Sonia Connolly

19. I'm proud of what I've learned about anti-racism and managed to unlearn of ingrained racism. And of course there's always more to learn and unlearn. I'm proud that a friend feels safe talking to me about the racism she experiences.

I was one of those lurkers during RaceFail '09, silently reading and learning and hoping that when the time came to speak I wouldn't put my foot in it quite as badly. I'm proud to have learned about calling in rather than calling out.

Above link is by Sian Ferguson. The original article on calling in is by Ngọc Loan Trần on Black Girl Dangerous. I had to dig for that article because the idea has spread and most people don't credit original authors, especially BIPOC. Props to Sian Ferguson on Everyday Feminism for linking to the source.

In 2012 I took a 13-week Social Justice/Social Change class. (locked posts tagged social change class) It was disappointingly basic, and at the same time I absorbed background knowledge about how issues of oppression are framed, and that the instructors are only one step ahead of the students. We're all figuring this out together, and we're all going to mess up along the way.

Hopefully we learn and find new and different ways to mess up the next time, and hopefully we give each other space to learn. It's an ongoing balancing act, compassion for learning vs. boundaries and consequences for not learning or not trying. The people who try the least want the most "tolerance" and keep the focus on themselves.

Relevant footnote from Ngọc Loan Trần:

This post is specifically about us calling in people who we want to be in community with, people who we have reason to trust or with whom we have common ground. It’s not a fuckery free-for-all for those with privilege to demand we put their hurt feelings first regardless of the harm they cause.

For Juneteenth I donated to two Black-run organizations, North By Northeast Community Health Clinic in Portland, just up the hill from where I used to live, and Power 4 STL Bullet-Related Injury Clinic in St. Louis, where a friend volunteers as a spiritual counselor.

17. I'm proud of my hair. It's long and thick and has only recently started looking gray overall. I remember one evening as a young teen having my hair loose and feeling the curtain of it around me and thinking with surprise, "I like my hair." It was a new thought, liking anything about myself.

I mostly wear it braided, because it gets into everything when it's down. And I shed a lot. I don't know how there's any hair left, but there's always plenty more.

During pandemic lockdown, it kept growing until the braid was well past my hips and was brushing the ground when I bent over to weed the garden. I finally had to figure out how to cut it myself.

Looking around at a bunch of older ladies with abundant hair at a Portland synagogue event one day, I realized that it's Jewish hair. It stood out because of the relatively small number of Jews in Portland. Random strangers would comment on my hair when I was waiting at a traffic light on my bike. When I started saying, "Thanks, it's Jewish hair," they would suddenly look very uncomfortable. Strangers haven't commented since I've been back in the Bay Area, where there are all sorts of people with all sorts of hair, so mine doesn't stand out in the same way.

(Randomly, because icon, I've seen a male peacock just hanging out on the neighborhood street a block from the Rockridge Trader Joe's, twice now. Someone's pet??)

15. I'm proud of being brave, which means being scared and doing things anyway. It's been a survival skill, since the world is big and scary when you don't have supportive family backing you up. Being scared was a constant background emotion, so I wouldn't have gotten very far if I hadn't done things anyway. It took me a long time to distinguish between scary/challenging, and scary/terrifying.

When I was 12 or 13, I went on a school trip to an obstacle course. It was supposed to be a trust-building exercise, but for reasons I don't remember, I went with a different class where I didn't know anyone. I tackled the obstacles anyway.

One was climbing up a tall tower on a rope ladder, which was okay, and then jumping off the platform hanging onto a handle on a zip line, which 100% not okay without depth perception. I stood on that platform a long time trying to make myself jump off. There was no other way down (as I remember it, although rope ladder?), so I finally did.

And then the kids at the other end weren't paying attention any more so my handle hit the end of the line where they're supposed to catch you, bounced off, and stopped halfway back, leaving me hanging over a big drop. The people running the park had me *let go with one hand*, drop the rope coiled over one shoulder that they use to pull the handle back to the tower, and towed me to the end again where I could get off.

I didn't know in advance, but that was scary/terrifying rather than scary/challenging. My life is slowly calming down to where there isn't much that's terrifying, and I'm choosing manageable challenges like singing a tiny solo part in a family and friends concert, or biking 75 miles where there's SAG support to take me back to the start if I can't make it.

13. I'm proud of being stubborn and persistent and good at figuring things out. It helps me in my job when I keep digging in to solve a problem or understand someone else's code, and it helps me find things I'm looking for online.

Growing up, I was taught that being smart was a measure of a person's value. I learned from reading David Hingsburger's blog that people with intellectual disabilities have the same value as everyone else. Here's an example post, Breeze. I never got in the habit of using the r-word as a slur, but I had to learn not to use 'stupid' and 'dumb' that way.

Now I'm wincing at work when people use ableist language, but I haven't come up with a good way to intervene.

11. I'm proud of cooking all my food. I struggled with getting organized around food and meals well into my thirties, but I had to figure it out when I realized my food needed to be gluten-free, and then nightshade-free. I have a rhythm of going to the farmers market and making batches of stir-fry and rice for a few days at a time. It helps to work at home, and to live in an area with great fresh food, and to have an income that supports buying what I need.

