In this open letter, Tuck asks researchers, scholars, and educators to consider how they frame and view the people and communities at the center of their studies. Research, especially research intended to obtain funding or make a compelling argument, only focuses on the tragedy and pain experienced by a group. While it is certainly an effective way to sway opinions and tug heart strings, it often has unacknowledged consequences. Telling stories about communities in this way reduces entire swaths of people to little outside of victims, narrowing their stories and histories in ways that are ultimately hurtful.

This isn’t to say that acknowledging victimization, oppression, and pain are not important, but when outsiders design studies around the idea that trauma is the most important aspect of a people, it erases their wholeness and humanity.

Tuck calls this damage centered research, research that reduces communities to the pain they’ve endured. She instead proposes what she calls desire centered research- centering the hopes, dreams, and desires of communities rather than limiting them to their pain.

The letter is dense and beautiful, I think you should read it, especially if you are a researcher or ever intend to be one.

Many years after I first read Tuck’s letter, I still think about it often.

It’s easy to look at people and only see how hurt they are, especially if you spend a lot of time with those who are most impacted by systemic oppression. It can feel like all that there is is… well, damage. I will admit, many days I stare out of my office window and try to breathe through the enormous, palpable hurt all around me.

Hurt is heavy and deserves to be carried by many hands.

But you know what else deserves to be carried by many hands? Joy. Hope. Desire. In moments when we look around and all we see is hurt, joy and hope can be incredibly hard to find. This is all the more reason to be attuned to the range of experiences and feelings that make up all people and communities- the more holistically we see each other, the more whole we all get to be.

While damage centered research is a concept developed to describe how we see those outside of ourselves and our communities, i think it is worth mentioning that we have to look at ourselves through a holistic lens too. It is easy to reduce ourselves to the things that have hurt us, the mistakes we’ve made, our chronic pain or mental health conditions, and all of the things we don’t like about ourselves. We define ourselves by our jobs, by our place in the birth order, or by how tirelessly we neglect ourselves to help others. All of those things are important, but there is more there too. Every part of us deserves to be welcomed in, even when it is hard.

Thank you for reading!!! Also can you believe I drew that flower??? I really surprised myself with that.

When i got home from work today i took some time to do yoga, slow down, and remind myself what is most important to me so i can resist getting swept up in overwhelming despair, or the false promises that come from choosing to prioritize systems over people. I wrote my wishes and hopes down and thought maybe you could use some wednesday wishes too.

I love you!!! You can do this!!!

After a lot of high intensity moments during the week, a lot of ambiguity, and lots of anxiety, I found myself thinking about how badly we all want certainty.

Especially when someone is trusting me to help care for them, the pressure i feel to always have the correct answer or judgement, to know what will help the most, what i should be saying, or what any given person will want or need, is immense.

Factors like liability and the fast pace of capitalism certainly play a role in my rigid way of thinking and want for certainty, but I think the biggest underlying cause is my own anxiety, because deep down I know that I can never be sure.

I’ve been stretching the most trusting and creative parts of my brain a lot recently, both in my job and in my personal life. Situations I’ve run into before have crept up and my brain wants to believe that I know exactly what is going to happen, exactly what will keep me or someone I care about safe, and how to carefully mastermind things so I can have certainty.

Unfortunately, though, there has been little certainty at all.

I really truly hate ambiguity. Even writing those words I feel my chest getting tight and my stomach starting to turn. I want to know what is going to happen because I want to feel prepared.

Many times in the last week I have believed that I knew precisely what someone would say, exactly how they would react, or just how I would feel- yet, over and over again, I was proven wrong.

During one of these stomach-turning moments, I tried to settle myself into some meditation and writing. If I am being completely honest, it was not a super successful endeavor, I ended up in shambles before dragging myself into bed, but when I revisited what I wrote down the next day I was surprised at what I found.

I’d been writing about feeling very disconnected from what is bigger than me, which is a place I often find refuge when I am anxious about what might happen. I was considering how I could find that feeling again, or if it was gone forever. While I was scribbling my frustrations out, I had written: maybe the fact that I can wonder this at all, the fact that I have the capacity to feel all of this, is proof that I am part of something much bigger than myself. Maybe that is all the proof I need? Or something?????? I don’t know.

I’m not going to elaborate on whether or not I believe the miracle of consciousness is proof of something divine, that’s not what this is about- instead, I wanted to point out that this moment for me was a small mindset shift. I was very deep into “what ifs” and hunting for an answer, but I chose, even if it was unconsciously, to entertain my curiosity and wonder instead. The loudest part of my brain, the most worried part, said that I would never feel better, and it said I could be sure of that. But somewhere in there I stumbled across a quieter voice that had questions instead of answers.

It didn’t change anything about my situation, but it has been percolating in my brain ever since and has me feeling very curious.

In the following days I began to venture into this new idea just a little bit more. What if I can meet uncertainty with wonder instead of rigidity? What if I could lean on trust and faith rather than needing to be absolutely certain? How might I feel if I chose to be curious about what I’m not sure of instead of trying to desperately to be sure? What might I find?

To be absolutely clear, I don’t have answers to any of those questions, but I sort of think that might be the point. When I have an alarm bell going off inside of my head telling me the only thing that will keep me safe is certainty, maybe that is a sign I need to ask questions, wonder a little bit, or venture off into the part of me that is curious and can have trust and faith even when I can’t be sure.

I hope you are being so gentle with yourself and find space for wonder and curiosity and trust. It’s so hard to be a person!!! But we’re doing it and that’s a miracle.

Sending you all the love in the world.

❤️✨💛

I ended up leaving my job at this particular organization because of a philosophical mismatch; I hold some very strong beliefs about people, goodness, and deservedness, and I quickly realized leadership did not feel warmly about my perspective (in other words, I barged into their offices a LOT and argued with them.)

There was a particular grievance voiced by my colleagues almost every day that ultimately led to my departure from the organization, and it always came back to gratitude and deservedness.

Running a crisis call line is really challenging. Every time the phone rings, you need to be prepared for whatever you may be met with, whether it be a social worker looking for resources, someone expressing suicidality, or a person at the end of their rope who can’t contain their anger anymore. There are a lot of emotions hurled at you, so a well of patience, love, and understanding is paramount. When you put yourself in a position to support others in their hardest moments, it is required that you set your ego aside and realize it’s not about you or how someone else’s behaviors make you feel.

What I quickly noticed, though, is that this little team I shared an office with did not prioritize dipping into that well of patience and love- instead they made snap judgements and relied on strategies of policing and power in their interactions with those seeking services.

When I say they used strategies of policing and power, I don’t necessarily mean that the literal police were involved (though sometimes they were). What I mean is, if a caller raised their voice, swore, got angry, or did not seem “grateful enough”, they were routinely given a lower quality of care. Sometimes that looked like not being given a spot in respite care, or not being given as many toys or other tangible goods. Other times, it meant being berated by the staff member, and not being afforded the chance to have their hurt and pain held and witnessed.

“People really think they can be rude and get whatever they want,” my colleagues would say, “They need to learn not to bite the hand that feeds.”

As I’ve traversed different social service landscapes, it’s become clear that reacting and wielding power over others is often par for the course. In so many ways, it is the norm in most care work and social services. We, the “experts”, have control and power over resources others need to survive. We are taking time out of our lives to help these kinds of people, which they should be so very grateful for, right?

~Wrong~

When there isn’t care and intentionality at the center of such a stark power dynamic, it leads to professionals using each interaction as an opportunity to wield control over another. Instead of creating a space where every person is inherently seen as deserving, it allows staff members to choose who is deserving, and of how much. If you’re a parent who yells at the person who is answering the crisis line, you might not get the help you desperately need. If you’re unhoused and vocally disagree with the staff person at the shelter about how they’re treating you, you might be sleeping outside. If you go to a food shelf and ask for extra groceries, you might get everything you’ve been given taken away from you and be banned from returning.

Those are not things I made up. Those are things that have happened to people I know and love, and they happen every single day.

But it’s not just at nonprofits and social service agencies where I see this; it happens whenever we choose to help someone based on our feelings about who they are, their choices, or how much positive reinforcement we get as a result.

I was talking to my mom earlier this year about the adopt-a-family program that pop up every holiday season. When I was young, we would regularly be recipients of gifts from people who chose to “adopt” us because we were poor. My mom recounted to me the pressure that was put on her and my dad to allow the people who had given us the gifts to be present while we all opened them. They wanted us to perform for them, to overflow with gratitude that they were so willing to help poor people like us.

Do you know how humiliating that is? How dehumanizing and painful?

The idea that our motivation for helping one another is based on what we get in return is abhorrent. If you only care to help people when they ask just how you want and respond in a way that strokes your ego, why are you helping at all?

Who are we to say who is deserving? Who are we to pick and choose who is worthy of survival, who is worthy of care?

If you ever find yourself feeling frustrated at someone you’ve given support to, be curious with yourself about why. Is something being activated in you? Is your ego feeling bruised? Are you unintentionally assigning value or deservedness to them? Check in with yourself, and then try again. I believe in you. <3

I shared this on Instagram yesterday and it seemed to resonate with many people, so I am sharing here even though that wasn’t my original intention.

During a week that has me questioning my ability, my beliefs, and myself, I am leaning really hard on my people. And I don’t take that for granted even for a moment.

<3

There are times i feel called to bring people in and explain my sometimes-controversial views, but this is not one of those times. I’m not here to convince anyone that they should care, just to loudly be a person who does care.

Moms are harder on themselves than almost anyone else i meet, and they are always the first ones stepping up to help whenever it is needed. Their love holds so much together and none of us would be here without it.

Moms, i love you, i see you, you deserve care and support. You’re not a bad mom, even if you’re struggling.

Give love to the moms in your life, including yourself if you need. Nurture and care is what will save us again and again and again.

Also special shoutout to my mom, love u 5ever and always.

I’ve tried to depict knowing versus knowing lots of times, and this is the closest I’ve ever gotten. I guess it’s kind of an embodied understanding of something rather than an intellectual understanding.

