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I'm wondering how this week is feeling for you.
After last week's long stretch of uncertainty, there was a break of seeming clarity, that was met with blaring car horns, banged pots and pans, and dance parties in the street—the sounds of a collective exhale for the 75 million Americans who voted for a new president.
But as the sun set that day, there was this reminder from writer (and former DSM guest) Saeed Jones:
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So much has been lost this year. So many lives, so many jobs and businesses, so many plans and milestone celebrations. And another thing that's been lost is our collective ability to mark and mourn our losses together.
2020 is almost over. Some things are changing as this year is coming to an end, and some things, like COVID, are just getting more difficult and sweeping. Some of what we lost this year is never coming back. Before we rush toward turning a new page, we want to witness and mourn that loss together.
So, we're collecting stories and memories of what 2020 has taken from you. Tell us at deathsexmoney.org/2020.
One person who is dear to us that we lost in 2020 is Sissy Goodwin. Sissy and his wife were on the show together on 2019, after Katie Bishop and I visited them to record in their home in Douglas, Wyoming. Sissy died in early March of brain cancer. This week, we are remembering Sissy's life, and hearing from Vickie about his last days and his legacy, that was marked by many—including the Wyoming State Legislature, which recognized Sissy with a resolution on the day he died for bringing "gender independence to the Equality State."
Please listen so we can honor Sissy together, and share what you've lost this year so we can remember that together too.
—Anna and the Death, Sex & Money team
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This Week on Death, Sex & Money
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Last year, we met Sissy and Vickie Goodwin, a Wyoming couple who had been married for 50 years. Around the time they started their lives together, Sissy started wearing skirts, dresses, and frills in public—something Vickie says took her years to accept. "Sissy and I were kind of out here in the Wyoming wilderness figuring this out together," Vickie told me. "And I'm really glad we did."
This winter, Sissy was diagnosed with stage four brain cancer, and quickly entered hospice. He died on March 7—and today, Veterans' Day, we remember the Vietnam War veteran in our podcast feed.
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Your Stories: A Daughter's Letter To Her Immigrant Parents
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In our recent episode about conversations taking place in immigrant families this year, many of the listeners we heard from wondered how the results of the presidential election would change their relationships with their loved ones. After listening, our listener Jennifer in New York reached out to us the day before the election. Her parents came to the U.S. from China, and Jennifer told us that as her parents' political views have shifted in the last four years, their relationship has too.
Jennifer also enclosed a letter she wrote and sent them, and she allowed us to share part of it with you all as well:
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Dearest Mom and Dad,
I find that when I look upon your faces I lose the right words to say. In part, because I love you deeply. The thin grooves on your face map a lifetime of hard work and struggle that, at times, my insolence contributed to. It is very hard to stay mad at the woman who cleared your congested baby snot with a straw and the man who still wants to peel the skin off my grapes to give me sweetest bites. My Cantonese is only good enough to order food and give good wishes during Lunar New Year. My American tongue lacks the dexterity to explain systemic racism and the perils of capitalism. I can’t explain in your mother tongue how tech giants and big data have created a digital ecosystem that flourishes by draining your time with misinformation and how they benefit from stoking your anxiety and recycling the information they think you want to see regardless of accuracy.
It has also become clear to me that you do not wish to understand these things. I could use all my fancy learnings from therapy to analyze you, to tell you that the pains of growing up in a Communist regime have left you with physical and invisible scars. We can share an uneasy chuckle now when you hold up an egg at breakfast and remark on how these were a luxury reserved only for your birthday.
It could be that the truth would feel too terrible. That you had shed every small happiness you had—your family, your childhood friends, the familiarity of the neighborhood you grew up in, your home—so that I may have a better future. And here I am, standing before you, educated, employed, and telling you that 'here' is not good enough. That 'here' is broken. And that we need to change 'here' as well.
