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      Who You Love Has More to Do With Politics Than You Might Think

      by

      When the results came in during the election of 2016, the country collectively learned that nearly 50 percent of white women had cast their votes for a man who bragged about sexual misconduct on tape. All of my fellow white feminist friends were horrified, as was I. But what disturbed me as well, perhaps more, were the number of women who I’d seen posting on social media that their homes were divided: split between Trump and Clinton under the same roof. These were the white women who didn’t vote for Trump, but lived and shared children with someone who did. I couldn’t fathom how a woman could love someone who voted so violently against her and countless others—and for that matter, how could he claim to love her? I started to fear that I, too, could wake up one morning and discover that my intimate partner had the capacity to think, act, and vote against my interests and those of so many others. What I didn’t realize in 2016 was that I was already living it.

      My ex—we’ll call him Mark—was not a Trump voter. But he couldn’t understand why I was depressed after the election, or why I was overreacting to something that, he maintained, would be of no real consequence to anyone. He told me he thought Trump was “a buffoon and an idiot,” and that he wasn’t happy about the results, but as I lay next to him in bed and cried, he told me he didn’t get why I was so emotional. When I emphasized Trump’s numerous sexual assault allegations, something that was very personal to me as a survivor of abuse, he replied, “Well Obama was accused of a lot of things.” It didn’t occur to me to say at the time, but Obama has not been accused of sexual assault, and had one white woman said a fraction about him of what they said about Trump, Obama’s career, his life as we know it, would have been over. But at the time, desperate for comfort, all I asked was for Mark to hug me. He sat uncomfortably for a moment before he said, “I can’t hug you if I don’t know what I’m agreeing to.” We then sat in an icy silence and I stared through the window, feeling stung and embarrassed for having asked in the first place.
      I grew up in a moderate-sized town surrounded by small towns, in the dead-center of flyover country. Many marry straight out of high school or college, have children within a year, and stay either in their hometown, or live within a few hours of it—that is, if one of them doesn’t enter the military first. I don’t say this in a negative way; many of my good friends have followed this path and they’ve been very happy. But I always felt that this created a culture of “not being too picky” when choosing a mate, especially as a liberal, educated, pro-choice, non-religious woman. You find someone who mostly aligns with your personality and activities, and whatever exists outside of that, you accept, because the alternative is to risk being alone. The idea that one would break up with someone because of their politics, I always perceived, was frowned upon. Why do politics have to come into it? You don’t want to be closed-minded. Some disagreement is healthy—it keeps things interesting!

      The idea that one would break up with someone because of their politics, I always perceived, was frowned upon. Why do politics have to come into it? You don’t want to be closed-minded. Some disagreement is healthy—it keeps things interesting!

      Under these criteria, when I was 19, I found my perfect pairing. We met doing regenerative, local farm-to-table work, we were both artists, neither of us listened to country music, he handed me the power tools. These things were all important to me. Once we made our relationship official, our futures became intertwined, and it started to look like I might have that Midwest path.
      Then 2016 happened, which set me off in a new personal direction. I, like many of the white folks around me, had thought on some level that the election of Obama meant the end of large-scale racism in America. I knew that racism still existed, but I had always subscribed to the thinking that it was just a few individuals and had no larger means of existence. Mark shared this belief, but after Trump, only one of us started to adapt our thinking.
      I started to become more outspoken on social media. For a developing activist, social media is the catalyst for finding our voice and discovering new viewpoints to expand our thinking. It was this newfound expression of mine that quickly became a source of arguments in my relationship, although I could never figure out what the actual argument was about. All I knew was that Mark would see something I posted or even something I liked, and within moments, we’d be shouting back and forth to no avail.
      One of these arguments took place in response to the riots that had broken out across the country in the wake of Trump’s election. I was in support; Mark was starkly against.
      “The reason Martin Luther King Jr. made change was because they were never violent. For the sit-ins, they took the abuse, they sat there while people pounded on them, and that was how people saw how awful it was,” he said. “These people need to know that violence alienates the rest of us who would want to help them. When they do stuff like this, it’s all noise and people like me tune it out.”*

      *Editors’ Note: This is an example of a microaggression. The Everygirl Media Group does not condone this type of speech. To educate yourself on microaggressions and how to combat this behavior, click here.

      This became the running theme. Emotion, anger, frustration, ‘acting out’—all of these things caused the movement to fail at what Mark proposed was its single purpose: to get people like him, ‘moderate white America’, on board with Black liberation. He threw MLK and his ‘passive resistance’ in my face at every turn, and I responded by publicly sharing Letter from Birmingham Jail, in which King states, “I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate… who is more devoted to ‘order’ than to justice.” Mark responded by saying I was intentionally trying to hurt him by turning his hero against him, and that I was mis-interpreting MLK due to context. I didn’t know the phrase ‘white fragility’ then, but Mark was textbook.

