Preparing for the Storm & Entering My Brown Woman Villain Era
I was on a conference call shortly after Vice President Kamala Harris accepted her historic nomination for President of the United States at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, just 5 miles from my home. Only I could not partake in the jubilation. My view of her now stood in sharp contrast to the 2020 election when she joined Joe Biden in his campaign for the White House. As a fellow Tamil daughter of immigrants, I held both hope and skepticism as I cast my vote to ensure the 45th president would not see a second term and this country would not sink deeper into white supremacy. I never could have anticipated how drastically things would change in the next 4 years, but I'll revisit this when I am ready.
Back to the call, I was joined by some colleagues, one of whom is a close friend, all of whom I deeply respect, but it was tense. I mean, I was tense. I was unsettled about the subject of our discussion, not because of the subject itself, but because I honestly did not know the best way to present it in the current political and social climate. It is one thing to do a difficult thing when the right way is clear. It is quite another to do a difficult thing when the right way is unclear. Holding nuance and intersectionality in perfect tension on the first anniversary of a state-funded genocide and the Presidential nomination of a Black and Tamil woman who again proclaimed her support and commitment to a murderous apartheid state had me in a turmoil that couldn't be siloed. I didn't want the advocacy of one thing to be construed as a wholesale endorsement of this candidate. My friend, who has done this difficult work much longer than I and long before it became trendy, had a resolve and confidence I could not access amid the angst I felt. Eventually, we were able to work through it, and the meeting ended in a solid place. After our call, my friend reached out to express that our exchange left her feeling troubled. She worried that I felt that my concerns were being dismissed. But I did not feel that way. Her confidence at that moment was grounding, and I trusted her. Even when we were not in alignment, I knew we would get there. The discomfort she sensed was my angst and the weight of the times colliding, not offense, but she cared enough to bring it up. Our friendship was important enough for her to ask. That act of care meant the world to me. It allowed me to engage in a deeper understanding with my friend, further strengthening the trust and safety that existed between us.
How do we disagree without losing sight of one another? I ask myself this question often.
Safety in relationships is not freedom from accountability or unwavering allegiance. Instead, it should provide room for honesty and transparency without defaulting to offense or victimhood when we feel discomfort. There must be a path forward that doesn't require someone to assume the villain role. Of course, this only works with people who engage honestly and can be held accountable. Because, let's face it, some relationships only work when we always agree, or look the other way when we don't to keep things copacetic and maintain the illusion of harmony.
I have lived through the end of relationships that could not hold the weight of truth-telling, the disappointments of humanness, or an opposing viewpoint. I have also found deep love and sanctuary in the ones that can. It is not the absence of conflict but the ability to face it together and move forward with a more profound knowing and understanding of one another.
It is December 1, 2024, as I write this. We are 421 days into the assault on Palestine and 50 days away from the second inauguration of a known criminal, sex offender, racist, and bigot who has vowed to restore this country to its white supremacist and patriarchal roots and go after anyone who stands in his way. We have also witnessed truths about one another that we cannot afford to unsee.
At this time, I feel a renewed call to be grounded, armor up, and prepare for the storm ahead. Part of this preparation is to shore up my inner circle and beloved community. That means holding on to the people and relationships I can count on without reservation, the ones that are built on trust, mutuality, and reciprocity, where I am challenged in ways that make me better and call me to my highest self. The ones that do not drain my spirit or assault my personhood. The ones where I'm not left to wonder where I stand if I matter or am genuinely cared for. It is also the season of letting go, permitting myself to stop caring so much, trying so hard, and allowing things to be what they are. Hypervigilance will be employed for actual threats, not trifling people. I will not be a receptacle for the projections of other people's unhealedness. This is my Villain era and I plan to remain here indefinitely.
Dedicated to my fellow tender-hearted and sensitive souls.
With Love, Rebekah