I had a moment recently where something I know became something I know, and that is this:

What I need might be different than what other people need, and that’s okay.

Not revolutionary on the surface, but very mind blowing when you really think about it. Especially in a rigid, capitalist, and abelist society, responding to our own needs can feel really challenging. There are expectations placed on us about productivity and output, socialization and capacity, and there is tremendous shame woven all throughout. I have felt this shame, I’m sure you have felt this shame, and it can be immobilizing.

I have felt particularly frustrated with myself about the limits of my social capacity, intellectual capacity, and need for rest. Things that don’t seem hard for other people feel really hard for me sometimes, and I honestly feel really embarrassed about it. I have always been attuned to what other people are doing and how they’re acting, and when I do things differently there is always a voice in my head that tells me what I am doing is wrong.

I’ve come to understand that this voice is capitalist and ableist, but it is also a natural human desire to fit in. Being part of the “in” group is vital to survival; feeling like you’re not included threatens safety.

It feels so silly that this is so hard for me- my entire philosophical and professional belief system centers the knowing that every person is different and knows what they need. But, for some reason, I have had a hard time applying that to myself.

This is where knowing versus knowing comes into this. I recently had an intuitive psychic/astrology/tarot reading done by one of my favorite artists, Vida Rose. I love getting readings from her, the way she delivers messages lands with me in a way I value deeply. The topic of the yearly reading I get from her is “my creative year ahead”- basically what I might want to focus on or try creatively. This year, the emphasis was REST. Doing things that feel restful and rejuvenating, taking time to listen to what I really need.

Okay okay, this is something I have heard before. What I need is important, etc etc etc, everyone is different, blah blah blah, but I have things to do so I actually don’t have time because I need to keep up.

But then she emphasized it again, and it landed in a new way.

“You have to be fierce about your boundaries of how much rest, how many resources, and how much time you require. The things you do require a lot of time and energy- don’t compare yourself to anybody else.”

Having someone who knows almost nothing about me reflect this to me was a knowing versus knowing moment. That little idea floating around my awareness landed inside my chest in a new way. Maybe to show up in the world like I want to and in the ways that feel right, I need more rest or resources or affirmations or quiet than someone else does- and maybe that is not a moral judgment. Maybe that’s actually okay.

I’ve been chewing on this idea for a while now, and it has continued to root in me. Whenever I get a pang of shame for responding differently than someone else, I say to myself: "what i need right now is different, and that’s okay”. I can look at all of the things I want to do and see how caring for myself in the ways I need allows me to do those things, and I find so much comfort and solace in that.

i love you, you can trust yourself <3

Something hard about suffering is that, most of the time, there is nothing we can really do about it. As I’ve felt more and more worn down the last couple of weeks, I’ve found myself moving faster through other people’s pain, trying desperately to find a solution, to make their hurting stop. I was sitting with someone earlier this week who was telling me about their experience of losing their home just that morning. It was unexpected and painful and traumatic, and they had found themselves in my office shortly after it happened. As they walked me through the story, my brain struggled to slow down. I began following a flow chart in my head that I’ve built since I started helping people with housing- this won’t count as long term homelessness, so that limits options for what we can do next, but maybe I could reach out to a lawyer right now to get a legal process moving, but I would need this person’s last name and that honestly might not even work, so maybe I should get on the phone with the shelter hotline- before I knew it, I had entirely disconnected from the person sitting in front of me and retreated into myself.

As soon as I noticed that I’d lost my presence, I wiggled my toes (for grounding) and took a deep breath (to slow down), and put my hands gently in my lap.

There was nothing to do. I couldn’t change what happened, I didn’t have a place for them to sleep, I had no answer or solution. My heart ached as I continued to listen, and I felt so guilty and helpless. They came to me because they need help, and I couldn’t give them anything.

Once they had finished telling me about this awful experience, we sat in silence for a few moments. I finally broke the quiet stillness and asked, “what do you need right now?”. They thought for a little while and then asked if I had a cigarette. Luckily, I did. I took out my not-so-secret stash of Newports and put a few into their hand. Then I asked, “how do you feel?”. They took a deep breath and said, “I’’m glad I saw you today.”

I told them I was glad I got to see them too, and then they left.

It always knocks the wind out of me, the way that just being present with someone seems to ease their suffering. Nothing is really different, but somehow it is. A moment of rest, a breath, being heard, are enough to ease our nervous systems and hearts enough to keep going. That is magic. That is holy.

***************************************************

Our older cat, Mia, is terminally ill. We have known this for a little while, and have been soaking up every single moment we get to have with her as she has come to us in this life (I say it like this because I know for certain that her stubborn, inquisitive spirit has places to be, and she will continue to find us). This afternoon we were in the backyard with her in the sun, and she was so happy. I beamed while I watched her roll in the dirt and sniff around the grass. But, before we knew it, a painful reality of her sickness hit us, and the peaceful moment was over.

