Living with disappointment....as a motivation
Last week I did not get something I wanted. It was a fellowship that would have allowed me to make art in Berlin. Despite my best efforts, I had begun to count my chickens before they hatched by allowing myself to dream. Well, after wishing away months to hear the news, the email came swift and disappointing. “We are sorry to inform you that…..” I cannot say it felt like a punch to the gut as much as the air being sucked from the room.
A few days later I made one last trip at 6 AM to finish installing photographs at FaithAction house in Greensboro. Most of the photos where of undocumented immigrant and their children. After focusing on getting the works up on the wall correctly I had a few moments alone in the building before the staff arrived. I decided to read the narratives that went with with the photos. What struck me, and finally brought me to tears, was the repeated denial of dreams placed in the laps of these people; no license, no citizenship, no work, no mobility, no access to higher education, no access to their dreams. The pain I felt from my small defeat acted like a loud speaker for my soul to feel the deeper, more debilitating pain they must feel on an on-going daily basis. How can they manage?
Some do not manage well. Some kill themselves. Others die a slower death by alcohol. But many others find the strength to stand up and walk on. One undocumented immigrant showed me a tattoo on his sholder. It was of a skeleton soldier, in tattered clothing, slowly crawling forward. “That’s me.” He explained. “I never give up. “
I left my own show that day with a deeper respect for the community of immigrants that some would call “illegal.” Pardon, but my wounded heart knows they are heros. Following their fine example, I will keep crawling. Forward. For them. For myself. For all of us.


