Golden Gate Bridge from Baker Beach, San Francisco, CA/Photo by Nichole Martinson
“Every person watching this has a town square. And I think if we all do that, then I think we’ll all be ok, because than it will multiply… And, it will also give courage to others to also do the same.”
The lines are a bit choppy here, lifted from the entirety of the conversation that surrounded it, but they struck a chord with me that still resounds. They hit a voice or space long ago quieted. Like many of my time, I grew up being told to sit down, be quiet, and disappear; not always explicitly, but always quite clear.
“You don’t feel like that.”
“What makes you think you can say that?”
“Who do you think you are?”
“That is such strong language.”
“You don’t want that.”
I played my replies on silent repeat in my mind:
“Yes, I do feel like ‘that’, hence saying it.”
“I can say ‘that’ because I am a person with opinions.”
“I am me.”
“I’m aware of the strength and weakness of many words and choose them accordingly.”
“I do want ‘that’ because I do.”
And occasionally: “Bitch, please.”
Every dismissal chipped away at or clapped closed ‘something’ before it had the chance to become anything. But then, that is the goal of such comments: to keep people in their “place,” to shame, silence, or preserve someone else’s status or comfort at the expense of your own voice and position. It’s a little psychological whipping if you will.
But who appointed them the arbiters of what I can think, want, say? They’re no more someone than anyone else.
Many years ago, at a friend’s suggestion, I started a Substack modeled loosely on the weekly emails (before blogs) I sent the first year I lived in New York. Those letters chronicled my cross-country transition, the ease, fun, and hardships of living in the U.S.’s biggest city, as well as the trials and tribulations that come with starting a new path in life.
But like I halted my weekly emails, I stopped or never really started Random Scribblings. The same old tired chorus returned: Sit down. Be quiet. You’re invisible.
Over the years, I’ve watched ideas I’ve had: topics I’ve outlined, concepts I’ve scribbled into notebooks, even scripts I’ve drafted appear later in articles, podcasts, Substacks, and even on screen. And I’m kinda pissed. Not because these people have gotten their messages or ideas out. But more that my instincts were right, and I’ve quieted or been quieted anyway.
Maybe seeing the Marc Elias interview was “my sign”, and it’s time to take his advice and build my own town square. It’s time to write as if someone’s reading.
So, why now?
Why not? And maybe because my ideas weren’t lame.
Because maybe my observations are on point and interesting. Or at the very least, amusing. And, maybe my filters of self-censorship will now burn away. (But let’s not count on that.)
What will you find here?
Probably a little bit of everything that darts through my brain such as observations on:
The state of our world, society, politics, and the bands that are glued together with chewed gum holding it all together.
Art, color, and the power and pull of certain hues.
Travel (insert dramatic sigh about not having done much of it lately).
Photography: A resurging obsession with its own gravitational pull.
And whatever else makes me think I have thoughts.
I’ve plotted out a publishing schedule, but plans and life demands have a way of not playing nice together - but we’ll give it a go anyway. When possible, I will include sources and links to support the topic at hand.
So, welcome to my little corner of the web. The journey may not be the smoothest at times, so strap in, hold on, and enjoy the ride.