issue no. 802

RECENTLY, I WROTE ABOUT HARM . . .

and today I have consent on my mind. The two keep bumping up against one another.

A lot of the harmful things that we happen to be in relationship with are the very ones we don’t consent to. The simple act of putting my garbage and recycling on the curb each week reminds me that much of it may wind up polluting the earth, the air, and the waterways. For the vast majority of us living in the United States, owning a home means claiming ownership of, and reaping profits from, stolen land. But in particular, what’s been on my mind lately in terms of consent and harm, is artificial intelligence.

It almost makes me cringe to write it…because I don’t have much reverence for the intelligence in its name, and also because I try to avoid it altogether as much as possible. Here’s the thing: artificial intelligence is not one thing - we could be talking about a vast array of technological tools / resources / uses when we invoke that phrase. And many of them, without my awareness or consent, impact my life and the world in positive ways. This is neither a take-down of artificial intelligence, nor a testimonial for it. No, the thing that keeps tugging at my heart when it comes to this technology, is how it impacts my attention.

I was born in 1982, which means I witnessed the births of call waiting, *69, the internet, email, and cell phones. Now I feel flabbergasted at the way that texting has almost solely replaced making phone calls - when did I begin to feel like I am rudely imposing on my nearest and dearest if I call them instead of texting? The fact that I can’t even pinpoint this shift adds to my dismay. Another transition I didn’t notice until it was over: the overflowing nature of marketing and spam emails means that missives filled with interesting ideas, thoughts, and connections, get buried and often go unnoticed and unanswered. All the while, I believe that we really want to communicate and connect.

Reading Evicted: Poverty and Profit In the American City recently, I came across this paragraph from Matthew Desmond:

“It takes time too, to be taught how to notice things by people like Keisha, who have learned when to listen and what to look for. The people I met in Milwaukee trained my vision by modeling how to see and showing me how to make sense of what I saw. Still, I know I missed a lot, especially in the beginning, not only because I was an outsider but also because I was constantly overanalyzing things. A buzzing inner monologue would often draw me inward, hindering my ability to remain alert to the heat of life at play right in front of me. It’s safer that way. Our ideas allow us to tame social life, to order it according to typologies and theories. As Susan Sontag has warned, this comfort can “deplete the world” and get in the way of seeing.”

I feel, these days, like the technologies available to keep us connected are depleting my world of true connection, and getting in my way of seeing the things I truly want to pay attention to. I can no longer tell, for example, if my tendency to loop continually toward my phone and its various communication apps - email, text, phone, instagram - is a breaking down of my general attention span from accumulated exposure to tech, or a side effect of increased distractibility in perimenopause. The fact that I don’t know which it is, and probably never will, kindles my rage at the lack of consent that is one of my primary beefs with artificial intelligence.

When artificial intelligence started invading my email and phone use, it left me reeling with frustration and helplessness. Why wasn’t there a simple way to opt out of the most basic functions, like the fact that every google search I make results in a front-and-center summary that I didn’t ask for, but am supposed to prefer? Instead, I find myself quickly scrolling past that summary before it can ‘think’ itself into clarity, opting instead for Wikipedia, or the Webster’s Dictionary, or a recipe site I trust. Other times, I’m in a hurry, and I sit defeated as the summary appears. It has made me wonder: if I’m enraged by something I can’t control, and do not consent to, am I still complicit?

I think the answer is sometimes yes…sometimes no. What seems more clear to me is that I feel called to counteract it, regardless. I think about the various forms of resistance that my ancestors have been enacting, throughout history, in response to the de facto complicity of various harmful systems. And so, against the inertia of this technology, I put time limits on my phone use overall, and on particular apps. I pay attention when I feel myself caught in the loop of phone-checking. I stand defiantly bored at the post office, the grocery store, really any time I am idle and waiting, refusing to take my phone out of my pocket for a quick hit of the fantasy that there is something more meaningful or important awaiting me there.

When attention is defined as love or as prayer - two definitions that resonate with me deeply - the relentless coopting of my attention feels, frankly, criminal. I’m mad about this thing that I don’t have that much control over, but more than I want to fight, I want to be at peace. My creativity thrives on letting my attention wander - time is a powerful actor in the writing process, and attention is its soul mate. I’m as impatient as the next person for my next work of art to get made, but I know, deep in my heart, there is no shortcut. And the thought of my own desire to Ferdinand my way through most days, is, in a strange way, a reminder that I still have freedom and power.

So what do we do with this helpless rage that comes from lack of consent, what sometimes feels like a forced complicity? As Kerri ní Dochartaigh recently wrote, “When circumstances have it so that we rarely have time for pleasure, rest, connection; how do we weave the beauty and magic back in?”

For one thing, making art helps us to process the feelings that come with injustices, big or small, that we struggle to understand and overcome. And for another, we do have a responsibility toward self-care. This can look like all kinds of different things - including protected time to make art - but the what matters less than the why. Why do we have a responsibility toward self-care? So that we can stay in tune with ourselves, which allows us to pay attention with intention, to connect better with others, and to care for others better.

What would happen if you reclaimed ten minutes from something you don’t want to give your attention to, or aren’t served by? What would happen if you could manage that for an hour every day? For a whole day every week?

To the value of your attention,

Dor + Tay

tidbits...

resources on anti-racism, environmentalism and food culture AKA stuff we’re reading / listening to / watching / noticing / thinking about / captivated by this Tuesday . . .

Do One Small Thing . . . How do you practice self-care when your consent has been violated? What helps you stay in tune with yourself? We’d love to hear from you - reply to this newsletter, share in the comments, or email us at info@goodfoodjobs.com.

Saturday, November 14th is Kentucky Arts & Letters Day - a day of fellowship, art, food, and beautiful readings by some of Kentucky's most esteemed writers. The event is sold out but you can join the waitlist.

Allison Stoddard of the All Things Ag Gal podcast interviewed us! You can watch or listen here and here.

“I wish more people knew that calling A.I. “intelligent” while undermining the intelligence of care workers, embodied workers, and service workers is a psyop to make us hate working class people and women’s labor.” Tressie McMillan Cottom on working the drive-through at Wendy’s.

The wonderful and amazing Desiree Adaway is hosting a free training: Work Doesn’t Have to Be This Hard, on October 29 at 3pm (virtual).

“…hope, to me, has come to feel like a different beast from optimism. Where optimism looks ahead and trusts that things will improve, it seems hope turns to the present and responds to whatever it finds there.” - Chloe Hope with a necessary message from her Death & Birds substack.

A new month brings a new reminder to pre-order your Seasonal Slice calendar from Heirloom Food Project - a wonderful gift for the seasons.

Catch up on last Friday’s episode of GOOD COMPANY.

Are you a Cornell student, or in the Ithaca area? Dor will be giving a talk and reading from her book on October 28 at 5pm, in the English Lounge at Goldwin Smith (room 258). Renia White will also be reading from her book of poetry, Casual Conversation. Please join us!

View and share this free guide to How to Write a More Equitable Job Post, and stay tuned for new resources to deepen this work.

got a tidbit? drop it here for us and we’ll share it in next week’s newsletter.