Betting on Myself

The past year and a half has undoubtedly been a portal. A mirror, even. As the pandemic hit, and my world started to move at a different pace, I had space to sit with the reflection of what is expected of me and how far that is from what I want for myself. As the distractions and external practices that I relied on to restore me were inaccessible and my life was distilled to those closest to me and my thoughts, I was able to focus on what I hold most dear.

I realized how much there is to be challenged. Resisted against. Particularly in the ways that I’ve learned and been told that I need to work. There is so much more that I desire outside of the 9–5. Is it a “great resignation” or a realization that capitalism is a dream suppressant and we desire space to dream, rest, and be in and build community? Is it a “turnover tsunami” or a realization that these jobs will never love us back?

No matter where I’ve worked, no matter how good the job, I’ve had to contort myself and compromise my beliefs to buy into the mission of an organization. And for what?

As Black women, what workplaces have been designed with me in mind? Where can I enter without having to do the double duty of fighting for myself and others to be seen and also do my job? Why should I support “DEI” efforts at an organization that had no intention of me being there when it was founded?

In a world where no one bets on me, I’m going to wholeheartedly and unapologetically bet on myself. I am turning away from giving my time, energy, and creativity to organizations and investing it in myself. I am going to give myself the full-time energy that I have given to building the dreams and organizations of institutions that didn’t deserve it.

What would it look like to invest in my own mission and values?

How can I pursue and seek resources for my wildest dreams?

I’m embracing the uncertainty and excitement of what it means to go at it on my own and to bet on myself while being held by a community of Black women who have bet on themselves, said no, and are pursuing their truest desires.

won’t you celebrate with me

what i have shaped into

a kind of life? i had no model.

born in babylon

both nonwhite and woman

what did i see to be except myself?

i made it up

here on this bridge between

starshine and clay,

my one hand holding tight

my other hand; come celebrate

with me that everyday

something has tried to kill me

and has failed.

Lucille Clifton, “won’t you celebrate with me” from Book of Light

originally posted at https://graceanderson.co/2021/08/19/betting-on-myself/