In 2022, my blood pressure medicine couldn’t be found anywhere in Memphis. The closest pharmacy with it in stock was a 30 minute drive and there was no timeline on its availability. Last year, several of my friends struggled as the Adderall shortage impacted their mental health. A few days after Christmas, my dad learned from a news report that his breathing medication had been discontinued by the manufacturer effective immediately with no known alternatives. Tonight, I stopped by a CVS to pick up a prescription and the pharmacist said “we don’t have that.” He offered no solution. It was late. He was probably tired. So am I.
The past few days, I have scrolled almost obsessively reading articles and tweets about former Harvard president Claudine Gay’s resignation and the loud attack on the idea of diversity. The majority of my career has been in diversity work. Before, DEI was solidified as an acronym, I was managing demographic metrics for a large division of the US Navy. The pushback that I received in the cold, conference rooms of Navy Yard in 2008 on the relevancy of my work to the mission at hand are loudly echoed in present day discourse. My last role in DEI ended in December 2022. I left that position and organization with the clear understanding that DEI as a profession and the agreement of the necessity of stringent efforts to reverse the United States’ entrenched history of discrimination and exclusion of marginalized people, specifically for me Black people, were fading quickly, if not completely dead. Claudine Gay’s forced resignation was a death toll for years of work to overcome the problem of America’s racism written in the black ink of our constitution and the blood of our history. What is the future of my work?
My four year old car already needs expensive repairs, the result of cars quickly inspected and sold during the shortage propelled by COVID. Parts for body repairs continue to be delayed and a broken window can take weeks to fix. Our supply chain and our systems are either broken or working as they should. I cannot tell the difference.
And yet, I am privileged. My closet and floor are filled with more clothes than I can wear in a month. I watched the Grizzlies lose in person tonight. My overfed spoiled cat sleeps soundly as I write this on my new model iPhone. Life for me feels hard, but I know it’s even harder for more people than I can imagine.
A Memphis news channel reported this week the number of gunshots recorded by cameras on New Years Eve. They did not report the number of people in the cold that night while only one warming center was open in the city. We don’t care about the issues that matter only the ones we’re told are important.
Epstein’s list has been released. Nothing will change. 48-51% of American voters will still vote for Trump, a tax evader, a sexual assaulter, a deviant. The same people will tell you the number of times Claudine Gay repeated the same three words as someone else in a twenty year old dissertation as evidence for the sanctity of her demise.
It is a hard world. I fight. I’m tired. When I am finally able to sleep, I’ll wake up tomorrow and fight again. But, we are broken and maybe we always have been. However, I will continue to strive to be like Meg in A Wrinkle in Time, always believing in love, in good, and yelling at the void to save myself and my people. The other option is giving up and that feels like failure. But tonight, I’m exhausted.
So broken, and with such little recourse. I know we must care for ourselves & those we love, but so many have no network. It’s exhausting. Thanks for your words. Love to you, T.
I’m tired of being tired.