May 2020
for Solidarity
a quaranzine elevating womxn's voices
Six Feet
Edition One
It’s hard to believe that we’ve been in “shelter-in-place” for more than two months in the United States. The emotions, like the news, tend to come in waves. Grief, denial, depression, loneliness, optimism, gratitude, sadness, reflection, anger… we’ve seen them all – within and around and about us. Some of us have been directly affected by the virus – with lost or sick loved ones. Others of us have lost jobs or had hours cut in the resulting economic downturn, forcing many to grapple with whether to pay rent or put food on the table, a decision no one should have to make ever. All of us have been ordered or encouraged to stay-home, social distance, and wear masks. Despite these challenges, and despite being physically isolated from our communities that make life colorful, we wholeheartedly support these restrictions because it’s our community that needs protecting, and community is everything. Thank you to all our family and friends who submitted to the quaranzine. We sincerely enjoyed reading/watching/seeing your creative, thought-provoking, and heart-wrenching pieces. Thank you to those who shared very personal stories of love and loss – our hearts are with you. And thanks to our readers who are taking a moment to explore our wonderful submissions! One thing we didn’t intend – but appreciate – is all the submissions are from womxn. We hope this quaranzine moves you, empowers you, and reminds you that you are not alone, your community is here to support you. The pandemic has put a spotlight on our society’s inequalities and lack of resilience in the face of true crisis. As we move through this pandemic, let’s envision a “new normal”. A new world that will serve everyone, not just a few. So, instead of looking away, let's look deep – deep into the intersections of unrestricted economic growth, rampant inequality, lack of access to healthcare, and our climate crisis. This is where real change must emerge. And big changes are happening, whether we’re ready or not. We hope you enjoy Six Feet for Solidarity Edition One, remotely published in Tucson, AZ and Cambridge, MA, by two best friends. Stay tuned for info on Six Feet – Edition Two!
LETTER FROM THE EDITORS
Sending love, health, and power, Claire Kaufman & Sarah Atkinson
Six Feet for Solidarity is a community e-zine devoted to building social solidarity during the coronavirus pandemic. These pages of reflections are meant to be a safe and creative outlet for all the unforeseen challenges we are stumbling through as individuals and as a community. This is a time capsule of our raw emotions so that we can one day reflect upon them and move forward to a new normal that prioritizes community, physical and mental health, and social equity. If these pieces inspire you to create, we will be putting together another zine in due time. We hope you are staying safe and well. Thank you for reading!
Life is a Woman by Anonymous.........................................................................5 A Day in Quarantine by Lilyana Levy...............................................................6 Seclusion by Natasha Swink................................................................................8 Farm Reflections by Rory Chipman.................................................................9 Listless by Sarah Atkinson ................................................................................10 Day 2 by Zoe Stricker ..........................................................................................12 Movement by Katie Lehn ..................................................................................13 The Mother Rage by Claire Kaufman ...........................................................14 Distract You & Self Portrait by Sophia Elia.................................................16 Please Social Distance by Cara Goldfarb ...................................................17 "Have you eaten yet?" by Yue Huang ..........................................................18 Anxiety, Hope, Love, Balance – Life by Debbie Ross Kaufman.........20 Breathe by Melissa Aparicio ............................................................................22 Tucson Arizona Home Nature Tour by Val ...............................................23 You Are My Sunshine by Bethany Stocker ................................................24 Quarantine Soup by Marisa Weinberg ........................................................26 We by Michaela (Kye) Gutierrez ....................................................................27 You are Not Alone by Alyson Wong .............................................................29 Back Cover Art by Sarah Atkinson
Anonymous – Tucson, AZ
I see red a sea of black the darkness that overcomes me that is being a woman I see life I see death I carry it all that is being a woman I see pain I run to those who suffer that is being a woman I see the future wither away I look to my youth for answers that is being a woman I see my present so clear, yet life is such a mystery that is being a woman Life is a woman.
