Sunday, November 20, 2016

Threads


My mind is on a loom—
Slowly stretched by  innumerable fingers.
Moving from minute chaos to a grand design
Whose pattern is beyond my grasp.

Many contributing ideas, plans, people,
Threads sourced from slow-growing proteins
From some animal in the Andes—
Through sea, and slop, and snow

Made its way to be jumbled in my lap
On a porch in Oregon—neatly dyed and repurposed.
Ready to be infused with my ‘individuality.’
I label these threads as my own

But I wasn’t on the mountain
Watching over the herd, smoke piling
Out of my mouth and off the hills.
As morning dew evaporates,

Hosts munch a photosynthetic routine
Marching and growing another day—
Completing processes determined
By millennia of biological wiring.

The alpaca feels purpose.
The shepherd feels purpose.
And where do I find mine?
My threads are energy borrowed

From the sun and evolution and privilege.
This design is simply light reflecting off matter,
Bouncing back on my neat retinas
Infused with meaning by cortices—

A bubbling miasma of chemistry and coincidence.
This is my existence—Biology has designed me
With a illusory sense of purpose
To keep busy on the loom.

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

The System is Rigged--Higher Education and My Discontents


Is it worth it to go to grad school? This is a question I have been grappling with for many years now. I knew from a young age that I was interested in people--what made them think and behave. I was committed to studying psychology and pursuing advanced degrees to be able to practice therapy. So I went to college, like most privileged white children--it wasn’t a question that I would head straight to college after high school. It was necessary--a no-brainer. In fact, people who did not go straight to college in my small town were looked down upon.

I wish I would have put more thought into the opportunistic time in life that was--being 18, without debt or any financial commitments. What a perfect time to travel, see the world, meet some interesting people, have your views challenged. But instead I trudged on the path laid out for me by my highly educated parents.

I worked hard in college, maintained a 4.0 GPA and graduated in 3 years. I chose to go to a school where I could get a scholarship, and ended up with minimal amounts of student loan debt--about $20,000. I wish someone would have explained to me better about the realities of debt--what that looks like on a daily basis after you start working. When I was making the choice to go to college, all the adults around me kept saying “Don’t worry about the money! Go to a good school and it will pay off! Everyone has student loan debt, it is an investment!”

And maybe all those adults were speaking on behalf of their experience attending undergrad in a time where that degree meant a lot more. An undergrad degree nowadays is practically equivalent to a high-school diploma. It doesn’t make you stand out, it just allows you to pass certain ‘qualification’ gates in the job-search.

Don’t get me wrong, I am happy I went to college. I definitely learned so much, met some lifelong friends, and partied enough to have stories to recount for many years. And I am thankful my amount of debt is not so overwhelming, but it is still significant, considering the average pay in my field.

With a psychology bachelors, there aren’t many entry level fields with high-paying jobs to get into. I was drawn the social work, so my first job out of college was at a transitional housing facility where I essentially ‘worked the door’ and made sure clients got their meds, broke up fights--that kind of thing. My starting wage with my expensive degree? $12.75/hr. And it was only a 32/hr a week position.

Essentially, I was taking home around $1,300/mo from this job and living in a fastly growing city--Portland, OR--this was barely enough to squeak by on, without having to think about debt repayment. Because of my student loan payment of about $250/mo (which is affordable comparably) I had to get a second job at a coffee shop where I made $10/hr in base wages and around $6/hr in cash tips on top of that.

I was baffled at the easy money I made working as a barista--a job I definitely did not need to have a degree for, in fact I worked as a barista all through high-school and during college. I made between $16-$18/hr at this coffee shop--granted I did not get PTO or benefits, but it seemed so twisted that the ‘field-related’ job I worked so hard to actualize truly wasn’t enough to live off of.

I live in a city full of service-industry workers with colorful academic letters pinned to their names--M.S, M.A., M.B.A, PhD even. Why are they serving sushi or pouring your nightly IPA and not working 9-5 in their prospective fields of study? This is obviously rhetorical--because it does not pay to get a higher education in many fields.

