This blog is about my process. 

A Chicana colleague shocked me out of self-pity when she said she thought I was the first tenured Chicana feminist scholar to be displaced by COVID-19. In the spirit of sharing, I am blogging so no one else feels alone. I am sure that I am not the only one. 

A shifting sense of identity has been an unexpected part of becoming jobless. Yes, I am a COVID-19 displaced worker. In fact, I have been unemployed since the end of May. Sad. Mad. Betrayed. At times, I am simply confused. Mainly, I am confused. I clean, sleep, EAT, and think. Mainly, I sleep. The story seems so sad, but it is happening to me. No job after teaching Women’s Studies and Chicanx Studies for twenty years. 

 Full STOP.

Believe me, I have wanted it to all stop, but I have to go through this. Right now, I am stuck. I don’t want to shift to the new reality; I fight it. 

Working on myself is demanding work. Teaching Gloria Anzaldúa’s Borderlands/La Frontera has prepared me to shed my skin with grace. Coatlaxopeuh is helping me learn to take this time for myself. On days when I feel underwater, I think I must choose between getting another teaching position and getting a job in the private sector.  Lucily, Anzaldúa’s discussion of the Coatlicue State has prepared me for “downtime” while I consider ways to juggle my teaching/academic skills and my hobby business (web design and development) skills. This blog is one way I am learning to juggle and figure out what to do.

By writing and learning to use WordPress, I am developing a new sense of online community. Already this blog has revived my sense of hope. Hope was there I know, hidden by the deaths of six people close to me and by the pain of isolation due to COVID-19. 

As I process my loss and understand the potential changes, I am finding myself again. I am going inside myself, either sleeping or lying around. I am not doing anything, but I am processing everything. I am going underground in an archaeology of my Self. Gloria Anzaldua is my antidote for 2020.

My 2007-2020 digital archive,
This Bridge Called My Back