July 2020, a series of rapid question marks

I've felt myself drifting away into a new, though vaguely familiar, version of myself. Growing up, I was not an extremely social person. My family didn't do the things that kids these days do—playdates, field trips with friends, school co-ops where socialization is the priority. These things have probably always existed, but I was raised by a single mother who did not Play Well With Others (still) and would have walked into the sea rather than show up to a PTA meeting or an event with literally even one other parent. I didn't really need friends. I had so much family. My three brothers and five cousins were plenty for me, a very introverted extrovert. I was never an adventurous kid. I was a "give me a book or the television" person. (I am still a "give me a book or the television" person.)

My early childhood was family based but by middle school, I had met a few close friends that, astonishingly, are pretty much the same exact friends I have today. I went through high school picking up one or two friends and went through college making a lot more, yet keeping next to none of them. I know people have this perception of me—that I am very social and outgoing, popular by the actual definition of that word, an extroverted person who loves attention and is always down to gossip or talk shit or work out a tough relationship issue. It's true to a certain extent—I think the only thing I am good at in this life is that kind of truly deep human connection. And I do enjoy it. But it's not all that I am and it just doesn't come as naturally to me anymore. I could blame isolation, this quarantined time, a global pandemic that forced our hands and made us all revaluate our lives, but is that true? I've watched myself slowly transition back into an introvert who does not want to talk to anyone except on her own terms. Is that fair? Probably not! Can I help it? Not really!

After I had an abortion in 2014, I started to withdraw from that persona I had built up throughout college and my 20s. I don't have negative or particularly isolating feelings about having an abortion, but also I was 27 and just didn't care to spend time out at bars every weekend anymore. Having an abortion was a good reason to just ask people to leave me alone. I rediscovered my love of television and caught up on all of those shows everyone always referenced online—Parks and Rec, Friday Night Lights, Parenthood. In the years to come, I'd relive that post-abortion feeling; of turning inward and limiting everyone's access to me. Major physical trauma (breaking my shoulder was a lot like quarantining except friends could come over and bring me food) and major heartbreak (the end of a decade long fucked up relationship can take it out of a person, and you're not supposed to say this, but I regret him entirely, every second of our lives together) would contribute to these feelings. And now this. An ~unprecedented~ nightmare; a global pandemic that has asked us all the question: dude, what actually matters?

It's not that my friends don't matter, it's that I have realized that socialization drains me. There are things in my life, pre-COVID, that I do not want to carry with me any longer. There are people in my life, pre-COVID, that I do not foresee being connected to for much longer. A global pandemic, by nature, does not promise to spit us all out intact with the same relationships and jobs and structures and systems we've always had. Neither does a movement to disband and stand up against white supremacy, to finally say and mean Black Lives Matter. I have said over and over to some of my friends, "you will not make it out of this the same." And I've finally reminded myself of that too. I am not the same as I was in March, and I will not be the same when this transitions into the life we will get used to in the future. It's not necessarily (all) a negative thing, but it is a thing we have to all figure out for ourselves.

But something that has not changed for me, in fact it's what I've leaned on more than anything in the past few months, is reading. So here's what I read in July.

[Books I Read With My Eyes]

• The Amen Corner: A Play by James Baldwin
  Sometimes I think about who my favorite Black writers are and James Baldwin is always the first name to pop into my head, and not in a performative way. I have been connected to James Baldwin since I started reading for fun at a young age. And yet, I'd never read The Amen Corner. I'm not a play or a theater person and certainly don't seek out this kind of reading very often, but I enjoyed The Amen Corner. Most of all, I enjoyed the intro, the history of what it took for Baldwin to write this.
  [stage play, fiction, written by a queer Black cis man, shortish read]
  
• Followers by Megan Angelo
  I did something extremely embarrassing by accident this month and the first thing I thought of was Followers and the horrific storyline revolving around the downfall of influencer culture and smartphones and the internet as we know it. This story is so layered and creepy, maybe most of all because it didn't seem that far-fetched.
  [fiction novel, written by a white cis woman, medium length read but I couldn't put it down]
  
• An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon
  When I knew libraries were going to close (the only thing that made me actually cry tears when things started shutting down), I quickly consulted my library "shelf" and tried to check out as many books as I could that I'd wanted to read for a long time. This was on the list and I can't remember how I came across it in the first place, but it was very enjoyable. This is a genre I am not familiar with and a story slightly outside of my personal interest but I was extremely invested and ended up loving the whole damn thing.
  [sci-fi, fiction, written by, and I'll quote, "a dyke, an anarchist, a she-beast, an exile, a wound, a shiv, a wreck, and a refugee of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade," medium length read, but on the longer side]
  