Life is a Woman
Cover Art by Madeleine Siegel Alone Together (collage) by Claire Kaufman
table of contents
3:30 pm I read an email from the city that I should avoid grocery stores this week, but the lack of coffee feels pressing so I find a shop selling bags of beans to go. I mask up and drive down Sunset past the shuttered fancy boutiques. I have a friendly conversation with the barista through a large plexiglass screen — my first contact with a stranger in weeks. I buy a cookie and he charges me a third of the price. On my drive back I see three unmasked policemen arresting a sobbing man. One of them pats his back, while another twists his wrists into cuffs, and the third unceremoniously dumped out his backpack. Some things don’t stop during quarantine. 4:15 pm I leave for my daily walk. At one end of my block lies a homeless encampment, propped up next to an abandoned stone building. The other end is decorated with century old craftsman style homes, slightly too large to qualify as bungalows. I live in a modest apartment in the middle. I walk North and start my ascent into Hollywood Hills. I'm an avid hiker and, with the trails closed, I find myself spending hours each day climbing the hills, gazing at the glittering mansions, and occasionally foraging low hanging citrus. Sometimes I go eight or nine miles climbing secret staircases and getting lost on the looping roads until I see the same neoclassical house with the problematic statue or the refurbished vintage car -- my new landmarks. I rarely see anyone. It's strange to spend my time in this neighborhood that is not my neighborhood -- just near where I live — and where I fundamentally do not belong. 6:45 pm I make an unnecessarily elaborate dinner, savoring each step. 9:00 pm I call my dad again and he tells me he got tested and will get results in 4 days. His fever is also back up, 101.8. I do a little more work for my job, watch something in bed, and fall back into my dream-life.
one part of the very long day that is quarantine
a day in quarantine or
week 6
7:45 am The cats wake me up howling deep guttural meows from the other side of the closed bedroom door. I feed them and fall back into another dream about a friend I can’t see. These dreams are starting to feel like gossip and I find myself wanting to relay them as news, only to remember they are entirely figments of my subconscious. My dream life has become my social life. 9:00 am My alarm rings and I drag myself out of bed. Getting up at the same time every day is my attempt at maintaining a semblance of normalcy. I make coffee with the last of our beans and sip it while reflexively swiping through my phone until I remember I removed all the fun apps. I spent the first few weeks of quarantine glued to screens, listlessly scrolling through Instagram, absorbing bad feelings, and letting my insecurities fester. I’ve gone off social media for almost three weeks and it has really improved my mental health. 9:15 am I call my dad. While we talk I scramble eggs, toast tortillas, and slice avocado for breakfast tacos. He’s had a low grade fever for 7 days and he’s in the “very at-risk” population. “No new symptoms and the fever’s down to 99.8, so I don’t think I need to get tested”, he reports. We argue, and eventually he concedes. The drama of his fever has caused a constant hum of anxiety. I’ve been on edge, waiting for the fever to turn into scarier symptoms, worried that the virus will defeat him. I bargain with the forces I can’t control by reading articles about older folks who had mild cases. 9:45 am I log on to work and catch up on emails. My job has unofficially slashed my hours and all my projects aren’t due until the summer, so I feel pretty unmotivated.
Lilyana Levy – Los Angeles, CA
Natasha Swink – Tucson, AZ
SECLUSION
It’s taken me awhile to figure out where I stand with all of this “change”. This is because in many ways my day to day life has not changed thankfully. I am considered an “essential” worker because I work on a farm so I’ve been able to wake up at 6:40 am every morning to be at the farm by 8 am. I am fortunate to work with coworkers and share smiles with them daily. We take precautions but we have sworn an oath that we as a group are now a “farmily”. This has done wonders for my mental health but it has also skewed my perspective on how others are functioning during this time. I am beyond lucky to be working with food and I am thankful that folks now recognize how important the work is. However, I wish panic wasn’t what drove folks to buy our produce with almost aggression. They say “thank goodness you’re here” and all I can think is — we’ve been here for the last 7 years. When this is “all over” I hope folks still appreciate what we do on the farm. I also hope folks remember how valuable a routine is to be able to maintain a healthy perspective on life and the passing of time.
