► i had just started a new job as a line
cook at P.S. Kitchen in Times Square—an
all-vegan restaurant. Everything just
stopped with very short notice. My hours
were being cut. I couldn’t make a living
working part-time. It was best for me to
leave and try to find work elsewhere. The
restaurant ended up closing just a week after
I left. I felt a little uncertain of what to do
next. I applied to a few places, then I decided
I was going to do more freelance work as a
private chef. I think this pandemic has
definitely shifted a lot of our lives, but it’s also
forced us to take a step back and just think.SHENARRIGREENS
27 , Brooklyn,chefIt’s individual, nuanced, and ever changing.
It will take years for women to fully return
to the workforce, likely to lower wages. The
damage will be long term.
Yet I hold on to a flicker of hope that
American life is still up for grabs, that we
can demand more from it. I, like many
others, believe we can have familyleave
and affordable child care and still pay
mothers—all people—a basic income. The
past yearhasbroken me,but in that
wreckage I’ve found a deeper senseof self
and my priorities.
I am a woman of color, a writer, a
mother. I struggle with the very gendered
fact that I am dependent on my husband’s
salary, and I worry that it may takeme a
lifetime to undo the false notion that my
work is somehow less valuable. I used to
think ambition—the desire to be efficient
and exceptional, to prove my worth—was
a force that came from within. I wondered
when mine would show up already. But
that idea, like the blurry days of the past
year, is long gone.
When I was younger, I rememberhear-
ing that my generation, X, wouldbe the
first to do “worse” than our parents. We
would make less money. Why “worse”?
I wondered then—and still wondernow.
I was raised by immigrants who came to
America with very little and workedtheir
way into the middle class. It feels shameful
to admit that I don’t have the desire to
hustle up the same ladder. My daughters
will have fewer financial resourcesthan
I did, but I already know I have giventhem
more of a sense of self and confidence and
community than my parents, whospent
years just surviving, were able to give me.
Is “worse” really the right way to describe
either situation?
Besides, I like a chiller vibe. I alwayshave.
As kids, my brothers and I were set loose in
the forest behind our house to climbtrees,
but I’d find a patch of moss, soft ascarpet,
and lie down to read instead. I try tosleep
at least eight hours a night. I take several
breaks a day to dance and move mybody
and let it work out the stuff my braincan’t.
I like being able to drop whatever I’mdoing
to comfort my daughters, to holdtheir
hands as we watch Into the Spider-Verse for
the hundredth time. I make sure my hus-
band takes all his annual personal days; we
roll nothing over. I work hard anddo not
want to work harder. I’m less concerned
with getting ahead than I am with allof us
getting by. Downward mobility was an
inevitable fact of my life; the pandemic has
merely increased its velocity. I am fortunate
to have a place to move down from. ■
Photograph by Dannielle BowmanThe BreakingPoint