The TSA Agent grabbed my carry-on off of the conveyor belt. “We have to search your bag. You have a library of books in there,” he explained over the din of the security checkpoint.
Is there some sort of book limit, I absently wondered to myself?
The agent, unpacking my bag, proceeded to pull out one purple-covered book after another. He looked up at me and observed, somewhat startled, “It’s all the same book!”
“Yes,” I responded.
A beat later, I realized that perhaps I needed to justify why I was carrying so many copies of the same book. Across a plexiglass barrier, I squeaked, “I wrote it.”
“You wrote it?” he asked. I nodded.
“She wrote it,” he said turning to others waiting for their bags to be searched as he held up one of the copies and read the title aloud. The woman closest to me offered a big smile and a hearty congratulations.
It’s been a year of quirky and wonderful stories as I’ve hopped planes and logged into Zoom rooms to talk with people about building a better world together — a world without intimate violence.
I’ve been saving up postcards to share with you along the way. Here are a few from the journey so far.
You matter. When I landed in Montana in April, I was more than a bit weary. Deadlines at work. Lots of travel. Worries about a loved one who has been ill. And then Missoula welcomed me in a sort of I-got-friends-I haven’t- met-yet way, as Ani DiFranco put it. I was reminded how much we each matter, for making the work better, sharing new perspectives, re-energizing one another. Thanks, Missoula.
Past | Future. Intimate violence is part of the shared history of our communities, country, and world. But it doesn’t have to be our future. Radically acknowledging our past and present circumstances makes building a different future possible.
A Path Forward. There is a path forward to a world without intimate violence, even when that seems impossible. Building the path will require each of us working together.
Believe. It’s hard to walk into a bookstore and hope that someone — anyone! — has shown up. But I’m learning to believe — really believe — that there’s always someone who is ready for the message that a future without intimate violence is possible. Let’s keep showing up to share that message.
Community. A mother and daughter smiled and joked easily with each other as they came over to talk with me after a recent talk and asked me to sign a book to both of them. A couple on the other end of the country told me about their worries for their daughter-in-law who had survived intimate violence years earlier. There is community to be found in the spaces where we share our hopes and aspirations, our fears and worries, our time and hearts. Community is what will make building a future without intimate violence possible.
Gratitude. I am just so grateful to the many people have invested time and energy into planning visits, hosting me, arranging introductions, and listening. I’m grateful to the former students, colleagues, friends, strangers who have shared the work that their doing, their beliefs that something else is possible.
And I’m grateful to all of you who have given this purple-covered book a chance! Here’s to building a better world together.
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Trauma Research Notes 