Take the Trip

I know that things feel far away right now, and we’re all hitting our pandemic limit. I’d love to hop on a plane, visit friends, hug my parents, and there is light at the end of the tunnel… but this has been a strange year.

I’ve always been on the go. In fact, I’ve designed my life in such a way that I don’t stay in one place for too long. I love being on the road, checking out new towns, visiting old and new friends, and this year has been… still.

So, like many of us, I’m hoping and dreaming of the plans that I’ll make soon, and thinking about how it will feel to pack up my guitar and start driving. But I’m also using this time to think back. Reflect. Imagine how differently things could have turned out in my life if I hadn’t made certain decisions. 

20 years ago (almost to the day!) I made my first trip from a freezing Northfield, MN (yay, St. Olaf!), to sunny Oaxaca, Mexico. I had no idea how that trip would change my life. 

I was invited on the trip to go and help build a bathroom at a children’s home. I had barely done any construction before, I didn’t spend a lot of time around kids (I babysat for like two families as a teenager), and my Spanish was, ummm….lacking (despite the wonderful teaching of Señora Ramirez).

What I’m trying to say is: the trip made barely any sense. It was arguably a terrible fit for me.

And yet, the children that I met in those seven days opened my heart in ways that shifted my entire life path. Fast forward 20 years and that week is responsible for much of my current life. I sang with those kids and made up songs with them, I learned construction, I focused on learning to speak Spanish. I am still friends with these same kids (now adults), and I am so grateful to them. 

On that first trip, I met a young girl named Gaby - who is now more my sister than friend.

On my return trip, I met a fellow volunteer named Bryan - my partner in life in more ways than one.

These past 20 years I have met thousands of people in Oaxaca who continue to change my life. Our stories are woven together by time that we have spent in a mountain village, garbage dump, the dusty outskirts of town, and the city center. 

I know that COVID has limited what we can do, so please DON’T take the literal trip right now. Stay home, stay safe, and instead translate this into: “do the thing”. Especially if that thing scares you a little bit. Or doesn’t seem like an obvious fit.

You never know how that “thing” will shape the rest of your life.

These children and this place continue to be a gift.

My Hair Journey

First of all - I think it’s important to point out, if you don’t care about why I cut my hair (or think that a writing exercise such as this is self-important or self-indulgent), I would suggest reading something else that you’ll no doubt find more interesting. For those of you still reading, I say: this is actually about hair, so read on with caution. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Here we go…

I cut my hair and combed out the dreadlocks that I have joyfully and gratefully worn for a decade. It was crazy! It was stressful! It was freeing! So why did I do it? A few different reasons, but first, I want to explain why I locked my hair up in the first place.

A very quick history: my hair has been in knots since I was a kid, that is just how it prefers to be. As a young(er) woman I used leave-in conditioners, detangling combs, straighteners, etc., all with varying success. I’m sure that many of you reading know the products, and many of you know the frustration. What I didn’t realize was that all of this frustration with my hair was really covering for a frustration that I felt towards external societal standards placed upon me, that had sneakily woven their way into becoming internalized. This goes back to teenage years of insecurity, young adult years of never feeling thin or good enough - this goes deeper into my story than I care to share - but all this to say, a little over 10 years ago I had an epiphany. Was I frustrated with the need to have a “good hair day”? Yes. Was it impacting how I felt about my appearance? Yes. Was it making me view myself as “less than”? Yes. So why didn’t I just stop? Why didn’t I just let go of these expectations? Aha!

So, that summer of my epiphany, 10 years ago, after spending months living in the mountains of Oaxaca, Mexico, and regularly bathing in a waterfall where I was never able to untangle my hair (and never concerned or worried about it) - I decided to let it do its thing.

When I first locked up my hair, I noticed that people smiled at me a lot more. I thought that was interesting, and commented to a friend about it. She rightly pointed out: “I don’t think they’re smiling at you because of your hair, I think they’re smiling at you because of how much more comfortably you carry yourself underneath your hair.” I had disrupted a system of self-imposed negativity, and the confidence and joy were palpable. Yay!

So, here we are, a decade later, and one might ask - then why cut it off? I’ve got a few reasons that run a bit deeper than the most obvious one, which is: because I wanted to.

1) My neck and shoulders were affected by the weight. I didn’t notice at first, because hair grows slowly, but one day I noticed how loudly my neck was cracking…and it didn’t do that before. I also noticed my posture had shifted, and I carried my head forward over my neck to balance this weight. This is unhealthy for a lot of reasons, but it’s also an unhelpful posture for singing.

