When Maggie asked if I would take a stab at writing a blog post to wrap up November Project Brooklyn’s 2020, I felt hesitant. We especially know the power that published words hold, and I can only imagine how some people might feel reading another blog post from our city. I am even more aware of how others in our wider November Project community think of me now, and so, putting pen to paper (or well, fingertips to keyboard) appears first as a daunting task and one I do not take lightly.
If you were to rewrite this year, what are the things you would want to keep?
A workout instructor (at a virtual workout I took recently, because… you know, 2020) recently posed this question. It forced me to pause. We’re likely over the tropes of this year — over its
“unprecedentedness”, over thinking back at how all the things that took place in January & February couldn’t have actually happened this year. Like you (probably), I’m over the Zoom no-pants thing (but thank you all for always wearing pants to our Zoom workouts!), I’m over having to celebrate birthdays apart, but with matching Zoom backgrounds (but don’t worry, I’ll still join in for as many virtual birthdays as we have to!), and I’m definitely over those who somehow try to overglamorize “the good” that came out of this year, that possibly, maybe 2020 was actually their year after all. Yikes, this sounds rough! So, when an attractive cycling instructor, who had just kicked my ass with a spicy arms circuit, asked me to slow down and consider what it would be like to rewrite this year, and in that rewrite, consider the things I would keep. Well, I really found myself quite puzzled.
My mind quickly led to the privilege that allows a rewrite, of perhaps, a simple one, as this prompt suggests and even of more complicated, convoluted ones that many of us are striving for now. These days, my mind quickly leads to the privilege of everything, The Why in regards to how any of us get to do anything.
“There can’t possibly be things I would want to keep from this year,” my internal voice posits.
And like the crashing waves here in my hometown of Virginia Beach (they’re not too high, but constantly pushing themselves further and further up shore), all of NP Bklyn’s hardest moments from this year come rushing back. The foamy, salty water retreats, and I find myself with hundreds of earth-toned, smoothed-over-by-time, glistening-in-the-December-sun rocks, shells, and sea glass. Hundreds of moments, hundreds of memories, hundreds of Zoom squares, each one filled with a smiling face and two hands making an “awkward turtle” (or whatever fun bounce Maggie had come up with that week). Three of these hundreds of rocks, shells, and pieces of sea glass are worth sharing with you today — and are definitely worth keeping if our 2020 were to ever get its rewrite.
We, co-leaders Maggie & Jessica and the current members of NP Bklyn, are committed to ensuring NP Bklyn is an anti-racist community and that we continue to do our part in combatting racism both within NP Bklyn and in our broader communities. We understand that the pain experienced this year, caused by persistent harm, stemming centuries before it, pushed us to take this firm stance, to make this the top priority for us, just as it has become one for so many other organizations. We remain vigilant to ensure the space we create is one that is welcoming to all. That it provides equitable opportunities for all voices to be heard and responded to. And that when you choose to show up to NP Bklyn, whether in-person, on Zoom, and even when visiting from any other part of the interconnected, November Project world, you are affirmed in who you are by all of us, not just some of us.
When I think back on this year and truly, thinking along the longer timeline of my co-leadership from July 2019 to right now, I obviously could’ve never imagined that the majority of it would be spent in front of a computer screen, crushing Zoom workouts alongside all of you each week. I also never imagined that I would feel so changed at the end of this very year — that while the first seven months of leading in-person did push me (hard!) to evolve into the standard November Project Co-Leader (read: can lead a fierce + creative bounce, is physically fit + always striving to be more so, easily commands attention of the group + inspires others to #JustShowUp), I’d spend the next nine months dismantling this concept and pushing incredibly harder to find and embrace the Jessica that exists now. Maggie taught us that one of the most important rocks on all of our windswept shores is using your voice. If I were to rewrite 2020, I would keep the introspection and bravery that begs each of us to speak up. Particularly when it’s unbelievably hard, and especially when it feels like we have to give up a part of ourselves in the process.
The last shiny stone of this extended metaphor, the final topic I’d easily bring with me in a rewrite of 2020 is the quiet beauty of being uncomfortable. Every single one of us has faced some form of discomfort this year: losing a job, living with loneliness, having to temporarily or permanently relocate or entirely redefining our concept of “home”, contracting and beating COVID-19, losing loved ones to COVID-19, confronting the harm we have long caused others, and facing the implicit biases we still carry everyday, as well as knowing we can no longer choose silence and inaction because it’s easier to keep doing so. This year, it is heavy to carry even just one of these, and yet, most of us are juggling multiple. But there are benefits to carrying this load, to continue pushing through, to accepting this discomfort for what it is and not turn away from it. There is always growth on the other side. May we continue seeking discomfort. May we truly sit in it, because only when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable will we finally create the opportunities required for forward progress.
I think I can speak for both Maggie and myself when I say that it is your leadership (yes, you) that helped carry us through what I believe has been the most transformative year for our mighty, NP Bklyn family. You raised your hand when we needed it most. You spoke up when something felt off, and listened to others as they shared their stories. You organized yourselves, partnering with neighboring communities, to ensure the design of November Project is constantly probed, tested, and restructured to serve all of us. You have allowed Maggie and me to be unequivocally who we are and allowed us the time and space to change and grow, as well. I am seriously grateful for this and whew — DAMN, do I feel confident about NP Bklyn going into 2021!
Keep showing up for each other. I hear it’s the Bklyn way ; )
Yours in gratitude,
Jessica
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