First of all, I truly had no idea that people could pay money for this newsletter without turning on the feature, so THANK YOU to everyone who pledged support before I even knew I needed it.

All of the volunteering and events pictured above happened just since I last wrote. I’m both grateful 🥰 and tired 😵‍💫. I lead a lucky life of going to super fancy events and then dropping off rescued food at an affordable housing complex the next day. I helped open a job training center for unhoused folks. I saw Nelly and Kelly Rowland sing while I was dancing in the front row next to Chrissy Teigen and John Legend. I did laundry for homeless folks. I flew private. I waited for 8 hours at LAX cause a United flight was delayed. It’s a lot of back and forth.

I’ve found people to be at their best in theses places of extremes. At galas, people are nice and aware of how lucky they are to be there, plied with food and drinks to be their shiniest and best selves. And you have never been greeted as kindly as by people eager to find a warm winter coat at a community giveaway. The food is great in both places, too - whether that’s caviar service or food grown in someone’s garden. At the food giveaway, one of the guys sorting through the bins for free food was a former chef, making plans of what he was going to do with a handful of broccoli. It all has potential. This makes the cognitive dissonance of moving between places of abundance to places of lack all the more jarring — these are all just people. Nice people. Who want similar things. I’m not trying to flatten the two lived experiences. I would 100% rather be rich. You think I want to wait 8 hours in LAX again?! I would, of course, very tastefully renounce my wealth after traveling to every country in the world, leveling my enemies and buying a diamond the size of an ostrich egg. But, after that, I would live very simply. Humbly.

All my fantasizing aside, I truly never want to live life without being in community with the poor. We recently lost Gustavo Gutiérrez — Peruvian philosopher, Catholic theologian and Dominican priest. His writings on the plight of the poor being integral to our collective liberation profoundly shaped my approach to my work. I am not nearly as radical or sacrificial as he asks us to be, but he inspired me nonetheless. He wrote:

If there is no friendship with [the poor] and no sharing of the life of the poor, then there is no authentic commitment to liberation, because love exists only among equals.

I don’t think you can be good at giving unless you are in relationship with the poor. To be honest, if you spend much time with people who are living in poverty, you realize it isn’t even so much about giving as it is about unjust systems that you benefit from. I wouldn’t want to just go to galas and Nelly concerts and cut ribbons in my role. That would profoundly change my sense of what was needed, what was owed. I get to work with and for the rich with and for the poor. It’s not exactly what Gutiérrez prescribed, but it’s where I’m at.

In the midst of all this, there was an election. If you’ve been reading my newsletters for very long, you know that the results have me feeling some kind of way. Things have become very uncertain for refugees, asylum seekers and undocumented folks. For women. For survivors of sexual abuse and trafficking. These are all groups I have worked with for more than a decade, and while I don’t speak for them (and people within those categories don’t all agree with me!), it’s a general concern based on who will be in power.

What do we do now. That’s been the thing I’ve been the most hung up on — the paralysis that comes with not knowing how to discern what will be most effective or useful. I don’t even know what to hope for besides things to go back to how they were in the somnambulist years of the Biden administration, which was hardly a win with the Afghanistan withdrawal and the U.S.-funded genocide in Gaza. It’s a grim baseline.

The writing helps. Even looking at the warmth of the photos above and reflecting with gratitude on the communities that welcomed me in the last month helps. But I try to reflect on what it all means and I come up short. I was at a talk yesterday and someone brought up a quote that helped me process the dissonance of going between extreme wealth and poverty, about the ups and downs post-election. You know the world is ending because I’m about to quote Brené Brown. I had hoped to be the rare white woman that doesn’t quote her, but here goes:

True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing and belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness.

When things are hard, I am usually so obsessed with what to do instead of returning to who to be. Belong to yourself first. I think that’s the most important work I’ve done to prepare myself for the fancy places, the forgotten neighborhoods and the 50 countries I’ve been to — being okay with myself wherever I am. The"practice” that’s referenced has been just that — it has taken therapy and trauma work and reading and tears and silence and lots of angry little walks. I’ve made mistakes, I’ve benefited from privilege, I’ve made sacrifices. I don’t know what to do next, but I know who I am. And I mostly feel at home as my authentic self in most spaces. Gutiérrez points out that love can only exist among equals. I want to see as many people as possible as my peers. How fortunate am I to get to inhabit both worlds. The dissonance is real, but so is the sense of purpose in both places. I love to be a part of something. I actually tend to struggle more with belonging when I’m alone. It’s why writing is so wrenching for me. I would rather have a talk about it or a brunch about it than write alone, listening to a sad little playlist. But, I have to admit, it helps once it’s over. It has also gotten easier to accept myself in the proverbial wilderness as I get older.

What I’ve landed on is this: I wish the policies and rhetoric were different the next four years, but I have to trust that I belong here. If I work at it, I can be in relationship with and extend belonging to others. I’m not sure what the refugee program will look like or how many sex offenders will be in the Cabinet, but I can continue to show up for myself and for my work, at both galas and community events, as my authentic self and trust that it is enough. Not in the ego sense or the savior sense, but in the sense of being part of a whole. I still believe we need each other. I see the need as much in rich folks as I do in poor folks.

As we head into Thanksgiving next week in America, I’m thankful for the the ways I give in my life and in my work. For all the places it takes me. And I am thankful for all of you. I hope you’re finding ways to take care of yourself and each other.

HERE FOR IT

• Docs about women who are successful and what it cost them — Both on Netflix, Martha and Mountain Queen are windows into the lives of high achieving women.

• Pie! - I can’t decide which one to make for Thanksgiving.

• ConnectHER Film Fest Films — I am a judge for this film fest (coming up April 4 and 5 at Paramount in Austin!). Kharbasha, a short film from Gaza, made me smile at the simplicity of a dream and marvel at how far it carries this girl in war and displacement.

• Arts in Austin — I bought art from Sage Studio at Austin Studio Tour, and I really love their mission.