Accounting for expansion.
Defining success for ourselves and allowing that to change with our hearts.
In my early 20’s I was asked to participate in a project where I did all of this work only to be told by the client that I wasn’t the “right fit.” The project at hand seemed to be doing good, but a few months later, a friend sent me an article. The article was about the said project that I was about to do, done by another artist, and that it had caused uproar in the community due to the hypocrisy of the project. It turned out that the company was trying to cover up harm by creating an initiative to make them look good.
I think there is a difference between holding a belief and actually practicing it. To embody our beliefs, we, in turn, encourage others to do the same. To embody our beliefs, we show that alternatives are possible. To embody our beliefs, we are willing to change after new information comes forward.
There have been many times when I have worked for clients who, years later, would reveal themselves as funding things that I disagreed with. There’s this level of disappointment when I learn that, and this level too: if I had known this then, I wouldn’t have worked with them.
I try my hardest to research to ensure I don’t actively help fund things I am against, yet as we age, we learn about new things to be against. As we get older, we change our minds about other things. As we get older, our definitions of success change.
I do my best to acknowledge that the person painting that thing was less informed than who they are now, and even then, there will be disappointment. It is hard when you’ve built things only to have them be revealed not in alignment with your own moral compass.
In the past, I have often seen others’ versions of success and thought that their success was what I wanted. I remember going into a UX “boot camp” program years ago after seeing how my friends had stable tech jobs at the time. I thought doing UX would bring me financial stability and allow me to make big changes regarding accessibility in the design field. Still, I quickly learned that hiring managers wanted to check off a “Disabled person” on their employment list without actually wanting things to be accessible. It was then that I started to understand how representation could be just a symbolic cloak instead of actually enacting change.
I would see others doing podcasts and think, “I should do one!” and so I’d start a podcast, but then would find myself stretched for time in editing. On top of this, it’s deeply important for me as a Deaf person to have things be accessible, so I would want the podcast to be fully transcribed, which even with hiring a transcriber, the level of accuracy isn’t always great. These barriers would lead me to ultimately abandon making podcasts and come to the acknowledgment that I just like listening to them or being a guest on them.
“If you choose to disrupt these systems, passively, destructively, or by way of extending mutual aid, the concept of violence may be stretched and manipulated by the powerful to encompass your work.” - Kelly Hayes & Mariame Kaba
Last weekend, Instagram wouldn’t allow me to login to my account for 48 hours. No matter what I did, it just wouldn’t. There was this feeling of relief, because of how dependent I am on it, but also this anxiety, because of that same dependence. I used to really obsess about gaining X amount of followers, making “content” to attract more followers etc. Yet, regardless of how many followers I have, my reach is still limited when I speak on things that the algorithms just don’t want me to discuss.
There’s this pattern I am seeing, where I can be Disabled and Queer “enough” but once I start talking about more serious things that deeply impact my global community, is when I get censored. Being Disabled and Queer isn’t palatable. The moments when I am navigating gender dysphoria or chronic pain or feeling frustrated because not enough people are wearing masks can’t be made into “content.” I had these contorted beliefs that I wanted to create representation, that I only wanted to be represented, but I didn’t solely want representation; I ultimately wanted liberation, and I still want liberation.
I now believe that representation can act as a bridge to liberation, and I will continue to create representation in the hopes that it will open more people up to a liberation framework.
I was able to log back into my Instagram account just fine, with nothing compromised, but it did add more gravity to the question, “What is success to me now, at this moment?”
“If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.” - Audre Lorde
This past mirroring is something I am trying hard to dismantle, and yet it’s hard to do so when we see everyone only sharing their versions of success. Here’s the thing, though: their success is their version of it, not mine. I can be so happy for someone and their success while simultaneously not wanting the same thing they do.
It’s okay to just be a fan. Just because you like something doesn’t mean you must do it too.
I can also not be happy for someone’s version of success based on my own moral compass.
I see my loved ones as well, trying to figure out what success looks like to them as we watch a genocide unfold before us. As we watch, companies help fund violence around the world. It’s been a massive ego check. I used to want to work with “said big clients,” and now, I am unsure.
My definition of success is changing, which just simply makes me human.
Is your version of success truly rooted in your soul’s desires, or is it rooted in what others want for you?
Is your version of success based on the projections of success that others put out in the world?