Imperfection

Did you ever have a feeling that there was a part of your story that was missing - that you didn't have the data or the details yet to confirm?

A few weeks ago I posted this question to my community on LinkedIn. It's a question I have grappled with my whole life and one that is at the center of the research for my next book.

During my research I stumbled upon a brilliant lecture by Mark A. Torres, Esq. for the North Shore Historical Museum about Long Island and the Legacy of Eugenics.

Torres writes about the relationship between Cold Spring Harbor Labs and the Eugenics Records Office in the early 20th Century and the global implication of the data that was collected. The stories Torres uncovered in his research would make a compelling Netflix series - all the major players of the 20th century are involved - but first you gotta read this book.

For me, I discovered a horrifying personal connection between my rare condition and something that my gut always told me might be true.

It's a story about how technological advances led to isolation, sterilization, and extermination, a story that is not historical, but omnipresent and ongoing. As I once wrote in one of my first publications, "the story never ends/ it's scrawled across my body."

I'm still processing the legacy of eugenics as it relates to my life. The book proposal process for trade books is about 65 pages and each day until the end of the semester when my calendar opens up a bit more, I am reading and writing to refine my thoughts with the hope that I can complete the draft by mid summer. I'm also polishing up an essay I mentioned a few newsletters ago for a book about Angie Thomas' The Hate U Give. So it's been a time of much messy thinking, rewriting, and siting in silence to reflect not just on crafting the right words, but how and when to share them. Yoga helps with all of these things.

One thing that reading Torres reaffirmed for me was the importance of imperfection in my life. I have always embraced a resistance to coformity, whether it's suburban aesthetics or the TikTok filtered 'perfect face.' Reading this book allowed me to see how my small acts of defiance are subconsciously rooted in the legacy I have inherited.

I often say to my children (and my students) that there is always more to the picture than what's inside the frame.

Even the banal photo that begins this newsletter of a peaceful pond was taken at Untermeyer Gardens just north of New York City. The pond is a part of an expansive garden estate gifted to the Yonkers community as a public park.

It's beautiful.

It is also a place associated with the Son of Sam murders, but that wouldn't be the first thing you think of when you gaze at the ripples.

Next month is Just Here For The Comments book birthday! I'll be back with a bunch of celebratory news and reflections. Until then -

Stay imperfect. Thanks for walking beside me.

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