True Unconditional Love

Dear Laila Rae,

I love you. I told you once you were the first person I ever loved more than myself. For a long time you were the only person I loved more than myself. You taught me how to love a person fully, in all their complexities. You have taught me so much over the years and have shaped the person I am, and continue to become. 

I have always admired the way you move through this world. You were a baby that was first described as colicky. You screamed a lot and only wanted to be with your mom. Yes, I would have loved to snuggle with you but I also loved that you advocated for yourself from infancy, even if that was in the form of turning yourself blue from screaming until your mom appeared. As a toddler you started to show more affection for certain people, and I was lucky enough to be one of those people. You ignored anyone you did not want to engage with and while most of the world did not understand why you were not a sweet and compliant little girl I admired how you brushed off the criticism of others and stayed your own unique self. You don’t question your significance or deal with the self-esteem issues so many of us struggle with. 

You are still mostly non-verbal but you communicate your emotions better than anyone I know. You exude love and joy from every fiber in your being. I have never known anyone who loves as deeply and fully as you. You love without prejudice and do not expect for the people you love to be anyone other than their fully flawed selves. You share your love freely and fiercely and those who have the privilege of being loved by you would never question that your love is unconditional. You bring so much joy to a room and there is a reason you are the favorite of all your teachers. I don’t think you have ever told a lie and I don’t think it would ever occur to you to lie. 

You see the world differently than most people; you see it without the assumptions and expectations most of us place on others and on the world. You have taught me that assumptions, both good and bad assumptions, can be harmful. I have learned to avoid labeling both people and things in the world and instead approach others and the world with an open mind, and a mind that is willing to change previously held beliefs. 

Over the past year I have experienced a lot of changes and I do not think I ever would have been able to navigate those changes without having learned so much from you. In the past year I decided to commit myself to sharing my life with a partner, we got married, and are expecting a baby boy in July. 

If I’m honest, I’m not sure I ever would have found a partner I was willing to marry if you had not been in my life. You taught me how to compromise and levels of patience I never knew I possessed. You taught me how to stay calm when I was incredibly frustrated. You taught me to see the world differently and question beliefs I held firm. You taught me how to change my mind, and to see that I am a better person for it. Without these skills I never would have been able to navigate the challenges of partnership to share a life with another person. These skills have also taught me to be a better friend, neighbor, and citizen.

While I am excited to bring a new life into this world, I am also terrified. But I also know that I will love this little boy unconditionally because you have taught me what that looks like, and what it feels like to love and be loved deeply and fully. I also feel grateful he will have you as his cousin, and you will teach him so much about how the world should be, what the world could be. You will teach him to be his own unique self, you will teach him how to give and receive love, and you will show him joy. You will teach him how to move through the world without prejudice and you will teach him how to ignore the unrealistic expectations and assumptions of others.

Laila Rae, this year I want you to remember that you make the people around you better humans and you make the world a better place. 

Love,

Aunt Whitney Rae

America I No Longer Recognize

 Dear Laila Rae,

I love you.

This year I am writing your letter on your actual birthday. I am sitting looking out the window at the snow falling and feeling a sense of peace at the beauty and quiet of a snowfall. Everything slows down and I can just and be still. And while I appreciate the ability to sit and be, I feel a sense of deep sadness over missing your birthday for the first time ever. We celebrated over Zoom and I was able to sing you happy birthday and watch you disassemble your cake, that I did not help create. Your birthday this year feels like most of the past year. A lot of reflection, stillness, joy, and love, compounded with deep sadness and feelings of loss. 

So many have lost so much in the past year. My feeling of the past year is one of grief. Grief over the lives lost due to Covid-19. Grief that our nation seems unwilling to heal the racial inequity and instead it turns towards denial. Grief over widespread and unfounded conspiracy theories imbedding itself into our collective psyche. Grief over an attempted government coup. Grief over the small things I have been unable to do because of the pandemic. Grief over the things I have been forced to do because of the pandemic. But my deepest grief has been over the death of my dear friend, Maria.

I’ve realized I don’t handle grief well. I like to problem solve and find ways to overcome challenges, and I tend to see grief as a challenge. I’ll sit with my grief for a short period, but don’t have the patience to allow myself to grieve for extended periods. Often my grief turns to anger. Anger is easier than grief. It is easier to stay angry and the state of the world, to stay angry at those who believe in harmful conspiracy theories, and it is much, much easier to stay angry at Maria than allow myself to feel the weight of my grief. 