After we got her settled back inside and she was in her favorite hiding spot under the bed, I began to feel so angry and sad that, what began as a peaceful afternoon ended up so completely NOT peaceful. What was the point? What were we even doing? There’s nothing I can do to change the course of what’s happening to her, and that is so painful and makes me feel so helpless. Right now, a lot of being with her is sitting in the suffering, and it really really sucks.

The next time I saw Mia, she was in the livingroom laying in a sunbeam. Cats don’t actually smile, but she was smiling at me. And then I remembered exactly what I’d realized just a few days before: being present for the suffering is sometimes what gets us to the next moment. When she was hurting, we were with her, even though we couldn’t make it stop, and now she was feeling peaceful once again. She’s still dying, but she made it through a hard moment and that matters.

I drew a bunch of pictures of her and cried because I love her so much, and I offer whatever all of this is to you.

Also she’s not mad that’s just kind of her face or maybe it’s just hard to draw cat faces.

“Hand holding” as a concept comes up in every care space I’ve ever been in, from infant care to clinical mental health care, and it is a weighty accusation in a professional space. When you are accused of hand-holding, it is code for coddling, enabling, or otherwise doing “too much” for whoever you are caring for. It is probably no surprise if you know me at all, but I have been on the receiving end of this gripe everywhere I’ve ever worked.

When I was a preschool teacher, I got complaints from other staff about how I shouldn’t be helping kids clean up big messes (“they have to learn that it’s their responsibility!”)

In my elementary school roles, I was accused of doing too much literal hand holding and hugging of kids who found physical connection regulating (“there’s not always going to be someone around to hold their hand!”).

When I was a case manager, the more senior staff told me that I should stop offering to fill out paperwork for clients (“you should never work harder than they are willing to!”). They also told me that I shouldn’t offer so much time to let people process the same things on repeat (“they’ll never get anywhere if they keep talking about it over and over again!”)

I do hear what my colleagues were trying to tell me- our beliefs about what motives people just happen to be a little different. We live in a world that pushes hyper-independence and productivity, and it is inevitable that everyone will have times when they need to do things on their own. Obviously I understand that. Where we disagree, though, is in the belief that “hand-holding” will hinder someone’s ability or willingness to care for themselves. I actually think the opposite is true.

We were not made to be isolated and hyper-independent creatures; we need social networks and webs of care to survive. I believe that, every time someone shows up for us and provides gentle, patient, loving care, it teaches us that we are worth showing up and caring for. It tells our nervous systems that we are not alone. It strengthens the foundation upon which we see our worthiness, and deepens the well within us that tells us we are deserving. It gives us a chance to see ourselves as worth showing up for, and that means we may be more able to show up for ourselves too.

I question my approach sometimes, especially when I am getting so much pushback from the people around me. It’s really hard to encourage slowness and patience and presence when there is pressure to move so fast. But then I think about every time someone has been willing to hold my hand when I’ve needed it, and I remember how it has given me strength to show up for myself. I would not be where I am without being held, and that is a beautiful thing.

We have hands because we were created to hold each other, and my belief in that is unwavering.

I could go on and on about how beautiful and joyful my work is and how full of love harm reduction philosophy makes me feel, but I think it would be better experienced with our eyes.

There is so much I can’t show, of course, because of the need for privacy. I resisted the urge to caption these photos because words aren’t so much the point. But I hope this collection of photos from my last two years working in a syringe exchange gives you some insight into just how unique and special it is.

This wasn’t written to be shared on this platform- in fact, i intentionally chose not to share it here when i first wrote it. There are a few reasons for that; one, it is deeply personal to me. I haven’t talked a lot about my childhood and young life, and that is not by accident. I keep lots of my earliest experiences close to my chest.

Two, this experience isn’t just mine- sharing stories that involve other people from my own perspective feels scary, especially when those stories happened such a long time ago. I second guess my memory, i know things are filtered through the many experiences of my life and through my feelings. Still, i am practicing it trusting my memories and my young self. Even if each thing i remember isn’t as clear as I’d like, or has become altered by the haze of my undeveloped brain, that doesn’t mean the way it felt wasn’t real.

I also hesitate to share because I don’t want it to sound like I am complaining or I am ungrateful. Growing up in a big family that struggled socioeconomically was hard, but that is only the fault of the broken system. My parents are two of the most loving and dedicated people I know, and they did everything, despite the cards often being stacked against them.

My whole life, both of my parents worked tirelessly to make sure we had everything we needed. For us, that meant parents working opposite shifts- mom taught and cared for kids all day and came home to us, while dad stayed with whoever was youngest or needed to be home all day and left for work at night. As you can imagine, that is a stressful way to have to live.

Still, they did it, and i am eternally grateful for everything they were willing to sacrifice for the six of us.

I have been thinking recently about the modern way we live, and how much of that includes shipping items through the mail or UPS. I’ve also been thinking about how that has changed our willingness to be patient, to be creative and flexible, and to discern between want and need. Some of what we place for order is a necessity- medication, warm weather supplies, food to feed those who need it- while some of it serves other purposes. Convenience is both a gift and a curse. We can get things we need quickly, but it also requires harm to the environment and often contributes to harmful working conditions for those producing, shipping, packing, and moving every item.

