I took this photo in my favorite little produce market in Seattle.
The owner is a man of Chinese heritage, his right-hand helper is Latino, the lovely checkers are mostly of Vietnamese descent, and the customers have lineages that trace the globe—Africa, Europe, Asia, and more.
Here families buy bags of tomatillos, masa, and nopales (cactus paddles); tiny but fierce Asian grannies gather napa cabbage, choy sum, and persimmons in autumn; mothers with small children pick out curry leaves, bitter melon, and generous-sized bags of spices. At Lunar New Year, there are mandarin oranges with leaves.
There used to be a Ukrainian deli next door, now closed, but the market continues its traditions. On weekends, suburban families come to buy pickled vegetables, frozen pierogi, thick cultured yogurt, ginger cookies with dark cherry jam. Everyone is looking for the tastes that make them feel whole.
I’ve lived in other countries before, I know how much this means.
I love this market so much. But this corner, this corner has been making me sad.
Usually this corner is filled with big bags of rice—25 lbs each. Where those boxes are is usually a stack of them. But for weeks now, supply has been low.
Why is that?
I’ve seen this happen three times now—twice for recent elections, once for Covid.
It means families are stocking up, they are preparing to stay home if they have to; it means they don’t know what life will look like, if it will be safe for them to go out.
This election, like the two before it, may spell danger or violence for those who are not white, who are immigrants, who are trans or gay or Muslim or Jewish or Sikh—or even just female.
[In my computer I have a file of screenshots, taken in the days after the 2016 election of Trump, stories posted to Facebook by women about the men who shoved them off sidewalks, growling at them things like, “Get back in the kitchen.”]
None of us know how the election will go—there will likely be danger either way. And that danger is always higher for those who exist lower down on the pyramid of power and influence; this is always true.
Right now, the rhetoric has been ramped up so high—Trump has promised deportations of immigrants and retribution on enemies (and on “blue states”). When his speeches are analyzed, the word most used is “revenge.”
This is seeping through the nation, with higher than normal levels of hate speech against minority groups in general, according to an article this morning in the New York Times (unlocked link).
“It’s a demonization of the different,” says a church pastor who was interviewed, “…it’s seeming to get much more ingrained into the everyday person.”
“I certainly don’t remember in my lifetime the rhetoric against immigrants ever getting this strong during an election,” says a researcher.
I’m telling you this as a reminder for us all. While many people are scared, there are always those who are more vulnerable. I hope we can remember and stand together.
And if you are an eligible voter in the US, I hope you vote and vote with kindness. Every single vote benefits someone—even third-party votes and votes that are not cast benefit someone. I hope we can be mindful about who we are helping, who is in our community, who needs protecting.**
I bought extra rice at the market a few weeks ago—I have learned much from my fellow shoppers who have survival skills beyond what has been required of me. It’s more rice than I need, but now I can share.
As I was checking out with my “broken rice” (used in Vietnamese cuisine), the check-out clerk smiled. “You like broken rice?” she asked.
“I do!” I told her. “I love the texture.”
She excitedly pulled out her phone and looked up her favorite recipe—and I left with plans for a very good dinner in my future, my life further enriched.
If there is one thing I’ve learned, through good things and bad, it’s that we have to take care of each other. The only way we get through these times is together.
Wishing you well,
—Tara
**If you are having a hard time voting for the Dems, considering Gaza and many other things, here is an interesting way to approach the situation by swapping votes. (I understand those feelings, but the danger of much worse seems very high to me).
I have another newsletter! It’s totally different—about fostering joy and self care and pleasure and delight—because those of us grappling with hard stuff need to balance it out with fun. You can check it out here. And if you sign up for a paid subscription here, shoot me a note and I’ll gift you a complimentary subscription to enJOY. This is all about balance: work and play, dark and light.
This is so beautiful, important & timely. It’s so easy to lose perspective when you’re dizzy from spinning in chaos.
Thank you for the reminder; the beautiful frame you’ve drawn around safety and protection.