my way to 53rd Street wondering how my shoe laces stayed so vibrantly magenta and how the tongues were still so pastel green since the day I picked them up from the St. Cloud mall.

Then the Prospect Avenue stop came. Just a few stops away from my stop, which meant the end to my 8 hour day filled with mayhem volunteering. The day’s events brought on me being left alone in a room of 20 2nd/3rd graders by 3 other summer staff who wanted a “break” and me ending up having to restrain a child who rampaged through the classroom throwing punches and kicks at the rest of the students who were left with tears in their eyes. After that, the rest of the day was filled with  listening the summer camp staff incessantly yell at the children for misbehavior (both necessarily and unnecessarily).

To my dismay, the examination of the miracle of the color of my shoes was interrupted by an unusually long stop and the rustling of those in the packed train car around me. As my eyes lifted from my shoes to the opened subway door, I  saw a pregnant woman run by shouting, “There’s a fight in the car! Call the police! Where’s the dispatcher?”

The grumblings of the passengers in the car around me started discussing the nature of the fight- the consensus was that it was racially and/or religiously  motivated and that “Things just haven’t been the same since 9/11.”

As the people complained about the whole situation,  I grew frustrated. My tired eyes went down to my Nikes once again and I thought to myself, “Ahhh, I miss the Minnesota nice-these New Yorkers are insane and hostile.”

What had I gotten myself into? It seemed that this was certainly not the city I thought I’d visited over my spring break 2 years ago. Still examining my Nikes, my mind took me back to one of my first (much cleaner) subway rides in Manhattan staring at the same exact pair of shoes ( also a bit cleaner). I was a junior in college, it was one of my first trips to a major city-I had just finished a long day of sight-seeing and was still in awe of the flashing lights, the buildings, and the array of different people that I never saw in Minnesota.

This time around, my Nikes and I were not impressed (yes I just personified my shoes). I was far from the daily tourist agenda of finding and taking pictures of the buildings and landmarks I’d seen so many times on TV and looking for new foods to try. This time, I wasn’t going shopping in Times Square, Harold Square, Greenwich Village, or SoHo, I was shopping in the overpriced grocery stores of  Sunset Park where a box of cereal is easily over $5.00, where English is not a commonly spoken first language, and where one needs to check each expiration date before a purchase. Nope, this certainly was not a tourist’s journey- working in public schools and venturing to Red Hook and Sunset Park, Brooklyn.

As the weeks unfolded, I noticed a the drastic change in my two experiences as I viewed the pictures I’d been taking through my residency in the city.

The pictures I felt worth pressing the shutter release for did not include the Empire State Building, Wall Street, Times Square ect. (Okay, I did take some of the skyscapes and the Statue of Liberty but give me a bit of a break). Instead, my hands instinctively brought the camera to my eye when I saw people holding hands, dancing, interacting, and just simply loving. Each day, with or without my camera, I began to frame beautiful pictures in my mind and appreciate beauty, simplicity, and living.

As I got used to the city, took my ears out of my Ipod, and brought my eyes up from my shoes and onto the people around me, and I saw humanity surprise me continually.

From the 4 grown men who rushed to help and comfort the Muslim boy who hopped on the subway as the door closed and his father was left on the platform, to the elderly black woman and the 20 something white man with a mismatched crutch and cane and obviously busted pelvis try to convince the other they should have the seat, to the guys in the Sunset Deli who were so gracious, generous, and eager to give us all of their leftover bagels at the end of the night… and told us that we should come every night. (AND they only charge me $1.25 for a bottle of pop…. I mean soda).

After much experience and little debate, I know that this journey with my Nikes has a bit more meaning than the last (I love this second NYC minus the facts that am eating bagels all the time, not hanging with my best friend, and really have no money to spend). I am no longer in awe of the glitter of the massive structures, romanticized places, and am not in search of finding an I <3 New York T-shirt- but am appreciating the simplest and honestly, the most awesome things in life…The happenings of everyday, interactions and life lessons from those around me. Already, thanks NYC, namely Brooklyn.

Concrete progress.. Thanks Atmosphere.

As I tossed (or heavily threw) around the idea of actually moving to New York and leaving my loved ones behind in Minnesota, I found that my pros and cons listed consisted of the same theme-values.

As much as I hate to admit it, I too perfectly ascribe to the modern-day contemporary popular views, which shape our ultimate values (many ushered through our minds thanks to the popular media).