I want to be clear: I am not anti-shipping. I think that would be really silly. But I would be lying if I said I did not think of each set of hands something had to pass through to get to me. I think about who else might have a dad that stays up late into the night moving boxes and sustaining injuries to provide for their family. I think about what some people are required to sacrifice for their own survival, and for the sake of convenience.

I hold that truth with deep reverence, and let it rest in me each time I click “place order.”

Whose hands touch each package I order? Who are they caring for? How do they feel? Who do they love?

I wrote this when I was impatiently waiting for a package to arrive recently. I’m sure you have felt that at times too.

I hope you can experience slowness today. I hope you can meet yourself with trust and grace and love. xoxoxoxoxox

I am not coming to you today with anything specific to say, i am just dropping in to say hello and share some art.

I’ve been trying to explore different art styles recently- currently that means learning to draw buildings and windows and rooms. Every time i leave my house, i take a picture of some building, some tree, some skyline, all with the intention of practicing drawing. Last week, a few years into this habit, I actually started doing it.

So much of my time and energy is spent focusing on the things we do, how we do them, and why. It has been really interesting to consider where we do all of this living. I’ve thought a lot about houses and homes, what makes them, and the forms they take. I’ve been considering community spaces and what makes them inviting or cold, what makes them feel special. There is a lot i could say about setup, color choice, trauma informed design, environment, but i am choosing instead to get out of my head and into my creative heart self. Where do I like to be? What do i like to look at? How do i like to feel? What places do I feel those things?

And, to no one’s surprise, i am also on an affirmation writing kick so i put some of those in my art too.

we’re still chugging along in minneapolis, helping neighbors showing up. I hope you are too.

People who use drugs often find themselves discriminated against and left out of conversations about safety, health, and wellbeing. There is a dangerous myth that using drugs means you don’t care about your health or safety, and that is far from true. Still, it is repeated over and over again, by medical professionals, social workers, legal professionals, law enforcement, and regular, every day people.

In my day job, I work in a public health clinic and help run a program specifically for people who use drugs. I have written about it before, but I have never met a group of people so skilled at getting their needs met and advocating for themselves. I have also never heard, “I don’t go to the doctor’s because they are mean to me/hurt me/try to lock me up” more in my entire life. When you care about your health but are discriminated against when you try to access medical care, where does that leave you? It means you have to be creative.

All of this leads me back to the news of this drug bust in Minneapolis. The day these events took place, I woke up to texts from my dad about how he was hearing bangs throughout the morning, which we later learned were flash grenades being deployed into a house near his in an attempt to lure someone out. Across the city I heard reports about similar events, and later there was a press conference held by multiple law enforcement agencies to announce that they had apprehended many dangerous people, so much drugs, and 14 (?) guns. “Today our city is safer,” they proclaimed, “the deadly fentanyl we seized won’t be able to cause overdoses anymore!”

But what they are missing (or maybe ignoring) is this:

Drug busts and raids have been repeatedly proven to increase overdoses in the neighborhoods and surrounding areas where they occur.

You might be wondering how that could be. If there are fewer drugs that probably means fewer people are using drugs, meaning they can’t overdose- that is where most people logically go. But it is very silly to think that taking away some of a substance means people will not be able to use it anymore, or that they won’t need to use it anymore. All it means is that they will access what they need through a source they may not know as well or trust as much, and that is very risky. Different suppliers have different supply chains, different supply chains have different cuts, different potencies, and it is really hard to know exactly what you are getting.

When I hear politicians and law enforcement celebrating this big win in the name of “safety”, I can’t help but wonder whose safety they are talking about. They are certainly not talking about people who use drugs, because this seizure will increase the likelihood that they will die. They can’t be talking about neighbors who live in encampments, who will undoubtedly face the backlash of the “open air drug market” rhetoric lobbed at them. They can’t be talking about the family members or other loved ones of people who use drugs, who will now have to worry even more about those they love. So, what are they talking about?

They aren’t talking about safety at all; they’re talking about the comfort of everyone that feels weird and nervous when it comes to drugs and drug use and visible homelessness. They’re talking about upholding the illusion that incarcerating some people will magically make everything they’re afraid of, everything that makes them painfully aware of their privilege, disappear.

If those with power felt compelled to actually support people who use drugs, they would invest in harm reduction. They would fight to decriminalize, legalize, and regulate all drugs. They would invest in healthcare for all. They would prioritize housing. They would redirect resources to mental health care and community supports. Criminalization and state violence is an easy way to pacify the public and shift blame, but it doesn’t help anyone.

I love people who use drugs, and I believe their safety is just as important as the safety of anyone else. If one community’s comfort is prioritized over the survival of another, that is not safety or justice because safety and justice require empathy and love. Criminalization and incarceration cannot come from love, because love does not criminalize.

