Power and Choice...Boundaries and Consent

In my last post, I wrote about power and choice in times of limited options. Today I want to offer my still-forming thoughts on boundaries and consent. In the age of coronavirus, we are being invited to explore boundaries and consent in new and very obvious ways.  

Here in Kentucky, as in many places in the U.S., we currently have a mask mandate for public indoor spaces. Wearing a mask in these spaces is something I’m willing to do. Based on the information I’ve gathered from a variety of sources, I make the conscious choice to follow the mandate. It’s not because I’m blindly following authority or because I am particularly fearful.

I don’t enjoy wearing the mask, but I consent to doing it in the interest of public health. I practice social distancing for the same reason. I also know that, along with the public health benefits, my decision to do both brings a greater sense of peace, a lowering of anxiety for those who face greater risks than I. In a time when so many people are experiencing anxiety for so many reasons, if I can help bring a greater sense of ease to someone, I will.

Last week I was standing in a long line and as the line moved along, I noticed my extreme discomfort with how close the person behind me was. She was not following social distancing guidelines and I could feel her near me. I was actually a little surprised by my discomfort because in other circumstances, I haven’t been so uncomfortable being in close proximity to others. As the line moved, I tried to move in ways that kept us farther apart. She continued to be closer than was comfortable for me. Finally, I turned around and said something like, “Hi, I’m feeling uncomfortable with how close we are. Would you be willing to stay a little farther back?” I didn’t know what she’d say, but thankfully, for the remainder of the time we were in line, she stayed farther back. She respected my boundary. I relaxed.

Earlier that same day I walked with a friend. When we met up, she was wearing a mask. I asked if she wanted me to put my mask on, too. She said yes. Normally when I go for walks, I don’t wear a mask, but because my friend said she’d prefer I wear it and because I want to respect her boundaries, I put my mask on.

This morning I walked with a different friend. She was wearing a mask. I asked If she wanted me to put my mask on, too. She said no. I asked if she was sure about that and she said yes, so I didn’t wear my mask. In both circumstances we negotiated boundaries and came to a place of consent.

I haven’t had negative encounters with people around masks or social distancing, though I’ve seen many stories about people aggressively crossing those boundaries. Refusing to wear a mask in public spaces. Refusing to social distance. Getting angry when asked to respect someone else’s boundaries, whether an individual’s or a business’s. In some cases, ignoring boundaries suggested or mandated for public health reasons has increased the spread of COVID, and even led to some people dying.

Is this really the world we want to live in? Where one person’s comfort and desire is more important than someone else’s safety? Or public safety?

With these questions, my mind flies to the theme of comfort vs. safety, power, choices, boundaries and consent as they relate to the movement for racial justice. That topic merits its own post (or two, or three, or four…) and so I mention it with the intention to return to it another day.    

Until then I will answer the above questions for myself. I’d be curious to know your answers, too.

I don’t want to live in a world where we can’t trust each other to respect boundaries, whether related to masks, social distancing, sharing personal information, sexual behavior and other issues of body autonomy, or anything else.

I want to live in a world in where I can state my boundaries and trust that you’ll respect them, even and especially when your comfort or desire is different from mine.

I want to live in a world where we’re willing to consider that we may not know the full story of someone else’s boundaries and that we don’t need to know the whys in order to respect them.

I want to live in a world where we put communal safety before personal comfort.

I want to live in a world where asking for consent in our interactions with others is common practice.

As with my last post, there is so much more to say. I haven’t touched the idea of boundaries and consent in relationships where power is unequal. That, too, merits more than just this mention. Maybe I am the one to write about it, maybe you are…

I’ll close with this: This work is deep. It is complicated. It is messy. It is hard. It is beautiful. Navigating boundaries and consent is a practice. And so again, I invite you to explore these themes for yourself and, if you choose, to practice with me.

Power and Choice in Times of Limited Options

I‘ve been thinking A LOT about four concepts lately-

Power.

Choice.

Boundaries.

Consent.

These are, I dare say, always important ideas to grapple with, but in a time like now,

·         when some people are feeling disempowered and believe they’re choiceless because their options are more limited,

·         when some people are awakening to their own power and discovering that they can choose options they didn’t know they had before

·         and some people are feeling powerless in some ways and empowered in others,

it feels like a good time to do some digging into these ideas.

Today I’m going to explore power and choice, I’m not sure if I’ll get to boundaries and consent. I feel certain that anything I write is going to be incomplete…thoughts in process. I’m ok with that because my hope is that my incomplete thoughts will get you thinking, too, and maybe we can have some sort of discussion (virtually or in some nice outdoor socially distanced setting) about it all.

March 2020. After a few months of hearing about COVID-19, all of a sudden life in the U.S. changed practically overnight. Many of us found ourselves without work, without social lives, without childcare or school for kiddos. Without entertainment. Without certainty. Trips, whether for business or pleasure cancelled.  In our homes 24/7, perhaps feeling trapped.

Most of us weren’t the ones choosing to shut down businesses, workplaces, schools, daycares.

Many of us felt scared, anxious, angry, vulnerable, lonely, and a whole other host of feelings. Some people equated the lower number of options to a lack of choice.  

Some accepted that there was much over which they had no control and consciously embraced the choices they could make: to clean the house, to go outside for a walk, to connect over Zoom, to plant a garden, to make meals for people who lacked food security, to ask for help, to offer help.

I want to emphasize a phrase from above: consciously embraced choices. Even when our options are limited, we can make choices. The reality is that we’re making choices all the time but we may not do so with much awareness. My hope is that we can get better at making conscious choices.