I believe that anger has its place, as do all our emotions, and anger is a powerful motivator for change. But I no longer think that anger brings about lasting change. I now think in order to create the lasting change needed, in the world and in ourselves, we have to honestly grapple with a painful past.  Once America is truly honest about our past, and acknowledges the compounded consequences of our past, then we might start to grieve over our history, and then we might be able to begin to heal. And then we might create real change and possibility for all peoples. 

The first letter I wrote to you was right after the 2016 election. I felt like our country had changed overnight, I was shocked at what I already knew, but had never been forced to confront. Today, over 4 years later, I feel hopeful that our country might finally begin to be honest about our history, that we might finally begin to learn and grieve and heal, but I’m not sure we are ready for that pain. I fear most of us will be like me, and choose anger without ever creating space for grief. 

It might seem weird to people that I am spending so much time talking to a 7 year old about grief. You know there is so much I admire about you, and today I admire how you feel all of your emotions. Our society tries to tell us what emotions are okay to have, and which are not okay. Some feelings are classified and bad, some neutral, and some good. Most of us inhibit many of our feelings, and when we deny our feelings, we move into defensive spaces. Often we never fully process our emotions, and I don’t believe this is healthy for us, or our relationships. There is actually a model used by psychologists that is called the Accelerated Experiential Dynamic Psychotherapy that explains this concept in depth. Most of it is over my head, but what I have gathered is the importance of allowing ourselves to fully step into our feelings, and then we can process, and move to a place of healing. 

I am trying to learn to accept all my feelings, and all the feelings of others, as a core part of me, of them, and then to reach a place of peace and also strength. When we allow ourselves to fully sit with our emotions, we also learn to love ourselves better. Laila, you have not yet been jaded by the world. You scream when you are mad, you cry when you are sad, you laugh when you are happy, you shower the ones you love in hugs and snuggles. You live each day fully immersed in your emotions and most important of all, you love yourself. You have so much confidence in yourself, and that self-confidence trickles into confidence in the people you trust. You lean on others when you need support. You ask for help when you need help. You tell us you can do it yourself when you can do it, or just need to figure something out on your own. If only more of us humans could move through the world like you (I started to type maybe with a little less screaming, but maybe what we need is a lot more screaming) then I would have even more hope that we might one day create the world I imagine for you. Ibram X. Kendi tweeted, “No you won’t recognize America when power is shared, justice lives, and equity between groups is the norm.” In 2016 I promised you I would “fix it.” I dreamt big dreams for you, but I also had an idea we had to return to something I understood as better and normal. But today, my dream for you is an America I no longer recognize. 

I want an America that looks like you, in all your many identities. 

Love,

Aunt Whitney Rae

Thank You

Dear Laila Rae,

This year I had some trouble writing your letter. I have not felt clear in what I want to tell you. I am still unclear on what I want to tell you. So often my thoughts are full of ideas and concepts and tactics and action items that are both complex and ambiguous.

I feel stuck in a tension between hope and sorrow.

I feel hope everyday in the ways I see people working working to create a better world. I am humbled and awed by so many people and feel gratitude for their work and what they teach me. But in the same moments I feel immense sorrow at the state of our world, a world that was not made for you. Lately my heart has felt so heavy. But there is one thing in my life that is never complex or ambiguous.

You. 

You bring so much joy and love into my life. You have taught me to love fully and unconditionally with my whole heart.

When I was in high school, maybe 14 or 15 years old, I went on a service trip. The first thing we were told was to accept the people we were serving exactly where they were. My service group failed spectacularly at this, but the idea has pretty much consumed me over the last 15+ years. The question evolved some into how do I fully accept, and unconditionally love, people right where they are? I went to college and spent four years studying philosophy/religion in some attempt to answer the question (among many others). I have traveled around the world trying to live in spaces of love and acceptance. I have been to trainings and meetings, and centered a lot of my work around trying to live out this ideal. An ideal I consistently failed to achieve. While I could love deeply and fiercely, it was never unconditional and it was never whole.

Then you arrived in this world, and you completely filled my heart.  I knew, without any doubt, I loved you more than myself. And you grew, and with that growth our family experienced so many joys, but were faced with challenges. Because, according to tests and procedures and a bunch of other words and concepts I don’t understand, you were not meeting certain standards created by strangers.

