a lot of people have asked me if i like SF recently, and whether or not i want to stay in the city. when i think about this question seriously, a bunch of faces flash in front of my eyes. these faces could very well just be fleeting connections passing through my life, and could just as well be faces that i keep around in my life for much longer. they’ve created a colorful mosaic of the city in my mind, a representation that feels far too real and messy to clearly lay out an answer. so instead, here’s my best attempt at remembering the mosaic.
(all dialogue is paraphrased and likely contains major errors)
B from the food pantry
B: “yeah, i really like this community. you know, some days are harder than others, but this, this always helps me get out of bed in the morning.”
he looks at me with ever-so-slightly teary eyes and the saddest smile that i’ve seen in a long time. he has cancer, but i don’t find that out until later. i can’t really tell why he cherishes this community so much, but at the same time i feel like i understand. i feel bad assuming his intentions, but i also really need it at the moment: i assume we connected over the fact that there’s so much Bad Stuff in the world, but at least local communities like this food pantry exist. that in a real yet surreally isolated world, these programs work on the ground on problems that people fight about over the news and social media. he’s the first person that i really talk to in this new community, and i instantly feel safe.
we talk about how we’re both originally from the east coast. he says “people here are just different”, and i agree, but neither of us can quite put a finger on it. i forget how, but somehow we end up talking about what college i went to, and i mention that i recently graduated from MIT. my new friends (who are still students in high school) overhear and i’m instantly reminded of how privileged of a background i come from. “man if i went to MIT i’d be walking around with it on a nametag”, she says. another man overhears and says “wow that’s awesome! going to school and getting a degree is a great for your future — maybe you can give some advice to these girls“. he winks.
i think about what it means to be a good ally. i think about how counterproductive my survival tendencies from previous contexts (college, high school acquaintances) are. i ask myself why i feel so weird saying it, and i think the biggest reason is because i anticipate others projecting a lot of value onto it in a way that i believe is unfounded. unfounded because i don’t think me going to mit was any harder than living the life of a working class american. but if i could be a resource to these girls in the future, isn’t that allyship?
C from mission house sesh
C: “yeah i’m pretty new to this whole house thing too. i’ve taken a good amount of nicole’s classes, but she definitely adds her own spin onto house so i haven’t trained up as much on the fundamentals. but i’ve been getting good drill exercises from the people here. actually here, let me show you a good one…”
it’s my first time at a dance session and i’m feeling quite nervous. i distract myself from the fear by talking to and meeting some people. i recognize a dancer from the previous class, and decided to approach them.
after they show me some drills, i thank them for welcoming me into the space.
C: “it’s no problem! people here really took me under their wing when i was first new to the space, so the least i can do is give back and pass the energy along.”
i have at least two other interactions like this over the next three times i go to the session. D, E, F, their faces and the clothes they were wearing the first time i met them, flash through my mind, fresh.
the amount of unconditional love, acceptance, and giving in the dance space is something familiar to me, but i am surprised by how easy it is to find it outside of college. when you walk in to the room, you just see people having small 1-1 or 1-2 exchanges, dancing with each other. there’s an elegant ebb and flow between them, contained within individual eddies in the room. sometimes people lead, sometimes people follow, and the synergy is amazing. the nuances and precision within the dance looks almost choreographed, but now i know the only preparation you need is the heart to engage in something full-heartedly with someone you may have never danced with before.
i think this sort of acceptance feels fundamentally different from the kinds of acceptance that happens within a new work environment, or a new coworking club, or something like dweb retreat. people here, while plenty are professional dancers, are largely people who are dancing purely for fun. their acceptance is as direct as possible. i cannot be useful to them in a mode that isn’t already the mode in which we are engaging, which is dancing together. and yet regardless of dance experience level, they welcome me into the community anyways.
D from the house sesh
D: “you know, this might be a somewhat controversial opinion, but i think that it’s totally fine to put your own style on top of house. some people are really about the fundamentals, and, yeah like if you don’t know what caleaf’s “loose legs” is and you’re trying to bring new styles into the house space, then yeah there’s a bit of a disconnect there. but otherwise i think you can both honor the history of the art form and bring your own unique flavor into it. and in that way, you start to find your own style and be unique — people will look at you and be like, oh yeah, i like what he’s doing.”