I know you will vote for Trump. There is little I can say that will change your mind. I feel as though my words cannot reach you without giving way to panic, to anxiety, to a fear-based anger.
I still love you. But I no longer respect you.
I don’t want to be angry at you for choosing a man who so easily spews hate and misinformation. For a man who is using his power to line his own coffers. A man, who, to me, so resembles the Mao you detest. I fail to see how his leadership has 'made America great again.' I don’t understand how you cannot see that the red hats are just a new version of the Communist red armband.
I don’t want to feel disappointed by your refusal to see that the dreams undocumented immigrants have are the same as the ones you had for us. I know it was an incredible struggle for you to leave your country to come here, scrambling to put together a safe home for my brother and I. What unspoken pains you've had to go through to get to this place.
I see you. I hear your trauma. The unspoken horrors you had to endure in China have left your hearts fearful and damaged. And now it has made you cold and weary to the fates of other immigrants doing whatever it takes to give their children a better life. It has made you fearful of change. Fearful of the ever growing power of China. And that fear in your heart has led you towards a bully. A con man. An aggressor that you think will finally punish the China that left you scarred and broken.
It’s also a strange feeling to me that I find myself at times worrying about you. Hoping you are not led astray, making sure you take your vitamins, eat veggies with better antioxidants. I imagine this worry is similar to being a parent.
Time is precious, and I know ours is limited. I do not want to waste it being upset and angry and scared. But I also cannot shake the incredible sense of disappointment. Not only do I not want to feel that way, but I want to be someone you’re proud of. I want to give you the love and care you deserve. I don’t want to treat you, my beloved parents, poorly.
So for now, I need space and I need time until I can connect with you again. Know that I love you and that you are in my heart, even as we are painfully divided, like our nation.
Love, always and forever,
Your Daughter
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After she shared the letter with her parents, Jennifer wrote, "They both expressed dismay in their own ways. They both believe I'm 'too young' to understand, that Democrats are bought by Wall Street, are in cahoots with China, and will lead to the communism that caused them so much pain. They didn't have questions for me but did regurgitate more (mis)information.
My father is hurt, but eager to reconnect. My mother has not spoken to me since I shared the note. I am afraid this is the first sign of us becoming more distant, but hope to move past this in time."
If you're part of an immigrant family who's grappling with the election results, tell us what's happening in your family. Send an email or a voice memo to deathsexmoney@wnyc.org.
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Listen to This: Audio We Love
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If you're looking for something goofy yet profound, the podcast Everything Is Alive is for you. We don't want to give away too much, but basically host Ian Chillag interviews inanimate objects (as voiced by actors and comedians) about their experiences, hopes, and dreams. In a recent two-part episode, we meet Maria and Joel. Maria is a box of tissues (voiced by former DSM guest Maria Bamford) who's observing people in a therapist's office, and Joel is a water fountain (voiced by comedian Joel Kim Booster) who wants to do more with his life.
And on Monday's episode of The Daily, reporters and producers from The New York Times talked with voters around the country about their responses to the weekend's election results. We hear from a New Jersey mother deeply in student loan debt, who voted for President Trump and believes the race is far from over; an undocumented immigrant named Berta in Miami who feels less worried about deportation now; and a Black woman celebrating Kamala Harris's win in Atlanta, who told her niece, "Because she is, you can."
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As we continue to work remotely this spring, we're looking for a current student or recent grad to join us as a paid intern. Our interns work with the entire DSM team to learn how to create content for DSM's podcast feed, social media pages, and website. If you're interested, tell us about yourself! Find all of the details and apply here by Friday, 11/20.
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"Listening to you interview John Green was my introduction to him and a catalyst for me to get serious about my mental health. Y’all’s podcast has opened many doors for me. Thank you."
—Lauren, Mississippi
Join Lauren in supporting our work at Death, Sex & Money!
Donate now at deathsexmoney.org/donate.
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Know someone who'd make a great Death, Sex & Money intern?
Forward them this email!
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