A Brief Eulogy to 2023

Dearly beloved a recap of our best performances

“Infinity doesn’t interest me, Not all together anymore”- June Jordan, On A New Year’s Eve

Hi, my name is Christy I am writing before you today to pay tribute to the year 2023, how do I know this year so well? If you have a moment to spare which you do, I know we’re all half-watching the classic movie The Family Stone and playing Woodoku. 2023, where do we start…

It gave me asthma attacks, an allergy to peanuts, triggered my addictions, and made me more disabled. Yes more disabled. Is that possible is that a thing did I make something up and should I put it on a t-shirt? Would you buy it?

With the new year only days away I’m aware that our social media feeds will be screaming at us with quotes, and long-numbered self-help lists that aren’t meant for us, but for the person we want to throw shade at, the person we refuse to unfollow because somewhere deep down we don’t want to have our access revoked, and we don’t want them to lose access to us, or worse we refuse to unfollow because we don’t want others to go through our following list to see who we’re no longer friends with.

( look at you running to my Instagram being nosy, stay for the essay it’s more important)

I have fond memories of 2023, again I was in the NYTimes, if you didn’t know, you’re lying and trying to play it cool. Don’t do that here, I need anyone and everyone to stroke my ego. Thank you. My team of white people are watching.

I will be plugging and promoting my modern love essay after my book, during my book, my wedding day. Your wedding day.  I will throw it in the face of my nemesis ( she’s writing her fourth book but she’s never been in the New York Times BOOM!) I need to text her and send a holiday card. I truly love her. I swear.

2023 was great for performative activism better than 2020, oh so much better. In 2020 we had the blackout square that celebrities posted, Do you know who else posted it? That really hot lesbian at your farmers market who sells body soap, she not only posted the square but she gave her business to a Black person who had no qualifications to make soap. I love allies. I can’t speak for all Black people but I felt safer because of those squares. But this year was way more grand.

We lied better this year.

We lied to each other and called it community, we enabled each other’s irrational thoughts, fragility, our skepticism in others, yeah you know our unfounded mistrust, suspicion, and anxiety that we have about our peers? Who unbeknownst to them have no idea we created a one-sided beef for months.

I get it, trust me, all of this is justified because your astrology chart shows evidence of a mystery person close by who doesn’t like you.

Listen, I enjoy scrolling online and stumbling upon anything astrology-related, but only the posts that validate me, you know the ones that remind us that we’re a good person because of our sign, and everyone else is just out to get us.

“ Christy you were kind of cold to me earlier everything okay?”

“Oh yeah yeah, I’m a Libra so I need 5 minutes alone before every party, you know what… my chart said I would have someone confront me, wow back off we can’t be friends anymore!”

We were the best at performing this year, dancing around our echo chambers making sure the velvet red curtain stayed open, and that the audience liked every story, saw every story, and if they didn’t we asked a simple question, yes you guessed it:

“ Do you like me? Well, I’m going to dislike you before you get a chance to dislike me because I need to feel power from anywhere!”

Titled performances we bought tickets to below:

We were firing people for not wanting genocide.

Sending PR packages to everyone but me. (Let’s fix this thanks.)

Heavily invested in popularity yet lonely and yearning for community.

Using joy as resistance when we’re really just partaking in self-care and need an excuse to not fight structures of power.

Assuming we know people because we participate in toxic parasocial relationships

Our desperation to be right!

Consumerism — I was front row for this.

The star-studded show goes on and on… my favorite was Instagram captions written by activst influencers, fetishizing white supremacy to get more followers because we love outrage, they know we love chaos and outrage so we make the perfect audience.

( cheers to activist influencers they’re so good, I need to stay away. )

Cheers to all of us. Constantly missing the mark, curating versions of ourselves we wish we were. The versions we want everyone to love.

I looked at 2023 from hospital waiting rooms, staring at the children's area wondering how many of the children playing will understand the medical jargon they’re about to hear.

I looked at 2023 with desperate eyes terrified of failure, terrified of what the consequences will be if I’m not performing my role in this caste system.

I looked at this year laughing at all the dramatic things that tried to stick to the wall rushing to land on my top priority list.

I looked at this year with grief.

I looked at this year being pushed in the ocean where folks thought I would drown, but see, these folks forgot I know how to swim.

I looked at this year grateful for reunions, lessons learned, apologies that I needed to give to old friends, and voice notes from best friends that could very well be award-winning podcasts.

I looked at this year knowing I have to keep writing because writing in this body is anti-war, it is anti-colonialism.

I looked at this year saying no, because I can, because I wanted to.

I looked at this year saying yes to the fancy fellowships and writing cohorts. I said yes to writing a true story, writing a film, to reading more fiction with my partner in our little book club, and yes I am still in awe that my mother’s story was read by New Yorkers, a healing moment for my family who has struggled to confront her displacement and illegal removal from a state she called home.

I looked at this year speaking life into my daughter who I am rocking back and forth proud of her, being disabled and Autistic is what she knows well, she also knows happiness, laughter, fashion, and Melissa Etheridge. (The girl has good taste)

We have been on a ride this year, and I don’t know if there is a realm where things are easier, where we love each other, where we give each other grace, where there is room for vulnerability. Where we don’t have to die for peace. Where we don’t have to write eulogies to the completion of astronomical objects revolving around an orbit.

I want you to believe this version of me. But I am performing it.

I want something from you, we want something from each other. We can’t live without our performances, because the stage protects us. It keeps a barrier between everything real, as everything that will challenge us is off the stage.

Maybe next year we will break the pattern of these performances, maybe we will respond differently…Who am I kidding, my astrology chart said I crave attention! Drum roll please, the position is center stage, I’m ready, open the curtain!

Hello, 2024!

C’mon y’all didn’t think I would close the year being the bigger person.

Thank you all for subscribing and sharing this year, it has truly given me the push to keep writing, cheers to the best bad people I know.

Now forget everything I wrote and watch my performance ( seriously, share, subscribe, laugh, or hate)

-C