The Patient Rebel - Part 1

I stood at the pulpit with my custom navy blue sweatshirt and blonde highlights. I wasn’t afraid. Even in my awkward 8th grade body, a rush of confidence soared through and propelled me to stand tall. I turned towards my fellow classmates, extending warm sincere congratulations. Then, glanced over to the front pews raising the tiniest smirk to our principal and the priest. I had managed to do the thing that I wasn’t supposed to do. I challenged authority. And it felt good.

My classmates and I had developed a special bond. We all grew up together in the same small Catholic school, many of us knowing one another since Kindergarten. We were finally 8th graders, top of the social ladder, and we felt invincibly cool. I was elected class president that year, which brought me joy and a validation that my peers respected my contributions. It was my first real foray into learning how to be a leader. My almost-high-schooler self wanted to make a difference and leave a legacy.

Our class felt closer that year after a couple of communal challenges and celebrations. As a group, we desired something tangible to feel unified and to remember this special time before parting ways. I am sure a big nostalgic part of us feared the reality of losing this familiar bubble of belonging. So, the most natural idea arose. Cozy custom blue hoodies with our class year and names that we could wear at school on the cool san francisco days.

Our principal hated the proposal. It had never been done. She refused to help fund such a frivolous, distasteful spectacle. She said it wasn’t appropriate nor agreeable with the proper Catholic uniform. I can imagine this old sad white lady thinking: “The audacity! Special baggy sweatshirts?! What next, you'll want to dye your hair and paint your nails?”  (I did this precise thing several months later in violation of the school policy - and of course as a ‘fuck you’ - at that graduation event speaking into a microphone at a podium in the church for all to see. In my class sweatshirt.)

So, yes, we did it anyway. We found the loopholes. I encouraged others to get creative with fundraisers so we didn’t have to rely on the money of the school or church. So that all could afford and have access to this community gift.

I had no idea of course, but us 8th graders were doing some collective liberation work ahead of our time. Look at us! Dismantling patriarchy and authoritarianism! Freeing ourselves of religious dogma! Returning to mutual aid! We were nurturing our own tiny community project. We showed the outdated, harmful leadership that we held our own sovereignty and we didn’t need them.

I want to hug and cheer on that middle school Monique. She was defying toxic, oppressive ideologies and systems before she had the name for it. There were other moments, separate from the sweatshirt debacle, that simply didn’t feel right in her body in those school years. Irritation and disgust fluttered uncomfortably in her belly and heart, but she didn’t yet know that was a very healthy response to a non-equitable and at times hostile environment. She was developing a keen intuition and a gentle fierceness. I loved that about her.

Sure, when I look back on it, a sweatshirt hoodie is not the most meaningful accomplishment. But it was important to a group of kids at the time. The legacy was in the defiance, the collective movement towards trusting our own power, courage, and ability to make change.

A few weeks ago, I was walking with my partner in our village and talking about the concept of power (as we casually do in times like these, ughh ha). I was wondering aloud about how we each innately hold power and manifest it uniquely based on our individual neurobiology, circumstances, interests, gifted talents, and relationship with ourselves/others, etc etc. I asked my partner how he perceived my power. He said, “You are the patient rebel." 

The sensitive introverted anxious 8th grader with a desire to methodically lead a class towards revolution smiled as he named it. 

He went on to explain: "You listen. You pause. You feel. But you don't take others' bullcrap. Your fire comes alive when it's necessary, when it's important."

I am the Patient Rebel. My existence continues to be a quiet, persevering rebellion of sorts. In a world that capitalizes productivity, I follow the flow of my cycle, my gut feelings, and my lived experience. I've grown more intimately aware of the shape and feel of my power. I don't shy from that power when it wants to blooms in full force. 

Younger Monique in middle school, high school, college, grad school still had moments of contorting or acquiescing her real power in order to please others, to fit in. Now in my late 30s, I am an unemployed/self-employed-ish former mental health therapist, sleepy chronically ill Latina with a diagnosis of PMDD and disability benefits, who is choosing not to have children (except for a Black cat, as witches do), and is living in a tiny Spanish village of 1,000 people, attending anti-fascism presentations with her neighbors, and learning to steward an acre of farmland...and often doing all this slowly, deliberately in my most comfy hoodie 😄😉. It's giving homely nonconformist, cozy renegade. Patient Rebel.

I am certain I am no longer trying to convince others that I am capable or worthy. But also, I couldn't tell you yet exactly how I am meaningfully channeling my spark of power. I am still figuring this out and it's transforming before my eyes, especially in a world that feels utterly maddening and needs so much from us urgently and creatively. However, here's the thing I am realizing with more clarity: each time we ‘fail’ to fit into the mold and expectations of racial, patriarchal capitalism, we are choosing our power. 

When we live our authentic voice and existence, we embody powerful resistance.
We each have a worthy spark of power inside of us, and I want to talk to you about yours. Stay tuned for Part 2. 

Sign up for the newsletter to stay connected and know when new posts are shared.
Speaking of cozy hoodies, here are some adorable sweatshirts. No affiliate just want to shout out. :)

These are watermelon sweet! 🍉
And these are pure resistencia! ✊🏼
Oh, and these are really empowering! 🫂
These just make me smile! 🤗