Rory Chipman – Ashburn, Virginia
Seldom I have longed for the smile Of even a stranger Passing diagonal across the thoroughfare. I respect it, The distance that they enforce Out of self preservation. Missing it though These days A lot more than expected I suppose. You know, Even the oddity of simultaneous annoyance And affection for the bustle of the city. It’s a strange sort of solitude That feels more sad Self imposed. I should be grateful, The solidarity in it. Maybe It’s just that itch under my palms and torso and the nape of my neck, Those places that collapse into the spaces when another human Wraps you up In that warm, loving Tangle of limbs. Never again, Will I take for granted Those passing gestures of affection Generously filling A vacant embrace.
farm reflections
Sunday March 28th: Things that I appreciate/am thankful for: Video chats with physically distant friends (that I should have been video chatting with more regularly before this all happened) Time to prepare my favorite treat: homemade cinnamon rolls My partner who keeps life colorful Essential workers that stock grocery store shelves, farm, deliver postcards to & from friends, and take care of all those in need The afternoon light in our apartment Saturday April 4th: Names of blooming trees that I can see from our living room window: Red maple (red blossoms with long filaments) Silver Birch (long yellow catkins) Forsythia (striking yellow blossoms) Cherry (pink blossoms) Sugar maple (yellow blossoms)
What day is it? Things that make we want to scream/cry/FIGHT: That health insurance in the U.S. is entwined with employment status That this is the first time we've acknowledged essential workers & that we did (and still do) treat them as “expendable” That low-income communities of color have been hardest hit by the pandemic & resulting economic downturn (& that this isn't surprising in the slightest) Thousands of pounds of produce and animal products being wasted when many Americans are unable to pay for groceries & many parts of the world are suffering from devastating food shortages Large corporations exploiting the small business Paycheck Protection Program Mass incarceration as an acceptable institution in 2020 with its deep roots in white supremacy and systemic racism School children going hungry without access to public school breakfast/lunch Friends losing loved ones & the fear that my loved ones are vulnerable White men with guns Black bodies killed by white men with guns Everything Trump says/does/stands for
Sarah Atkinson – Cambridge, MA
In college, my roommate Claire and I built a habit of writing in our journals a few evenings a week and sharing our entries before turning off the light and drifting to sleep. Four years out of undergrad and I still hold on to this habit of writing in my journal once-per-week or once-every-other-week (at least during “normal” times). My entries usual consist of recounting a wonderful day with friends, something I did that I’m proud of...or not proud of, general anxieties about the state of the world, or a subsurface emotion like insecurity or uncertainty that I’m finally ready to put into words...to fully let myself feel.
Listless
When I was sent home from work on March 12th due to the coronavirus, I journaled, jotting down my fears and my questions: “What’s happening? Is this the apocalypse that we joked about preparing for? Are we, as a country, prepared? How long will we be WFH? How long will I have my job? How many people will be affected? How many people will die?” I journaled every few days, checking-in with myself, trying to let myself feel what I needed to. But, contrary to the world’s chaos, my life felt at its peak. I had just been accepted to grad school and had received funding; I had come off a period of exercising consistently for the first times in years; I had been seeing friends weekly, if not bi-weekly. I had been in a groove and was riding on a high looking forward to springtime, which was just around the corner – a much-needed break from the five plus months of winter that we just weathered through in MA. Yet, as the days turned to weeks turned to months in this period that we’ve sadly termed “social distancing” my high on life slowly began to fade and this new normal we’d been handed began to settle deep into my skin, my psyche. My journal entries morphed from detailed pages to listless paragraphs to a brief sentence, and finally (in its current stage) to an orderly system of lists, Here are a few...
It’s hard to say if these lists sprouted out of boredom, a need for routine, a compulsive need to document, or a desire to remember everything that's come to pass. For now, I'll accept it is as a subtle searching for punctuation – splitting the days into separate entities rather than one long lost cause. A hope that by taking note of my grief, along with each day's small joys, time won't stream past in a dull blur. I've waded through many emotions the last couple months – many of which I don’t feel fully equipped to process at present. Are these lists a form of self-preservation, protecting me from having to fully feel? Or are they time capsules that must be resurfaced in order to later process this chaos ? We must not move forward without reflection. We must not return to "normal".