2) 10 years (to the day!), seemed like the perfect way to end an era. I felt good about the timeline, and I felt happy to have a decade to think about in this way. My hair had some treasures in it - beads that had been given to me, made for me, painted for me; it was like my hair was a living scrapbook I could use to keep these things, and therefore these people, close. I loved that feeling so much.

But with the physical weight, there was also an emotional weight, which may sound strange. I realized in the last few years that I wasn’t keeping my locs, but rather I wasn’t cutting them. A semantic difference, but an important one. To put it another way - I wasn’t actively keeping my hair locked, instead, I was resisting making a change. I had one dreadlock in particular that I was emotional about cutting. It carried a bead that I had worn for over 8 years, and the giver had since tragically died. It felt like I had to keep that bead, and that loc in order to stay connected to him. I was afraid what would happen to memories, stories, and my mental image of him without this connection.

But emotional weight eventually builds to a breaking point. I cannot be the sole carrier of memories for this loved one. It’s not sustainable, and it’s not expected. Many of his friends and family share that responsibility, and through our shared efforts of telling his stories we actively keep him alive. Once I had that awakening, actually believed it, and allowed myself the time to process that shift in responsibility, I felt ready. Not only ready, but excited for a change.

3) The big elephant in the room when a white woman discusses her dreadlocks is cultural appropriation. There are racial and cultural questions and discussions in 2020 that are different than in 2010, or 2000, and will be different tomorrow. And there are questions and discussions that are different in different spaces - when I’m walking around in Mexico, when I’m walking around on a Lakota reservation, when I’m walking my dog on a trail in Connecticut, when I’m performing at a music festival, or when I’m walking around at a Black Lives Matter demonstration.

I almost didn’t include this reason, because it is so sticky and sensitive. I’ve explained my hair story and my intentions, and I have had open and honest conversations with a lot of different people, with a lot of different skin colors, about my hair. Anytime I shared my hair story and my gratitude to my locs with anyone, it was received and respected. I state this here with such appreciation because I want to make it undoubtedly clear that I didn’t receive any pressure from anyone to change my hair. (It is, after all, my head.) And no one ever gave me a hard time for considering my hair to be more than “just hair.”

While my intentions and story have always been respected, there remains the fact that the only way to know my intentions or story is by hearing them. At first glance, on a first impression, assertions of cultural appropriation can certainly be made.

And I know there are lively and oftentimes heated debates on this very topic: Vikings wore dreadlocks, and ancient Egyptians, and different Indigenous groups, and, and, and… The fact still remains that there is a very specific conversation to be had about cultural appropriation in this time and this place. Regardless of how anti-racist you or I are learning to be (resources here for your reference), there is still the fact that I can wear my hair in dreadlocks and be accepted into a PhD program. Meanwhile, a teenage wrestler can be forced to have his hair cut off just so he can compete in a match. Or a young high school student can be denied walking in his graduation because his hair doesn’t comply with the dress code. Those are just facts.

I need to state that, because I don’t want it to seem like I was blissfully unaware for ten years. While I cannot be held responsible for the prejudice or behavior of others - I also cannot leave it unacknowledged. Thoughts of inequality and cultural appropriation were certainly on my mind as I made this decision.

To be honest, the depths of nuance necessary to have an actual conversation about and around cultural appropriation need more than a blog post, so I’ll wrap up reason #3 by saying: I loved my hair so much, and I am deeply grateful for the freedom and joy that it gave me for a decade. I’ve learned a lot in this last decade, and as silly as it many sound, my hair had a lot to do with it.

And now - some fun facts:

• I just had my first haircut in over 10 years - and it just so happened to be during a pandemic, so that was weird

• I haven’t had bangs since the second grade

• It took three weeks and two bottles of conditioner to cut and comb out 51 locks (I did it at night, usually while watching re-runs of Law & Order)

• My winter hats are all stretched out and waaaay too big

• I had to go and buy a comb…literally didn’t have one anywhere

• Combing my hair in the shower feels ah-mazing…hello, scalp massage!

• I can use regular sized hair ties now, instead of headbands to hold my hair in a ponytail

• My ponytail is so tiny and light (and so much COOLER) when I go running

• I can wear a hood! (rain jacket, hoodie, winter in Toronto…this is very exciting)

• People don’t recognize me! Between wearing a mask in public, and now this…

I’m sure I’ll keep discovering new things over the next days, weeks, and months, some fun and some less so (seriously, I did not remember how much hair falls out in the shower) but that’s what I’ve noticed so far. And there you have it - if you have arrived here at the end and are thinking: “Why did I read all of that? This was such a navel-gazing, vain, pontifical explanation all about hair!” My response to you is: I warned you at the beginning!

