documenting again.
a note on processing crisis + an interview from Mpls, a brainy book, my review of The Housemaid & more
Dear friends,
I downloaded an app that helps me delete pictures from my phone so I don’t have to pay for more storage. I have disproportionate levels of anger when I am prompted to upgrade space on my devices, and am consistently enraged by the monthly $2.99 apple fee that I swear is attached to nothing. So $7.99 for a month of making room, as it were, felt worth it (I am excellent at free trials and/or paid months followed by immediate “cancel subscription” action).
A second cold virus in thirty days had me on the couch more than usual this week, and I used that time to keep clearing photos. The app, like all apps, tries to incentivize you with reward stimulants. They separate photos by year and month and you move through the process of “Keep” or “Remove” until you’ve completed a whole month and then year. I’m working backwards, with the earliest photos on this phone dating back to 2013. I have moved from Minneapolis to Boston back to Minneapolis and now I’m in Cleveland in 2022. Photographic evidence of my life in Chicago exists in some other realm, and my early life in Cleveland doesn’t even register in my brain the way memories of digital archives do. Many of us have memories of photographs over real events, but at a certain point those memories of photographs really turned to memories of phone screens.
You can imagine I’m feeling nostalgic about it all. I’m also noticing periods of hesitation in my picture taking after moments of individual or collective crisis. I remember, of course, the dates of when my friend died in jail, of when Heather Heyer was killed, of when Peter got his cancer diagnosis, of the first news of Covid. In the photos surrounding those dates, there is always this heavy pause. This, when is it okay to take a picture of a flower again? or worse, a picture of a meal, or worse yet, a picture of us having fun? I can see that period of waiting in the (lack of) photos. Maybe even more noticeable in my decluttering project than the pause are the pictures that finally come on the other side. I keep feeling this strong sensation of relief when I see that I start documenting again. It’s proof I was able to show up better for myself and the people around me. It means I was paying attention to more than just the terror.
January felt a bit like this pause. It’s good and right to disrupt business as usual to focus on and grieve concentrated harm. It’s also good—and necessary—to keep going.
***
Below: a report back from a nurse in Minneapolis, essays and a podcast on art and Bad Men, the 2012 abolitionist essay I assigned my class this week that is as relevant as ever, and a nonfiction book that made my brain more alive than it’s felt in a while. Also: my review of The Housemaid, reactions to the Grammys, and other things that got me through the week. <3
love & solidarity,
raechel
PLUGS.🔌
There are three preparedness happenings I’d love to put on your radar. First, if you’re local to Cleveland, there’s an Emergency Kit Assembly event taking place on February 7th from 1-3pm. Margaret Killjoy will be helping out with this, and her newsletter and old podcast Live Like the World is Dying are also good resources. If you’re interested in learning go-bag type skills but aren’t in Cleveland, I highly recommend you register for Binyamina’s one-day class, PREPARE: an ecological bug out bag class. Her perspective and experience is invaluable. Finally, Nic Antoinette has started a Collapse series on their newsletter, and already I am feeling held by their thorough approach to exploring the topic practically, intellectually, and emotionally.
Also: you can still register for my Anti-Capitalist Money Workshop, which will provide a 101 of finance things for anti-capitalists who grew up without generational wealth and/or hung out with punks too long and were taught they shouldn’t care about money and/or people who just want to figure out basic money things in truly uncertain times. It will be a space for learning and venting, practical tips and liberatory imagining. February 28th; 1-3pm EST. Sliding scale $0-55.
Reading + Podcasts.
This episode of Final Straw features a Minneapolis nurse talking about the daily reality of folks under ICE occupation. Really powerful insight, and despite news outlets saying that agents are leaving, kidnappings are still happening everyday.
I spent time with three smart texts this week that engaged questions about art and Bad Men, and appreciated all of them so much:
