Insecure Foundations
Mother Earth puts me in my place. Plus, a feminist 'Mad Men,' the unsettling realism of sci-fi and NYC's must-try Korean "pastry boutique."
My mom died in a flood. A flood of her own blood. On a sunny June day, the infrastructure of her brain had a moment of weakness, and one of the veins, like a pipe, burst, diverting the flow of blood from its usual course, flooding into areas of her brain it did not belong. Eventually the flood spread so far the damage couldn’t be reversed. It was a flood we could’ve predicted but couldn’t see. The only visible evidence a single thin stream of blood, now dry, that had overflowed from her bottom lip.
When you’re a kid, your parents are your anchor of security. Your conceptions of safety are formed in the womb, and then reinforced by your parents once you’re a little being in the world. Eventually, whether by choice or not, you realize your parents are not superheroes, they’re just human beings, figuring things out as they go along. At this point, if you don’t find your sense of security in a partner, you look to larger systems—your community, institutions, the consistency of the Earth—to ground you. Growing up, my safety blanket was knowing I could call 911 in an emergency; I believed there would always be someone who could help in a crisis.
That’s what I believed when I called 911 the day I found my mom drowning in her internal flood. But when the paramedics arrived, I immediately recognized one of the young men as an old friend from middle school. The guy I went to see Panic! At The Disco with when we were 13 was now assisting to cut open my mom’s floral nightgown and defibrillate her naked chest. It was in this moment, I realized the limited power of human beings; that we are all just, to a certain extent, playing pretend. There are forces greater than us that we can’t control no matter how hard we try.
I have this recurring nightmare involving a tsunami. The water is coming in faster than I can run. Often in this dream, my mom is with me but because of her paralyzed left side, she can’t swim. Every time, I try to save her, and every time, she drowns. The other day, the rain was so heavy, it felt as though Mother Earth was angry. We tried to ignore her, pointing our black umbrellas towards the sky. But she blew her winds in all directions, thrusting our umbrellas inside out, proving our defences useless. I tried to avoid her by taking the subway, but she had flooded its entry with water. There was no choice but to surrender to her big cry and walk in the rain.
Lately, my bigger fear walking the streets of New York is not the uncontrollable forces of nature but the men who have been exerting their power by punching women in the head. At a media event last week, I tell the group of journalists I’m talking to what I’m more afraid of than the physical pain of being punched is having to face a hospital bill without health insurance. “What does that say about this country?” I asked rhetorically. (They told me I need to write about this so here we are). I’m more afraid of the institution that is designed to protect me than the forces they’re supposed to protect me from. Talking to a friend back home, I tell them the increased presence of the police, even the Coast Guard, in the subway systems has been making me feel safer. But then I hear myself going in circles with my words, as I point out that the police aren’t trustworthy either.
I know that at the end of the day, we are all just fending for ourselves, there is no one who can save you from forces beyond human control. But when I lived in Canada, I at least had trust in institutions. Many years ago, there was a small earthquake in Toronto. Sitting on the couch in our ground floor condo, I witnessed the walls shake but wasn’t afraid—I trusted that the foundation of our building could withstand the Earth shifting its plates.
But on Friday, when the Earth unexpectedly trembled and my apartment felt like it was swaying, the thought crossed my mind that my building might collapse. I know it sounds dramatic, but in that moment I genuinely believed it was possible. The infrastructure in New York is so old and the apartments so volatile, I have zero trust in their stability. Everything in my apartment feels temperamental, I never know when the next thing will break. (No joke, after I wrote that last sentence my washing machine made an alarming sound and stopped working). My lack of faith in larger institutions here was further reinforced when I received an Earthquake alert on my phone almost an hour late.
Now, there are obviously countries whose inhabitants live a much more precarious existence than I do. On a global scale, I live in a country that, for the most part, maintains rule of law. Still, I can’t help but feel like my life here is a nervous game of Jenga. All it takes is one wrong block being removed and the whole tower could collapse. In Canada, I didn’t realize how much having universal healthcare and trust in larger institutions imbued my life with an overarching sense of stability. Not having these basic safeguards makes me feel vulnerable, like each day is a gamble and every time I exit my apartment I’m entering the Wild West. It’s this feeling that I now see explains why so many people in this country feel the need to arm themselves. When you don’t have faith in the larger good, you have to create your own sense of security.
The flooding and the Earthquake this week brought me back to that realization I had seeing my childhood friend as the paramedic attending to my mom—we are all just human beings playing roles in this grand performance of life, powerless against the larger forces of nature. Tech billionaires can build their bunkers or fly into space, but ultimately Mother Earth has the final call.
Tomorrow, people around the world will have their usual Monday interrupted by the movement of the moon, reminding us of our place in the universe. We are mere specks on this planet, and these insignificant bodies of ours contain more than 20 trillion cells, that make up complex internal systems that could fail at any moment. The minds of human beings have exhibited their brilliance in the impressive built environment we’ve created atop our planet, but nothing we create can overcome nature.
One day, the map of Mother Earth might look like the final map of my mom’s brain. An entire hemisphere underwater; the streets, like her veins, no longer discernible. I can do my part in reducing my impact on this planet who has so graciously hosted us without its permission, but ultimately, us humans don’t have that much control. All I can do is surrender to the inevitable uncertainty of my existence and find grounding here in each moment; stability in each breathe that, like magic, naturally fills my body without me having to do anything at all.
Best,
Anna
Reading 📖
I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to get around to reading trauma expert Bessel van der Kolk’s The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Combining case studies of trauma survivors he’s observed over three decades with new research developments and modalities, Kolk attempts to answer the big question: can we heal from trauma?
I’m most interested in his research on the relationship between the body, the brain and trauma. When trauma affects certain parts of the brain, this severs connections with the body, resulting in the malfunctioning of even our most basic functions. In the case of eating disorders, it explains why something as seemingly innate and logical as nourishing the body can feel so wrong.
“The price for ignoring or distorting the body’s messages is being unable to detect what is truly dangerous or harmful for you and, just as bad, what is safe or nourishing. Self-regulation depends on having a friendly relationship with your body.”
I also was struck by the amount of evidence finding that suppressed trauma manifests in chronic physical conditions like neck or back pain, migraines and digestive problems. One particularly shocking finding he references: traumatized children have fifty times the rate of asthma as non-traumatized peers.
Articles:
🧗♀️ “In your search of greater meaning in this Sweetgreenified life, you decide to go to the climbing gym,” - Anne Koda.
🏠 I’ve always said rich people don’t have curtains (I love when the first article comes out about a long-held theory you’ve had).
“These curtain-less windows have become one of our subtlest statements of privilege. They demand our attention, not only because they give us a peek inside beautiful homes, but also because they project the type of confidence and stability that few of us can dream of replicating.” -Michael Waters.
👵🏼 I wish carefluencers were around when I was a caregiver.
🤳 Is Google Maps a cure for loneliness?
🗽 Orange steam funnels are a NYC symbol, here’s what they actually do.
🍽 Weird dinner party rules from the 20th century.
🙌 How you know you’ve made it, by city.
Watching 📺
I’m a sucker for anything set in the 60s, it’s my favorite decade for interior design and fashion. So naturally I’ve fallen for Palm Royale, the Apple TV show about a social climber desperate to become a member of Palm Beach high society. It’s catty without being trashy thanks to just the right amount of intellectual wit. You know a show is doing something right when it can critique a world from the inside, and that’s exactly what Palm Royale does—poking fun at the pursuit of social status while you bathe in its lavish excesses (while also touching on women’s rights and second-wave feminism).
Social commentary and swoon-worthy aesthetics aside, it’s also got a star-studded cast: Kristen Wiig, Laura Dern, Caroll Burnett, Allison Janney, even Ricky Martin! I’m only a few episodes in so we’ll see if there’s enough substance to keep it going, but so far, the juicy plot keeps me coming back.
Also watching this funny reiteration of the thesis of today’s essay:
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Listening 🎧
Whether in books, movies or T.V., I usually avoid science fiction. I like stories grounded in reality, something I can relate to. But in recent years the fringe genre has entered the mainstream. Why? Climate change, the rise of A.I., and the pandemic has made the futuristic worlds of science fiction feel less far-fetched. Now, movies like Contagion—the 2011 sci-fi film about a pandemic that foreshadowed our own—and The Day After Tomorrow—the 2004 film about a “super storm” alluding to climate change—feel eerily realistic. At a certain point I stopped watching the show Black Mirror because it hit too close to home.
Sci-fi might be increasingly reflecting the real world, but what happens when the real world starts to reflect sci-fi? Tech founders like Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos reference classic sci-fi texts as inspiration, and sci-fi terms like “red-pilling” are now a part of our political speak. If science fiction is increasingly informing real life, perhaps we can look to it to help us make sense of reality too.
Snacking 🍌
I found refuge from the torrential rain storm on Wednesday in an unsuspecting Korean bakery on 21st street—Lysee. Calling it a bakery is a disservice to chef Eunji Lee who has created this pastry boutique that is revolutionizing NYC’s dessert scene. After our initial tour of the “pastry gallery” upstairs, I knew I was in for a treat. I’d heard of chef Lee years ago for her famous, fake banana at Jungsik (see below), but I had no idea how much of an artist she is. Through a small window behind the cashier, I marvelled at her bent over a cake stand in the kitchen, meticulously decorating each kernel of her corn mousse cake (inspired by the baby banana of course).
Chef Lee was born in South Korea but trained in France, perfecting her technique under Alain Ducasse and Cedric Grolet. Her pastry boutique in Midtown is a celebration of both countries, as she applies French pastry techniques to Korean ingredients (sourced from Korea). The ‘V.I.C’ (Very Important Cake), for example, is inspired by the chocolate layer cakes chef Lee loves to get at a classic American steakhouse. Her’s layers chocolate sponge cake with pepper caramel and dark chocolate mousse for a cake that feels very very important. I also tried her popular Korean toasted brown rice mousse cake, pecan financiers and of course, the chocolate chip cookie made with banana caramel.
As someone who doesn’t drink coffee, the drinks menu was a dream. The teas are imported from Korea but I couldn’t resist the latte section of elevated takes on Korean drinks (that tasted equally great without espresso!). I tried their signature brown-riced infused milk and sujungwa latte (think: cinnamon/ginger). Afterwards I ate burgers with an editor from Teen Vogue at Golden Diner. ICON Denim L.A. brought the In-N-Out vibes but I kinda wished there was more of the diner’s usual Asian-influence in the fare.