As he took office in January of this year, Mamdani put a halt to inhumane sweeps of encampments in the city. He repeated what every homeless service provider already knows- sweeps don’t do anything helpful for people who live outside. There is plenty of data to support this, as well as heartwrenching personal accounts about how devastating these evictions are to people’s lives. Still, just a few months after his strong stance against them, encampment sweeps are back again, this time dressed as a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Mamdani has explained that his version of encampment sweeps will be different. They will begin with a written notice posted 7 days before the sweep, followed by “relentless” outreach from service providers. These service providers will offer an array of options, from shelters to treatment centers, to connections to permanent housing. Within those 7 days, every person at the camp will be compassionately routed to any services they might need, and everyone will live happily ever after.

Except (shocker!) that’s not what will happen.

This version of sweeps isn’t much different than what we’ve seen here in Minneapolis many many times, and it always ends the exact same way- people are violently and inhumanely forced out of the place they live, their belongings are destroyed, and the cycle begins again.

You might be wondering why, if all of these amazing services are being presented to each unhoused person, they don’t just take them? I can tell you why; the services suck. They really really suck.

I meet residents who live in camps and in other places around Minneapolis every single day, so I have personally heard the horror stories about the services they are connected to. I have also worked within organizations that provide services for people who live outside. I can assure you, the reality is bleak.

In Minneapolis, when someone needs shelter, what they will likely get is a bed at one of the local downtown spots. Each building can fit around 350 people per night. Doors open around 5pm and, once you’re inside, you have to stay the whole night. If you so much as go outside to smoke, you will be locked out of the building.

When you arrive, your belongings are searched and anything staff deem unsafe is confiscated (you are supposed to get those things back, but most people don’t). You sleep in a bunk bed, surrounded by strangers. You can’t share a bed with anyone, partners are separated. If you are not the same gender as your partner or close friends, you will be on separate floors or in different buildings, probably unable to see each other or talk. Before the sun even rises, you are forced back outside again. If you are able to access a phone, you might be able to book a bed for the next night, but there are no guarantees.

Most shelters advertise that they provide “housing case management” to those who stay there. I, personally, have never known a single resident to be connected to housing during a shelter stay. But I HAVE helped many people access treatment for bed bugs and body lice after shelter stays, and I HAVE made countless phone calls begging shelters to reconsider banning someone for a mental health crisis, and I HAVE held the hands of people whose only options are sleep outside in below zero weather or go stay in a shelter in which they were sexually abused.

Those things, realities that everyone who lives outside knows, are common.

Not all offerings are for regular shelters though! So there has to be some other amazing options on the table, right?

One of the other common suggestions is chemical dependency treatment. I take issue with this for a few reasons: one, not everyone who lives outside uses drugs, and not everyone who uses drugs wants or needs to stop. Two, getting into treatment is time intensive, requires tons of paperwork and a formal assessment, and it means giving up 100% of your freedom. On top of those things, it also means agreeing to (likely completely unmedicated) withdrawal, which is physically and emotionally painful.

Would you choose that? I doubt it.

But there MUST be something else, right? Right???

There should be! But there really isn’t.

We have a smattering of other things here in Minneapolis- a shelter that is a bunch of small “homes” in a warehouse, some shelters that are specific to youth or other demographics where you only have to share a room with a couple other people instead of tons, detox facilities that are more compassionate to withdrawal- but none of the people in power offering these choices would ever accept them for themselves or their loved ones. I guarantee it.

At the heart of all of this lies the pervasive idea that people who live outside are just “service resistant”- the options are there, they tell us, and unhoused people are just too damn stubborn and drug addicted and crazy to take them. They would rather live outside, because then they can be criminals and do drugs like they want. They would rather have no rules, because they are too oppositional and unstable to follow them. They don’t want to be housed, we are told, they want to wreak havoc on our communities instead.

I can’t imagine looking at any of my neighbors and talking about them like that. I can’t imagine having such little regard for the humanity of another. It makes me feel so many things, but mostly it makes me sad.

As New York City restarts this endless cycle of displacement again, I wish those in power and those who support encampment sweeps would ask themselves: why would people rather sleep outside than engage with the services we are offering? I wish they would ask their neighbors: what would be helpful to you? I wish they would treat them with love.

I am very experienced when it comes to caregiving, both personally and professionally. My roles have ranged in setting and title, but I spend the majority of my waking hours focused on being with people and supporting efforts to get them what they need. And I really love what I do- for better or for worse, being attuned to other people comes fairly naturally to me, and so I have chosen to lean in.

But, as you can imagine, it is also really hard sometimes. The most challenging part of any supporting or care work is that it is inherently relational. You, a whole human person, are interacting with other whole human people. When people get together, especially if any of them are having a hard time, things can get very tangled and messy very fast.

As the ICE occupation in Minneapolis rages on, so does the tireless work of the community. Many people are entering into community and care roles outside of their immediate loved ones, some for the first time, and that is really cool to see. I love that everyone has love to give and wants to do it with such enthusiasm. The care and organizing happening in this city is astounding. We are entering what feels like our millionth week of this, and I have found myself worrying about how all of the helpers are doing.

Being formally trained in helping work means that I have had the advantage of inheriting structures from my predecessors, and these tools were given to me early on. Much of social work school is learning how to be self-reflective and grounded in situations that have the potential to be triggering or destabilizing to our sense of self and our nervous systems.

