Money to Do Whatever With
And other public visions for the new year
Last week many of you switched over to paid subscriptions and a few days ago I got this in my inbox, which was fun!
Check marks like these make me angry because they rank creative and intellectual work, and virality isn’t always a sign of good work (see below re: Andrew Tate and other misogynists. These sorts of systems have also in the past left me feeling inadequate and horrible.
BUT I am so grateful for every person who has supported this newsletter. Paid subscriptions make this paid work.
One of the best parts about announcing TOUCHED OUT has also been the incredible support I’m getting. As with the newsletter, the time and energy you each spend reading and responding to and supporting my work continues to take me by surprise. Sometimes I feel confused and unworthy. Then I’m like FUCK THAT. And THANK YOU.
BUT paid subscribers are still less than 10% of those who read this newsletter. If you find value in what you read here and are down to do 2023 me, I’ve extended my special on annual subscriptions until the end of the week because, as you’ll see in the post below, I’m all for everyone having more money to do whatever with.
The other day I was sitting in the car with my daughter outside the dollar store when the subject of universal basic income came up. She was hungry, so on our way to the store we had stopped for an egg sandwich. While she munched in the back seat, we talked about the upcoming weeks—back to school, back to work. She was looking forward to going back to school—where she is now, as I write—but also feeling a little low about vacation ending, about five hectic weekdays now coming between us. I tried to create some silver lining, talking about how boring it is for her to be home while I work, how good it is for us to go our separate ways during the day. She enjoys school, being with her friends, and grownups need to work, I said.
Since my kids were little, I’ve struggled with how to explain Work to them. I want them to understand that much of what I do I enjoy— that it makes me me, that I need it to feel whole, like a person. That it’s how I contribute to the world, and that one day she’ll have to figure out how she wants to act on the world, too. I am, as noted above, very grateful to do the work I do especially since in recent years it looked like I might instead be swallowed whole by motherhood.
But I also want my kids to understand that work is Work, that life is more than Work, and that I don’t endorse the conditions that come with earning an income in an individualistic, capitalist society.
“I wish no one had to work,” my daughter said suddenly, thoughtfully, eagerly—a little outraged. “I wish we all got like fifty dollars just to do whatever with.”