But many of us feel stuck, unable to grow our career without those credentials. As a social worker or psychologist--it is necessary to get at least your masters to have a chance at promotion. And even those ‘higher-wage’ positions awarded to masters-level workers aren’t significantly better pay, maybe between $33,000-$40,000 as opposed to $24,000+ for us with bachelors.

How is my generational workforce expected to move through the conventional life-course without a livable, stable wage and adequate health benefits? None of us can afford to have children. No one would green-light us for a mortgage with that atrocious debt-to-income ratio. And yet we are seemingly unable to move-up in our careers without taking on the higher education debt commitments with a laughable ROI.

I read everywhere that you shouldn’t take on more student loans than your expected first-year of work salary. I’m sorry, but what kind of advice is this? Does anyone know where they can complete a grad-program for less than $50,000? Except for you PhD-research brainiacs who seem to get grad-school paid for because of your research grants. Getting a masters level education with a smart ROI is not possible for us in social service. The system has set us up for failure.

I have some friends in marketing who are making over $60,000 in their first few years out of undergrad. And I just can’t believe the disparity and how discouraging is it that people working to promote giant company interests make 150% more money than clinical social workers and mental health counselors doing therapy, case management, crisis relief, trauma-informed care--working for the betterment of society as a whole. Maybe I just chose the wrong field--of course I don’t mean that. I love my work and I feel just as passionate about psychology as ever, but I do feel as though I am in a precarious position.

I have been thinking for many years about going to graduate school. I’ve wanted to get my masters so I can work as a certified counselor and run a private practice. I’ve even researched the programs I’d like to attend and narrowed it down. Every year I think I will apply, because it just ‘feels like it’s time.’

I say this because there is a certain ‘ceiling’ you will hit in the social work field with just an undergrad degree. I love the organization I work for, I make a sustainable wage (for a privileged single woman) and have good benefits. But I know that I can’t keep making this amount of money and accomplish the things I’d like to in life--buy a house, have some children, work towards retirement.

A rock and a hard place. Most masters level counseling programs are going to put me in 6-figures of debt, and yet the median starting wage for certified counselors is around $45,000 (optimistically). It’s not sustainable. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life paying off my education when I could be investing that money elsewhere.

I am sure there are countless others who ride the ‘grad-school’ mental rollercoaster like I do. And after chewing through these laments day-in and day-out--I don’t have any good answers. A fellow social worker I was speaking with the other day told me, “You’ve gotta partner up with someone who makes money--that’s the only sustainable way to do this work.”

Now I won’t go into all the feminist issues I have with that statement, but what this person said does carry weight. Is that really the only option available to those of us called to social service? Partner-up or live in poverty?

Something’s gotta give.

