On seeing yourself, 10 years junior

Perhaps one of the most important parts about being a social worker/someone who works with youth, is the creation and maintenance of good 'boundaries.' The concept is so important that the term itself has become something of a farce, used so often it becomes almost meaningless or, at least, a huge fuckin' inside joke. But boundaries are no joke, my friend. They are complex, messy, confusing things that are, nevertheless, crucial to ones own sanity and the creation of healthy communities.

Lucky for me, I had some familiarity with 'boundaries' before I had to start implementing them professionally. In my prior punk-esque days, 'boundaries' were code for communicating to people to quit being fucked up, or, alternately, the ways in which you maintained the tenuous balance of screwing the system and still being in love. Basically, we used boundaries to police ourselves into living into the politics we so loudly proclaimed. And they were complicated and hard then, too; they brought up similar issues about when boundaries were used to hurt people and when they kept us healthy and whole, about how hard they became when one person's boundaries intersected with another's, in less than positive ways.

See what I mean about the word becoming a joke?

But these boundaries, the ones I live in now, they're a little funnier. For one thing, they come from the top down in a lot of cases, and they exist primarily to create distinctions in the community for its health and well being. And, in many ways, they safeguard safety - mine, and that of the youth I work with. For the most part, I've had an easy time with these 'boundaries' - they provide some good intellectual fodder for me, but they usually don't push my buttons.

or, they didn't anyway . . .

And then this youth showed up who made the boundaries get all kinds of messy.

Before you go assuming the complexity is something lurid, let me clarify that I do no involve issues of sex or drugs in the conversation about boundaries (rock'n'roll, however, is a totally different story . . .) So please rest assured that my boundaries were not complicated by any sort of sexual desire, crush, or relationship. And now that I have the caveats out of the way . . .

No, my boundaries got blurred with Haley (a pseudonym, of course) because I looked at her and saw myself, just shy of 10 years younger, with perhaps some more self assurance and better style. Seeing someone who reminds you of your younger self can have two effects: it can make you hate someone irrationally, or it can make you adore them beyond reason. Lucky for both of us, I found myself facing option #2.
But that doesn't mean that things have been easy. Even at a somewhat self aware 29 years of age, I still find myself getting weirdly attached to the decisions that Haley makes about her life, feeling personally offended or enthralled by them, which aside from being unrealistic and occasionally kind of creepy, makes me a somewhat less than ideal friend/mentor/social worker.
There can be something healing to be able to both relate to and distance yourself from someone who very closely resembles yourself, and yet remains a distinct person. It has been incredible to watch Haley develop a political consciousness, at 19, which it would take me many more years to find. It has been truly remarkable to watch her exist in a relationship as an independent component, to struggle with concepts of love, and justice, friendship and her role in the world.
Haley herself sees our similarity, and is fond of joking about how she is my 'mini-me.' It is taken for granted now, in the circles we exist in, that we are counterparts of a kind. Other people occasionally remark on our similarity as well, and it fills me with the kind of pride and tenderness I imagine older sisters and mothers feel.

But I wonder what this relationship is like on her end. I never really had someone older who I felt I resembled. I had older mentors, especially older Queer women, who were around for me to study and learn cultural subtleties from, but never someone I felt so deeply similar to. I wonder if I disappoint Haley ever, if she looks at what I am doing, saying, wearing, dating . . .and thinks - I will do THAT differently. This shouldn't bother me - in fact, I should be happy that she might watch me, respect me, and still strive to make decisions that are different, healthier, more life giving. And yet, its almost impossible not to feel a little judged when your younger self isn't 100% enthralled with the adult like decisions you are making.

Having models of the lives we aspire to, or relate with, is crucial though. It is absolutely one of my top priorities at the drop in center. I remember being terrified of 'getting older' because I assumed it would mean signing up for a middle-of-the-road existence in some suburb, replete with boring children, boring job, boring marriage and boring house. I didn't know that you could be 30 and still live in the city, have an incredible love affair that was rukous and rollicking and fantastic, that you could still dance your ass off or know about cool music . . .I didn't know because in my (limited) experience, people fizzled out after college and became, well . . .my parents (who I love and adore, but don't really want to mimic) It wasn't until I got out and started meeting people outside of my immediate age group who were living the kind of lives I wanted to live - my incredible 40 year old friend with a husband she adores, two hilarious and brilliant children, a house in city park, full sleeves of tattoos and a cynical, whip smart political sensibility. I realized that life didn't have to be about becoming something you feared, that it could mean becoming something you loved.

But I needed to see that it was possible. We all do. And some people have their preferred models all around them. I would bet money that my brother didn't struggle with this - he knew what his plan was, because his plan was the big, platinum PLAN A that we all get exposed to. But other folks don't have models so readily in front of them. And the problem is, we don't always know what kind of models we *need*, until we see them in front of us. And, we don't always realize the damage that can be done if we get too committed to inappropriate models until its too late.

This isn't just about defying the status quo - although, lets be honest, I LOVE defying the status quo- its also about looking at the ways in which alternatives to the status quo get appropriated and eaten up by the status quo so that they aren't actually providing a viable difference. I'm thinking now of the scant images available of queer people (wait, wait . . .gay and lesbian and sometimes transgender people) available in the media - Will and Grace, The L Word, Ellen Degeneres, Queer as Folk, Curve magazine. There's nothing wrong with any of these, per se (hmm . . .I might have to reconsider that momentarily), but when they are the ONLY images people see, they become problematic. What is you don't pull in 6 figures doing next to nothing and live in a lavish LA home with a pool? What if you don't even aspire to that? What if you aren't thin, or fashionable, or inclined to petty drama? If you are none of that, are you really a lesbian? Or, maybe you're a lesbian, but you're not a member of the upper eschalons of lesbianism. (Yes, I really do know of women who refer to themselves as "L Word lesbians" with a sense of pride.)

It has been shocking to me in a way I never thought it could be, how the young queer community has shifted with the influx of LGBTQ media models. I have seen an ebbing away from politicization, a more marketable aesthetic, a greater committment to policing identity, a veering away from community politics. Of course this isn't universally true, but I look at the local lesbo coffee shop and I see not a warm and fuzzy collection of womyn, but a frat boy-esque space that feels more meat-market than safe space. And, of course, I could just be getting older. And of course, the queerness of my youth will not be the queerness of the youth to come.

But I feel obligated to continue to offer myself up as a model - and to seek out other folks who will do the same - for the youth I work with, even if this means subjecting our lives to intense judgement and a little bit of well intentioned ridicule. I'd rather have Haley see where my radical politics have failed me and choose a different path then feel sewed into LesBiGay-Capitalism and not have any other options. Not that those are the only two available choices, and not to say I am haley (or anyone else's) savior . . .but rather, that we have a duty, living in a disjointed and chosen community, to provide the young people in our lives with accessible, open and accountable relationships - from these, they can pick and choose what makes the most sense to them and, with any luck, throw out the shit that is harmful and take the good ideas to the next level. And, of course, it is important for any person to understand where they have come from, and what holds them up from behind - whether that is genetic history or the history of a movement.

This sounds like martyrdom - its not. I am continually grateful for the people in my life who do a little bit of trailblazing so that I can still chose the wilderness, instead of always having to opt for the dusty road well worn.