I don’t quite have the words to explain the next part of what I want to say to you. It will be an inadequate expression of what is in my heart. Now Laila, whenever anyone asks me about you, really regardless of the question, my answer is always the same. My answer is always, “Laila is absolutely perfect.” And I will never have a more honest answer to that question. And that is why I know I now understand what it means to love a person right where they are.

So often when I have worked with people and communities, I have loved them, and I have loved them unconditionally. There are many instances where I have accepted people right where they were, but I am not sure I always loved them right where they were. I could point out the flaws, and while I might accept the flaw, I wanted them to change, and within that want, if I am being honest with myself, I also knew that I would love them more if they could make that change.

But there is nothing you could do that could make me love you more. I can have dreams and desires for you, but those are mine to hold and carry, not to push on to you. Which I have been guilty of in the past, and will likely be guilty of many more times in the future. While I can be hopeful you will meet certain standards set by strangers, that hope is merely because it will make your life easier in our terrible society. But I do not care if you never meet those “standards.” If you do, great! I will love you exactly the same as I do today. If you never meet any of them, I will love you exactly the same as I do today.

As I have grown with you, I have realized that you, and loving you, has taught me how to love others better. I have learned to love with my entire heart. I have begun to love others more than myself. I have begun to love others as much as I love you. I have begun to love others unconditionally. I am not going to lie to you and say I now fully accept, and unconditionally love, everyone right where they are. But I am so much better at it. And I have a better understanding of what I need to do to get to where I want to be. So this year my letter to you is a thank you. You are the best teacher and mentor I could ever have.

Thank you, Laila, for teaching me the depths of the love I can hold, and how I can

transform that into loving other people better. 

Love,

Aunt Whitney Rae

Get Back Up Again

Dear Laila Rae,

I want you to know that I am in awe of you. You inspire and encourage me everyday. You are one of my role models and I strive to live in the world and love the world as much as you do. Every year your birthday theme is one of your favorite shows/movies at the moment. This year the theme is “Trolls.” To me, you are Princess Poppy in so many ways. For one, you are joy, happiness, laughter, sunshine, and rainbows all wrapped up in one Laila package. There is nothing I love more than to snuggle under two blankets (it’s always two) with you on the couch. You giggle freely, but chose your words with care. You love to sing the song from Trolls, “Get Back Up Again,” and I feel like that is your theme song.

Laila, you approach the world with so much optimism and hope. You are fiercely stubborn, determined, and curious. You want to see and experience the world and nothing will hold you back. While these traits are the most exhausting for adults, they have always been my favorite traits about you. You never give up, even if you spend an hour trying to figure out how to climb to the top of your jungle gym. If you do get knocked down, like when you had to sit in time out because your mom would not let you put wet toys on Noni’s bed, and you were determined that is what you wanted to do, you bounced back. You bounced back singing, “I'm really, really, really gonna be okay!”

You inherited the stubborn Palmer gene, and I hope that you are always stubborn when it comes to the things that matter most to you. I hope that you continue to learn when to compromise, as long as you don’t sacrifice your values. Even though you are still non-verbal, you are the best communicator I know. You are incredibly self-confident and march around with purpose and intention. I hope that you always want to jump in puddles and make snow angels. You laugh at yourself freely and spin in circles in order to appreciate all that is around your. You love the world and your people with your entire self. It takes you awhile to warm up to people, but once you do, you love unconditionally. Most importantly, you love yourself.

So this year, my prayer for you is that you never change. I hope that you grow. I hope that you question the world. I hope you experience discomfort and challenges, and you allow those experiences to shape you. But I pray you are always stubborn, determined, and curious. I pray that you always love people and the world with the vigor you have now, even when it tries to knock you down. Even when it wants you to doubt your abilities. Questioning ourselves is important, allowing ourselves the grace to be wrong and mistakes is how we grow, but I never want you to doubt yourself. I pray you always love yourself and when you feel doubt, you sing your theme song. I pray that you learn your ability to love fully is your greatest gift. Sometimes it is hard for your family not to worry about you. The world is not always an understanding place. But I believe you are really, really, really gonna be okay.

Love,

Aunt Whitney Rae

Love and Vulnerability

Dear Laila Rae,

I love you. I have decided to start all my letters to you with a simple, “I love you.” Last year I explained how you are the first person I have ever loved with my entire heart. You are still the only person I love with my entire heart. You are my favorite little human.