• Rabbit: The Autobiography of Ms. Pat by Jeannine Amber and Patricia Williams
  Do y'all know Ms. Pat? I was unfamiliar with her but am so glad the sweet cover of this book called to me. Patricia Williams has lived a million lives that most of us will never even slightly understand. Her story seems nearly unbelievable and it seems even more baffling that it could be told from a humorous perspective. I always, always read acknowledgements and these were some of my favorite. Reading Jeannine Amber and Williams's acknowledgments to each other and their support of one another was so touching.
  [memoir, nonfiction written by a Black cis woman as told to her by a Black cis woman and subject of the story, shorter read]
  
• The Lost Girls of Camp Forevermore by Kim Fu
  Another book that has long been on my list, The Lost Girls of Camp Forevermore was stunning in its format and its writing. Kim Fu is a beautiful descriptive writer who can certainly weave a story together. I loved this, devoured it, and will be thinking of the characters for years to come.
  [novel, fiction, written by an Asian cis woman, medium length read]
  
• Party of Two by Jasmine Guillory
  Everyone knows I'm a Jasmine Guillory fan. This is her fifth book and nothing makes me happier than receiving a new one in the mail. I might have to revisit the others to definitively say this, but this was maybe my favorite. I cried at the end? Like actual tears down my face, though I was PMSing as well, so who's to say the real reason. (Also maybe her most explicit sex scene yet? Obviously loved that.)
  [romance novel, fiction, written by a Black cis woman, medium length, but easy, read]
  
• There, There by Tommy Orange
  I'd seen the cover of There, There about a million times and was on a long hold for it once at the library and ended up not getting to it when it came in for me. It was absolutely worth the wait. I love stories that tie together a bunch of characters in the end, the Love, Actually vibe. (I know people hate that movie, but I love it and always will.) I wish more Native writers had the opportunity to write a present day novel and in general I wish more people read Native voices. (Also noteworthy that I rarely read books written by men but this one was excellent.)
  [novel, fiction, written by a Native American (Cheyenne and Arapaho) cis man, medium length read]
  
• Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by a woman who needs to stop talking; Illustrations by Jim Kay
  The last of my illustrated reads! (Though I will continue the series with my original books.) Goblet of Fire is an incredible feat; the first book that begs the reader to adjust their previous notions of the series—it's not just for kids. There is death and hints of young love and attraction and a reveal that is more complex and tragic (truly rest in peace, Cedric) than prior storylines.
  
  Just so everyone can hold me accountable, I donated the cost of this book to The Black Trans Travel Fund. Last month, I donated to The Trevor Project and to the TransWomen of Color Collective. I have spent $135 dollars on Harry Potter books this year and have donated that same amount to trans organizations. I already own the rest of the books but will continue to donate as I read them this year. It's the least I can do and the most responsible thing as a cis person who insists on continuing her re-read of this series that is deeply ingrained in my life and one in which I have the privilege to read and not think about whether or not the author cares about my human rights.
  [fiction, fourth in a series, fantasy, written by a white cis woman, long read]
  
• Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
  A re-read for me in preparation for Kara Brown's book club (I still feel like I shouldn't link in this because of the spam filter but if someone who is smarter than me knows if that's true, please tell me). I was assigned this book my junior year of high school by the best teacher I had in my entire life. There is something about this story and Hurston's words that just hit, especially for Black women. As a kid, I had always been an avid reader and I had always preferred Black voices, but reading this catapulted me into actually wanting to study and learn about Black literature. I ordered a used copy of this book and was delighted that it had so many notes in it. The last one, written in purple ballpoint pen by a stranger I will never meet, reads: "A beautiful ending to a beautiful, life-witnessing, heart-breaking, & heart-lifting story, Thank you, Zora." And yes, I cried.
  [novel, fiction, written by a Black cis woman, shorter read]

[Audiobooks]

• All Boys Aren't Blue: A Memoir-Manifesto by George M. Johnson
  This was a nice, short listen and just the kind of book I prefer to hear than to read. Truth be told, I'm not the biggest audiobook fan, which is something I've known for awhile but have confirmed lately, now that I am without long car drives or bus rides. But I do like to hear a person's story, told by them, spoken with their own voice, and this was a great one. I am not the audience for this book—it's written with teens in mind, but regardless, I liked it. To live in a world where everyone can be accepted and loved and embraced for who they really are—I dream of it.
  [memoir, nonfiction, YA, written by a queer Black cis man, short listen, read by author]​

[What I Recommend]

Hmm, I'd recommend quite a bit this month. The Lost Girls of Camp Forevermore, Followers, There, There, and Party of Two, which is actually a greater recommendation for all of Guillory's books.

And honestly if you haven't read Their Eyes Were Watching God in your whole life, prioritize that.

"And don't make the mistake of calling us resilient. To not have been destroyed, to not have given up, to have survived is no badge of honor. Would you call an attempted murder victim resilient?" There, There

"…it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be." Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

"There are years that ask questions, and years that answer them." Their Eyes Were Watching God