I was (thankfully) raised in a home where racism was not tolerated. My parents had lots of friends of different ethnicities and cultural backgrounds than ours and I never thought twice about it. In fact, I was so shocked by what I saw in a video on racism in the South when I was in 5th grade that I literally sobbed in front of my entire class and had to see the school counselor. I just couldn’t even fathom that type of hatred. It shocked and upset me deeply, but it also made me feel very proud to come from the family that I came from. A family that would NEVER discriminate or feel hatred towards a member of a different race.

I have a great Uncle who has been exceptionally awesome to me. He has always encouraged my love of hiking, exploring, history, and world travel. He would let me roam for hours on his large property, patiently and sweetly explaining to me that the rock I found was not a dinosaur fossil, but was indeed, a very unique rock. He watched all the history shows with me that the rest of my family found boring, and when I declared I was going to go to Africa by myself, he was one of the only ones who focused more on helping me prepare for the trip than trying to talk me out of it.

And then one day I overheard him use the N-word. And I felt the same shock and deep level of distress that I felt the day they showed the video on racism in 5th grade. I couldn’t believe my ears. How could this man who I had always loved and even admired say something like that? Never in my childhood had I heard him say such a thing. I was beyond appalled and stunned. And then he continued on his tirade and it became glaringly apparent that my great Uncle was a racist. A horrible despicable racist. How in the world, could I love a racist?

There ensued a battle with myself. If he was a stranger, I would find him repugnant. But he wasn’t a stranger. He was a man who had cared for me and encouraged me. But he was a racist. Could I reject him knowing how much he had done for me? Could I love him knowing how hate-filled his heart was?

How do you love a racist? Can you? Should you?

I chose to distance myself from him. I explained why. He promised not to say those things around me ever again, but his heart wasn’t changed. I still see him for family holidays but we’re no longer as close as we were. I feel like to go back to the way things were would be dishonest and damaging to my conscience. I think that racism should have consequences and in this case, the consequence was losing a closeness with his niece. It didn’t change his mind. But my mind was also unchanged. I think I made the right decision for myself, but I still think about this question and wonder about how other people may have handled the same situation.

So, I’ll ask again. How do you love a racist? Can you? Should you?

- Mae

I have a job that pays me fairly well. I have benefits. My husband has benefits. I shouldn’t complain, especially when there are so many people still without any job at all. BUT.

But, I’m miserable at work. I’ve been doing this for 6 years and while it can be interesting work, most days it just feels like taking a voluntary emotional beating. I’m exhausted every day when I get home, and not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. I hate this job. I hate that there isn’t any balance, that I have to work even when I’m sick and can’t ever be too far from my phone in case someone calls or emails. I’m completely at the whim of my clients, which, more and more often, means late night emails that need immediate attention. And despite the promises of my boss when I first interviewed for this job, there is no support for life/work balance. A lot of those late night emails that require immediate attention come from him.

And I feel trapped. Trapped because the job does pay well and it helps support us, and lets me buy some pretty shoes every now and again, and helps us fly to visit my husbands family. It supports me, but I hate it. And I feel guilty for complaining, but I hate it. And I find myself resenting it more and more because it takes all of my energy away from the thing I *really* want to do, which is write.

But life is expensive. I’m rather fond of having a roof over my head and a cocktail in my hand. So, I keep working at a job I’m miserable at. Because sometimes, you have to do what *have* to do, and not what you want to do. At least for a little while longer. Just a little while longer.

- Mae

I, personally, believe that a little competition never hurt anyone, except for the people it has. More than likely, you are one of the people that in one case or another competition has hurt. I’m one of those people too. We’re all one of those people. (Let’s join hands and sing y’all!)

We human-sapiens are competitive by nature. It’s because of the birds on the Galapagos. So, competition amongst ourselves is inevitable. Because of Dodo birds. Or something. But nothing is as heated and potentially ego-trouncing as competition amongst friends. Wether you’re playing Scrabble online or actively working towards the same career goal, that shit get competitive and uber-personal. Because it is personal. Because you are a person and you are doing it and they are person and they are doing it too vis-a-vis personal.

And that isn’t to say you can’t feel supportive of friends you’re competing with as well. People are capable of all kinds of layered and seemingly contradictory emotions. For instance, you can feel both excited and disappointed if a friends gets a job you both applied for. Both of those are valid feelings and it’s possible to feel them at the same time. Confusing? Yes. But totally a thing that happens all the time. Especially amongst your friends you might have a lot in common with. If you’re both working towards the same goal, you’re in competition with each other, maybe not directly, but in competition nonetheless. And that can be a really difficult thing to sort through, because of all the conflicting emotions. It’s complicated, and in one of the worst ways possible, because you feel like a real shit-head for being bummed for yourself and not completely excited for them, while also feeling like a real dumb-ass for not succeeding at your goal. OR- you could be the one who snagged the win and then you feel like a real shit-head for being excited while your friend is sad, while also feeling like a dumb-ass for not totally celebrating your awesome accomplishment in everyone’s faces. So that even when you win, you don’t really win because you know your achievement has caused someone you care about pain, and when you lose you are totally losing because you know your friends achievement is just a little bit dampened by your sadness.

Basically, competition with friends is an emotional clusterfuck either way. But it’s going to happen, if it isn’t happening already, and you’re going to need a plan of action to deal with it either way. My plan of action? Be as supportive as possible to the other person no matter what the outcome is. And either celebrate or commiserate with food, because those french fries understand my complicated feelings and don’t judge me for them.

What about y’all? How do you handle competition with friends?

- Mae