I should also let you know that if you feel the urge to tell me how much better I look now, or how much better I looked before - go ahead, but just know that I’ve heard both responses already, so your opinion has already been covered. Huzzah! Time saved!

Wishing you all well on your own hair journeys - whatever that may look like for you!

Love, a happy-headed Kristen

Letter to Selectwoman Kupchick and Chief of Police Lyddy

Feel free to copy, share, use… and thank you for fighting for a more just world.

bkupchick@fairfieldct.org

CLyddy@fairfieldct.org

Good morning Selectwoman Kupchick and Chief Lyddy,

Thank you for coming, and for sending along remarks, to last evening’s vigil where we gathered to mourn the loss of black lives at the hands of police. 

I wanted to follow up on Judge Stevens’s suggestion that Fairfield take President Obama’s pledge to address police use of force policies here in Fairfield. As the judge mentioned, and as I tried to help us understand by signing rather than singing, words without action are not enough.

The link for the pledge is here: https://www.obama.org/mayor-pledge/

I am happy to help engage the community if you are interested in hearing opinions on this matter, whether they be virtual or distanced events.

Please consider the anti-racist actions you can take following your spoken words last evening.

Thank you,

Kristen Graves

——

www.kristengraves.com
www.thejustbeniceparty.com
203-292-0432

Justice anywhere...

15 years.

I’ve been traveling to and from Oaxaca, Mexico for 15 years.

My first trip was on a college whim. A pastor came to my campus wanting to organize a service trip to a children’s home.

I’d never heard of Oaxaca, I’d never been on a service trip, and I’d never spent any time in a children’s home, so I went. I thought it would be a great experience. 

That first trip, I met dozens of children that have changed my life, one in particular, named Gabriela. 

Yes - Gaby and I have known each other for 15 years.

15 years.

One year into my volunteer trips, I met another volunteer named Bryan...

You all know the story.

Gaby, Bryan and I have essentially grown into adults, together. 

Bryan, as you may know, is the President and Founder of Simply Smiles. 

Gaby is now the Program Manager of Oaxacan Operations for Simply Smiles.

.....

The three of us just spent a week providing a health clinic for people living in the southernmost region of Oaxaca, Mexico, in a town called Santa Maria Tepexipana.

2,504 people stood in line waiting for us to administer a life-changing and life-saving drug to cure intestinal parasites. You can read all of the science, and facts, here. Bryan did a great job breaking everything down so that you can understand the process as well as the ‘why’ behind the process.

The process is important, and so are the facts:

• 2,504 people were treated
• 12 tons of food were distributed 
• information on college scholarships was passed out to each family
• educational pamphlets on how to prevent infection were given and explained to each family
• plans were made to build over a dozen new latrines

The facts are wonderful.

.....

In addition to sharing the facts, I want to try and describe what this all feels like.

While standing behind the medication table, and looking into the trusting eyes of countless children and families, I realized that what Simply Smiles is doing is creating opportunity.

Some of these children will take it, and some won’t.

Some of these parents will take it, and some won’t.

Our job isn’t to make sure that everyone takes every opportunity.

Our job is to make sure that opportunity is always there for those that want it. 

This village may be the birthplace of the next Steve Jobs, or of the next Bob Dylan, or of the next Nelson Mandela. We’ll never know, until we can assure that they are provided with opportunity.

I’ve always known that everyone’s path is different. 

What I’m learning as I get older is, this difference is a good thing.

These children won’t all go to college. They won’t all go through high school. In fact, the majority of them won’t even make it to middle school.

That doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve the opportunity to go.

They deserve opportunity as much as they deserve to be healthy, and as much as they deserve to have enough food to eat.

…..

When standing in front of thousands of desperate parents who simply can’t feed their children, your heart breaks from the weight of fear and anxious uncertainty.

Your heart breaks for the grandmother who walked for six hours in the sweltering heat, just to make sure that her sick granddaughter would have a chance to see the doctor.

Your heart breaks for the child who understands that this is her last year of school, because once she’s 10, she’ll have to work in the coffee fields with her family.

Your heart breaks for the father who tried to get help for his sick child, traveling for a day, just to wait for three hours outside of an administrative office of a non-profit, and then be turned away.

These stories. These people. They’ll break your heart.

And then…

In the crowd there’s a little boy.

