Conversation Starters

It can be difficult to find a succinct and helpful tool to spark a dialogue about emotional abuse.  Gas-lighting, most specifically.  Emotional abuse, in general, is difficult to explain to people because there's no broken bones, no visible bruises, no stitched up skin, no discernible sign of physical trauma.  I'm not here to say that one is better or worse than the other (clearly, they are both horrible and difficult to overcome) but with more "invisible" evidence of emotional abuse, it can be frustrating to know that what folks went through was damaging, demoralizing, and destructive but then still have the added knowledge that there will be people who don't believe them -- who say they're exaggerating -- who don't understand.  People understand a broken bone.  They don't understand a broken sense of self.  Maybe they think   get over it  or   get over yourself  or   we still talkin' about this?   The recovery period isn't as...

Introduction Critical Social Theory modernizes Marx’s views on social criticism by opening its umbrella over societal oppression in its many forms.  Critical Race Theory, Intersectionality, and other related theoretical pathways lead to -- and from -- the ability for certain swaths of the population to be in the spotlight or forced into the shadows.  According to Young (2012), “Injustice refers primarily to two forms of disabling constraints, oppression and domination” (p. 328) and involve decision-making procedures, divisions of labor, and culture.  Building on that foundation, Ortiz and Jani (2010) write, “Marginalized social groups suffer from restricted access to resources and opportunities which result in decreased levels of educational attainment, poorer-quality health care, lack of affordable housing, lower income levels, and lower general well-fare” (p. 182).  Community organizers who apply this lens to their work can draw focus to the places where systemic i...

  October 2016 was an exciting time to be a Cleveland Indians fan.  For the first time in nearly two decades (the last time being 1997), the team blazed its way through the postseason bracket to the World Series.  At the time, I was running a yoga and wellness center near Harvard Square in Cambridge, Massachusetts -- right in the heart of Red Sox Nation -- but in the fourteen years I’d lived in Boston, I’d never stifled my loyalty to my hometown team.  That October, I proudly wore my Cleveland Indians gear to work every day. That came with its challenges. It wasn’t the razzing for cheering for a team other than the Red Sox -- it was because of the logo brandished on many of my hoodies and t-shirts: Chief Wahoo, the red-faced cartoon drawing of a Native American, the symbol of Cleveland baseball since the 1940’s.  There I was, striding through the studio, glowing from my team’s big win the night before, only to have students walk right up to me and say, “How can ...

I've pulled a few things from social media that I thought could inspire different posts, but as I stare at them off to the side here, my brain wants to call them pieces of the same puzzle.   The first one is this: Then there's this: Finally, there's this: That last one is obviously from a Timehop of mine -- a quote from an episode of  This American Life  that bangs like a drum through my healing process:  Sometimes we're not ready to let go of the lie that preservers our existence .  Yes, Ira Glass.  Yes, sir. But that sentiment ties back to the notion of the first meme I shared:  so many broken children in adult bodies .  For where else do we learn that we're less-than besides our childhoods? Where else do these patterns get established and engrained?  Where else are we told more that  we are resilient  than in our childhoods?  Kids just bounce back.  They're too young to understand.  What we say or do now will ...

There's this thing that happens when white people hear terms like   systemic racism  or   social inequity .  They bristle.  They reject the premise of the question.  They double down explaining how hard they've worked for everything they've ever gotten in their lives:   I earned this house, this car, this vacation, this life .    No one handed me anything.  I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into everything I've ever done and will always be this way until my dying day.  I had to work hard -- no one can tell me I don't deserve every single thing I have . No one is telling you that you don't.  So chill.  I, too, am a white person who has worked very hard my entire life, who has gone through very difficult situations and, when the dust settled, was still standing.  I completely agree that there is a pride and an honor and a sense of accomplishment with every achievement I make.  I'm not automatically rich or worry-...

   "We are so confused and ill-prepared for life when we're young.   Schools fail us so much.   It's insane to me that I knew more about igneous rocks  than I did about sexual consent  or about depression or anxiety or  how the world actually works."  ~ Jameela Jamil This morning as I went about the business of waking up, brushing my teeth, flat ironing my hair, and dabbing on a smidgeon of makeup, I was listening to  this week's episode of  Conan O'Brien Needs a Friend  and was fairly stunned by the beautiful truths shared by his guest, Jameela Jamil.  I mostly know her as the high-maintenance Tahani from the delightful show  The Good Place , but was otherwise unfamiliar with her.  It turns out, she has quite a lot of thoughts about life and its meaning that made me stop and think -- and in the event of what I shared up-top, painstakingly rewind back through the episode to get her exact words. Why  is ...