D is the first person i talk to at the rebearth house sessions. practically the moment i walk into the room, he instantly notices that i am a new face. he tells me to bother him anytime if i want any tips, so i do.
he spends a while going over drills with me. after he demonstrates the first drill, i assume that i’ll be let off easy, that that was it. but he then effortlessly creates the space for me to try it next, in front of him, alone, while he was watching. i felt exposed at first, unsure if he would think i was worth his time after he sees me freestyle. soon enough, i felt liberated. his exercises were just at the right level — i was comfortable enough to do the prerequisites for the drill, and yet challenged enough by the exercise of “playing” around with the basic move of the drill. this is the first time i truly feel good freestyling, even though someone is watching me closely. in this moment, i feel intensely the magic behind a good teacher.
G from an uber
(this is probably an extremely butchered version of what G said, sorry!)
G: “my teacher, he came to the united states on a cargo ship and created one of the most widespread english translation of the bhagavad gita. the scripture has taught me a lot about what it means to live a good life. i spent a while in india, where these teachings originated, and also studied yoga there from the experts of the field. i thought it was good to get a new, authentic perspective.” (oh gosh that was so wrong)
i don’t check if this was true or not, but i am surprised by the how at peace she seems and how open she was to sharing this part of her life with me. her voice was thin, soft and warm all at once. before i left the uber, she handed me a copy of the book, and at the same time handed me just a little bit of her life. i held it carefully in my palms.
H from an uber
H: “oh no, no, janabel, you shouldn’t do that. that’s no good. it’s important to maintain a life, a balance outside of work.”
we talk about something related to work and how ambitious people in SF are. i talk about admiring the fact that some people had things they were so passionate about that they could work their entire life on it. i talk about admiring how much agency is valued and in abundance among the young people here. i also talk about how some people here take their work so seriously, and how i imagine these heightened stakes could easily lead to conflict.
H is a life coach. she ends up giving me her card after i tell her i might want to talk to someone about how to balance work in my life. she says she’s currently writing a book, and i ask her to send it to me when she is done. she gives me her business card before i hop out the door.
J from an uber
J: “you know, these waymos, you never know when one of them is going to suddenly malfunction and kill its passengers. but these waymos are still taking my job. one day my job is going to be gone. there are so many young kids and most of them don’t think about the impacts of AI like that. and what am i supposed to do, find a new job at 40 something years old? i can’t do that. i can’t just go back to school either, it’s just not realistic.”
i sit and wonder why i’m even bothering trying to find something that could make the lady feel better. all i can say is that i agree with her and hope that many people think hard about the impact of the technology they work on, or that someone else does). she says all this uninvited and with an anger, though i am glad she brought it up. i wonder how many other passengers she says these things to.
at some point she asks me how my peers are doing and whether or not it is easy for them to find a job.
J: “oh my god, you’re telling me that MIT kids graduate and can’t find a job? if MIT kids can’t find a job, how am i supposed to survive?”
i clarify that to be fair, the set of jobs MIT kids are looking at is relatively small, but her statement strums against an unspoken chord. AI automation feels scary as hell because perhaps for the first time in history, the white collar jobs are significantly included.
K from life
K: “yeah, i fight like hell to keep the inner child alive. if i didn’t, i would literally be dead.”
i’m texting K casually until our conversation suddenly turns into an intense 1-1. i’m sitting at the dining room table in my airbnb, alone in the house for the second week in a row. i start tearing up violently because of how much our conversation touched my inner core, a part that was sensitive because it hadn’t been touched in a while. i feel truly understood without having to say much. part of me thinks it was probably luck, but part of me hopes something about our shared values caused us to drift towards each other.
not feeling alone has been healing this summer. K says that a lot too: “know that you are not alone”. it’s a cliché i’ve heard many times before, but for some reason it didn’t stick until recently. i used to feel both alone and foolish for thinking about things like “justice” or “fairness”. it feels foolish because i have no idea what i can do about it — it just feels like i’m crying about something that isn’t even a battle i feel like i can call my own, without proposing any realistic solutions. committing yourself to a problem that you can’t solve, and a problem many think is impossible, feels so naive.
i tell him about how my dad is good at keeping his inner child alive. he doesn’t like to show it, but i know anyways and i’m not sure if he knows that. K says i am lucky, and i agree.
K: “i asked my friends recently which avatar elements we thought we were. i’ve been trying to master all four elements lately. a lot of people describe me as earth and water. i’ve been interested in being able to be light like air recently, you know, float above the heavy stuff. i’ve also been trying to refine my firebending skills - i think fire can be super useful when harnessed in the correct ways.”
there is so much fire in each and every one of these faces, every one of these conversations. they are but a faint glow of light from far away, and something dangerously beautiful up close. energy that should not be wasted.
i tell myself that, in this life, i want to become a firebender.
hi nice post