      The underlying dynamic of our relationship began to shift after about four months of dating, when I left to attend the Women’s March. It was a life-changing experience for me, to be surrounded by people who were also experiencing the devastation I felt after the election. But my elation was short-lived, because by the time our busses left D.C. for Kansas, I was already bracing for another argument at home. Instead, I was met with no words at all, as Mark greeted me with no mention of the trip I had just made. When I nudged him, worried he was quietly simmering grievances that would erupt later on, he remarked that the whole ordeal seemed a bit silly. I asked him what seemed so ‘silly’ about the largest single-day protest in U.S. history. After some back-and-forth, I finally asked what he thought the Women’s March was for. No answer. When I informed him that it was in response to the inauguration of Donald Trump, he simply raised his eyebrows and said he’d had no idea it had anything to do with Trump. His tone was almost accusatory, as if I had intentionally held something back from him. As if the expectation that he would take a moment to look it up while I had been gone for five days was somehow unreasonable.

      His tone was almost accusatory, as if I had intentionally held something back from him. As if the expectation that he would take a moment to look it up while I had been gone for five days was somehow unreasonable.

      And yet, I bought in and started to believe that it had, in fact, been unreasonable. I started to think that if I could just explain things in the right way, if I could bring the answers to him, the fighting between us would stop, and we could actually work together at navigating the world of intersectional activism. He seemed so close to being on the same side that I thought I could give him that final push.
      So I sent him articles, gathered materials to talk about sexism and racism and homophobia and how they all roll themselves up together to form institutional violence and oppression. He wholeheartedly refused to read a word of it, because as he told me, he ‘wasn’t that interested.’ But if this was true, why were we fighting so constantly? And why did the fighting only seem to stop when I finally broke down crying? And why did he seem incapable of expressing genuine sympathy when I was in pain? For that matter, why did talking about it hurt me so much more than it hurt him? Why did I feel like I was treading water while he was blank in the face?
      At the time, I didn’t know about concepts such as ‘gaslighting’ and ‘stonewalling,’ so instead, I accepted Mark’s definitions of what I was experiencing. I kept crying during our arguments because I was simply more fragile than him, and in turn, my argument constructions were inferior to his because they were emotional. He convinced me that while he could always be objective about the things other people had endured, we would forever be un-objective after experiencing them for ourselves. Beyond this, my hours of reading, lecture, discussion, and academic study had no bearing on my credibility in our debates, because to Mark, any social or political issue was fair game to the casual viewer, regardless of the time or work they had dedicated to understanding it. As Mark’s voice became a constant passenger in my head, I struggled to feel conviction about anything at all, until I began to pull away from activist work altogether.
      Mark and I finally broke up just before my college graduation, when I became too exhausted to prop up his version of our relationship. When I finally demanded different treatment, he found another way to flip it around on me: Our issue was simply that I wasn’t strong enough to take his emotional manipulations, and I needed to logically explain to him how to change without causing him discomfort along the way. I told him to pursue therapy, and closed the door for good. I then lived with his voice in my head for two years, during which time I was still too intimidated, too lacking in conviction to find my way back to my voice.

      I pursued therapy for myself in the fall of 2019, where I began to tease my own voice apart from Mark’s. However, change was slow, and I still felt great shame and embarrassment when I dared to engage in activist work. That all changed in the spring of 2020, when the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor sparked uprisings across the country, and something in me finally cracked. I found enough purpose to push through Mark’s voice and start reading again, finding books about racism and intersectional feminism, which led me to Eloquent Rage by Brittney Cooper. I had never seen such a fearless, honest analysis of feminism, and even though her experiences as a Black woman were different from mine, the truth she spoke hit me in waves with every chapter. She was unafraid to look at her deepest insecurities and challenge them, to confront the very real fear that all feminists have of ending up alone because we dare to demand something more from our men. In her chapter White-Girl Tears, I learned that I was not the only person asking what the hell happened with white women voters in 2016, though the answers she proposed weren’t the ones I had anticipated. She wrote of the Women’s March that meant so much to me, “Watching white women take it to the streets to protest an election outcome that was a result of white women’s powerful voting block felt like an exercise in white-lady tears if I ever saw one.” Reading this was sobering, but it helped me recognize that as a white feminist, if I wanted to create change, I needed to start much closer to home.

      It helped me recognize that as a white feminist, if I wanted to create change, I needed to start much closer to home.

