Comfort Zones Are For Normal Times

Comfort Zones Are For Normal Times
A drawing from my notebook, doodled while I was trying to sort out a problem with my computer. I include it for those of you who read this piece, know me, and say, “But, Kate, you swear all the time!” Yes. Yes, I do. But not at people. I swear almost exclusively at robots.

It is not in my nature to yell “Fuck you!” at strangers. In fact, I typically aim to move around the world, connecting quietly with passersby: a smile here, a lifted stroller there, a wave to say, “After you.” I love a moment of shared humanity that doesn’t require much in the way of words. 

Until 2017, it was also not in my nature to attend protests. I did not grow up in a protesting family, and for most of my adult life, I’ve worked in business. As in my favorite sports, success in business requires keeping your head down and your eye on the ball. I did exactly that for many years. 

I was always interested in the wider world, but I (wrongly, it turns out) considered politics and advocacy the domains of well-off friends who could afford to work for next to nothing—or even (gasp!) for free. With big bills to pay, I limited my own civic involvement to voting, and because the world seemed (key word: seemed) fundamentally stable, that felt more or less okay. 

Like so many people, though, the last decade—a barrage of galvanizing moments, powerful movements, and fierce backlashes—has changed me. As Minneapolis has demonstrated so beautifully, I’ve come to see that civic engagement is a professional undertaking for some, but the responsibility of all.

On Monday night I attended an “Eyes on ICE” training. I had not yet seen Stella Carlson, “the pink coat lady,” telling Anderson Cooper how she came to record the murder of Alex Pretti on her phone. But, like everyone who saw the video she captured, I knew how important it was. I hoped the training would give me some of the confidence that this remarkable woman seems to have mustered alongside so many of her remarkable neighbors. 

The training, which was expertly delivered by the ACLU, was worthwhile, and I recommend it. I was relieved to learn that no cursing is required—or advised—and that my congenital politeness could even prove helpful in certain situations. I can do this, I told myself at the end of the training. And I will. Chances are, I won’t have to go far: as is now the case in so many places, my kids’ school is anticipating ICE activity and has briefed both students and parents on their lockdown protocols. 

Thanks for reading,
Kate