I don't know what to say about what happened at work. I'm still in shock over how fast things deteriorated there. I don't want to hurt the folks still at the center with my words, but before every interview this summer I've found myself pacing around and spiraling over negative thoughts. I can't get out the door on time, or get myself to have a positive attitude. I feel stuck, doomed to fail, sure that things will not go well. I know this comes from the fact that I'm carrying a lot of pain I need to find a way to put down, and writing it out might help.
The most important takeaway I want people to know is that it has nothing to do with the youth, the participants, the students. Teaching there was my dream job, and I loved working with all of the students that came through the doors. I really miss that classroom.
In talking with one of my former co-workers about how much to share our story with the public at large, he pointed out his reason for hesitating. He told me everyone he had talked to about the center acted like it was a crazy idea to have a bottom-up, grassroots center run by homeless youth. He felt all they would take was that a flawed idea had failed, that there was no way a center like that could ever succeed anyway.
Upon hearing that, I've become incredibly grateful that I don't have to worry about that in my community. While talking about the center to friends and family, folks seemed incredibly excited by the philosophy of having the participants who were affected by services be the ones that get a voice in what those services should look like. I saw everyone reach out in their own individual way, and as an institution, to provide funds, space for events, conversations and relationships over dinner. And when things started to crumble, I went to my community again, this time in distress, asking for help and support. The message I got whole-heartedly was that everything given to the center in the last year and a half to build relationships was worthwhile and there were no regrets, and now that energy will be re-directed because what is happening here isn't ok.
I haven't felt as truly rooted in Seattle as I did when I was going through that crisis. So many people offered a listening ear, advice, support, and affirmation that we weren't out of line and things were not ok. When going through the organizational outlets for expressing concern and distress are blocked one after the other, and you are told to not use words that describe your situation like "safety", "retaliation", and "staff splitting", asked to take care of your employer's feelings while they cause you harm and their unsafe behavior toward you is escalating, you start to feel like you're the one not currently checked in with reality. It was gas lighting in my opinion, what was happening to the line staff, and it was beyond frustrating. I don't know how I would have held myself together if there weren't good people around me keeping me grounded. Assuring me one after another, "This is not ok, and we respect you standing up for yourself."
One of the most powerful times that happened was when it came from the participants. They had a lot of questions for us about what was going on, and they weren't happy with some of our choices. I know how it looked, and can only imagine how it felt, when the people with keys (literally) to services refuse to show up and open the doors. But when they heard us explain ourselves as best we could, there were tough questions and statements, and then there was the message: "How can we support you?" And again as I was leaving, "I'm sorry if we didn't do enough to support you." That sentiment meant so much coming from the youth, who were caught in the middle of the internal dysfunction that they didn't cause but was affecting them the most. So I have nothing but good thoughts about the youth there, and hope they either find a way to take back their center, or find new places to offer them community.
When a participant came to the center and said that the people there were their chosen family, I could understand where that feeling came from. Organizing and uniting with the other staff members made me feel like we were becoming a chosen family together.
But then, hearing those same words from the management that had the power (and used it) to let go of some of these co-workers feels...different. I got invited to a "Family Dinner and Picture" by a member of the management who had refused to meet with the staff when we said we had to leave the center we felt so unsafe with our employer. To be frank, it pissed me off. I felt like I had been tricked into connecting with my co-workers and the participants by hearing the higher-ups refer to us all as a family, and then I was continuously reminded who could take that all away from me. You don't fire or 86 someone from your family, so if you have the responsibility or power to do that at the center, stop using that word. I'm fortunate to have a positive relationship with my given family, but for my co-workers and the youth who don't have that same privilege, it feels even more unfair to know that folks who have the power to select who gets to be a part of this community would still try to sell that this is a "family."
I'm not doing well with this. It still anxiously haunts my dreams every few nights. I run into these members of management and feel completely shut down.
But I know I'll also be ok. I don't get migraines at 6:00 p.m. anymore. My mental, physical, and emotional health has improved a lot. During interviews this summer, I've usually said phrases like, "I work very well on a team with other positive folks bouncing ideas off one another. What are the dynamics like between the staff here?"
At the current program where I'll be teaching, when I asked that, they told me, "We really don't like for people to go into their own offices. We like working together as a team. Oh, and if you have any discipline problems, we don't want you to deal with that. We're the directors, that's what we're here for. You should send those students to us. But you won't have many. Every quarter we ask our students to give us hard feedback so we can improve our teaching, and they're always just so nice and grateful, they never tell us anything mean." I tried to remind myself that this was a professional interview so I needed to hold back my tears.
I was blessed to go on lots of low budget trips this summer. A week at the cabin, a weekend at IslandWood, time with folks in North Carolina. I tell folks the story over and over. Sometimes I feel farther away and lighter, sometimes I feel I'm carrying it worse than ever. Time and space keep doing their work while I try to do mine. Every morning there's something new to see in the pea patch, something new blossoming and opening. And writing it out, even ambiguously, does feel like it helped.