      “[T]he choice of whom to love is political. And if white feminists were honest, they would recognize that their feminism actually does demand that they interrogate the political dimensions of their intimate engagements.” This line, like so many other lines in Cooper’s book, put language to something I didn’t realize I’d been trying to say for years.
      I began to view my relationship with Mark through an entirely different lens. I started to question his motives more deeply, wondering now if he was identifying with a larger power structure which was threatened by the activist movements I was engaging with. Did he truly think that social justice efforts were simply too chaotic, too loud, too disorganized to gain traction? Or was the concept that a movement could attain justice with or without his approval simply a challenge to his sense of superiority and importance? I had my answer when I realized that while Mark claimed to support peaceful protest above all else, when his girlfriend left for five days to participate in the enormously peaceful Women’s March, he couldn’t be bothered to learn why it was happening in the first place. I then realized that no matter what arguments I laid out, what research I conducted, or what efforts I made to help him understand, no message of change or justice would have ever reached him because he did not want to be reached.

      I then realized that no matter what arguments I laid out, what research I conducted, or what efforts I made to help him understand, no message of change or justice would have ever reached him because he did not want to be reached.

      For the first time since our breakup, I have stopped hearing Mark’s voice in the back of my mind. I feel like I finally have the vantage point to see all of the things that had been at play, which were far more than just two people standing in a kitchen at 3am, arguing over my presence on Instagram. Behind both of us were years upon years of socialization and experiences that formed who we were, and he was backed by a system that had been doing this insidious work for generations. His weapon was far more substantial, and he was far more adept at using it. But as I am now listening to Black feminist leaders who have studied this longer and more extensively than I, as I learn about the inner-workings and generational pull of this weapon, I can finally start to neutralize its effects.
      White women with white male partners: We need to have a conversation about the word ‘political,’ what it means, and what we allow the men (or should I say ‘enforcers of the white patriarchy,’ because we do that shit, too) in our lives to tell us it means. We act as if politics are a dressing of topsoil over our lives, disconnected from everything else, something to discuss at dinner. In fact, what I’ve learned is that politics form the very roots that feed everything we are made of. It has taken me some time to recognize that Mark was emotionally abusive, but what is not lost on me is that his abuse was also political. And because he and I came out of a culture that told us we shouldn’t base who we date off of politics, it was the perfect shield for the weapon he brought to the table.

      White women with white male partners: We need to have a conversation about the word ‘political,’ what it means, and what we allow the men in our lives to tell us it means.

      I am changing my constitution allllll the way around. My relationships, from here on out, are to be a sanctuary for me in the sense that they are a safe space, and 100 percent optional. First date topics will include but not be limited to the following: Black Lives Matter, intersectional feminism, abortion, white supremacy, transphobia, religion, who you voted for in 2016, who you voted for in 2020, who you wished you could’ve voted for in 2020, Black reparations, Native American reparations, and whether or not Louis C.K. is redeemable. I refuse to act as if any of these opinions are not critical to agree upon with my future partner. We can disagree about many things—for example, I do enjoy a good dill pickle, and if they find them repulsive, then more for me. But politics and the weapon they wield are no space for compromise, and the best thing that white women could recognize in 2020 is that we no longer need to endure or carry this weapon in exchange for our security.

      I believe that all white women have a Mark, whether it’s a romantic partner, a father, a grandfather, a fellow white woman who parrots the same sentiments in a higher pitch, or the simple voice echoing through our culture and directly into our ears.

      So if we’re really committed to widespread liberation and equality, we need to start looking critically at the results of our alignments. I believe that all white women have a Mark, whether it’s a romantic partner, a father, a grandfather, a fellow white woman who parrots the same sentiments in a higher pitch, or the simple voice echoing through our culture and directly into our ears. They may not actively participate in oppressive systems, but they certainly won’t lift a finger to help take their weight off of our backs, and they will sure as hell judge us for trying. When our collective Marks attach onto our pre-existing insecurities, assuring us that our actions toward positive change are inconsequential, it would do us well to start challenging them at the root. One way to do this is to simply pose the question to one’s self, perhaps late at night once our Marks have gone to sleep beside us: If I break my alignment with him, what does he stand to lose? And when I venture out into a diverse community of revolutionaries, when I bring with me my tool of white privilege and the need for my own liberation, what could we all stand to gain? More

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      What It’s Like to Be a COVID Bride and How I’ve Found Peace

