September, finally. This month kicks off my favorite three of the year, which I essentially feel I live all the rest of the months for. Every fall I immediately turn to listening to 80s new wave and going for long walks in the woods. It is time, my friends.
PSA. The yoga skeletons are back at Trader Joes. As is the maple oat milk. Get it while you can, people. This oat milk holds legendary status in my friend group.
In case you haven’t seen it, the capital of Mississippi has no water. Grist reports that the crisis has been spurred by both floods and racism. I would also like to add that it still astounds me how little news coverage I’ve seen on this, because, you know (you KNOW!) if this was New York or LA or Chicago or Boston it would be all over the papers.
Here’s another piece in Harper’s Bazaar following local organizer and student Maisie Brown as the crisis unfolds.
There’s just a lot going on with water in the South, what feels like all the time. On the UNC campus, we have lead in the library water fountains. In Charleston, my other home, flooding is becoming nearly a daily occurrence:
I’ve written before about the strange sensation of learning to love your home as it sinks, but it really is something else. If you aren’t already following Jared and his Mean High Water Project, you need to do so now.
What a beautiful piece by the always wonderful Rae Garringer that I came across this week. Wow. Read this.
“When you come from a place like this—a place that needs young people to stay, a place that needs radically creative and innovative visions for the future that still respect our rich and unique past—some things just feel bigger than your right as a queer person to be as out as you want every moment of every day. Some things feel more urgent too. Do we dream of a future in which there is room for everyone at the table—any table—anywhere in these mountains? Absolutely. But in the meantime, despite the despair that can sometimes sneak in at the daunting task that lies ahead, many of us believe in these mountains enough to stay. For some of us, being able to stay in the loving arms of our mountains is worth each sacrifice that comes with it.”