The first thing on my mind is Gaza. Specifically, my friends Ahmed and Heba and their families. Many folks reading this know much of the history, but my friend Shelby did a terrific job of summing it up in her Substack yesterday as she supported me in supporting them. Please hop over there and read it and if you can offer any help - from donating $10 or $100 to lighting a candle and placing your hand on your heart for them - I'd be tremendously grateful. The short of it is that Ahmed's family's tent and his brother's family's tent were "collateral damage" in a "planned destruction" of an entire neighborhood in Gaza by the IOF on 10/10. They lost everything, barely making it out with their lives (4 adults, 5 children), and we're starting from scratch.

If you have money to donate, my Venmo or PayPal are great ways to do that.

My Favorite Conference EVER

Also on my mind (or filling my mind,or somanyideasspillingoutofmymind), is the fact that I just got home from my second Othering and Belonging Institute conference, and it did not disappoint.

This is a gathering of folks from around the globe who are hellbent on creating systems of care that are rooted in the belief that we all belong to one another, period. Full stop. And if you know me, you know that that message is right up my alley. So being in a place where I feel like I've found my people, where there is music and dancing, laughter and hugs, and the conversations all revolve around how to create more belonging and bridge the divides we see and hear about every day is, to borrow a phrase from my kids' generation, FIRE.

I was in rooms with folks talking about new ways to strengthen the connective tissue of our communities, testing out systems of co-governance between nonprofits and political leaders to enact things like universal Pre-K and reducing traffic accidents and reinforcing housing as a human right and feeding folks more efficiently. I came home with pages and pages of notes, my new favorite t-shirt, and hope - so much hope - sparked by stories of folks from South Central LA and Needham, Massachusetts and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and Berlin, Germany and Louisville, Kentucky who are doing the work and seeing a difference in their communities. I am so grateful to OBI for convening these groups of folks and supporting us in our work.

And yet...

There is so much work to do. I left for the conference against the backdrop of the news of the Cornell 7 (or 57, as it were), feeling heavy and sad and not a little bit triggered (not my favorite word, but accurate, nonetheless). I am a sexual assault survivor, as are so many others I know, and it is incredibly frustrating to continue hearing these stories of boys and men not being held accountable for the ways they dehumanize and objectify women and girls.

And then, the first morning of the conference (which was in Louisville, Kentucky and that's relevant to the story), I was waiting for the elevator on the third floor of my hotel to take me down to the coffee shop to meet my friend. There was a group of three 30-something white men (also relevant) also waiting, and a lone white businessman standing there with his suitcase and suit jacket, heading to check out. The men engaged each other in conversation and it became clear they'd encountered each other the night before at a bar (or bars) and they were laughing about how much fun they'd had. The businessman (I'll call him Gary) inquired whether the group was going to go bourbon tasting that day and one of the others responded with a hearty laugh that he would be "bourbon DRINKING, I don't know about tasting."

As the elevator door opened, the three men, shoved past me to get in (I had been standing directly in front of the elevator, waiting), and Gary noticed, and waved me in before he stepped in behind me. I thanked him and he turned his attention back to the group to inquire whether they liked Louisville. One of the men leaned forward, glanced at me and winked, and responded loudly, "they sure got some good-lookin' strippers! I'll tell you that!" And all of the men laughed. He then pulled an enormous roll of one-dollar bills out of his pocket (I estimate it was close to $150 worth) and glanced over, licked his lips, winked again, and laughed, "I'm gonna have to find something to do with alllllllll this today."

There were no overt threats. Nobody touched me. And yet, I was acutely aware that I was trapped in an elevator with four large white men who were bonding over getting drunk and objectifying women. As a sexual assault survivor, it was incredibly uncomfortable and - yes - triggering. And even though I know what my body's response was (I completely dissociated, walked to the coffee shop, stood in line shaking and ultimately started crying), as I write all of this down, I am still feeling a little silly. I mean, that's what men do, right? They couldn't have known I was an assault survivor. They were just being guys on vacation in Kentucky, drinking and going to strip bars. Why am I making such a big deal out of it?

It took me 90 minutes to come back in to my body. I felt patently unsafe. It was a big deal, because from being ignored by all of them (no "good mornings" at the elevator) to being shoved out of the way to get to the elevator to being winked at as they talked about "strippers," it was clear that I was less than human to them, that in a pinch, they'd have stuck up for each other and they were bonding over their mutual understanding that they were men and I am not. Just like the 57 men in the Cornell chat group did.

We have a lot of work to do.

What's Going on Over Here

It's voting season, so there is that. My next online Grief & Rage workshop begins November 7th, which may be good timing for election grief (although I'm hopeful we will have some progressive wins). I've shortened the series to two sessions because folks were finding it hard to commit to four weeks of gathering online, but the individual sessions will be a bit longer. More information and sign up sheet is here.

I'm also offering a series of Parent Workshops for parents of t(w)eens that is online. October 20, we'll be talking about Social Media and Screen Time; November 17, we tackle Sex and Sexuality; December 15 is all about Substance Use and Abuse. Join for one or all of them. Sign up sheet is here.

I'm always up for individual grief and rage work if folks want that. I also do individual parent coaching and mediation for co-parents who don't live together. And, I have an opening for memoir coaching as one of my clients has just about finished her manuscript and will be off to the races with publishing soon.

I know that was a lot. If you're still reading, thanks for hanging in there with me. Let me know how you're doing, for real for real. Sending love and good vibes your way as we continue to figure out what it is to be human in a world that prefers we were machines.