Ladyfingers NewsLetter Press: Email #9

 

Welp, I’m back from wiping away tears of gratitude. Paired with my seasonal allergies, I’m a real case over here, people.

 

OK so before getting into the copying and pasting, I wanted to share a few stories off the top of my head:

 

First, this delightful letter arrived in the mail two days ago from a gentleman who shared his story about how he keeps in touch with his young grandchildren who live across the country:

Seriously though, check out this TWO-TONE WAX SEAL, you guys. And the ribbon? How beautiful is that? Man, those are some lucky grandkids! (PS: I'll return your letter soon and not just talk about writing back to you in an email!)

Then, I got a response from an in-real-life-friend, who is a very very special in-real-life-friend***, who highlighted such an unsung but fundamental merit of letter-writing as she recalled an exchange with an old friend: 

In response to the story about Morgan’s hot air balloon and how she convinced the chair of the printmaking department at RISD to let her build an aircraft for her senior project (because she was going to screen print on the side of it, obviously!): 

Another reader replying to the same email:

Then there's this one: I think I mentioned in an earlier newsletter that a reader told me she had A DREAM ABOUT MY EMAIL after reading it, which I am not sure whether to be totally freaked out or flattered by!
 
A response I wasn't expecting is how many people have told me that they are picking up the time-consuming and financially-unsustainable**** hobby of writing a newsletter! Including my older sister, who has always been smarter, stronger, more successful and more beautiful than me. It’s cool, I’ll take that win of doing something first. That one, lone, seemingly insignificant win. Ariel: 103,499. Arley: 1. 
 
Another friend shared this response when he sent out his newsletter:

😐

Remember that reader who shared her Unc The Monk story? A few weeks earlier, she replied to my newsletter where I told the story about the time I typed dicks into my mid-90s web browser looking for a softball mitt (and found something completely different) and shared this gem: 
“The security at the concert on Maui were Hawaiian looking young men, wearing traditional Hawaiian wrap/skirts and they were carrying long (5/6’ wooden poles/sticks).  I couldn’t figure this out so Googled men with big sticks (or something similar).  I did not expect to see what I saw 😳.” *****
 
And while I appreciated her funny anecdote, it was actually a different message that she had shared before that I think will be the one that sticks with me forever.
 
Back in 2015, we taught our first hand-lettering workshop at Smitten on Paper in Monrovia, CA. At the time, I hadn’t put much thought into teaching, but the workshop fell into place and it was honestly just so incredible that I HAVEN’T STOPPED DOING IT (although I wish the SOP were still hosting bc they did such a beautiful job!). One of my students pulled me aside at the end of the class, and, teary-eyed, expressed that she was not only grateful for the lesson, but that in Ladyfingers she saw hope in a brighter future for her gay high school son who had recently come out. Here I was, thinking I was driving my students to tears with all this talk about serifs and ligatures... ;)
 
11 years later, she replies to my newsletter to tell me that her son has grown up to be a well-adjusted and happy young man with a wonderful job at a world-renowned arts institution. But I didn't just read it as a life update about her gay son: I saw a beautiful story about a parent's emotional growth and how, when we allow ourselves to be guided by our love for someone, our hearts can expand in incomprehensible ways.
 
It has occurred to me that there are two types of parents in the world: the ones who are totally blindsided by the fact that their kid could be gay/lesbian/trans/queer, and those who knew it even before their child did.****** I'm not saying that one way makes you a particularly better parent than the other, because at the end of the day, the only thing that matters is what you do with this new (or maybe not so new!) information about your child.
 
In the midst of the frenzy surrounding the upcoming midterm elections—where currently there are two bills here in Colorado that have the potential to cause a great deal of harm to trans people and specifically trans youth—we received a beautiful message from an old acquaintance. He wanted to share his appreciation for our protest posters, which he had originally purchased for himself but had made accessible to his kid knowing there was an inkling of something there, maybe something queer or trans or beautiful in that way. Sure enough, his child blossomed into the person they are today - the person he always knew them to be - a person who now knows a kind of trust and love that defines the meaning of true safety.

Colorado Propositions 134 and 135 couldn’t possibly be further from the definition of true safety. The bills aim to legitimize transphobia and bigotry through fear-mongering and disinformation. If passed, people will suffer. People you actually know and love will suffer. While on one hand it feels like we've become desensitized and helpless to the maddening noise otherwise known as the current state of U.S. politics, I want to remind you that this could be the moment where things really change.

 

Making a statement to protect trans peoples’ bodies is a statement to protect everyone’s bodies. Stripping away women’s reproductive rights, denying trans healthcare and introducing bills that essentially say you don’t know what’s best for your own body you’re not allowed to listen to your own body and care for it in the way you know how is such a blow to the fundamentals of trust and love and safety every human being deserves.

 

It’s easy to feel like the opposite of this truth is the loudest thing we hear right now. It’s easy to feel like we’re innocent bystanders watching the slow and imminent head-on collision of this train we’re all on, which will not only destroy our locomotive but the entire railroad system as well. Part of the reason we started this newsletter thing is because ironically, email is one of the last online services where content isn’t being dictated by an algorithm and the discourse isn’t being curated by some bot. People are responsible for enforcing their own shadow bans by throwing messages they don’t like in the trash, the junk folder or unsubscribing. It’s ironic because while it was one of the first methods of online communication, it has withstood the pitfalls of other attempts at using the internet to stay connected. Maybe it’s because it most closely resembles real mail, and people know not to fuck with that. (At least hopefully for now.)

 

The message that I am trying to make clear is that we still hold the power. All hope is not lost. But power doesn’t mean holding the majority of a vote, either. Even the smallest acts can wield the biggest power. Power is showing up for one another. Power is loving someone when they tell you who they are, even if you don’t know how to at first. Power is helping other people find their own power by seeing them and loving them. Power is demonstrating your belief in a better world by voting. And voting is a way to show you care for others and that you’re willing to stand up for their rights.

 

One of the first protest posters Morgan and I ever made back in 2010 read, “Your life won’t change. Mine will.” We were referring to the fight for equal marriage back then, but surprise surprise, the fight for equality continues.

Don't worry, we had heads back then. Mine just looked funny to me.

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