My partner's been on strike for 4 weeks: Here's why I support him

In the past, Labor Day has never meant more to me than the opportunity to sleep in on a Monday. This year, though, is different. For the past few weeks, my family and I have been talking a lot about what it means to be a worker in today’s society, especially in light of the fact that the country elected a president who would probably struggle to understand the hardships of the average American. 

On August 15, my partner and about 300-some members of the security force at Savannah River Site went on strike.

Checking in on my writing goals: I'm petrified to tell my own stories

Recently, I was flipping through an old notebook I use to free-write late at night. Well, at least I used to. It only took flipping a few pages back to find where I'd chronicled the time and minutes between contractions during labor with my daughter. She was born in February — of last year. 

Here we are, about six months into the year, and I've been thinking a lot about my writing goals recently. In addition to maintaining my daily news writing gig at VICE's Broadly, I've broken into a couple of new publications, including Brides.com and the newly unveiled VICE Impact. I've also been blogging regularly over at Creative Loafing Atlanta, which allows me to work with my mentor again, in addition to keeping tabs on what's happening in my home state. 

What I haven't done thus far this year, though, is place a piece that tells one of my own stories. I love narratives for the way you can play with language to paint a vivid scene that draws a reader in. It's my favorite kind of writing to read and do. 

What's holding me back, though, is that lately I haven't been so keen on the kind of self-reflection that yields a great personal narrative. Many writers keep a journal to help them work through stuff: ideas, random thoughts, even memorable conversations. But I haven't written anything for myself in almost a year.

Simply daunting.

Simply daunting.

I could blame my never-ending fight to find the time, between working and mommy-ing, but that feels like a cheap excuse. If I'm being honest with myself, I think I'm a little afraid. I don't know what I'll find once I start digging within myself. Since almost simultaneously starting this mom journey and full-time writer journey, I guess I've been nervous to check in with myself about how it's all going. 

I suppose that's what being a writer is all about: Making yourself uncomfortable for the sake of your work. And I know once I start writing, the good stuff will eventually flow out so easily. It's just a matter of getting those first few words down on paper.

Then I wonder: Do I even have interesting stories to tell? 

What I'm reading: Not a damn thing. Oh, wait, actually, we recently got a subscription to The Atlantic and the digital version of the Washington Post. What's waiting for me to read but I'm too sleepy at the end of the day to dive in? Moms Who Drink and Swear by Nicole Knepper.

Why I took part in the Augusta Solidarity March

On Friday, the day Donald Trump officially became the 45th president of the United States, I took my daughter to the park with the intention of not thinking about politics. Earlier in the day, I joked with my editor about the day being set aside for mourning. But I really cried when I watched the Obamas welcome the Trumps into the White House. 

I live in a very red county now, so it shouldn't have surprised me to see, on our drive to the park, white men standing on the corner of a busy intersection, waving a Confederate flag and holding up a sign that read, "America is back!" My chest tightened, but I pushed it out of my head so I could enjoy playing with my baby girl. She just started walking, so every day is a new adventure with her.

But the next day, Saturday, I joined about 600 people from the Augusta area to march in solidarity with the historic Women's March on Washington.

On the last day of 2016, writing goals, and my kid

It's the last morning of 2016, and my kid and I are hanging out in my home office. Correction: I'm hanging out in my office; my kid is wreaking havoc. Toys, office supplies and books I've yet to read are scattered everywhere. The play area I've set up for her under the window remains neat and untouched. 

I'm in planning mode, but half-heartedly. What do I want to accomplish next year, professionally and personally? How do I continue to grow my business and manage the never-ending needs of my tiny human? What am I going to do about childcare, now that she's so close to walking and will undoubtedly no longer be content to sit in my office and play while I work? 

Then I look over and see my kid. She's got a marker in one hand and a book in her lap -- the picture of a future liberal arts major. 

What I'm reading today to bring me crashing back to the real world

It's been a long five days since I sat at my desk and engaged with the online world. Are you still trying to clear the post-Thanksgiving fog, too? Here are five articles I read this morning to bring me crashing back to the real world:

"After Florida passed its ‘Stand Your Ground’ law, killings went up" via Fusion

"It Pays to Be an Assertive Woman in the Workplace, New Study Says" via Broadly

"The Toll Activism Takes on Your Body" via Tonic

"Moroccan state TV apologizes for airing domestic violence makeup tutorial" via Mic

"Trump pushes conspiracy theory that ‘millions’ voted illegally for Clinton" via Washington Post

 

Ava DuVernay, Korryn Gaines: One day of writing, two different black women

Today, I published two pieces on Vice's Broadly. The stories they share are very different, but they both focus on a black woman who caught headlines this week. 

The first piece is about Selma director Ava DuVernay, who just became the first woman of color to work on a film with a $100 million budget. Only two other women have reached this feat. With Disney's full confidence, she's bringing us A Wrinkle in Time, due out next year.

Insert that awesome hashtag #BlackWomenDidThat.

When good writing makes you light-headed

Because there's never enough good writing out there tackling women's bodies, I share with you this essay by Zsofi McMullin titled "The Uterus Must Go On." In it, she confronts the fact that she won't have any more children after her doctor discovers a large fibroid.

My god. At one point, I had to take to skimming sentences to keep from passing out from the imagery. (Honestly, I have no idea how I birthed a human -- I get so light-headed when confronted with images of human trauma.) But it's such powerful writing, I reread the piece a second time, when I could stomach it.

What I love about this essay is the unapologetic rawness. The language is visceral, and the intentional gaps in narrative force you to into the writer's shoes -- when she's in the shower, when she's in the hospital. And if you're a woman, it's not hard to imagine what she's going through.

Dear world. More like this, please. 

 

 

On being nostalgic for my former life

Motherhood wasn't something I'd ever written down on my list of goals, especially in the last few years of my life. But here I am, tapping away at a quick blog post while my tiny human naps. Becoming a mother is the most ________ thing I've ever done. I leave that space blank because I'm still trying to figure out how to describe this. My heart is bursting with love for that kid.

But there's still a part of me that looks over my shoulder at my old life. More so recently, as it's now been a year since I left a full-time job in journalism.

Recently, Redbook published a very cool story package called The Mom Gig. In it, the writers explore what it means to be a stay-at-home mom. I guess that's my life right now. I haven't actually said those words out loud yet--"I'm a stay-at-home mom"--because they feel like pants that don't quite hug my curves snugly enough. But it's technically true.