Being destabilized or triggered likely means we aren’t going to be able to make grounded, informed, and safe decisions because we are in an escalated state. There are so many situations we’re likely to encounter in care and community work that hold the potential to destabilize us.

When we are met with a crisis that reminds our subconscious selves of something scary or traumatic that has happened to us, when we see someone we care about hurting deeply, when we are facing systemic oppression that makes us feel helpless, when we are exhausted and something more is added to our plate, all of these things can be overwhelming to our brains and bodies and nervous systems.

And that doesn’t mean we need to avoid these situations- it just means we need to be prepared so we don’t make rash decisions or act in a way that is not in alignment with our values or morals.

Some of my favorite tools for this are self reflection questions. When I have ones I like, I make note of them in my phone or tuck them into my mind to revisit when things feel like they’re moving too fast. In school, we journaled and discussed reflection questions in almost every single session of every single class. At the time I thought it was a waste of my energy, but it prepared me for this work better than anything else.

I am going to offer you questions that I love and regularly ask myself as I meet new people, engage in new helping journeys, and choose how much I have capacity for on any given day or at any moment. Understanding that the messy parts of me might come out when the messy parts of others are on display has been instrumental in my ability to be an effective caregiver and advocate. I mess up all the time, but the more time I dedicate to understanding and caring for myself, the better I am at showing up for my community.

I find these questions helpful outside of formal or professional roles too! Being aware of how I am showing up makes me better for everyone I love.

One of my favorite things coming out of minneapolis right now is the protest art. Some of it is serious, some of it is silly, and all of it is keeping us going. I am so grateful for the ways this community is expressing itself, because I think art is really what keeps us alive.

I promised myself that I would spend time this weekend making art just for the sake of making it, and I decided some valentines themed anti ice art might be fun so that’s what I did.

I am not doing much else recently outside of working, organizing supplies, and trying to be a present support person so I don’t have much else to say!!! But happy almost Valentine’s Day, fuck ice. 🥰

love, your local tired mayor h8r

Yesterday morning my partner and I were at the vet with our cat, learning that she has either an abscess or a tumor under her chin, when I got a signal ping- another observer shot by ICE in south minneapolis. My stomach dropped. I tried to refocus on my terrified cat who was wrapped in a towel, being held with attack proof gloves by a lovely vet tech. I grasped for some semblance of presence while my phone buzzed in my pocket, illuminated by new details. I tried to have rational opinions and make good choices about our cat’s medical care, all while my brain spun.

As we received our bill and waited for the prescribed pain meds, I went out to warm up the car (-10 degrees is not good weather for cats). Within minutes, I found myself sitting in the driver’s seat bawling. My cat is sick. Vet bills are so expensive. How will I keep giving my neighbors money if we are drowning in vet bills? Someone got killed by the feds on a street I frequent. My neighbor needs groceries. My ICE whistle fell out of my pocket and I need to get a new one. My car is full of clothes for unhoused neighbors that I keep procrastinating bringing in to work. I need to get all of the moldy food out of my fridge. It is -10 degrees. People are being kidnapped and flown out of state. Babies are being kidnapped and being flown out of state. I have homework to do. I have to be back to work in less than 48 hours.

My overwhelm has made me feel extremely introverted and frozen recently, even in spaces where I usually feel energized and engaged. My inclination is not to go out and be with my community to make new connections- I want to stay in bed and scroll on my phone alone.

After the murder of Alex Pretti yesterday, community members called for vigils to be held in neighborhoods across the city. Soon my signal was pinging again, notifying me that our neighbors would be meeting at 7pm in our local community garden.

I looked out the window at the setting sun and checked the weather. The windchill was -15 degrees. It was already dark. Did I really want to go stand in the cold with my neighbors? No. But a little something pulled at my heart and told me to do it anyway, so I did (I am not one to disregard a call from my heart).

My partner and I suited up, me in a literal snowsuit, stuffed candles and lighters into our pockets, and trudged through the snow to the garden. We arrived to find fifteen or so neighbors standing in a circle singing, offering each other cookies and tea. A woman used her candle to light ours and we joined the group.

As i stepped into the circle and looked around at my neighbors, all standing outside in the freezing cold just for the sake of being together in this dark time, I knew attending was the right choice. My heart felt soft and settled and my brain became a little quieter.

“This is where we are supposed to be” my heart whispered.

Kind of annoying, but she was right.

When we got home and my fingers finally warmed up, I opened my notes app and started writing about the evening and the things my neighbors shared. I thought about how the goal of this federal operation is to throw us off balance, deplete us, and render us too exhausted and scared to connect with each other. And I thought about how profound it is that we are all pushing through and not allowing that to happen.

It is good to take breaks and have time to be in solitude, but it is also imperative that we don’t disappear into that solitude. I am working hard to expand my networks of support and care, even if that means going out into the cold dark night when I’m not sure I want to, or visiting my elderly neighbor even when I am tired, or calling someone back even if I’m not sure I feel like talking. The only way we build something new is together, and that requires all of us to put in the effort.