Cons:

Leaving my home, my territory, my state (Prince lives here, we’ve got 10,000 lakes..Yes this is taken directly from and is meant to be read as Atmosphere’s Always Coming Back Home to You: Say Shhh beat).

I’d also be leaving all of the solid relationships and my cats behind.

Another con: I would be volunteering for a Catholic agency and wasn’t really sure how much I would have to pray/talk about how awesome God is.

Pros: Uhhhhh living in NYC?!?! How many movies and advertisements are based in arguably “The greatest city in the world”?

Other pros: being independent, making a life for myself, pursuing potential other job leads.

(Not an exhaustive list.. believe me, I am a deeper thinker than this…but for the purpose of keeping this a blog and not a book, we’ll just go with these).

Well, I did leave to pursue my own dreams thinking of mostly just my future, seeing this as a chance to do something so many people want to do (see/live in NYC). Even at the airport when I saw my mother unsuccessfully try to hold back tears, I couldn’t help my excitement… I was going somewhere other than “backwards” MN.

Okay so first con was conquered in my mind… now I just had to ascribe to the whole outdated Catholic thing for a while. I knew I loved what the church taught me about social justice and thought that I could try to justify the Catholic institution thing holding onto that.

Before I left, and even on the plane to orientation, I read Christopher Hitchen’s book, god is not Great (Thanks Lane) where Hitchens gives many insights as to how the institutions of religion are not necessary or timely in the modern day.

Some excerpts that Hitchens uses that I thought usefully validate this are:

In the dark ages people are best guided by religion, as in a pitch-black night and a blind man is the best guide; he knows the roads and paths better than a man who can see. When day comes, however, it is foolish to use blind men as guides. (43)

He goes on to explain-

There would be no such churches (Christian) in the first place if humanity had not been afraid of the weather, the dark, the plague, the eclipse, and all manner of other things now easily explicable. (65)

The scholastic obsessives (priests..clergy..intellects..ect.) of the Middle Ages were doing the best they could on the basis of hopelessly limited information, ever-present fear of death of judgment, very low life expectancy, and an audience of illiterates. (68)

After reading these passages and others like them on the plane I couldn’t fathom why I didn’t realize this sooner. Then oddly, my brain took me on a journey down St. Mary’s High School memory lane to sophomore year when the girls in my grade (all 13 of us) took a vocations trip and spent a day or two at the Rochester motherhouse where we hung out with sisters who hosted us. What I remember most from the trip was a late night discussion with the very real, down-to-earth head sister who spoke about how the numbers of sisters were dwindling and how her profession and way of life just weren’t practical anymore. I remember her saying, “No one wants to be a sister anymore because the culture is changing, everyone wants kids of their own and wants to make their life theirs, not God’s.”

I used this memory only to compound the fact that I thought the church was just around for men to keep traditions and money.

As I arrived at the orientation retreat “mansion” I came to reexamine this dying profession. During the beginning of the week, I sat among, and listened to, these kind, charismatic, adventurous, noble and strong women-everything I want to be-and they all happened to be sisters. I looked upon their compassionate eyes as they spoke eloquently about their travels, and wisdom with their intelligent and informed words. I was blown away and thought back to the mother in Rochester who reminded me exactly of them. I remembered back to thinking how cool she was and how amazing these women around me were.

As the week went on, we found out that the retreat mansion was closing due to lack of funding and interest, and consequently the sisters residing and working there were all to be displaced.

After the empathizing in my mind, I wondered, what will the world be like without a league of these seemingly altruistic women doing the real work of social justice for the Catholic Church? Why of all professions does this one have to die out..this isn’t progress at all. To replace these women who worked for little (well except for the good of humanity and God, whichever comes first) and did great noble things (most of the time) is impossible.

Today, it’s hard to decipher what is actually success, progress and of value. Sure, jobs and free-thinking are super important, but so are true relationships, genuine love, social justice and compassion. Individualism as our society deems successful only breeds animosity. I know the glitter and concrete of NYC will not give me the happiness or feeling of worth or belonging that my relationships love and the people still in MN do. So while I have left to pursue my own dreams and the famed NYC… I’ll keep listening to Atmosphere’s words,

“Follow the dream doesn’t mean leave the love

Roam if you must, but come home
when you’ve seen enough.”