Expanding beyond self care
Black lesbian feminist, poet, writer, and activist Audre Lorde stated, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare” while she was struggling with cancer in the 1980’s. As a trauma therapist who has borne witness to ongoing oppression on both the personal and global level, this notion of care and self-care have been on my mind lately.
What does self-care mean today? Is self-care still an act of political warfare, allowing us to enact change in the world as Audre Lorde meant it to be? Or has it transformed into a western, individualistic concept that has left us feeling isolated and dissociated from our own humanity in the face of painful human experiences?
When I tell folks to “practice self-care”, what I often mean is to practice care for oneself as meeting basic needs (food, hydration, sleep, hygiene), as self-compassion, and as showing up for oneself so that the self can show up for others and for the world. Because what is care without community?
I recently picked up a zine called “Self as Other: Reflections on Self-Care” that has made me think differently about what care means and looks like. Self-care has not only become a commodity (skin care, retail, bubble baths, spa days, herbal teas, vitamins, etc.), but in many ways self-care comes at the expense of others. Consider who has the privilege of practicing self-care and who doesn’t. For example, who can afford to use luxurious skin care products and who is being exploited for those products to be made? Who can turn off their phone from the horrific images of violent oppression and who is surviving the violent oppression? It’s important to name that in our capitalist world, we all buy various products and services, and it’s okay to have boundaries around the media you consume. And, too, I wonder about the harm in praising each other for these so-called self-care practices without putting thought into how much of our self-care we derive from others and at whose expense. It is becoming clear to me that not everyone has access to the same self-care practices that the privileged have access to.
As a trauma therapist who is also a relational therapist, I am constantly thinking about community and the ways in which we are intricately connected to each other. We are wired to connect. We are wired to support one another by holding each other’s joys and griefs. We cannot self-regulate without knowing how to co-regulate. We cannot heal from our traumas in isolation. I am starting to wonder: What would it look like to shift from colonial ideas of self-care to decolonial collective care? What would it be like to shift self-care from an individual responsibility to a collaborative responsibility? What happens to the self when the collective is unwell? What happens to the self when the collective is well and thriving? Who are we without care from our communities?
Unfortunately, western mental health has notoriously pathologized us. We’ve been led to believe that we are codependent for seeking support. We’ve been led to believe that unless we can self-regulate, we aren’t healed. We’ve been led to believe that our own inner peace is more important than anything else, even if it comes at the expense of other people.
Here is what I’ve learned about my own self-care: I practice the best self-care when I resist the notion that my worth is placed in how productive I am. I practice the best self-care when I invite others to hold me while I’m in my own grief and pain. I practice the best self-care when I take off my tough façade, giving my protective parts the space to rest and allowing for my vulnerability to be witnessed. I practice the best self-care when I practice self-preservation by honoring my boundaries so that I can continue to show-up for others with energy. I practice the best self-care when I am soft and compassionate towards the parts of myself that get in the way sometimes. I practice the best self-care when I presently experience joy with my community.
My hope is that we shift away from the individualistic ideals we’ve been taught and interrupt isolating forms of care. My hope is not that we abandon ourselves in this process, but that we find ways to expand our care beyond ourselves so that the collective can be cared for. We are only as well as our communities, after all. None of us are free until we are all free, and that requires us to care for one another. Radical care, together.