      by

      Maybe COVID-19 ruining our big wedding was the plan all along. When we got engaged in September of 2018, my fiancé Zach and I chatted about getting married in Yosemite National Park, where we were living at the time—just eloping and then moving back to the Midwest. We like things simple, and it seemed like just the relaxing and stress-free plan we needed. My mom, ever the traditionalist, had a different plan; she was set on seeing my fiancé and I tie the knot. And truth be told, once I started thinking about celebrating with all of our friends and family, I started to get really excited about the idea. 
      Fast forward to September of 2019. My fiancé and I moved back across the country to Kansas City and had just moved into our new house, a milestone we wanted to check off the list before we started the wedding planning. We set a date for the spring of 2020, and everything started to get real. 
      We selected a venue, went wedding dress shopping, picked out a cake, started paying our photographer… the works! The process was fun and less stressful than I’d heard it would be. And as a bride on a budget, I was putting in the extra work to explore the various options for food and drinks to get the least expensive option. Wedding dress shopping with my Gucci tastes on a dimestore budget was time consuming, but I was committed to keeping our costs low! 
      Just over two months out from the wedding, we only had rings, a suit, and vows to worry about nailing down. My sister and my best friend were well into the bachelorette party planning, and my mom was all over the decor. As someone who relishes in planning and being ahead of schedule, I was over the moon. 
      It was at this point that I heard about the virus. News about COVID-19 was starting to speckle my Twitter timeline, and the fact that it was spreading rapidly was starting to make me feel uneasy. 
      I stayed on top of the news, reading anything and everything I could get my hands on about the novel coronavirus. Most people were still shrugging it off at this point, not taking it seriously. I didn’t know what to think, but I had a feeling that it wasn’t good. When businesses and events started closing down, the brides in my favorite wedding planning Facebook group had to start cancelling their weddings. Most of the initial shutdowns and cancellations were on the East and West coasts, so the reality of the impact this disease was having hadn’t quite made it to us in the Midwest yet. 

      I stayed on top of the news, reading anything and everything I could get my hands on about the novel coronavirus. Most people were still shrugging it off at this point, not taking it seriously.

      Source: rawpixel

      The Facebook group quickly became divisive; alarmist and devastated brides having their feelings invalidated by women who were already married, or brides whose wedding was too far out to be bothered worrying about something “like the flu.” Women were lashing out at other women on totally non-COVID-related topics. It was a stressful and sad—and quite frankly, angry—place to be. I had to leave. 
      Just two months out from the wedding, with more and more things shutting down across the country, travel was beginning to be restricted. Friends and family members started losing their jobs. Zach and I started to realize that our wedding guests would need to start booking travel to our wedding soon. While a lot of brides were looking at whether they could or could not hold their event due to event restrictions, we were much more concerned with the stress—financially and emotionally—our wedding was putting on our guests. 
      At the end of March, my fiancé and I made the call to postpone the wedding. There’s no defined etiquette for how one should postpone or reschedule or even cancel a wedding. (Cue the Four Weddings and a Virus Facebook group creation, a lifesaver to spring brides everywhere.) I quickly transitioned into the more appropriate group for me, accepting my fate as a Corona bride. Brides were putting together templates and resources for one another, providing feedback on invitation language, and sending love when someone just needed the space to scream.

      Many couples were rescheduling, but as the realists we are, we decided to postpone indefinitely.

      I used some of the information I found in the group to email everyone on our guest list and made calls to those who weren’t the email type. The news was received with overall love and support and lots of disappointment, mostly from friends and family who were excited for us, and knew we were looking forward to it. Many couples were rescheduling, but as the realists we are, we decided to postpone indefinitely. The experts had no idea when it would be safe for our friends and family to gather again, and if they didn’t know, then, of course, we didn’t either. It seemed like the easier option than possibly rescheduling again. 

      Source: Emma Bauso | Pexels

      The Waiting
      When we postponed until further notice, we went through the process of notifying vendors. Many didn’t respond to us, but our photographer was gracious and flexible. We decided to chat in another month. In April, our photographer pushed us to at least get a second date on her calendar, just in case things get better and we were able to go through with our wedding. Setting a second date also gave us something to look forward to, but we still didn’t want to tell people we’d rescheduled for fear of having to postpone again. Zach and I decided between the two of us that we’d see what the COVID situation was toward the end of July and try to give everyone an update at that time. Morale in our house was low, but honestly, whose wasn’t? 
      For the month or two that followed, it was constant questioning and a stall in planning. I’d lost all motivation to nail any plans down. 
      “When is the wedding going to be?”
      “Have you set another date yet?”
       And then, once group sizes were allowed to get larger in our region, it was:
      “Why don’t you just have a small wedding?”
      “You could get married in your backyard?”
      “What are you waiting for?”
      “What are you going to do to celebrate your original wedding date?”
      It was constant. When asked, I didn’t get the feeling that people really wanted to hear our answer, or when they did hear it, they looked at me like I was making an excuse to not get married. Umm, nope. I’d try to explain that two-thirds of our wedding guests were from out of town, including 100 percent of our immediate family. If we had a small local ceremony, our closest friends and family wouldn’t be able to make it. That, and I had a deep fear that the coronavirus would just hang over the ceremony and celebration and it wouldn’t feel like the celebration of our dreams. In the Four Weddings and Virus Facebook group, I learned that lots of brides had this fear. How could we sit back and enjoy this joyous day when people are dying all over the world? 

      How could we sit back and enjoy this joyous day when people are dying all over the world? 