This is a Spring we will never forget. I feel as if I am writing to all of you, scattered and clustered around the world, from a future only the wisest predicted. This morning my region was one of two in the country that was on lockdown. By dusk, my friends in Chile and Argentina were telling me that they are being mandated to remain inside until further notice. I left my computer a few minutes ago only to hear on the news that the California Governor has now issued that the entire state stay at home. I expect by tomorrow, and certainly by Sunday, most other states will have followed suit. Yet, only a week ago, Spring was made beautiful by what it brought with it: time outside with loved ones, in a place made comforting by its newfound lushness and sudden bustling outdoors. Then--before--Spring connoted the literal turning of leaves, and a brighter attitude made possible by a warmer sun. But that was a week ago in a rapidly changing world, and I am reminded of Joan Didion’s cautionary notion that, “life changes in the instant, the ordinary instant." And with this Spring, I am mindful that it has also done what it intended: we are enduring a new beginning. Of course, in the nascent stages of a beginning such as this, feeling helpless is understandable. How are we to react to something lethal? Over what jabs at the underlying existential anxiety we deal with often quietly and in perpetuity? But helplessness, mind you, is fleeting. It is not a sustainable feeling, nor stable mode of being. Our helplessness will come to an end, one way or another, I promise. Information we do not have today will come alongside time, our friendliest foe. And what is the best tonic, the cure that we actually can cultivate, to stave off the feeling of helplessness? Hope: abundant and unhiding. Hope, I know, is a complicated feeling. Fraught with visions only attributable to the future, which is distinct from other feelings, such as surprise or regret, that rely heavily on a different space in time. But the forward-thinking nature of hope prods us with a subtle, introspective question: what do we wish for? What do we want our future to behold? This is never singular, but ample; as complex creatures have many dreams. Hope acknowledges absence. It equips us to be brave and consider what is missing. And I think the world, and our nation, too, has considered this for some time now: how else could civilizations have blossomed? We can get lost in our fear and our helplessness, and that is OK because they have finite timelines, but hope relies on our imagination, and that exists somewhere that is inspired by this moment, though reserved for an impending future. Summer is just around the corner...
This was filmed on March 13th, 2020 just a few days before I began my version of social distancing/self-quarantine. I was feeling overwhelmed with the recent news and unsettled with all the uncertainty. I felt pulled to movement to aid in the processing of my emotions and this is the result.
Song: Flatiron by Suzanne Kraft
March 19, 2020—Day 2 of the Bay Area's "Shelter in Place” Order Zoe Stricker – San Francisco, CA
Katie Lehn – Austin, TX
Movement
People are hurting And here I am Lost in the sea of my couch Watching our world Built on extraction & repression & profit Exploited by shock after shock. Knowing all too well With climate change & massive inequality More shocks are coming. As I lay down to sleep I imagine something different. A new system Based on love & health & well-being & justice On Humanity for All. Hoping that once we come out of this We will organize For a better world. What else am I supposed to do? I am an "INFJ", after all An ‘introverted idealist’ with rage. Optimism is my coping strategy Rage is my touch point Change is our lifeline.
Claire Kaufman, - Tucson, AZ
The Mother Rage
The Anger It wakes me In my dreams. Uncontrollable, guttural screaming At those I love And they don’t understand. I call it the Mother Rage Where does it come from? Where does it go? I wake up confused. Awake, I move about my quiet day Eating, loving, sleeping, talking, watching, drinking, stretching, dancing Losing track of time in the confines of my home. Working, I stare at the computer Spending 8 hours a day staring at my screen Awkwardly navigating zoom calls Outside, all I see are Eyes Searching for life beyond the mask We avoid each other ‘like the plague’. Basking in a mix of guilt & gratitude & grief For my privileged life For my life.
