2020 Year in Review

A year of “What if’s”

A year of “What if’s”

The year 2020 for me has been a year of “what if’s”. What if I had decided to move from New York City to Atlanta, for a fresh start? With all the possibilities, what I learned is we can plan our lives as best as we know how but to no avail. If there’s one thing no one saw coming this year, it was the impenetrable pandemic. It side tracked our aspirations and made us one year older with nothing to show for it. We had a raging racially-divisive president with an unsupportive Senate. Not to mention next year is pronounced “2020 won”. I think we all should agree never to discuss 2020 but for our sake, we can use it as an opportunity for growth. 

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As I write this, reflecting on this year, the sounds of the sirens interrupt my thoughts. The reality is that so many people have experienced great loss and deep reflection due to the dictated downtime afforded by Covid. I watched a classmate from undergrad document her journey fighting Covid. She watched as her own mother gasped for air on a ventilator, ravished by this silent killer. As the information was revealed to the public and we the people put the pieces together, we learned about the visible symptoms of Covid which resembled the flu but also the covert and anxiety inducing aspect. Carriers of this virus, as we know now, can have no signs; they are asymptomatic.


This detail made me reflect on all the things in our lives that we know to be true, that only we know exist. Like our lofty aspirations, our fears, even the highs and lows of love that are also in a sense asymptomatic; invisible to others. The isolation of quarantining had been one of the most unforgettable pieces of 2020. Who could’ve anticipated such a moment? What if we had the time to prepare? How would you have prepared better? I’m sure many of you would’ve opted out of doubling down on towers of toilet paper. For many singles, like myself, the isolation gave us time with our thoughts, which for some can be unsettling.

-In reflection I learned that just because you got it, doesn’t mean you got it.
— Rodni Kaye

In reflection I learned that just because you got it, doesn’t mean you got it. That body, that goal weight you strived for, you literally have to pay the piper every day, putting in that sweat equity to maintain it. That career that you went through all stages of academia for and worked to achieve, trust that the professional development does not stop. We fear this state of labor but getting to a space of contentment should be our life’s goal. My dear mother is a two-career retiree. She has since retreated with the love of her life. Their simple yet demanding lifestyle is a microcosm of putting in that sweat equity in order to maintain. I swear somehow she’s gotten even busier in retirement. She gardens and makes magic in the kitchen. If she were a Sim her skills in home-making would be off the charts. She’s put that work in. I learned that her domesticity is her love language. Her labor is her love. This December 2020 blog is dedicated to her.

Her labor is her love. This December 2020 blog is dedicated to her.
— Dedicated to my mother Joan

I was misguided as a teenager. Watching my mother’s labor, I actually grew resentment. I have since learned that teenage emotions a lot of time are misplaced and it is our duty in adulthood to find the language to express these emotions. What I felt wasn’t necessarily resentment but rather attention seeking. What I desired was that mother-daughter relationship we see in the movies, but the movies are a contrived production and anything but the truth.

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I now understand that differences should be celebrated. Strangers on the street have expressed their admiration for the bond shared by my mother and I. I find great humor in that because we have our disagreements. We are quite different but with remarkable similarities. For starters, as we established, her labor is her love. My personal idea of labor shifted when we adapted to working from home, this year. The invasion of our space of refuge, now a makeshift work space was a growing pain of 2020. In the spring, there was almost no separation of work and home. I found myself on my laptop clocked in and working from 7 am, to most nights where I was still attending to my students’ assignments, working way into the evening past 8pm. I have since learned that rest is my resistance and a love-ritual to practice daily. I wish for all of you who read these words: Even if Covid continues into the new year, let rest reign. Even if labor is your way of expressing love, let rest reign.

I have since learned that rest is my resistance and a love-ritual to practice daily.
— Rodni Kaye

Although this year was hard, it hurt, and it was isolating, it is also illuminating. I would compare this time of life to the first year of being a butterfly. I presume a young butterfly doesn't know all it takes to be a butterfly. One day it awakes, having woken out of a slumber, out of that cocoon, to new and vibrant wings. How wide they stretch; the innate designs on each wing and how the air underneath happens to support it, with ease. For a moment forgetting the tension and agony of transformation. Let’s welcome 2021, not fearlessly, but as a butterfly now in its second year. What if 2020 won? In the comments, can you share one lesson you’ve learned from the start of this decade?

Did this article resonate with you? Sound off below. Love you for reading! Xo

Did this article resonate with you? Sound off below. Love you for reading! Xo

Rodni Rankine

Rodni is a dedicated researcher, writer and education enthusiast. She is NYC based.

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