As the year is ending, and I enter my 3rd year fully integrated in the field of philanthropy and fundraising, the joke I have often been saying out loud is:
“I wish I was bad at my job.”
Throughout the week I have been hearing these mysterious stories of tiredness, crying fits under blankets, graying and thinning hairs, and general anxiety over work. All of it just sounds like there is a monster chasing us around. For example, have you ever wanted to take a nap during work hours but felt that you couldn’t because eyes were following you? It seems that this conundrum is an illusion because we are often quick to blame ourselves for not getting enough rest.
Well, what if I told you that you should be blaming your employer and the work culture that we’ve been systematically programmed to believe in — rather than yourself?
It is Pride Month, which of course means that all queer people gain superpowers and are being cared for by the prime lesbian herself, the Moon. (Apologies if you didn’t know that, but it’s true and I don’t make the rules. Mother Nature is gay. Like, why else would there be rainbows?)
The month of June is also a time to remind ourselves why Pride exists in the first place — to commemorate the fight against police brutality and oppression. (Sounds familiar, huh?) And while there have been many victories since Stonewall (and even before Stonewall), there is still plenty left to fight for.
I want you to know me a little more. While you can read a little bit about me in my bio below or from my byline above, get a sense of me on social media, and get a glimpse of who I am by what I post — and while all of these things will give you a fair amount of information that you can use to build assumptions about me — I want you to hear it from me:
I don’t like monogamy. In other words, I am polyamorous.
Polyamory is the simple notion that one can love multiple individuals at the same time.
This piece was written as a response to feeling that, most of my life in the arts, I’ve been made to feel that arts organizations and their products were not made for me and that it was an honor, a luxury, to even experience them. As a queer Mexican-Statesian who earned a Bachelor of Music, a Master of Arts in Arts Administration, and who now works in fundraising for an opera company, it seemed that no matter what art form I consumed or participated in, there was always this weird dichotomy that they wanted me because of the fact that I was queer, and/or brown, and/or young — but then they never made the effort to continue that relationship beyond that first visit or even because of that.
In a previous job, my development supervisor bought me nail polish since she knew I enjoy wearing it. This was evident, as I had done so in the office previously.
However, this supervisor was also the one to tell me to remove the nail polish before I went to
any donor event or donor meeting.
The message was clear: You can be whoever you want to be, as long as it doesn’t interfere
with or inconvenience our revenue streams.