What is Resilience? An Open Letter to Dreamers - By Monda Raquel Webb

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“If They Don’t Give You a Seat at the Table, Bring a Folding Chair” Shirley Chisolm

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“You dress poor,” my Korean friend told me one day at lunch without blinking. She then mused, again not blinking. “You’re so talented. I wonder how far you could go if you had money? Probably really far.” She brought me jewelry and a couple of handbags to help my “look.”

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“You’d make a fine actress if you didn’t have such a southern accent,” stated my college Theatre professor.

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“I can’t date you,” my German friend said. He had a huge crush on me. “I’d lose my inheritance.” He wrote me a poem on a piece of newspaper, read it to me and disappeared from my life.

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“It’s too bad you don’t have any models for success,” a white male co-worker told me once. “You’re so smart. I find that Black people aren’t given the tools it takes to be successful.” He also had a huge crush on me.

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“Do you have an extra bone in your ankle?” an unknowingly ignorant girl asked me during Basketball Camp in rural Pennsylvania. “Can I see your tail?”

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You would think with all the well-intended, or not so well-intended observations that I’d crawl into a ball, potato-bug style, and stay there. I will say, these comments/observations caused me to think about what they said. The words from my college professor impacted me so much I didn’t have the courage to make films for 20 years. For the white boys – I’m a Black female, it’s what it is. I can’t undo it, and I refused to be a victim based on their perceived notions of money, society and success. They confused their learning with their yearning, but that was their problem. As young as I was, I recognized that and refused to placate whatever churned on the inside. But I digress. I’ve always held fast to the belief that if you put your mind to something and worked hard for it, it was only a matter of time before it happened; that other peoples’ success occurred because it’s their path. Their imprint. Their divine purpose. Ultimately, what I do, where I end up, to the angels that help me along the way, is my divine purpose.

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“Those who say it can’t be done are usually interrupted by those doing it”. James Baldwin

For my Korean friend. There is something to be said about being poor in finances but rich in spirit. Undoubtedly, I was spirit-led to tell a story about the last known human zoo. I crowd-funded for a trip to a Costa Rican writing retreat to learn how to write a screenplay. I stopped paying my mortgage to save enough to fund the film. I figured somehow this little film that could, would take me around the world. The money path was untraditional, but on some level, walking away from my home and walking into my dream worked; for me. Ten years later, “Zoo (Volkerschau)” is still playing the film festival circuit. I traveled to Marbella, Spain and Bali, Indonesia, where “ Zoo” won “Best Script”, and “Best International Short Film” respectively. “Zoo” by the numbers: 32 festival acceptances, 7 awards, 3 nominees, 3 semi-finalists and 2 finalist awards.

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For my college Theatre professor. Since she made me feel as if I didn’t have a place behind the camera, I figured the impact I could make behind it. I decided I wanted to be a Director, a hard choice, since there are only 2% of Black women Directors in Hollywood to this day. However, as an independent filmmaker, the journey is arduous, but the autonomy is delicious.

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For the almost boyfriend who chose his inheritance over me; it’s ok. Hopefully he found happiness in life. I know I have, and that’s by dancing to the beat of my own drum.

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For the colleague who was so sad that I didn’t have models – what model? Good friends, Angels, those who care deeply, have helped me on a trajectory impossible to reach alone.

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For the girls at Basketball camp, I’m sorry they weren’t exposed to other races and culture growing up. But, from that weekend, I was recruited as a blue-chip athlete and provided a full athletic scholarship to the University of Rhode Island. That said, no student loans. Hopefully they had a chance to broaden their perspective by travel, any travel, outside of the state.

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“You have to go the way your blood beats. If you don’t live the only life you have, you won’t live some other life, you won’t live any life at all.” James Baldwin

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Dave Chapelle said, one of the most valuable lessons he’d learned was “In your life, in any given moment, the strongest dream in that moment, wins that moment.” Like Dave, I too, am a strong dreamer. I’m still dreaming. I won’t stop. I’ve grabbed them by the horns and won’t let go.

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How Do I Define Resilience?

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Resilience is the precursor to my dreams

Resilience is resisting the status quo

Resilience is practiced patience

Resilience is an impenetrable armor

Resilience is staying focused on the end game, eyes on the prize, feet crossing the finish line

Resilience is the cumulative gift from the Ancestors, whose sole purpose is to remind you who you are, whose you are, and where you came from

Resilience is the confidence to fail and fail again, because you realize that each fail propels you to a lasting victory

Resilience is having a pure sense of self that is soul ingrained.

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With love,

Monda

For 60 years now, this year, the California Commission on the Status of Women and Girls has worked to eliminate inequities in state law, and practices, that impact California’s women and girls. I have had the pleasure of serving this Commission for the last seven years and currently serve as it’s Executive Director.  

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There were a lot of years, however, when I thought a life like this was well beyond my reach. I never even expected to live much past 30. When I came out as queer in the mid 90’s, it was to a violent reception, banked by extreme poverty and nothing that looked remotely like opportunity. I was housing insecure as a teenager, raised by an abusive alcoholic and a queer community that did the best it could for throwaway kids like me. 

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The life I built back then was beautiful – but living itself was hard. For every party, there was a lonely night, or a week spent on the edge of giving up. For every adventure, there was a fight for survival. For every rowdy art loft, there was a long scary walk home alone through a gauntlet of predators to an unheated apartment and a stack of unpaid bills. For every night of free drinks, there were long lines and the endless hustle to stay fed on someone else's dime. There were boxes of rejection letters for jobs that I was more than qualified to take if only I would change my hair or look less queer. There were a lot of funerals. But still, I somehow squeaked through. I went to college and graduate school, worked three jobs at a time, sleeping in shifts to take on unpaid internships at places like the Smithsonian and the Washington Post. 

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I had, along the way, built a community that cared enough to keep me safe, fed and alive when I couldn’t quite manage it on my own. Some of us got out, climbing ladders that started in holes underground before we could ever see the light or the lowest rungs others we were competing with started on. Some of us got lucky and left poverty behind and even get to complain now about our gray hair and our traitorous knees. We kept each other safe long enough to get old. 

I have seen incredible progress made in that time, for women, queer people, and the folks I still call family, but I recognize that these are unstable times, and that we have a lot of work in front of us. 

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Work that will require a new generation of powerful women leaders to help keep it on track and ensure that the rights that we fought to secure cannot be eroded.  

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When the Commission was first established in 1965, most of our Commissioners were men. Today, 6 decades later, the Commissioners are all powerhouse women leaders who represent a diverse cross section of our incredible state. 

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 That change happened because women showed up and made it happen. And we did it despite the obstacles and sometimes, in spite of ourselves.  

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My vision for the future is deeper than specific laws that need changing or economic structures I want to help revise. I want women to do for each other what queer community did for me as a kid – we must fight for each other. All the time. Even when we disagree or have different needs or backgrounds.  

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Allowing our path forward to be defined by who we exclude, rather than how we connect, means making a choice to leave some women out of our shared fight for a future for us all. In 250 years, that hasn’t worked once – and it has always caused more harm than good. It’s time for a new strategy. It’s time for a radically inclusive approach to progress.  

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I survived what life handed me and worked my way into a position where I could help to lead us in a better direction. Solidarity across difference is the only thing that has truly changed the world. Solidarity and action in support of people like me are why I will be celebrating my 20 year anniversary this year to a woman that I love, and why I can’t be fired for celebrating that fact publicly. It is why I have dedicated my career and my life to building opportunities for all women to thrive. Because I’ve seen it done. I know that big change is possible – when we do it together. https://www.linkedin.com/in/darcytotten/