I eat what's healthy for me, and I'm proud of paying attention to my constraints and managing to make it work. I don't claim that my choices would be healthy for anyone else, or that eating a constrained diet is better in any way. And I do not restrict calories! (I had a neighbor who said I might as well since I have so many other restrictions, with a side order of fat-shaming. Um, NO.)

It's awkward to bring food with me for bike rides and other events where other people just stop at a cafe or eat what's provided. It would be wonderful to have more choices and be able to partake of the cornucopia of restaurants in this area. And it's worth minding my constraints so that I don't feel terrible.

9. I'm proud of not owning a car for 21 years and counting, getting around by bike and walking and public transit and the occasional ride from other folks. Acknowledging the luck/privilege that my body is strong and capable of biking and walking, and that exercise directly supports my sense of well-being.

Now that I'm off of exercise restriction, I hooked up my bike trailer and returned two 40lb bags of cat litter. I bought them in a panic before eye surgery when I was startled to learn my usual pet store had discontinued smaller sizes and I didn't want to change brands on the cat right then. I was surprised to realize that I can deadlift 40 pounds, but the large bags are awkward to store in my small place and would be awkward to use. I did already know I can pull 80 pounds and more in the bike trailer.

Meanwhile I discovered that another nearby pet store still carries the smaller sizes, and their prices are lower. Since I hadn't opened the heavy bags yet, back they went, and I'll stock up at the other store later.

Since I already had the trailer hooked up, I continued to the farmers market, and then to the garden store, where I bought a 2 cubic foot bag of potting soil, three coconut husk basket liners, and three flowering plants (plus some bonus basil) to fill in a small 2 foot high 3-level stack of baskets that I picked up from a free pile down the street. A neighbor was downsizing their garden art collection, so I brought it home last week.

I pulled all that home up and over the little hill between me and Grand Lake. I lined the baskets and added dirt and plants, and watered them in. The basil went in with the sage in a pot I bought last year.

Since the liners are meant for much bigger baskets, I only needed one of them, so back I go on the bike to return the other two. I figured out that projects always involve multiple trips to the store because there's a learning process in doing something for the first time.

It turns out that I don't have any trouble biking with the change in vision. The surgeon advised me to be cautious, but I was already riding around with double vision and depth perception issues. Post-surgery is easier and feels natural. I'm relieved to discover that I didn't lose too much strength during the exercise break, even if I get tired sooner than I expect.

7. I am proud of having good executive function. And this is one of those where I know I got lucky that my executive function works, and I also put work into it.

One of the things that helps keep my small groups running is that I make plans and send reminders and show up on time and make copies and post information to websites. It's a lot of little details that keep groups running, a lot of care. Also meeting people where they're at, sending them a text (with their consent) if that will help them show up.

I keep track of my stuff. I do my dishes. I tackle bigger projects one step at a time, and they eventually get done.

I was thinking it might be all that trauma healing work that helped my executive function, but looking back, I was like this as a kid, too. I did my homework. I kept my books organized and remembered where individual ones were. Trauma can be disorganizing, but I think I had the opposite reaction - control what I could.

Also I think it's part of my heritage. I'm one of these, a Yekke, a German Jew. There are a lot of complicated feelings around that. I'd like to be proud of my heritage, but it's more like ruefully proud, always aware of being the odd one out, far from my people.

5. I am proud of my knowledge and skill at Balkan folk dancing. This is less complicated than feeling proud of singing. I was lucky to be introduced to folk dancing as a child, both in terms of acquiring skills young, and in terms of it being a life-saving anchor to community. Since then I've joyfully put in the hours of practice and hours of volunteer service running groups and festivals, and I am proud of all of that. I'm proud of teaching others and bringing them into the community and showing them how to lead.

Here I am summoned to lead Bulgarian dance Bičak at the 2024 Hoolyeh Reunion and Friends party in Corvallis. This one is leader-called, which means not only remembering all the steps and doing them in rhythm, but listening to the music and deciding when to switch to the next one. ( Leading Bičak at Hoolyeh )

3. I am proud of writing and sending 15 letters for Vote Forward for their Voters Abroad campaign. A couple of people mentioned them to me in the last few days, and I have a bunch of restless open time since I'm barred from vigorous exercise for 2 weeks after eye surgery, so I got myself over the hump of figuring out what to write in the letters and getting my printer unclogged and going to the post office today for international stamps. While I was there I bought 20 additional stamps, so I'm planning on writing at least that many more letters to voters abroad. The international addresses are fun to see.

First I wrote: ( a couple of sentences )
and then I compressed it down to: ( a shorter version )
It feels vulnerable to be sending a personal statement to strangers across the world, hoping it elicits a sympathetic response and nudges them into action.

ETA: I like the message I wrote back in 2020, too. I'm glad I posted it back then.

June is Pride Month, and my word of the year is Pride. I'm setting myself the challenge of saying one thing I'm proud of every day.

Acknowledging pride still feels vulnerable and flinchy, and a lot of the things I'm proud of, I also feel some shame around. Making 30 posts would be too hard, so I'm dating this post for the end of the month and I'll keep adding to it. (Apparently I have something to say about each one, so I'm going back to daily posts.)

1. I'm proud of writing an article and sending it out today. I'm grateful (and proud?) for the part at the back of my brain that responds when I say, "I need a better title," or "I need a different angle on this topic." Good to know it still works, even though I'm not writing an article every month anymore.