They didn’t say my name in the meeting. Not once. I was there and had written half the report.
The credit went around the table like a bottle passed hand to hand. I watched it skip over me.
At lunch, I sat with them. One of them asked me, “Are you new?”
I’ve been here fourteen months.
After a while, you stop correcting people. You stop reminding them that you’re part of it. You become good at inhabiting the background. Or a muted square in the Zoom.
But I’m still here. Still opening the spreadsheet. Still writing the copy. Still dressing up and disappearing.
They didn’t see me. But I saw everything.
“Construction Worker” by Vladimir Serov (1964)
They asked if I wanted to file a complaint. I said no I’m trying to stay employed, not enter The Hunger Games.
You did not deserve to be sexually harassed. This is true no matter what you wear, how you look, how much money you make, where you work, what you do, or anything else.
Some things you carry.
Some things carry you.
Ba Ghi Ri E De, Pueblo Indian woman carrying a water pot on her head. - Porter - 1907
The Cost of Staying
Sometimes it’s not that you didn’t want the job.
It’s that you wanted it too much.
You worked too hard. Put up with too much. Got good at things you never thought you’d be good at. Found your rhythm. Found your people. Maybe even started to believe you belonged there.
And then it changed.
Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was always like this and you just finally let yourself admit that the cost was too high.
That staying meant watching someone else get away with it. That staying meant shrinking a little bit each day. That staying meant carrying your own silence like it was professionalism. Like it was maturity. Like it was strength.
But here’s the truth no one wants to put on a poster: Sometimes leaving is the only way to protect yourself.
And that doesn’t mean you failed. It doesn’t mean you weren’t strong enough. It means the place wasn’t safe enough.
And maybe that’s not the ending you deserved, but it’s not the end of your story either.
“It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work.” — Wendell Berry
Theodor von Hörmann - Forest path (ca. 1878-1880)
Hopecore! 💓
🌸stay tune 📺 . .
sorry for upcoming long vent:
so my local situation has been pretty horrid since new presidential era lmao (i think same thing can be said to US situation as well) .. im still trying to find a good balance of my headspace to keep creating and what motivates me to keep going, and for now... i think what motivates me to want to create is to be where my followers (or those who enjoys my art) can stay sane or be reminded of what's still good in our normal, mundane days to strive for. I hope we can be together to strive for hope. so yea, i will try to keep illustrating, creating, experimenting! being a doomer wont do me or anyone moving forward, but I will do what i know best to keep the cog moving.. sorry to be hopecore it's my only weapon for now lol!
📂brain dump / digital diary / untangling the knots💭 words, art, memes, chaos, clarity—whatever helps🔓 navigating the barren landscape—pot holes, craters, aftermath🫀 we believe youSubmit anything.#sexualharassment
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