According to Dodie Bellamy, you can never trust a person with a neat bedroom.
The bedroom is a place fraught with conflicting emotions. It’s where we go to feel safe and protected, to put our guard down, rest, and build ourselves back up. It’s our innermost sanctuary, our last line of defense: when everything feels like it’s falling apart, we can always just stay in bed. At the same time, the bedroom is where we go to expose ourselves to others, to test and experiment with what our bodies want and need from and can do to other bodies—which can be soft and sensual but can also get loud, sweaty, and even a bit rough. For those (and many other) reasons, the bedroom needs a door that closes, so that it can be kept separate from the rest of the house. It’s where private gets even more private, or, as my aunt Judy likes to say, it’s the indoors indoors. And even though it’s our most familiar place (considering we’re there for hours every single day), it’s also our most sacred and cherished possession, shared with others only at personal risk.
"...when we set about trying to transform society, we must remember that we ourselves will also need to transform. Our imagination of what a different world can be is limited. We are deeply entangled in the very systems we are organizing to change. White supremacy, misogyny, ableism, classism, homophobia, and transphobia exist everywhere. We have all so thoroughly internalized these logics of oppression that if oppression were to end tomorrow, we would be likely to reproduce previous structures. Being intentionally in relation to one another, a part of a collective, helps to not only imagine new worlds but also to imagine ourselves differently."
Mariame Kaba, So You’re Thinking About Becoming an Abolitionist
Elders in Okinawa, Japan, one of the original blue zones longevity hotspots, live extraordinarily better and longer lives than almost anyone else in the world. Moai, one of their longevity traditions, are social support groups that start in childhood and extend into the 100s. The term originated hundreds of years ago as a means of a village’s financial support system. Originally, moais were formed to pool the resources of an entire village for projects or public works. If an individual needed capital to buy land or take care of an emergency, the only way was to pool money locally. Today the idea has expanded to become more of a social support network, a cultural tradition for built-in companionship.
In small neighborhoods across Okinawa, friends “meet for a common purpose” (sometimes daily and sometimes a couple days a week) to gossip, experience life, and to share advice and even financial assistance when needed. They call these groups their moai.