      The persistent questioning coupled with the never-ending news cycle of doom felt like hundreds of pounds of weight on my shoulders. And the waiting and not knowing felt hopeless. But I kept reminding myself, we’re in no hurry.
      My fiancé and I have stayed employed and stayed busy throughout the spring, and I’ve leaned into the online community of women going through the same experience. I saw so many brides struggling with their vendors not being flexible, with their families not being flexible, with sick relatives, with fiancés overseas, or with putting families on hold, and it helped me to remain centered and humble. We weren’t losing a lot of money on uncooperative vendors. We weren’t putting our life on hold until we got married. Our relatives were being safe and staying healthy. We were still the lucky ones. And still, the not knowing persisted.
      Worrying about the wedding felt not only pointless, but also selfish, so we didn’t. Both Zach and I got involved supporting those in our local community who needed food, money, and supplies, and doing our absolute best to not go insane in the house. The wedding stayed quietly in the back of our mind. 
       
      The Wedding Date
      By the time our original wedding date rolled around, Zach had totally put the change behind him and was looking forward to the future. I tried to do the same, but the full weight of things crashed down on me. I was supposed to be joining a new family and celebrating with all of my favorite people. I didn’t want to get out of bed.
      To my relief and utter appreciation, bouquets of flowers and sweet texts from friends filled my entire day. c
      Once the day passed, I felt lighter. We still didn’t know what the plans were going to be, but people slowly got tired of asking us if we’d picked a new date. It’s almost like they totally forgot, and honestly, it was a relief. The pressure of having a wedding slowly melted away over the next few weeks. With the pressure off, it was much easier to not dread the date that we’d make our decision on whether or not to have our wedding on the secondary date.

      Even when it feels like the world is against you, there are people in your life that are there for a reason. I realized that mine will show up for me even when I don’t ask for them to.

      Source: Flora Westbrook | Pexels

       
      The Pivot
      As summer continued to pass and news of the virus spreading seemed to get worse and worse, we still didn’t feel safe being around a handful of people—let alone our whole families or friends. News of dozens of people getting COVID-19 after attending a wedding kept popping up on our timelines and newsfeeds. It felt irresponsible to host a group of people to celebrate us. Many brides and grooms were still moving forward with small weddings, and I was genuinely happy for them. Genuinely. But with our guests traveling across the country, we had to have the conversation. Is the health of our guests worth risking for the wedding of our dreams? If we did risk it, would the fear and confusion around the virus bring down the mood on our big day? Did we want to wait until a vaccine was widely available to host our wedding?

      Is the health of our guests worth risking for the wedding of our dreams? If we did risk it, would the fear and confusion around the virus bring down the mood on our big day? Did we want to wait until a vaccine was widely available to host our wedding?

      Ultimately, Zach and I decided the answer was no. The risk of our loved ones getting sick and possibly having long-term damage from a virus that doesn’t have a vaccine was too high. We didn’t want that pressure and responsibility to be on us. The second date with our photographer was just too soon. In an ultimate resolve and sigh of relief, we decided we’d get married—just the two of us. Our original dream wedding.
      My fiancé was thrilled when we made the decision, of course—he’d wanted to elope all along. And my bridesmaids gave me overwhelming support, “Go marry your man, lady!” It was the right choice; having a plan gave me relief and I was finally at peace. I get to marry my dream man in the mountains. We’ll be at minimum risk, and our friends and family won’t have the emotional and financial strain that our wedding would put on them. Plus, as people keep saying, what a story to tell. 
      We’ll party with friends and loved ones eventually, but for now, we’re off to go get married. More

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      How to Improve Your Relationship When You’ve Been Stuck Together for Months

      by

      We’ve been staying at home for months now. Your boss is still accidentally hitting mute on Zoom, you failed at baking sourdough more times than you’ve succeeded, and your significant other forgot to unload the dishwasher again. For couples that live together or have chosen to quarantine together, the global pandemic doesn’t just mean severe anxiety and limited toilet paper. It also means facing a future of indefinite togetherness, lack of alone time, and maybe some fights that you never expected to have (like whose turn it is to disinfect the groceries).Quarantining couples are fighting more than ever, missing their alone time, or feeling anxious about fast-tracking their relationship. No one signs up for 24/7 togetherness when signing a lease or marriage certificate, and it’s normal to struggle with your relationship as you’re struggling with scary headlines and changing routines. However, it’s possible to not just survive staying at home together, but to enjoy it. Here’s how you can still improve your relationship, even if you’ve been stuck together for months.

      Reassess what’s working and what isn’t.
      Being stuck at home together is no longer uncharted territory that we’re all just trying to figure out. At this point, you’ve had enough experience to identify what’s working well (like dividing up chores or having weekly mental health check-ins), and what isn’t (like getting stir crazy or having the same fight about the dishes three times a week). Start with what has been going well in your relationships. Do you love playing Scrabble on Friday nights or feel supported when you’re stressed? Talk about what’s going well for both of you and the relationship. Then identify the areas that still need work and problem-solve together how to improve what hasn’t been working. 