Cara Goldfarb– Somerville, MA
distract you
Lyrics and Vocals
Sophia Elia – Berlin, Germany
self-portrait
please social distance
Toilet paper, food, medical supplies…we seem to be living in a time where there is a shortage of everything. Except for online chatters about Chinese food. “Stay in Wuhan and enjoy your bats and snakes!” “Why do the Chinese eat everything that moves?!” “Close your f* disgusting wet markets!” To a person born and raised in China (who now lives in a country where similar - and much worse - sentiments were frequently expressed long before this pandemic), these comments are enraging for many reasons: they are unproductive (nobody calls for a complete ban on beef after an E Coli outbreak). They perpetuate the centuries-old racist notion that Chinese food, and by extension Chinese people, are dirty. They reinforce the absurd boundaries of what should be considered food (chicken) and should not (snakes). But none feels more soul crushing than the fact that these comments reflect the polar antithesis of what Chinese food means to me. Growing up, my family and most families I knew made unfussy meals heavy on noodles, grains, soy, and seasonal vegetables. We ate meat and all parts of an animal, but they rarely took center stage. I have never eaten bats, snakes, pangolins, cats, dogs (or chicken deep fried and covered in sticky orange sauce, for that matter), nor did anyone I knew. The simplicity of Chinese home cooking extends beyond the ingredients. A typical kitchen has just the bare essentials that are multi-purpose by design: a cleaver that can cut vegetables, skin fish, or chop through bones, a rolling pin that churns out noodles and dumpling wrappers, and a wok that’s perfect for flash frying as it is for making soup. Traditional Chinese cooking also celebrates the preciousness of food. Organs, entrails, and feet are eaten precisely because – if you are going to kill a sentient being, the least you can do is to honor its life is by not wasting a single thing.
Yue Huang– Boston, MA
"Have you eaten yet?"
More importantly, as in other cultures, food is an expression of love for Chinese people. “Ni chi le ma?” In old Beijing, “Have you eaten yet?” is equivalent to “how are you?”, a greeting that arose from when food was not always abundant, and one’s well-being was equated with having consumed a meal. Yet, the phrase is so much more than a symbol of China's checkered past in famine. It is a daily reminder that food isn’t only about meeting one's immediate needs. A delicious meal, best when shared with family and friends, nourishes the body and the soul. I don’t often think about the values and life lessons my food culture has taught me. But on days when the state of the world feels overwhelming, I find myself cooking the most familiar and simple dishes that I know how: a crispy scallion pancake, a stir fry of bok choy, or a steaming bowl of noodle soup. More than an act of defiance, it feels like a small act of kindness, sending little greetings out to the world: “How are you?” “How are you?” “How are you?”
Debbie Ross Kaufman – Los Angeles, CA
Good movies, classical music, classic rock, folk music, books, John Krazinsky, Governor Newsom, Mayor Garcetti, Anthony Fauci, AOC, Elizabeth Warren, Bill Gates, Melinda Gates, Scientist, doctors, nurses; Less rushing around. Less shopping. What was it that I thought I NEEDED? I’m less uptight when I have less places to go; ’m less uptight when I have less places to go; I’m sitting outside more: watching trees rustle in the breeze, neighbors stopping to chat while standing 6ft away; I’m walking through many glorious, beautiful neighborhoods: the pretty way, the silver strand, the silver triangle, the Marina, the beach. All so glorious once I slow down and notice; Pulling down my mask to smell flowers; Seeing people’s eyes smiling over their masks; I have a good job that allows me to keep busy, use my mind, feel appreciated and work from home; Yoga, yoga, yoga! Coffee! Farmers! Fresh veggies! Money to buy healthy food! My ability to cook healthy meals; Thank you, thank you, thank you smart and active young adults. Sorry about this big fat mess. Sorry about Trump getting in office. Sorry we didn’t listen or understand. Please vote and fix this. I want you to live lives without masks; HOPE, LOVE, BALANCE, LISTEN, LEARN ‘Life’- written 3/12/74 Life is full of it’s ups and downs, Full of smiles, giggles and frowns. A roller coaster best explains This thing called life full of pains. Some days I get this twinge inside, This coaster has just upped my ride. Please God, don’t let my life pass by, I think my heart has reached the sky. And then of life I’ll start to think, And then my heart will begin to sink. Then I’m as down as I can be, Oh why God have you anguished me? Love it what makes the world go round, Then why is hate such a common sound? I’ll never know, but this is true, I’d like to share my life with you. My conclusion at 14 years old is the same as now. Focus on love and light. Enjoy the highs and always expect there will be lows. We will all be okay, hold on tight. it’s a wild, lovely ride.
