For an organism to survive and grow, especially in an ecological crisis, it is imperative to understand its environment as well as it can. Our social environment is one such physical place. In its deeper parts, we communicate through something fluid, where our sophisticated intellectual apparatus turns to the superiority of the physical, embodied, and emotional senses. Here we find an emotional ecology, a natural ecosystem, which facilitates social life. Navigating this ecology requires a more sophisticated and sensitive system than the one easily described in words. It is easy to miss, because it resists being experienced in words.
I grew up in an incredibly patriarchal social environment whose abrasion and violence did not allow for my girlhood to exist and grow safely. I could not say how I felt. Society relegated me to make myself alone, in the quietness of my mind, unknowingly subjecting my growing body, my growing senses, to social erasure. Emotionally, I stayed awake and alert as my body navigated its fluid depths and taught itself its intricacies through evolutionary attunement, need, and curiosity. Socially, I grew mute. The part of my body that needed to integrate my emotional learnings into my rational mind became inactive because I did not exercise it. I did not use my voice. I hardly even knew it.
Socially, I started eroding, but emotionally, I was so alive. Emotionally, I experienced life like any other child, and eventually had no choice but to make room to express my feelings, which were too large for my small body to carry. When no one wanted to speak to me, I spoke through music. When no one understood my fear, I looked curiously towards my nightmares. When no one wanted to acknowledge my anger, I busied myself with books, so I could understand the world that was not being truthfully revealed to me. On my own, I started to discover feminist ideas, historical analyses, and I was fortunate enough to be exposed to a schooling that fed me good writing and teaching. Yet, emotionally, I was still alone. Learning appeased me for a time, but I did not know what to do with this education.
Somehow, it felt like my education would free me, but it never did. I clung to systems analyses to help me figure out the causal relationships that make up my world. Why do men and women treat each other a certain way? Why is our social system so entrenched in our economic system, or is it the other way round? Why do I feel compelled to think about my own life and experiences as something to extract from so I can turn it into commercial art? Such questions invoke heavy realities, and to deal with their weight, systems thinking itself became a kind of god worship activity for me. As long as I had a way to analyse why something was happening, almost mathematically, I lived under the illusion that I was somehow safe from it. Yet, I still remained who I was, a hypersensitive, racialised, queer, young woman living in an abrasive social environment. I had the whole world at my feet, but I had no voice. I was alone and I was afraid. My emotional reality was obscured to me, because in my social reality it had found no place. I was erased.
As I grew older, I discovered that there were other people like me. In moments of shared tenderness, I could feel myself. In moments where others revealed tender parts of themselves, I could recognise myself. Parts of me that had long felt vacant started to spark with the excitement of being met. I became aware that there were parts of me that were unknown to my conscious mind. I became aware that these parts could be shared. I discovered the meaning behind my emptiness – it was the embodied memory of something true that had come to life in the past, had a physical effect in my emotional ecology, but had disintegrated before I could make sense of it, before I could speak and sound it out so it could find resonance in the social environment.
When I think about it like this, I feel like a whale. That to navigate our social environments, we use something akin to echolocation. You speak to me, in words or in action, and it has an effect on me through my emotional ecology, this fluid space we share. I pick this up through my emotional senses and integrate it into my conscious mind. Then I speak to you, in words or in action, perhaps I thoughtfully choose silence, and through my reaction and resonance you understand where I am and who I am, and you also understand where you are and who you are. Through emotional interaction, we learn what our environment feels like, where there is softness that can allow us to grow closer and be emotional together, and where there is hardness that tells us to stay tough and more alert. This way we discover if we are welcome in each other’s waters. This way we discover community. With community, we become cultured.