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Lingam and Chai



I bounced in the passenger seat with Bhanwarji swerving around camels, potholes, military tankers, while explaining to me the benefits of arranged marriage. Old Bollywood tunes filled the car with nostalgia in complement to the rolling Rajasthani dunes passing by. I checked the backseat to see my good friend, Trupti, smiling wide, singing along, “Chore, chore, chupke, chupke!”
We’re headed to Panawara, near Baitu in the Barmer district of Rajasthan. That’s a lot of words to explain a location but in the desert, tribal land means everything.
“Shall we have another chai?,” Bhanwarji grins wide as he speaks. I nodded in acquiescence. One always agrees to more chai as a guest in India; if your bladder is tapped, you make room.
We sat down at a roadside tea-stall--big vats of frothing milk swirled by chaiwallas as we called our order. I took a moment to inhale the desert scenery along with the cardamom. India is renowned for its diversity. And having traveled to many different states in the country, I can attest to the fact that Rajasthan--its people, culture, livelihood--is truly unique.
Rajasthan, in Hindi, translates to ‘Land of the Kings.’ It is a place of rich historical significance and home to tribes whose livelihoods and customs have little changed over the centuries. The most predominant ethnic group in Rajasthan are the Marwaris. The Marwari people come from an area in Rajasthan formerly known as Marwar. The word Marwar descended from the Sanskrit word Maruwat, where maru means ‘desert’; quite literally, ‘the people of the desert.’
This traditionally nomadic culture is known for its elaborate dress, hardworking business ethic, animal husbandry, and food drenched in ghee. It is common for young men to find jobs in construction and travel great lengths around the country to provide for their family. Women and children are often left in the villages to manage the land as per village-leader’s best judgement. Most families own livestock and farm--an almost entirely subsistence-based lifestyle. The Marwari are very business-oriented people who set-up successful companies and organizations all over the country, but never forget their desert roots.
Compared to other tribal cultures in India, the Marwari are quite orthodox with their customs, especially involving women. Child marriage is still quite common and huge dowries involving land and gold are paid upon the exchange. Independence is not a favorable trait for females in this culture. Gender dynamics are slowly shifting in some of the higher socio-economic castes--with daughters being sent to school and university--but these changes exist in a stratified matrix of patriarchal lineage.
“So, what is the plan, Kendallji? What do you plan to teach my girls?,” one such patriarchal figure posed as he slurped chai from a chipped teacup.
I exhaled, glanced at Trupti who was grinning, and began my spiel. How I came to the desert on behalf of Education for Equality International, whose mission is to empower and education young women and girls in developing nations. This project ,which EEI founder, Fonda Sanchez and I dreamt up, was aimed at making comprehensive sexuality education accessible to young women of this region.
Before the trip, Fonda and I discussed in length about how true empowerment starts with the body-- with awareness of the body, the cultural influences controlling choices regarding our body, and by creating a safe space where our bodies’ health can be discussed free from judgment and stigma.
The plan was to hold a workshop involving the same group Fonda held her ‘Brave New Girl’ program with earlier that spring--to broaden the scope with which this cohort can understand and implement feminine empowerment in their lives.
India treats sex like Victorian-era Europe. It is very taboo to speak of sex, despite the fact that India is second most populated country on Earth*, with the third largest HIV/AIDS epidemic in the world** and sky-high rates of childhood sexual abuse***. It is clear that even with the hush-hush norm, people are still having sex without correct knowledge of the possible repercussions.
Of course, with the help of my friend Trupti, who served as interpreter and cultural liaison,  we tip-toed carefully around the subject of sexuality while expounding upon our mission with the village leader, Bhanwarlal Choudhary. I explained my elaborate expectations and vision with Bhanwar over countless cups of chai. When I inquired as to the logistics of the program, he nodded assuredly, stating all will be taken care of.
Back in the car, we surfed the sand from village to village, until arriving at Bhanwarji’s residence. We were greeted by his mother, wife, and daughter--three generations of Marwari feminine power. Only his daughter spoke English, but the language of a host transcends cultural confines.
Once stuffed with roti slathered in ghee and the spiciest curried vegetables I’ve ever eaten, we were shown to our cots. As I brushed my teeth with well-water I couldn’t help but notice the stars. It seemed like the entire universe was intricately embroidered into that night-sky. After feeling adequately emblazoned with the secrets of that desert vista, I shuffled to bed, falling asleep quickly with the taste of chili still in my mouth.
The next day we caught a ride to Bhanwarji’s office and the headquarters for EEI’s partner organization, Lok Kalyan Sansthan. We were informed that we would have the whole day to conduct our project as the girls were pulled from school. After being introduced to the LKS team, we sat around a conference table for some chai. The sun was rising in the sky and the heat began to hang heavily on our shoulders. I shuffled through my curriculum, eager to meet the girls.
I was led to a room on the second floor where the girls were seated in a circle. They smiled and whispered to each other. Trupti and I greeted them in Hindi. Bhanwarji said a few words and left us to our devices.
We spent the day holding open-ended discussions and initiating fun activities surrounding the many topics of sexual health: puberty, menstruation, pregnancy, contraception, STI’s, gender roles, sexual relationships/abuse, etc. Trupti interpreted with unfounded cultural finesse, considering there aren’t literal translations for many of these words because sex simply isn’t discussed in this culture.
It was challenging to introduce such a sensitive topic in the short amount of time allotted, but while responses were minimal, interest was certainly stirred. I had little expectation as to the baseline knowledge these young women would have, with some of them already married and certainly sexually active. What we found was quite astounding.
Most girls had a basic understanding of how pregnancy works, they were familiar with puberty and menstruation by personal experience, but they reported never hearing about it in school. When it came to contraception, only one girl reported knowing what a condom was, let alone the other methods. No one had ever seen a condom or understood how it worked. You can only imagine how they buried their faces in embarrassment when I pulled one out for a demonstration. All of the participants reported never having heard of any STI, including HIV/AIDS. All this information was new to them and many questions ensued.
After all the nitty-gritty-sex-stuff modules were complete, Trupti and I facilitated an open discussion about gender, sexual abuse, rape, and relationship dynamics. It is rare for teachers to ask students to share their opinions or experiences in India, but the girls slowly opened up and asked salient personal questions. To close, we ate snacks, took pictures, and giggled alot; they presented gifts for me to bring back to Fonda. With lots of hugs and waving, Trupti and I were hustled back to the car.
As a whole I know this project was impactful for the girls. Most of the information we presented was foreign and extremely valuable given the age group. There is always room for reflection after conducting projects in a different culture. How can we make this information more culturally accessible? What are the true needs of the community that we need to focus on for next time? These are the questions I bring home to brainstorm with Fonda and the other members of EEI.
I feel so honored to have been provided the opportunity to further Fonda’s vision of young women and girls’ empowerment and education. I am beyond thankful to our host Bhanwarlal Choudhary and to Trupti who took the time to travel to the desert with me and bolster this project in every imaginable way.
The network Fonda has created in this village is very special. LKS holds great sway in the community and this partnership has the potential to spur immense change on cultural, socioeconomic, and developmental levels. I am confident that Education for Equality International has some very exciting and progressive projects on the horizon and I personally can’t wait to get back to lay under that Rajasthani night-sky.



