on being sunshine

backstage, my hope givers live co-hosts backpack kid & LT fresh start riffing on the piano to write me a jingle.

after all, they've both got one. we've been singing ten-minute-long renditions of "LT fresh is in the building" for the last year. backpack's "flossin'" has millions of views on youtube.

backpack is smooth on the keys. LT's vocals make him worthy of his pop artist title.

the complete lyrics of my personalized vocal stim, as selected by the boys?

sunshine. and flowers. and stephanie.

now, mind you, i'd been deliriously awake since 12:20 am — hazard of the job when doing rural outreach for students through a non-profit — but i was tickled. that was their perception of me? a not-s0-far deviation from sunshine & rainbows?

occasionally, i find out (by accident) that people who spend considerable time with me see me as definitively positive — smiling and joyous and happy.

perhaps it is because i say i love you a lot. and my laugh is very loud. and i give lots of hugs. perhaps it is because what is good, i can see as lovely. and what is neutral or normal, i can see as good. still grateful. still thankful.

but when it comes to abuse, injustice, and exploitation — to human-made bad — i refuse to let my sunny disposition evolve into rose-colored glasses. normalization of cruelty moves the needle. neutrality only ever excuses the oppressor.

so the truth is, as a survivor of abuse and an observer of the world as it stands, i am often (and especially these days) not happy. i am often very angry. i am often very sad. i am often very disappointed, though increasingly not surprised.

and yet, i am sunshine. i am flowers. i am stephanie.

because as much as i feel all at once heartbroken and livid and fearful for my immigrant friends in a world where the people in power aren't playing by the rules, i am also indulging in everything they share with me — what they are proud of, what they miss, what they love. we share food. we watch out for one another.

i invite my friends to protests as i simultaneously invite them to my parties. and i'm wearing glitter on my face and my fluffiest ear muffs outside our city hall, hoping our megaphoned chants reach ears and hearts.

the darkness will not take my sunshine. and my flowers will take root, right here, with and for my neighbors. i am not going anywhere.

— s