      Source: @kayla_seah

      Switch up your routine
      If your evening routine is consistently eating takeout on the couch while watching Stranger Things, there’s nothing wrong with that (in fact, that sounds like my ideal night). However, try surprising your partner one night with dinner served at the dining room table (with candles, of course). Not only will switching it up help you get out of any ruts that come with the same routine every day for months, but doing something different might ignite a little extra spark. Planning a themed date night on the weekend, going on a hike together instead of working out in the living room, or even eating breakfast on the patio (instead of hunched over laptops) can make a huge difference. 

      Practice empathy for your partner
      If you are constantly bickering or get to the point where you can’t stand each other, this might be an enlightening time for some couples to reassess if this relationship is the right choice. However, if you are in it for the long haul and the extra bickering is only on account of stress and change in routine (not incompatibility), don’t worry. The fix could be as simple as practicing empathy.
      This is probably a weirder time than you anticipated when you were reciting vows or moving in together. Therefore, what you expect from your partner needs to change too. Be empathetic to the extra pressure they’re under (is their company suffering or were they furloughed?), and any anxiety they might be feeling from headlines or changes in routine. The greatest way you can grow stronger as a couple during a time like this is to better understand, relate to, and feel for each other.

      Source: @missalexlarosa

      Keep up your personal hobbies, and encourage your partner to keep up theirs
      While I’m embarrassed to declare Real Housewives of Beverly Hills as a “personal hobby,” it has always been my go-to when I need to turn my brain off on a lunch break or relax on a Sunday afternoon. My boyfriend knows when it’s RHOBH time to put in headphones if he’s working or do his own thing if he doesn’t feel like watching. This might be a sad example, but just because you’re spending 24/7 together doesn’t mean you should stop all the things you typically love doing. 
      Your significant other should encourage your hobbies, even if they don’t share your exact interests (and might be like mine where you notice his eyes are glued to the TV when Kyle and Lisa are fighting, even though he pretends he “doesn’t like reality TV”). Whether it’s the shows you watch, the books you read, or how you like to work out, keep up the things you love, and allow your partner the space and time to keep up theirs. Yes, relationships are about shared interests and compromises, but they’re also about giving each other the support to be who you really are. 

      Remember to celebrate milestones
      After four or five months of barely leaving the house, you might have experienced one (or both) of your birthdays in quarantine, and maybe even an anniversary has come and gone. Perhaps one of you graduated or got a promotion at work. Since it might feel easier to ignore anything that’s supposed to be “celebratory” (because it serves as a reminder of what you’re missing out on like birthday parties, anniversary trips, etc.), you might have glossed over or put little effort into celebrating. However, even if you’re grieving for what you thought 2020 would be like, it’s still important to make the most of it. Dress up for dinner at home, order takeout from your favorite fancy restaurant, and decorate the living room. Don’t just think of how to survive 2020; make your relationship better by making new memories. 

      Source: @raffinee

      Think of your relationship as a business
      So this might be the most unromantic relationship advice you’ve ever received, but hear me out. We often think love is supposed to be magically perfect, and two separate people are supposed to seamlessly combine their lives together (preferably with a romantic montage or public declaration of love, but that’s just me). And while many aspects of being in love with the right person should feel seamless and perfect, being stuck at home together for months doesn’t have to be one of them. 
      To navigate the changes and work through this new life together, both of you need to be open to accepting new responsibilities and helping each other in ways you didn’t have to before. Think of your partnership as you would think of a business: schedule regular meetings into the “team” calendar, divide up responsibilities based on what’s most effective, and consistently reflect on how you can be a better “coworker.” Remember that the goal is success (in this case, happiness in the relationship), not for you to be right or “win” an argument. Just limit your business-mindset to outside the bedroom, or else, you know, it could get weird. 

      Find a new activity to do together
      In a society where couples are starting podcasts and travel blogs together, you should have more than enough inspo and motivation to find a new activity you’ve never done together. It can be as simple as going on evening walks or doing a puzzle, or can be as time-consuming as learning a new language or starting a side business if you have the extra time to spend. The point is to find something you both are excited about, so you can spend quality time in a different and more meaningful way than you have in the past few months. Turn off Netflix, stop scrolling through Instagram, and try something new together.

      Source: @missenocha

      Make pleasure a priority 
      No, it’s not what you think. Hopefully, you already work on fulfilling intimacy with your partner (and if you’re not, click here or here), and it’s OK if the abundance of anxiety and loungewear has created a lull in your sex life (it’s normal!). What I mean instead is to make your pleasure (outside of the bedroom) a top priority. Start by basing decisions off of what would bring you more pleasure (like a warm bath versus a cold shower, or a slow yoga flow versus a sweaty dance workout). Also, take time to pamper yourself (turn on a playlist and dry brush), and don’t forget to check yourself out in the mirror (because you know you look good!).
      Why is this good for your relationship, you might ask? Living for the sake of pleasure (instead of just checking items off of a to-do list) will make you happier and feel more fulfilled. It might reduce stress or help you stop depending on your partner for happiness. Therefore, fights could be easier to solve or prevent, and you might enjoy your time together more. Oh, and if you want to talk about sex life specifically, it will help that too. Just as a bonus, no one can resist a confident, happy woman (just see for yourself).

