To be human amid dehumanization

Dearest Community,

Last month I performed at my sixth singing recital. Yes, a recital! I’ve been taking voice lessons for a little over two years now, an impulsive decision born out of my desperate search for “hobbies” that weren’t about being productive or “finding my life purpose.”

The music studio I go to hosts two recitals a year for its adult students, where we get to show off what we’ve been practicing in front of other students plus our friends and family. The performers range from retired seniors learning new instruments to exhausted moms carving out self-care time, to tech bros trying to tap into their creative side. We dress to impress, practice our introductions, and perform under a spotlight faintly resembling the one seen on the TED stage.

There were thirteen performers. An elderly woman showcased her newly learned beats on the snare drum (can you say badass?), while another played the flute in a sparkly sequin top matching her silver hair (she was also crowned “top practicer” of the season). A middle-aged man played guitar with uncontrollably shaky hands, carefully plucking his notes as we collectively held our breath. As each person took to the stage, you could feel the audience’s quiet solidarity, rooting for the person braving every note with visible anxiety.

For some, this was their very first time on stage. But as you know, being on stage is kind of my thing. Not to brag (okay, just a little), but I’ve delivered countless talks on massive stages to demanding audiences all over the world. And yet! Singing for three minutes in front of an entirely friendly and supportive audience of twenty always makes my palms sweaty and my throat dry. My voice starts to shake the moment the piano begins, and my breath turns so shallow it feels like I’m about to choke—very bad news for singing.

Despite it being a nerve-wracking experience every single time, the recital is one of my favorite events all year. It’s one of the rare occasions where I get to see grownups be really bad at something in public—not for comedy, but while they’re sincerely trying.

Seriously, when was the last time you watched adults stumble earnestly in the midst of their best efforts? Choosing to be seen mid-process, completely unpolished and shockingly imperfect?

I mean, the whole event is a showcase of stunning vulnerability and courage.

We live in a society that constantly demands us to perform perfection—be reliable workhorses, model immigrants, perfect victims. Prove that we’re deserving of respect, dignity, and protection. Even as much of our private has become public, sometimes it feels like we’re more afraid than ever to expose our most human selves. We carefully curate our accomplishments while masking our struggles, fearing that revealing the truth might jeopardize our chances of survival. We bemoan the ever growing culture of comparison, all while searching for ways to sharpen our competitive edge. We labor endlessly to prove we can perform under unimaginable pressures, quietly longing for that moment when we might feel we’ve proven enough to finally take a breath.

It’s exhausting. And dehumanizing.

I think this is why the moments like the recital feel so special. It is refreshing and deeply moving to witness people be unpolished, raw, and unmistakably human. It is disproportionately encouraging, but then I remember what it actually means to me.

To be unapologetically human, is to resist in todays’s world.

Against the backdrop of escalating fascism, weaponized AI, white supremacy, imperialism, and capitalism, insisting on our collective humanity is to reclaim our power. It means to consciously reject narratives that dehumanize so many marginalized people—from immigrants to Black and brown people to queer and trans people to poor people to Palestinians. It means we reject the demand that we prove our belonging through compliance, or “earn” our dignity by choking on truths that must be spoken.

It feels more urgent than ever to build our capacity to make room for each other’s most human selves—the raw, the unpolished, the imperfect—so that we can insist on our innate worthiness without the need to prove or earn. What would it look like to allow ourselves to speak our truth before having the “perfect” words? What would it feel like to permit ourselves to be seen, even when our whole body trembles? What does your story sound like when you speak in your most authentic voice?

What becomes possible when we all do?

I’m not going to lie, 2025 was draining and 2026 is off to a rough start—politically and personally, financially and mentally. But being present in these moments, moments that remind me what being human actually looks like, helps me to refuel my own heart and soul.

I didn’t quite hit the note I was aiming for during my recital performance. But honestly? I think it made the show far more interesting—and certainly more human.

I hope you, too, get to experience the kind of safety that makes practicing courage irresistible.

In community,

Michelle

1. You have the right to remain silent
Clearly state you are choosing to remain silent.

2. Remain calm and do not run away.
If ICE approaches you on the street, remain calm and state you do not consent for them to search you or your property. Do not provide any foreign or false documents. Ask if you are free to leave. If they say yes, calmly walk away.

3. You have the right to demand a judicial warrant, signed by a judge, before letting ICE into your home.
ICE warrant is not a judicial warrant, and it does not give them authority to enter your home and search. If ICE claims they have a warrant, ask them to slip it under the door and check carefully to ensure it is a judicial warrant signed by a judge.

4. You have the right to speak with a lawyer if you are arrested.
If you are in ICE custody, do not sign anything without speaking with an attorney first.

5. U.S. Citizens play a vital role!!!
You have a legal right to record or take photos in public. Documentation is crucial—Obtain important information about what you witnessed (names, phone numbers of any witnesses, badge numbers, etc.). Get to know your neighbors and draft a plan to keep your community safe. Now is the time to use your citizenship privilege.

Adapted from Immigrant Legal Resource Center

Share with your family, friends, and neighbors and make a safety plan together. Know your rights and let’s keep each other safe!

I was invited to be a guest on the brand new Humane Rights Podcast by Dr. Akilah Cadet. The episode just dropped so take a listen (or watch on YouTube!)—it’s equal parts sass and inspiration.

I finally finished my first cable sweater!! It’s a gift to my partner but I’m certain I will be wearing it just as often. I’m so proud of it. I hear analog hobbies are trending, and I think that’s great.

Anyway, please reply to this email and make a big deal about how good this looks.

Wishing you all a courageous year ahead,

Michelle

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