I find it difficult to reconcile all the contrary feelings. The roller coaster of emotions; fear, anxiety, anger, calm, hope, love, gratefulness, sadness, loneliness, contentment. Overwhelm, fear, anger, horror, confusion, disbelief, disgust, indignation about our world: People terribly sick and dying. The utter despair of those who love them; People dying ALONE; Those without healthcare; Politicians concerned with ratings more than lives; Politicians who care about more about lives who are protested against in the name of constitutional rights and freedom; Politicians and citizens not listening to brilliant scientists and minds; Working mothers trying to keep their jobs while educating their children and trying to keep them busy and safe. While paid teachers are home honing their gardening skills; USA not prepared for a pandemic; Doctors, grocery store workers, delivery staff putting their lives at risk; Ideas to inject poisonous liquid; So many people out of work; Blame and lies; Plastic bags are back. WTF Anxiety and sadness about my individual situation: Newly divorced, a year of heart wrenching sadness, divides, disbelief, paradigm shifts and change; Goodbye security and comfort. Goodbye familiarity; Hello to Dobbs 2.0, recreation and new adventures; Hello to looking forward instead of looking back, trying to understand; March 2020: Hello social distancing, isolation, living alone for the first time in 34 years; How and when will I be able to begin my new life, new relationships, new adventures? I’m getting older; I miss my children. When will I be able to hug and kiss them? Hello anxiety and sadness Gratefulness and hope about the world and my life: My kids, friends and I are safe and healthy; Claire, Joey, Steve, Annie, my many friends- so much love; Bease; Understanding, support, tears, endless laughter; My kids are not alone and have love in their lives; Technology: Laptops to work from home, texting for quick catch ups, Netflix, my Spotify playlists;
Anxiety, Hope, Love, Balance – Life
Tucson Arizona Home Nature Tour
Taking brain and computer breaks to enjoy all the species around our home and capture it on video. It’s like visiting tiny little worlds and getting a little vacation from our big, crazy one. A little humor mixed in. Best enjoyed with sound on.
Melissa Aparicio – Redwoods, CA
Val – Tucson, AZ
You are my Sunshine
Bethany Stocker – Tucson, AZ
You are my first child, my first baby To care for, to love, to stand up for your best interest. I’ve watched you grow, meet milestones, thrive Despite what challenges you were given before birth and immediately after. You’ve bloomed, blossomed and your smile always SHINES The judge - the system - has yet to decide your permanent home. As your mom since birth, this process is an emotional roller coaster. I want you to have your best, most stable life And I want you to be mine forever. This is my emotional spiritual mindset I must continually contemplate, learn from, and adjust. When I was working, I daydreamed of staying home with you full time. Imagining all the fun special moments we would have. Then. Quarantine. That dream became a reality! It was all that I imagined. You pulled yourself to stand in that first “lockdown” week You perfected your crawl Your feeding issues improved The congestion you’ve had almost your whole life, disappeared Your sleep schedule became consistent and I was finally getting REST. We danced, played in the kiddie pool, marble painted, And did sensory activities that my teacher brain was loving. The big court date was approaching And soon That fun was ripped away from me. We learned your case had, somewhat, taken a 180. The road had started to curve towards adoption over the past few months So we were not prepared to seriously consider the scenario of you going to live with your birth mom. It hit me hard. Social distancing and contemplating my life without you was a bad combination. No distractions from your sweet soul, meant mourning life without you. All the time. I couldn’t sleep. Tears constantly streamed as Depressing visualizations came in my mind off and on throughout the days and nights; Gathering and packing your clothes, toys, and necessities that I specifically chose and researched for you and your health and happiness Making a baby book, leaving out most photos of us together to be sensitive to the birth mom. Feeling the stinging heartache of the moment a DCS worker would come pick you up for the final ”reunification” Picturing what you would look like as you got older and all the other life milestones I wouldn’t get to witness I began sharing my pain with just a few friends and family My loving supporting husband held me when I cried Meditation and prayer guided me and allowed