11.21.2008

the resignation letter i wish i could write:

dear coworkers:

over these last 4.75 years i've had the opportunity to work with, laugh with, & occasionally cry with you all. i am thankful for the experiences i've had here, for without them i would not be the woman you have all come to know. it is after having reviewed these experiences that i must say that it's time for me to move onward and upward in the interest of my own sanity & safety as well as yours. you see, office staff, i hate this job & i'd rather contract scabies than deal with this shit beyond february 9, 2009 (my 5th anniversary).

i don't feel like we're a collectively highly functioning group of people. some of us are higher functioning than others, which is the norm everywhere you go. but a few of y'all are teetotal assholes who don't see past the ends of your own noses. in my 1.5 years of college & really expansively fly and dope 10 years of employment experience i have seen and done more and better than many of you. that is not to discount your life experiences, but simply to explain the stance i took when i began working here in 2004: this is not any place to build a career for someone like me. this job is, instead, a graveyard of dreams and hopes for me.

i am too much of a warrior to remain in a passive stance by working here. yes, we staff an agency that serves the public. yes, serving the public is important to me. but i believe that the bureaucracy and current structure of city government is a hindrance to giving the people what they need. while we're arguing over expenditures and waiting for the only person who knows the answer to the question to come back from vacation, folks are losing out. while we're trying to see who's gonna play along w/ the wonderful things the new mayor is trying to do, the ppl who're best-equipped to do the work are either giving up hope for change or just walking away from their "good city jobs" altogether. i don't have the patience to wait it out on this end. i'd rather wait while working. i'm more of a direct services kind of gal, i've remembered. i had to take some time after the heartbreak of working in the after school program w/ ppl who didn't care about the kids. i had to, after getting dropped from the ACLU, give myself the chance to say "no more temp jobs without benefits." it felt good. steady check, job security, no drama. i was able to pay down debts & move out of my mom's for good. yay, me! it felt great. but with the responsibility of keeping a roof over my own head came some massive epiphanies, the largest of these being my deep hatred of feeling caged. when i don't feel like i have options, i'm no good to anyone. i am an air sign w/ an air sign ascendant. you cannot contain air. shit. i am bigger than what you see, i am more dynamic than what you think and for crying out fucking loud i am better than everything you can try to saddle me with. no number of creative pet projects can satisfy me as long as i work here. you all don't seem to understand: i take community work seriously. it's all or nothing. after nearly 5 years of nothing, i'm preparing myself to give my all.

a few things i'd like to clarify:

doula work is not a novelty. it is serious, important, necessary work that improves the quality of birth experiences for women who need support during pregnancy, birth and a year post-partum. fuck you for calling it "cute."

becoming a midwife is neither a passing fancy, nor is it just some cute shit to do. there's a license involved & a fucking master's degree involved. not the same as your distance learning business writing courses, homie. respect my gangsta.

activism requires activity, regardless of how much i give to our truly awesome combined campaign program. financial contributions mean just as much as time invested.

covering my tattoos & dressing less like myself is uncomfortable. some days, i want to wear sweatpants. quit asking me why i'm wearing a dashiki. yes, those are suede ankle boots. yes, those are tweed sneakers. no, i don't think my earrings could be any bigger. kiss my ass.

talking shit about the food someone eats is not only disrespectful, but childish. it doesn't matter that i'm not indian but love channa, it's inconsequential that i'm not thai but live for green curry, and for the love of pete there's nothing wrong with vietnamese food. your asses might benefit from some daikon radish instead of the deep fried fuckery they serve at kennedy & crown fried chicken. grow up.

i don't have to explain to you how it is that i, a black american woman, have family in mexico. i do. quit meddling.

don't take for granted that everyone believes in jesus. i most certainly do not.

those with whom i've built friendships, i thank & appreciate you. you have kept me from certain madness on some days & been supportive to me from the very beginning. i will miss you, but you know i'm not gone from your lives.

the rest of y'all can kiss the pink part of my ass. i'm gonna go on down the list.

you, the meddling ass hater who copies what i do only after you talk copious amounts of shit about me to other people. you make twice as much money as i do, have a beautiful home & a husband who loves you. why does it matter if i'm following "god's orders" per the bible or the pastor of your church or your weave technician or whomever? i appreciate your came-up-from-nothing-i-was-a-teen-mother story. i do -- i know it couldn't have been easy. but try doing what my mom did with three kids, a terminally ill parent, a full time job and an accelerated master's program & then talk to me about what struggles are. then tell me my life should be a cakewalk because i don't have any kids. you insensitive, judgemental bitch, i edited my mom's papers & lit reviews because she was watching my grandmother die. try dealing with that & then tell me that i gave up on undergrad studies because i didn't believe in myself. it's called emotional exhaustion.

you, the sexist discipline officer: fuck you. you hate women, and i think it's despicable that you're the person who deals w/ sexual harrassment complaints. you are a phony asshole. whatever you're hiding can't be so serious that you need to act so terribly toward people. throwing tantrums is counter-productive if you do nothing with the feelings you realase. also: if you're gay, JUST COME OUT ALREADY. nobody cares if you are, i promise. you are too easily upset by the least consequential shit & that to me means something deeper is going on. fix it, cuz the next person might not be nice enough to deflect your shit. you do, after all, know that nobody has to entertain your shit.

former supervisor: jesus does not cosign your bullshit. your unwilligness to actually lend your energy to the people whom you feel are less fortunate than you speaks volumes about the kind of christian woman you are, versus who you tell everyone you are. get a life; nobody cares that you make greeting cards on the color laser jet at work especially when you aren't supposed to. stop wearing white opaque stockings with everything. nobody cares that your ill-behaved daughter won some bible verse regurgitation contest at school. you should be more concerned that she's so destructive, with no creative outlets for her energy.

there are some of you who just came on board. to you, i say: keep your eyes open. keep your ears to the ground. i won't even tell you not to get comfortable. just be aware.

i don't want a luncheon or a dinner party or anything, either. just make sure my last check is right & that you make my appointment at the pension board so i can get that good lump sum.

thanks!

5 comments:

maia said...

je je je...here is wishing on a star that some day you can send this to your job as you fly away to your new perfect lil job giving your boss the finger...

toni said...

hear, hear! you could make some good money writing resignation letters! lol

creatrix said...

oh GOD...if only you could send this. HA!

crip-power.com said...

"why does it matter if i'm following "god's orders" per the bible or the pastor of your church or your weave technician or whomever?"

"there's a license involved & a fucking master's degree involved. not the same as your distance learning business writing courses, homie. respect my gangsta."

oh my oh my oh my i'm seriously in LOVE with your blog.

sparkle said...

:) awwwww, cripchick. i love your blog too!