I know I keep saying it, but I am in awe of my community and how we are showing up. Here’s to another week of loving, fighting, and showing up in any way we can.

I wrote these last night after the vigil. They just kind of fell out of me into my notes app, and I absolutely love them. Keep on keeping on! We are doing it.

I have a very clear memory from my early twenties when i was at a street festival with some of my friends. There was a lone table set up where a community member was talking about police abolition. As we passed, i caught him as he was telling someone, “there will be a world after policing and prisons. There is something beyond this”.

I remember my heart skipping a beat when i heard those words. I couldn’t imagine anything different than what i knew right then, how things always were.

Today, i am much different. I’ve found myself returning to those words in times when i feel hopeless and defeated, as i try to fight against a system that seems determined to chew up and spit out every last one of us just so it can sustain itself.

Recently, as we have adjusted a little more to the ICE occupation here in minneapolis, we are also adjusting to the first -35 degree winds of the year. For me, that means more concern for people i love who live outside, trying to find more money for hand warmers and soliciting donations of gloves to give out. It means doubling down on fighting the systems that hurt us, and i am back to that reminder i heard a decade ago-

“there is a future beyond this”.

I haven’t been making much art or writing because most of my energy is elsewhere, but slowing down for a little bit tonight was a gift, and grounding in these reminders has me feeling recentered and committed.

So, these are things i have written in my notes app for when i am exhausted and discouraged:

i love you, keep going!!!

It is not out of the ordinary for ICE to shoot and kill people. Renee’s murder was the 9th since November, and that does not account for those dying in ICE custody.

Minneapolis is under occupation again, this time by ICE. My coworkers and I remarked to each other that yesterday felt like the summer of 2020, after George Floyd was murdered and we were occupied by the National Guard. This development is not shocking, but disheartening and gut wrenching. As we are mobilizing to defend ourselves and our neighbors, I have been thinking a lot about what lies at the very core of our actions, and that is (obviously) love.

It is reasonable to have emotional reactions to this- that means you’re human. But it is really important that you don’t freeze right now. No one is safe, we know that, and loving each other means that we need to fight back.

Whenever I start to feel overwhelmed or unsure, I ask myself what love would do in this moment. I come back to this question again and again, and I invite you to let love fuel your actions too.

Minneapolis is the best city in the world, and we love our neighbors.

Today I wanted to revisit something I wrote just under two years ago about a phrase I HATE:

“Beggars can’t be choosers”

I remember clearly when I wrote this series of fake-tweets, and I remember how angry I was feeling as I scratched and scribbled and let my feelings out. I was working at a nonprofit at the time, and my personal ideology was often at odds with other people I encountered in my work. Where I saw abundance, others saw scarcity. Where I saw opportunity, others saw dead ends and “lost causes”.

I believe choice is one of the most healing things we can offer to anyone, especially anyone who has experienced trauma and is at the mercy of systems. Trauma, poverty, homelessness, and abuse take away someone’s ability to choose, whether it is choosing what happens to their body, where they have to sleep, what they get eat, what they get to wear, or how they get to express themselves. Therefore, every opportunity to make a choice has the potential to be healing.

And that is so cool! And beautiful! And miraculous! But it also requires a shift in mindset.

The “beggars can’t be choosers” attitude is really common in nonprofits and other helping professions. I am in a totally different role these days and still encounter professional helpers who meet my mindset with rigidity and rolling eyes. Part of it is the result of overwork and burnout, but there is more to it.

We live in a society that tells us everything needs to be earned. Food, shelter, clothing, joy, comfort- you name it, it has a price. And that doctrine runs deep. So deep that it often rears its ugly head even when we are trying to help. We will show up and give people what they need IF they do xyz, or IF they are likable, or IF they show that they are “trying hard enough”. If you’ve worked in social services, I’m sure you’ve been told: “never work harder than your clients”.

(That is another phrase I HATE, but I will save that for another time).

And even I’ve been caught in that trap before! Scarcity and capitalism train us to believe that no one should expect anything other than the bare minimum if they can’t obtain it themselves. It is a hard mindset to shake, especially in stressful moments and times when resources feel scarce.

Additionally, most social services are focused solely on only giving people only what they need to physically survive. There is rarely talk of the importance of choice, dignity, and joy as a human right. Some of that is funding and burnout, yes, but I also think some of it comes from how trained we are to view poor people as reaping what they’ve sown. They should try harder, they should be nicer, they should just get a job, etc etc etc.

This morning I was talking with someone at my job, running down the list of harm reduction supplies, hygiene supplies, and social supports I could offer. They gave me a funny look, so I asked them what they were thinking.

“I don’t know,” they said, “it’s just weird to have someone be so nice, and offer me so many choices.”

And that is my point, illustrated in one 10 minute interaction. Because I was willing to center autonomy and choice (“what’s your favorite color of lighter? what flavor of candy do you want? do you want your pipes in one bag or two?”) maybe that person will feel a little more regulated, a little more loved, and a little more honored in their humanity.

People are hard on themselves, we don’t need to make it any harder.

The end.