I met Rigoberto 7 years ago when Bryan and I first visited this village. He was pretty freaked out by us (we were the first white people he’d ever seen) and he was incredibly shy. He was born with no right arm, and at the time that we met him he was suffering from malnutrition and severe intestinal parasitic infection.

We saw him in line, just two days ago, with a huge smile on his face, waiting to greet us. He plays soccer at school, is incredibly fast and strong, and looks for Bryan every time we visit.

Seeing him made me realize, these stories are real too. And they’re just as true.

You're inspired by the illiterate parents who have heard Gaby’s story, and then ask how they can help assure that their child goes to college. 

You're inspired by the mother who walks 9 hours round trip to sell bananas in the town square to ensure that her children have the proper school uniforms.

You're inspired by the 8 year old girl who helps translate conversations into Spanish for me when a family arrives that only speaks Zapotec…she hangs around the medical table all day because one day she’d like to be a doctor.

These stories. These people. They’ll make your heart soar.

…..

The world is so small.

It’s amazing to me that I can be in this village by nighttime if I leave that morning from New York City.

It’s also amazing to me that I could have just as easily been born a child in Santa Maria Tepexipana. 

These two thoughts are present in my mind and heart often.

And so…

Because the world is so small and so connected, these people are my neighbors. 

Because the world is so small and so connected, I have the good fortune of calling many of the folks of Santa Maria Tepexipana my friends. 

And because they’re my friends, I’ll do all that I can to help them.

…..

Injustice anywhere is injustice everywhere.

This paraphrase of what Dr. King wrote in his Letter from a Birmingham Jail in 1963, sadly, I believe is true. Dr. King wrote these words so many years ago, and they’re just as relevant now as they were then.

For my optimistic brain, this idea that injustice anywhere is injustice everywhere, is a little much for me to handle.

I get bogged down in the thought that I’ll never be able to do enough.

But a few years ago, while thinking through this idea, I realized that if that’s true, then the opposite must also be true.

Justice anywhere is justice everywhere.

Yes, justice anywhere is justice everywhere.

What Simply Smiles did this week, and what I got to witness and be a part of, was contribute to a just world. 

Justice.

Justice in the form of healthcare to over 2,500 people. 

Justice in the form of food to hundreds upon hundreds of families. 

Justice in the form of scholarships to children seeking out opportunities.

That is justice.

And I truly believe that the justice in this corner of the planet  made our entire world a little more just.

…..

15 years.

15 years worth of fighting for justice. 

And every little bit of justice brings us closer the world that we want to see.

…..

Rigoberto (in the center) with Bryan, his brothers and me in 2009.

Rigoberto and Bryan in 2016.

Embrace the wobble

I love yoga so much.

I really got into yoga about a year or two ago, and I’m so happy to have it as a part of my life. 

Being a little crunched for time the last few months between awesome tour & travel, Chip’s health, getting started on my newest studio project, and buying a new car, I missed out on yoga for a while.

I brought yoga with me on a lot of the trips - most notably, while I was in Nicaragua, and I even took a class with my mom when I was out in Wisconsin, but I hadn’t been to my class for a while.

And I LOVE my class with my teacher. It’s this communal experience where everyone is super focused (or else you fall down) and super sweaty (did I mention, it’s hot yoga?), so nobody’s judging anybody.

The reason I love this challenging class is because it’s so hot, so hard, and so great, that I can literally think of nothing else.

I have to focus.

I have to be in the moment.

Being present and being in the moment, is a life skill that I’m working on. (I’ve learned a bit about it from Chip, but still have some room for improvement.)

So today - I set my alarm, made it to my class, sweat it out, and had a great time…being.

During one of the balance poses, my/our teacher (I shouldn’t be selfish), Caroline, said to us…

“Embrace the wobble.”

I giggled, because I love it.

Embrace the wobble.

It’s even fun to say! (Try it - it might give you a laugh…)

She told us not to give ourselves a hard time, or be disappointed when we’re trying to balance and find ourselves a little wobbly. Instead, focus on the fact that the wobble is your body’s effort to recenter.

I don’t need to spell out the metaphor for you on this one - but think about how great it would be to embrace the wobble.

Embrace the wobble.

Instead of getting frustrated when I don’t practice enough, when I don’t sing enough, when I don’t have enough shows, when I feel like my songs aren’t good enough - my new plan is to embrace the wobble. 

My new plan is to take all of these thoughts as lessons instead of failures, and allow them to help me recenter. 

Realign. 

Refocus. 

Embrace the wobble.

Have a beautiful, wobbly day,

Kristen