I say that knowing full well that for many of us, it’s one of those easier-said- than-done sorts of things.  We may have been taught to trust “authority” and not to trust ourselves, so we deliberate over every option until the options disappear or we second guess the option we’ve chosen. We may have been socialized to believe that in some situations there is only one right option and that if we choose something else, we are bad, so we don’t dare choose what we actually want. We may suffer from anxiety, depression, unhealed trauma, or any number of other things that may make recognizing, accepting, and making choices more challenging.

But not impossible.

I believe the more we can embrace the idea that even with fewer options, we can always make a choice, we’ll make strides toward greater wholeness. If we can bring deep consciousness to our choices, we’ll be doing revolutionary work.

Conscious choice could look something like this:

I hate my job and am really miserable now that I don’t have the distraction of co-workers or things to do after work. I could leave my job, but then I’d lose the security of my paycheck. I am choosing to stay in my job right now, because security feels like the most important need to meet right now. I’m also choosing to think about what I’d really love to do instead, so that later on, I can explore other options.  

I can’t go into the office to work and I’m sick of being in my house. I’m aware that I need a change of scenery, because I’m feeling claustrophobic and annoyed with everyone else in the house. I’m choosing to go for a drive.

I’ve lost my job and I’m worried as hell about how I’m going to pay rent or for groceries. I don’t know when UI is going to kick in. I’m panicking and I feel so damn lonely. I’m choosing to call my friend to talk through some of this.

Those choices don’t necessarily address the biggest needs, but they might meet some other needs. Having another need or two met might help us realize we do have power. We might feel more resourced and ready to think about the bigger needs, the other needs, in a more creative way.

Again, this is simplifying something that’s not necessarily simple.

But it’s possible.

I have too often lost my sense of agency and choice.

Told myself “I can’t” for made-up reasons in my head.

Told myself “I have to” for made-up reasons in my head.

I am learning to examine the stories I am telling myself and check their accuracy against observable reality.

I am learning to seek and embrace a sense of conscious choicefulness.

I’ve found that when I’m willing to look, I find that I do have choice.

My ideal option may not be on the table, and I may be disappointed about that. I may even feel angry or bitter.

In that case, I can choose to hold onto the bitterness and anger, maybe even giving myself a headache or a queasy stomach about it.

OR

I can choose to feel the grief and disappointment underneath the anger, and try to find another way to begin to meet the unmet need. If the anger and bitterness come back, I can tend to them again, and when I’m ready, move back to creative thinking. Or if I’m stuck in the well of emotions, I can ask a trusted person to help me sort through them and climb out of the well. And so on.

In every moment I have power and I have choice.

I can give them up or I can practice using them.

I am choosing to practice.

Riding the Roller Coaster Together

On April 1 I posted this question on Facebook: Who else had been hoping to wake up this morning to hear that the last few weeks were all just a sick extended April Fool's joke? 

Of course, it's not. This is very real. The most apt analogy I know is that of a roller coaster. A very long emotional roller coaster that none of us chose; the entire world is in its cars.  

Some of us are terrified all the time, whether we're upright or upside down, moving quickly or slowly. Some of us are angry that we were forced onto the ride. Some of us are anxious because we don't know what's ahead. Some of us are anxious because we have ideas about what's ahead. Some of us are grieving the things we can't experience while on the ride. Some of us are grieving the cars that derailed. Some of us are sick. Some of us are excited about certain parts of the ride. Some of us are hanging on tighter to our co-riders. Some of us are distraught because we're the only one in our particular car and we can't reach anyone in another car. Some of us feel calm, even though we've never ridden this ride before, hopeful that we'll get through it.

For many of us, our emotional state depends on where we are on the ride- going up a long slow hill, at the peak about to speed down in a seeming free fall, sideways going so fast around a curve that our body is jolted, upside down hoping our restraints don't fail us. Our emotions can change from high to low in the blink of an eye- from calm to anxious to angry to sad to hopeful. Sometimes we experience seemingly contradictory emotions all at once. This is a normal response to not normal times. 

Regardless of where we are on the ride, remember that we are all doing our best and sometimes our best looks fan-frickin'-tastic and sometimes it looks bleak. Our best doesn't always look the same.

Regardless of where you are, you are doing your best and sometimes your best looks fan-frickin'-tastic and sometimes it looks bleak. Your best doesn't always look the same.  

My deep hope is that we will be gentle with ourselves. My deep hope is that we will be gentle with each other. We are all in this together. 

We are all in this together. 

We are all in this together. 

As my mind cycles through scarcity and abundance thinking, I offer myself the above reminder a lot. Many times a day. We are all in this together. We are all in this together. I trust that as I offer care in the way I'm able, I, too, will receive care. Maybe it's easy to trust that because of my many points of privilege. In my life, I have always been ok. Whatever the source, I will continue to practice trusting. It is a practice. An experiment.

The roller coaster is giving us all sorts of opportunities, some welcome, many not, to practice and experiment. With meditation and breathing practices. With new was of connecting to loved ones we can't see. With new ways of disconnecting from our family or housemates when we're spending far more time together than we're used to. With finding activities that bring us joy when things we'd normally do aren't currently available to us. With finding new routines for our days. With finding balance between caring for ourselves and caring for others. With so many areas of our lives. 

As you are experimenting and practicing, I imagine you're also looking for guidance. I know I am. Recently I read this article, Why You Should Ignore All That Coronavirus-Inspired Productivity Pressure, and offer it here as I found the perspective helpful and you might, too. 

And if you're needing a bit of beauty for your ears, I offer this rendition of Imagine. 

Wherever or however you are, I hope you are finding what you need to sustain you. Know that I am here, ready and willing to listen or offer what I'm able. 

We are all in this together.