For a long time, I have been wondering why we are afraid of help –
afraid of needing it, asking for it, or accepting it. I remember when this
wonder began, almost 20 years ago. My baby was a few weeks old. I stood on the stairs
with a basket of laundry, floored that I had just rejected my mom’s offer to
wash my clothes.
Why? Did I need to prove to her that I would be a good mother when she
wasn't around?
I knew my actions were ridiculous, and yet I didn't put down the laundry,
go back upstairs and say, yes please, I could use the help. Because I couldn't use
the help. I was terrified and more than tired, and yet I didn't dare reveal my
vulnerability. This wasn't just about me and my mom. Friends had given us
coupons for meals and I couldn’t use them either. Those coupons still sit in a
file in my husband's office, and I am still curious about why help is so hard
to ask for, and receive.
I thought about this from a new angle, reading Amanda Palmer's book, The
Art of Asking. She built her career as a musician around habits of inviting
other performers to join her, and gained notoriety for a wildly successful
crowdsourcing fundraiser.
The success of that campaign left her wide-open to criticism, as success
will, especially for women. Her book grew out of a TED talk where she talks
about vulnerability and the necessity of drawing others into our projects.
I got infatuated with the practice of asking. What if it were okay,
especially in our highly independent nation, to ask for help? Why is there such
a stigma on need? Don't we owe each other support?
I grew up in a safe environment. I had liberties to read and play, to
explore nature and trust my friends. We played levitation games in basements.
Five or six girls sat on the floor cross-legged, around one girl who lay in the
middle. We put two fingers of each hand underneath her, and the girl who sat at
the head told a story that ended with the words, light as a feather; we
said these words one by one, and then all at once. The leader pushed us
through some more phrases, and then we, quiet and excited, helped our friend
hover off the floor. Or so we believed.
Such faith and support! If only we could walk around all day feeling
light as a feather and held up by our friends. Amanda Palmer refers to a
similar experience; crowd surfing at a concert, and being held up by strangers
who immediately become friends because of the trust you lend them.
Why couldn't I, as a young mother let people lift me? I wish we felt
free to ask more of each other, from our society, and as individuals. How about
universal day care to honor the ideals of motherhood? I think our
municipalities owe us more than safe water and education; I think we also owe
each other good housing, access to affordable and nutritious food, and plenty
of respect.
We deserve freedom, but respect doesn't fall like rain. How can we move
from platitudes toward equity? I was protected by social umbrellas that let
white girls like me float on the fingers of friends. My two sons are cushioned
by their race and class, and they get to dream and explore in ways I wish
everyone could. My older son dives deep into the land of plants. My younger son
falls asleep thinking of new ways to make paper airplanes.
That levitation I did in basements was romantic, but also a metaphor for
the practical ways we can reshape our world. My friends and I believed we could
hold up the girl in the middle. We were not afraid to work together and chant a
phrase that helped us get to our goal. I don't know if we ever lifted each
other a millimeter, but it felt like we did.
I would like to find as an adult the same conviction. I would like to be
unafraid to ask for help, and I would like a world full of environments where
everyone felt the same security. How can we foster safety for kids who are
living in crisis and poverty? What kind of social reform do we need to make
asking for help, with simple things like dishes, and more complex ones like
healthcare and fair housing, an okay thing?
I think there is a link between social justice and interpersonal
support. Maybe we need to work backwards toward belief, that fundamental
element of trust, before we can work forward to a world that more resembles the
one we think the constitution guarantees in America.
******
How the New Crop of Grain Growers, Plant Breeders, Millers, Maltsters,
Bakers, Brewers, and Local Food Activists Are Redefining Our Daily Loaf
(Chelsea Green, 2015)
Stories & recipes Zester Daily
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