*Opens google*, types “How to start a blog.” Per the internet, the first “step” is to create an introduction of yourself and explain what your blog is about. Being from the dawn of the internet generation my first thought was “oh, so a basic a/s/l intro.” For those of you who are not part of this generation, a/s/l is what we’d ask strangers in chatrooms in the 90’s and early 2000’s. A simple, get to the point question: Age, sex, location. At the time, these three things could entice you to chat or immediately leave the conversation. My generation was very trusting and naïve. As we’ve grown into adults, it seems that trust in people is gone and our lost innocence has shaped how we’ve decided to take on the world today. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to my “intro.” My initial introduction went like this:
So, by the way of introduction, I am a 38 year old married woman with one child.
I immediately deleted it. Writing that sentence just made me involuntarily cringe. After one paragraph, I’ve already tried to explain who I am based on social norms such as my age, marital status, and number of children, as if that is the most important thing about a person. Does anyone really give a fuck about that? I find these traits to be the least interesting thing in people. So why would I start my introduction this way? Is this something only women do? Would a man introduce himself the same way? Honestly, probably not. I don’t think I’ve ever read a male biography where he defines himself based off social norm “stats.” (Insert frustrated heavy sigh here). This is a prime example of the unlearning I’ve had to do in my 30’s. We don’t need to fall into a status quo. We, and especially women, have much more to offer than what we feel is necessary to say in a basic intro. I guess this is part of the reason why I wanted to start this blog. What else is there for me to unlearn and what knowledge can I gain to help create a world that is worthy of the children we bring into it? Since I REFUSE with all my millennial defiance and rage to fall into this patriarchal trap of identifying myself solely based on the appropriately checked boxes, let me try this again…
Just like everyone else in this world, I’m a complex human. I try not to define myself based on the current hat I’m wearing such as a mother, sister, daughter, friend etc. I don’t define myself by the job I have or my everyday tasks that keep my household functioning. I am many things on different days. Currently, I am the following: traveler, sports enthusiast, planner, motivator, companion, advisor, runner, contemplator, questioner, activist, gambler, adventurer, and if you ask my 8 year old… someone who loooooves to party (excuse me for always trying to have a good time!).
There’s a Taylor Swift lyric (be warned I’ll probably reference TS many times throughout this series) that says “how can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22” and I often find myself feeling this way each year. The older I get, the more I realize I don’t know shit. I’ve evolved from that trusting, naive child into an adult who finally feels confident to ask the annoying question “why.” Why are people entitled? Why are people racist? Why do people lie? Why can’t people take accountability? Why can’t some people feel empathy? Why don’t people vote? Why don’t people care? WHY? WHY? WHY?! As you can see, I have questions and I need a space to ask them. I need other people’s perspectives to understand how one arrives at a thought that is either opposite or the same as mine. The wondering and questions intensified during 2020. The year the world went to shit.
Since the pandemic, I’ve become easily triggered by people and their behavior. When did this world become so emboldened to be willfully ignorant? Since when did teachers and nurses become the enemy? Why are you celebrating the loss of my bodily autonomy? I found myself reading posts on social media from friends and family and thinking “what the fuck happened to you?” My response would be to immediately rage post back or just delete them completely. This anger and disappointment in humanity was overwhelming. These feelings went on for a couple years until one day, out of nowhere, I had this epiphany. Now maybe the years of therapy and Lexapro finally joined forces, or something in the cosmos finally had enough of my apathy, but whatever the reason, this random thought seemed to ease my mind and soul. “Stop talking. Just listen.”
As much as I’d like to take credit, I didn’t come up with this genius thought on my own. I met a friend I hadn’t seen in a while for dinner, and we got onto the topic of politics. This was a natural conversation as my friend works within this space and I had recently started to become more knowledgeable on the topic myself. I expressed my frustrations about the corruption in our local, state, and federal government, and the lack of accountability for these elected officials. In complete frustration I screamed “HOW CAN ANYONE VOTE FOR THESE PEOPLE?!” She took a deep breath, let it out and said, “people are upset and willing to listen to someone who acknowledges that they’ve been hurt.” I had to sit with this for a minute. They’re hurt? How? By what? They’re white males living in American. How the fuck have they been hurt? She later explained that, even though it’s hard for her to understand too, we need to listen to each other. Everyone has their rhymes and reasons. So, stop talking. Just listen. Had this advice come from anyone else, I’m not sure that I would have taken it very seriously. But this was her. A person I always admired. A person whose story I tell anyone who will listen. A person who bulldozed through every barrier set up to stop her.
Now, because you’ve read this far, I’m going to give you the gift of knowing her and her story and maybe you’ll appreciate why her words hit me the way they did. So let’s go back…
A/S/L – 14, Female, Houston TX. I met my friend freshman year in High School. We had English and Athletics together. My first impression of her was “class clown” and “loud.” Normally these traits in a classroom setting annoyed me (oh look, I’m type A!), but for whatever reason, I instantly liked her. She had an infectious laugh and great comedic timing. She leaned into her Mexican roots and would often make us laugh by busting out flows at the lunch table or impersonating George Lopez. The only flow I can still remember to this day was one where she rhymed the name ‘Suzy’ with ‘floozy.’ Those first few months of friendship consisted of passing notes between class or swapping the Mexican word of the day to each other. After a few months of surface level conversation and inappropriate joke telling, she had invited me to her place to hang out after school. When I asked her where she lived and she told me, “In the apartments by the school.” I never met a kid who lived in an apartment before. (Here’s your first hint of how privileged I grew up). Not thinking twice about it, I asked my mom if I could go. My mom replied with “you can’t go there, but she’s more than welcome to come to our house.” Naturally, I asked why and my mother did her best to dodge the question. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was my first lesson in stigmas and class warfare. (More to come on this topic in later posts).