Today is your fourth birthday. I tried writing this letter several times over the past few weeks and felt a bit overwhelmed and unsure of what I want to say to you today. This past year was full of changes for you and I am so proud of you and all you have accomplished. For me, this past year has been tough. I could give you a very long list of all the things that made the year tough, but thing that was personally hardest was learning to open myself up to vulnerability.

The word vulnerability fills me with dread. The type of dread that sits in the bottom of your stomach and is nauseating. A few years ago I listened to a podcast on vulnerability. I loved it and I hated it. I loved it because I wanted to be a person that embraced vulnerability and grew within that space. I hated because I was not sure I could ever be that person. I have always believed we grow in uncomfortable spaces and have never been afraid of discomfort. My best growing and learning experiences were in uncomfortable spaces but, I never really allowed myself to be truly vulnerable.

I find it easier to keep people at a distance with only a few, close friends. Even with those close friends I put up barriers. I’ve heard people attribute a fear of vulnerability to shame, or fear of not being good enough, or worthy enough. That explanation does not feel true to my experiences. I have a healthy dose of self-confidence and am proud of the person I am, and constantly strive to become. I think my reluctance resides in the fear that people won’t recognize or appreciate what I love about myself. I am hesitant to allow people to see my imperfect and broken parts. If they don’t ever see me, they can’t disappoint me. I have trouble doing things where there are no guarantees, or the potential for extreme disappointment.

This past year I decided I was going to try and open myself up to vulnerability. I believe that vulnerability allows us to form deeper connections. It creates a space where we can begin to love with our whole hearts. I tried to stop worrying about if people would be able to see my attributes in the midst of my flaws. I wanted to be kinder to myself so I could be kinder to others. I wanted to be less quick to judge. I wanted to be quicker to forgive and create space for second chances.  I wanted to form new relationships and stronger connections. My year was not a beautiful adventure in self-discovery and meaningful relationships. I experienced a lot of disappointment and hated every second of it. Opening myself up to vulnerability made me feel weak, and then I felt disappointed in myself. I was kinder to others but not kinder to myself. Laila, I want you to be kind and patient with people, but being kind and patient does not mean you can’t vocalize when something is wrong. Being quicker to forgive and creating spaces for second chances does not mean you don’t stand up for yourself. I want you to have a forgiving soul, but sometimes you can forgive someone and still need to cut them out of your life. Your experiences learning to navigate this will be much different than mine. But even when you feel weak, or disappointed, please be kind and patient with yourself. Allow space for imperfections and vulnerability.

While I still hate vulnerability, there were several moments when, because of my vulnerability, I strengthened relationships. I allowed people to see my imperfections and broken parts and they loved me in my brokenness. And I have been able to love them with a bigger heart. I discovered new strengths and weaknesses about myself. I am learning how to love myself more. Vulnerability not kill me, nor did it break me. I still have trouble loving others with my whole heart, but my overall capacity to love myself and others is greater. I don’t want you to be scared of vulnerability like I am. I don’t want you to ever feel like you are not enough. I don’t want you to worry about what others may or may not see in you.  You will be imperfect. I probably won’t tell you that often because you are my favorite little human, but we are all imperfect. You will face many struggles and they will be your own. People will often hurt and disappoint you.  But I want you to remember you are worthy of love and belonging. I will always love you with my whole heart, especially in your imperfections and brokenness. I want you to love yourself, others, and the world with your whole heart - even though there are no guarantees.

Someday, I hope to be able to do the same. I promise you that I will continue to try.

Love,

Aunt Whitney Rae

The Murky Gray of Sexual Consent

Over the past few days I have been quietly following the conversations around Aziz Ansari and the gray areas of sexual consent. I feel compelled to share my thoughts, which echo many of the voices I have read, because this is a topic that constantly sits on my heart and is one I have never felt comfortable speaking about because so often the conversations I hear around consent and sexual assault are black and white. When it is black and white we can walk away feeling secure in our own actions and behaviors. We are not “those people.” We can tell ourselves I would never be a victim because of x,y, and z, or I would never be a predator because of x,y, and z. This leaves no room to talk about the uncomfortable gray areas that have probably affected all of us, even if it is something we do not want to admit. It does not allow us the space to be messy humans that make messy mistakes. I want to be clear that I am writing this from the perspective of a white, cisgender, heteronormative female.