me to process these emotions and thoughts It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t come true. I didn’t want it to. And, actually, it wasn’t real. It hasn’t happened. And it may not. I finally realized that I cannot live in fear. The future cannot be predicted. “You just don’t know!” a friend repeatedly told me. Especially now. Some aspects of the case are on hold And it’s uncertain for how long. I must be PRESENT. My planning brain must focus on each day as it comes. My 10-month-old ray of sunshine is counting on me To be present with him every day. And I take that responsibility seriously If one day our foster son, is able to drop the “foster” And we get to be his parents for life, I want to look back at the quarantine and be grateful for the time we had together. I want to feel the joy we had each day seeing him change and grow And the IMMENSE amount of love and happiness we shared as a family. Even if “foster” remains in our relationship label, I want to feel the same exact feelings when thinking about our time together. Gratitude Joy And so much LOVE for our Sunshine
Tears constantly streamed as Depressing visualizations came in my mind off and on throughout the days and nights; Gathering and packing your clothes, toys, and necessities that I specifically chose and researched for you and your health and happiness Making a baby book, leaving out most photos of us together to be sensitive to the birth mom. Feeling the stinging heartache of the moment a DCS worker would come pick you up for the final ”reunification” Picturing what you would look like as you got older and all the other life milestones I wouldn’t get to witness I began sharing my pain with just a few friends and family My loving supporting husband held me when I cried Meditation and prayer guided me and allowed me to process these emotions and thoughts It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t come true. I didn’t want it to. And, actually, it wasn’t real. It hasn’t happened. And it may not. I finally realized that I cannot live in fear. The future cannot be predicted. “You just don’t know!” a friend repeatedly told me. Especially now. Some aspects of the case are on hold And it’s uncertain for how long. I must be PRESENT. My planning brain must focus on each day as it comes. My 10-month-old ray of sunshine is counting on me To be present with him every day. And I take that responsibility seriously If one day our foster son, is able to drop the “foster” And we get to be his parents for life, I want to look back at the quarantine and be grateful for the time we had together. I want to feel the joy we had each day seeing him change and grow And the IMMENSE amount of love and happiness we shared as a family. Even if “foster” remains in our relationship label, I want to feel the same exact feelings when thinking about our time together. Gratitude Joy And so much LOVE for our Sunshine
May this be a time of collective awakening. A time to remember our essence, our humanity. We are struck with the reality that we are not invincible no matter the amount of money. We all have our piper to pay and we’ll pay him with our reckoning. Staring out the same window for days weeks months... slowly we start to see more clearly It is a global fight we are in may it be one that leaves us with the remembering that there is no Them or Us in this big world on the other side of this there is only WE.
We
Michaela (Kye) Gutierrez – Tucson, AZ
Marisa Weinberg – Salt Lake City, UT
Please know that you are not alone.
Welcome to the end of the e-zine.
When we started planning this e-zine, everything had just closed down. Now, as we publish, everything is ‘opening back up’. The world is changing rapidly, and that will continue. All we can do as individuals is take care of ourselves, take care of the ones we love, and take care of our community. We’ve compiled some COVID-19 related resources to help you navigate this time: COVID19 Emergency Funding Sources : Everything you need to know about funding resources across the country. Coronavirus and COVID-19 Response and Relief Funds : Easily searchable database if you feel called to donate your stimulus check or give more. Black Girl Magik COVID-19 Global Resource Guide: Comprehensive list of self care, things to do, financial resources, and more. COVID-19 - Racial Equity & Social Justice Resources: Articles and resources that shine a light on equity and justice during COVID-19. Thank you for reading our first ever e-zine! If you would like to provide feedback, be notified when we are accepting submissions for Issue 2, and/or recieved Issue 2 when it is published, please sign up here. We love you, stay safe and well! Sarah & Claire
Alyson Wong – New York, NY
Feet
Six