In The Spark Mill’s January newsletter, where we report back on books, podcasts, documentaries, I gushed about Yayoi Kusama. I finally watched the 2018 documentary “Infinity.” A passionate art nerd, I already loved her and this intimate telling of her story solidified and amplified that, if only for a moment. She’s crushing it and she’s being recognized for that - no small feat for a Japanese woman living and working in the arts, in both America and Japan, going back to the 1950s.

But, the Internet Knows Everything

But the internet knows everything, and the day after my enamored words went out to our email list, my scrolling picked up the audio: “Yep, let’s talk about Yayoi Kusama and racism.” An article in Vice in 2017 had lifted up a number of instances from her 2002 autobiography that the article’s author Dexter Thomas refers to as “a pattern that reflects an uncritical and unimaginative acceptance of American mainstream racism.” His own experiences with Kusama, beginning to interview her and being banned from her studio in a matter of hours, seem to be a proliferation of those thought patterns. Having not read her autobiography and not previously encountered his experience, I was unaware.

So, Tell Me About Your Background

When I joined The Spark Mill last summer, I was not stoked to answer, “So, tell me about your background.” Specifically, in this instance, it makes sense to bring up your education, and I was struggling (and am still) with my alma mater, the University of Dallas, a small Catholic school in Irving, TX. I didn’t grow up in a Catholic household, and I was a bit terrified, but the education looked to be top-notch, particularly as an incoming Classics (Latin) major. I also had access to some scholarships because of my high school academic performance, so that helped bring me there. A key component of the story is that I had significant difficulties managing my mental health in those years – fun fact, most mental health diagnoses actually come between the ages of 18 to 25. But on a campus of only 1200 students, I wasn’t able to get lost, even when I wanted to. It was a community, and I’m grateful for that. Fast forward to last summer - I followed a link from my alma mater to Fox News, where the current president of the university spoke alongside a representative of Liberty University on “political bias in college commencement speeches.” His own words didn’t seem half bad, I guess, but context matters. Since that time, I’ve of course seen more that aligns a beloved space for me with people and thoughts that I believe are harmful.

Permission to Mourn

So, this is a blog about awareness, betrayal, the grief that comes with those two, and permission to mourn, I guess. My first response to both of these, naturally, was anger, but it wasn’t just focused toward the offenders. How could I have been so blind? How did I let myself get had? How complicit am I in this? All valid questions and I take them on a case-by-case basis. But something we don’t talk about as much – I was sad. And for me, that sadness is surrounded by shame. For one, I’m not the victim in these stories, so making space for sadness seemed awfully self-centered. Beyond that, anger just seems more appropriate, right? Also, and this is very important, in a world where injustice and heartache are thriving (I said what I said), the scale on these pains comes nowhere near the loss and hurt many are facing. But just as I’ve tried to make space for grace in my own shortcomings in recent years, I’m working to make the tiniest space for mourning even these little losses. Things we once associated with joy or some other good are shifting before our eyes. It’s perhaps even trickier because so many of these betrayals we’re experiencing are retroactive; these atrocities were occurring while we were unaware or misinformed, while our attachments seemed pure and appropriate.

This May Hurt a Bit

As we all continue to grow and learn, these grief moments come to find us. At The Spark Mill, we open our work with clients with a welcome packet that lays it out there: “This may hurt a bit.” It’s part of the deal in wanting change. For my own part, it seems to be finding me more than ever, and I hope we’re encountering it with that frequency because we’re committing ourselves to seeking truth more than ever.

My interactions with Kusama’s work won’t light me up in the same way again. I scraped my alma mater’s sticker off of my car window and replaced it with a horror movie reference for now. It is imperative that we acknowledge and accept truth in line with our values, particularly these ones that hurt, but I think I’ve previously been misguided in my efforts to deny the hurt altogether. To deny the hurt is to deny our own humanity and the source of our values. Mourning has its place in the healing process. We can acknowledge our expectations for what is right and still respond to loss. Let’s just not get stuck there.

As The Spark Mill says, change may hurt a bit going through change and emerging is transformative.