 I have felt frustrated at the criticisms against “Grace.” It is not always as easy as just saying no. I know this from experience. Many times women feel uncomfortable saying no because of the threat of escalated violence. That is always a real possibility. But sometimes the reasons we don’t say no are grayer than that, messier than that. So much of this gray, murky area is symptoms of our toxic culture of masculinity, that even male allies don’t realize they perpetuate. I don’t directly blame anyone for this - but is something we have to wrestle with and allow ourselves to realize we just might be wrong in some of our long held beliefs.

 I have had more “gray” sexual encounters than I, the staunch feminist, care to admit. Even though, for most of my life, I have surrounded myself with strong females, I have still been susceptible to the influence of toxic masculinity. I am a messy and imperfect person who can only try to be a little better every day. Society has told me that I need to patient and generous. I need to be nice. Compliant. Pleasing. I genuinely want to be some of those traits, and others I would like to shed. I fully recognize the fact that I am able to say “no” at any point, but I’ve also been told to be all these other things that don’t allow me to always say “no.” I often joke with my co-workers that “no” is my favorite word. This is far from the truth. I rarely say no to anyone. I strive to please people, to care for people, to make those around me happy. I’m independent, self-confident, and strong-willed but I deeply care about the feelings of those around me. Part of that is my personality, part of that is being subtly, and not so subtly told, as a female, I should be a certain type of person.

Sex is messy. People have different expectations. It means different things for different people at different times. But we are still expected to respect the rules of sexual etiquette. There have been times I have found myself in situations where the expectation of sex was implied from the beginning. Whether that is going to a male’s home later at night, or scheduling a “hang” after intense flirting. Many times I have clearly said no even if the expectation for sex was clear. Sometimes I did not. Sometimes my body language said no and it was ignored. I don’t blame the men in those situations, I don’t think they are dangerous predators, I don’t even think they are bad guys. But I do think they are victims of our toxic culture of masculinity. They either did not recognize by reluctance, or they chose to ignore it. I genuinely think most of them did not recognize my reluctance because they have been taught a sense of entitlement when it comes to sex. I understood the expectation. I would leave or say no if I wanted. They can’t begin to understand that as a female I am told be contradictory things at the same time. Sex is not just any other social interaction. You can’t simply tell people to avoid dangerous or potentially uncomfortable situations. Sometimes it is not as simple and just saying “no” and leaving. It is intimate and personal. There is a greater capacity for harm. I don’t think it is unreasonable to expect that all parties engage with a greater sense of conscientiousness and empathy for others. Sexual consent is not black and white. It is gray and uncomfortable and messy. And it is something we have to talk about without victim blaming.

I March for Myself

I will march on Saturday. I will march because I am angry. I will march because I am scared. I will march because I believe in the policy platform of The Women’s March. Women’s rights are human rights. Gender justice is racial justice is economic justice. I march because my body should be free from violence. I march for my multiethnic niece and nephew. I march for the children I may, or may not have in the future. I march for that choice. I march to share my story and listen to the stories of strangers and friends. I march to embrace our differences and stand in solidarity together. I march in response to hatred and intolerance. I march because my liberation is bound in yours.

But mostly, I march for myself. I march for the17 year old girl who was sexually assaulted when an older male literally grabbed her by her pussy without consent. I march for the confused girl who felt such shame and embarrassment she never told a soul. I march for the adventuring 23 year old who had her breasts grabbed and butt pinched while walking down the street by two passing males. I march for the 25 year veterinary practice manager who was treated with condescension by male pharmaceutical representatives. I march for the woman who actually held all the power but allowed herself to be intimidated and questioned her own intelligence. I march for the single female in her mid twenties who tolerated groping hands while out dancing with friends.

I march for the self-confident budding feminist who began to speak up while on dates only to be told she was “too this” or “too that” or many times, a bitch. I march for 28 year old who was conned into a timeshare pitch and given the very young, inexperienced salesman. He underestimated her ability to think critically and say no. He became irrationally angry when she refused to buy a timeshare and raised his voice and pointed his finger in her face. I march for the 29 year old who felt extreme nausea when Donald Trump’s 2005 “Access Hollywood” video was leaked. I march for that woman who felt like a scared and embarrassed 17 year old again.

On Saturday I will march because I refuse to accept false value systems that undermine my self worth. On Saturday I will march for my dignity and human rights. I march for myself.