As our high school years progressed our friendship continued to grow. We still played sports together and took the same classes, but her energy changed towards more academic clubs or what I would call “resume builders.” She would go on to join the National Honor Society, National Hispanic Institute, and run for class president. She easily won. It was then that I noticed she had a knack for leadership. She was able to fire up a crowd and talk to people from all communities (students and adults alike). Being from Houston, our school was extremely diverse with the following demographics: 62% Hispanic, 16% Black, 11% Asian, and 11% White. She was able to connect to all of them. By the time senior year rolled around, majority of our friends were going to the University of Texas, University of Houston, or Texas A&M in the fall. She was going to Incarnate Ward. I’d never heard of it. She told me she was going there because they offered her a full ride scholarship. I knew my college was paid for by my parents and my only job as a student was to get in. It never occurred to me that someone’s academic options would be limited based on their economic status (privilege).After earning her bachelor’s degree, she attended Law School at Texas Tech. It was in this period of transition from undergrad to law school that we briefly lost touch. It wasn’t until she passed the bar and took a job in Austin, (where I had recently moved) that we were able to reconnect.
In that absence of time, my friend changed. Not in a bad way, but in a way of complete self-identifying growth. At 24 years old, she seemed to know exactly who she was, while I was having an identity crisis. We met up at restaurant and shared appetizers and margaritas. Within a few minutes, with a sly smile, she said “so, I met someone.” I smiled and said “oh!? Tell me more!” With slight hesitation she responded with “well…it’s a girl.” As I took in her meaning, I immediately thought, “Wow she looks so happy to tell me.” I responded quickly with “That’s great! Tell me all about her. How did you meet?” She looked relieved, chuckled and followed up with, “why don’t you seem surprised that I’m gay?” Great question. I don’t know why I wasn’t surprised. I’ve only known her to date men and make dick jokes that always cracked us up. But I wasn’t surprised, and in fact, I was so ecstatic for her. She was in love and her girlfriend, now wife, was the perfect match for her.
Since then, we would meet up for random lunches, happy hours, and dinners throughout the years. Each time talking about something deep: Healthcare, LGBTQ+ community, work, religion, politics, and friends we had lost and mourned. It was during one of these talks where she acknowledged my anger with people and provided me with the guidance only a true friend could. Stop talking. Just listen. We’re all hurt, and some people see their hurt in leaders who they think can heal them. I sit on this thought often. The more I come back to this conversation, the less angry I become. At this point in my life, I’m no longer mad at people like I once was. I’ve begun to have patience for people I once perceived as morally flawed.
Fast forward to 2026, as she’s finding love and beauty in gardening, I’m finding it in nature and the pink skies during sunset after a summer’s rain. I’ve come to find that there is also beauty in people like my friend. She is no longer loud or crazy or making dick jokes when we meet. She’s mindful, patient, and intentional with her words. The adjective “active listener” also comes to mind. Before I wrap this up, just know there is A LOT more to her story. Frankly the parts I did share probably don’t even do her justice, but it’s the parts that stand out the most in our tenured friendship. I think the reason I am so inspired and in awe of her is because she was born into a life that was the opposite of mine. I had every opportunity provided for me to succeed, where she had to constantly fight her way in. She truly humbles me and I feel like people who share her story should be celebrated. To this day, she continuously gives back to her community through volunteer work, becoming a public servant, and making time for her friends and family who often seek her counsel. She is what I think of as the American dream.
So back to my “first step” in creating this blog… now that you know who I am and have a little insight into how I was raised, here is my official why.
I need this. I need to understand. I need to know that there is still hope in people and that positive changes in our communities, government, and social circles can still happen. I’m also fully aware that my constant need to ask questions and have these conversations can be exhausting. To my friends and family who have put up with it this long, thank you. Ideally, this blog can provide a community of understanding for each other and get back to what the internet was meant for. Connection.
As a preview, here are some big questions I’ve been chewing on recently. Let’s discuss in the next few weeks:
- From Boomers to Doomers – The generation that was provided with so much prosperity seems to want to destroy future generations from achieving the same. Why?
- Did the internet create connection or division? – Looking at you Zuckerberg and Musk
- Red vs Blue- Are political parties necessary?
- Did religion fuck me up, or did people fuck up religion? – Raise your hand if you’ve been actively recruited by Christians more than once?!
- Empathy – a curse or an asset? I cry, therefore, I must be weak, woke, and a woman.
- Pick your stigma – socio economics and class warfare.
So if this feels like something you’d read during your poop time, stay tuned.
Signed – 38/F/Texas