      What habits or tricks have been helping improve your relationship while being stuck at home together? More

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      in health and weelbeing

      What Relocating for Love Taught Me About Independence

      by

      I have always admired people that seem to have lived multiple lives. You know who I mean, those people who’ve worked different careers, lived in different cities or countries, maybe even been married more than once. I envied their courage to pivot and redefine themselves. They were leading full and exciting lives. I had always hoped to one day be one of those people, but when I was finally presented with an opportunity to change my life, I found myself surprisingly hesitant. I’m American-born, Nigerian-bred walking contradiction. I was always intensely career-driven, but harbored fantasies of being Suzy Homemaker. When I was growing up, I rejected all the things I was told I must do “because I was a girl,” despite the fact that I actually really loved doing them. I’ve always pushed myself really hard and gone for the practical route over my true desires, for instance, majoring in finance when I really would’ve preferred to study art history. Could you blame me? I was consistently well-rewarded for doing just that. So, when my future husband offered me the chance to move to Paris, be Suzy Homemaker for a while, spend my time in the greatest art museums, and begin a second chapter of my life, all my worst impulses to stay the familiar, but measurably rewarding route reared their ugly heads. The journey toward finally saying “yes” to my dreams revealed to me my patterns of self-denial and my attachment to my identity—and to the approval of others. 

      I’ve always pushed myself really hard and gone for the practical route over my true desires, for instance, majoring in finance when I really would’ve preferred to study art history. Could you blame me? I was consistently well-rewarded for doing just that.

      I moved to New York City in 2005 to pursue a career in fashion, working for some of my dream brands. As the years continued to pass, I thrived. My life was good—repetitive, but good. When I started approaching 10 years in New York, I started to feel this consistent malaise that I could not verbalize. I felt like I was living the same life year after year. The jobs would change, the apartments and the boyfriends, but it felt like I was rewriting the same chapter of the book of my life. So—ever Ms. Practical— what did I do to counter the malaise? I applied to business school! 
      I went on the circuit, visiting and applying to top programs. I took the GMAT, wrote the essays, connected with alumni. I really made my life hell for two years when deep down, I knew that what I was really searching for was a justifiable way to blow up my current life and transition into the next one. After getting into some great schools, I sobered up and challenged myself to find a less expensive way to seek change. So back on the treadmill I went, continuing the upward, repetitive-but-familiar climb. 

      Back on the treadmill I went, continuing the upward, repetitive-but-familiar climb. 

      Source: @thenonster

      Then came March 2017, I was having one of the best years of my life working my dream job, in great shape, enjoying the fruits of my labor. The malaise had subsided a bit. One day, I agreed to a dinner date with a very nice Italian guy named Alessandro, who was visiting from Paris for a work conference. He was so open, happy, considerate, and fun. I instantly felt safe with him. We began a long-distance relationship between New York and Paris and five months into the relationship began serious discussions about getting engaged and being in the same city. After lots of analysis, we agreed that I would move to Paris because I had always wanted to live in Europe, the quality of life is better than New York City’s, and, well, it’s Paris. The plan was: I would move in May of the following year, take intense French lessons for a few months, and then start looking for jobs in the fall. I was thrilled. I had started working at 15 and had never taken a break in my life. 
      I worked up the nerve to tell my company that I would be leaving in a few months. But they dropped a bomb in my lap, offering me an even bigger role than the one I would be leaving. This was the best company and people I had ever worked for. I had never felt more supported and recognized in my career, and it would be a difficult environment to replicate anywhere in the world. How could I pass this up? I asked for some days to think. In my head, while I was already spending all the extra money and smiling proudly at my career trajectory, I was debating if I was really willing to deny myself my dreams of a slower pace in Paris for more “success.” Alone at night, that familiar malaise returned, along with anxiety-induced sleeplessness. 

      In my head, while I was already spending all the extra money and smiling proudly at my career trajectory, I was debating if I was really willing to deny myself my dreams of a slower pace in Paris for more “success.” Alone at night, that familiar malaise returned, along with anxiety-induced sleeplessness. 