Sunday, October 18, 2015

Last Breath



I bought this flower
While holding your hand.

And here it sits--strange
How it lives in your absence.

Your fingerprints are everywhere.
The coffee cup your lips touched--

The way the blankets lay just so--
Blueprint for a sleepy body.

Wilting petals whisper
Memories, this dahlia exhales.

After great pain, a formal feeling comes

 
 
After great pain, a formal feeling comes –
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –
The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’
And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’?

The Feet, mechanical, go round –
A Wooden way
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone –

This is the Hour of Lead –
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –
First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –
 
---Emily Dickenson 

Sunday, September 6, 2015

Gray Autumn


Autumns cloak crunches underfoot
Like paper cranes folded in
The feverish propulsion of summer.

You tell me to take my shoes off
So they can be rubbed—the knots
Tied in a ceaseless trudge

In shitty clogs on damp wood floors
I walked to you—
Rain dripping off my brow,

Golden crisps blowing in from outside--
And you told me its okay to rest now.
And that even trees get tired.

They’ve shed layers to reveal quiet bones.
And although grayness has taken hold,
You tell me to have faith—

That there’s life in those veins
A capacity for phototropism
Even winter can’t stamp out.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Passage O soul to India!


Passage O soul to India!
Passage, immediate passage! The blood burns in my veins!
Away O soul! Hoist instantly the anchor!
Cut the hawsers—haul out—shake out every sail!
Have we not stood here like trees in the ground long enough?
Have we not grovel’d here long enough, eating and drinking like mere brutes?
Have we not darken’d and dazed ourselves with books long enough?

Sail forth—steer for the deep waters only,
Reckless O soul, exploring, I with thee, and thou with me,
For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared to go,
And we will risk the ship, ourselves and all.

O my brave soul!
O farther farther sail!
O daring joy, but safe! Are they not all the seas of God?
O farther, farther, farther sail!

--Walt Whitman
“Passage to India”


As fate would have it, I am called back to India. The place where my deepest transformations germinate. It’s not easy quitting a job in your field—with generous PTO, benefits, and a livable schedule—what the hell was I thinking? In this economy? With this much student-loan debt? It would be so much easier to play it safe. Oh but how security eats at my soul! Give me transformative challenge! Give me ecstasy and defeat that break my understanding of self on its backside—shedding another layer of ego and getting closer to the center. If I were to write a letter to my future generations, I would tell them to choose paths that feel right, even if they don’t make sense, even if you don’t have a back-up plan. We have to let go in order for the universe to send us something new. Whenever I feel stuck, it is up to me to break free—with choices, intention. There is a lot of deep work that still needs to be done. But Hopefully I am getting closer. There is no end point though. I have no plan.