      Alessandro saw the turmoil I was in and suggested we reconsider choosing New York because he couldn’t bear to feel he had ever held me back. Once he said that, I was met immediately with feelings of dread instead of relief. It’s like the proverbial coin flip that reveals your deepest desires right before the face of the coin is revealed. I wanted to go because, even though our combined incomes would be higher than in Paris, so would our cost of living and stress levels. I would be under pressure to deliver in the new role, traveling more, and managing a partner that was adjusting to New York City. He’d be the one taking a break he never asked for while waiting for a visa. We would both lose the social safety nets and protections that come with working in France, such as excellent affordable healthcare and job security. Finally, I wouldn’t be able to take those few months off, spend time learning French, or live in Europe. I couldn’t begin my second life. Ms. Practical wondered, “is that the price you must pay for success?” In hindsight, it feels like the answer was so obvious, but in the moment, I couldn’t see it because I was supposed to be an independent woman! But was I actually? Isn’t the truth that there is a dependency to our “independence?”

       Isn’t the truth that there is a dependency to our independence?

      Hear me out: If you’re consistently aware that you’re sitting on a house of cards, constantly competing, plotting, and striving, knowing that all you have can be yanked away at the whim of “management,” with a disappointing bonus, or the next economic downturn, are you really independent? More independent than a housewife? Maybe we are all dependent on something and shouldn’t measure ourselves or each other with that label.  
      So, I told myself to make the decision as if I lived in a world with no judgement. What did I really want? I wanted to slow down, to take a break and allow myself to need someone who wanted so badly for me to need him. I wanted to live in Europe. To start a business. Once that became clear I needed to examine why I had been holding onto my old life with clenched fists and a tight jaw; clinging to my fashion career, insisting on staying at the front of a rat-race that was eating me up inside with anxiety and constant worrying. The answer was because we attach our self-esteem to our jobs, to the brands, titles, and salaries. How would I introduce myself at parties without a big title? How could I show the progression of my life if not with promotions? The realization that my attachment to my old identity and fear of being judged was holding me back and costing me my happiness, made it easier to let go. So, I did. I resigned, emptied out my apartment, and booked a one-way ticket. It had been a very long time since I had felt the feeling of freedom that I felt when we drove the U-Haul out of New York City. One of the most exhilarating moments of my life was standing at Charles de Gaulle airport, a week later, with my nine suitcases and a clear calendar.

      Source: @thenonster

      How would I introduce myself at parties without a big title? How could I show the progression of my life if not with promotions? The realization that my attachment to my old identity and fear of being judged was holding me back and costing me my happiness, made it easier to let go. So, I did.

      Source: @thenonster

      Making the move was one big step, the second would be coming to terms with it, because the guilt that I was wasting my life and my brain didn’t magically disappear upon my arrival in France. I remember sitting in French classes full of mostly students, feeling old and silly.
      It was in conversations with my mentors and girlfriends that I got clarity, support, and maybe even a little envy. They reminded me that everyone wanted to be me. I had a responsibility to acknowledge the privilege to be able to rest and reflect on how I had spent my previous years, and a duty to use the time to thoughtfully ponder what to do next. Where was Alessandro in all this you wonder? Practically begging me to stop thinking and allow my next move to reveal itself. 
      This experience showed me that so many women were feeling the same way I had been feeling: in their attachment to their status and identities, some were tired of the pressure, questioning the career paths they were on, weighing the money and prestige against the lost time, discarded dreams, and cost to their mental health, relationships, and happiness. I also noticed how so many of the women whose career journeys I had admired had taken twists and turns on their roads to “success.” This would be my twist. The past few years have left me questioning how narrowly we define success as a society. Why don’t we place value on what I’ve achieved? Learning a new language, making new friends, experiencing more of the world. Why are those accomplishments not considered on the same level as improving my excel skills or shipping out more product for a big corporation? The answer is that it is not up to “society” but to each of us as individuals to analyze our choices and define what we consider a life well-lived.

      Why don’t we place value on what I’ve achieved? Learning a new language, making new friends, experiencing more of the world. Why are those accomplishments not considered on the same level as improving my excel skills or shipping out more product for a big corporation?

      Source: @thenonster

      I’ve never felt more vibrant, more confident, or more sure of myself and my abilities than since I arrived here. Stepping away from my old life has allowed me to find my purpose: bringing people together, communicating, advising, mentoring, and forging connections between women with the aim to help them live their best lives, on their own terms, and by their own standards. I launched In Vibrant Company as a platform to do just this.
      I’m on my way to being one of those people who has lived multiple lives. My hope is that through the stories we tell on In Vibrant Company, we may encourage even one woman to take a risk she has been considering. I hope to give “success” many different faces, to build a community that celebrates taking a break, changing your mind, allowing yourself to say “no” to more if you so choose, and allowing yourself to need someone when you’re tired. I hope that we all reassess what we consider “success” and how we calculate our value; that we drown out the internal and external noise and be easier on ourselves and others.   More

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      in health and weelbeing

      5 Lessons I Learned After Moving in With My Husband

      by

      Over the course of my year-long engagement to my now-husband, I obsessed over every detail that would make our big day absolutely perfect. I scheduled cake tastings months in advance, made menu and flower selections between work meetings, and sent daily messages hounding extended family members for their RSVPs. And don’t get me started on […] More