Author: Allyson Ryder

So often in our society, I hear how we crave opportunities for our children to explore, to tinker, and to figure out who they are in this world. We are all for our youth getting outside or into the kitchen or workshop to help make sense of what the world offers them.

What is often missing from this narrative is giving space for our kids to explore who they are and what they offer to the world. In fact, we can often find this downright threatening especially when it comes to exploring one’s race, sexual orientation, sex, gender and culture.

I see the fear of these types of examinations rippling throughout our entire public education system here in New Hampshire and our country as a whole. There are laws and policies being passed that dictate what a teacher can instruct on race, or what name a child can (or cannot) go by, and limit discussions around family structures. There are demands that parents must be notified of all that is being discussed in our K-12 schools with threats of lawsuits being made if those requirements are not met.

In Manchester, there is a lawsuit filed over chosen name practices within that district. We have HB2 in place, which white lawmakers adopted to limit discussions around race in our classrooms. In Mississippi, an administrator was terminated for reading a book titled “I Need a New Butt” to second-graders, and we cannot forget the recent legislation passed in Texas and Florida with really damaging practices put in place to further oppress LGBTQIA+ youth.

These are all motivated by fear but I’m not sure what the fear is about. Do we truly not believe our children are capable of learning more about themselves? To better understand the complexities and possibilities each of our identities hold? Is it that there is a belief that if they learned this information then they would be able to have better agency over their own bodies, their own lives, in a way that threatens the “norm”?

Our kids are beautiful and resilient humans. All trauma specialists talk about the need to build healthy resilience, which comes through conversation, connection and self-responsibility. Avoidance, unfortunately, does not get us there and stunts us against reaching our true potential.

I hope we can embrace and find the same level of fulfillment from self-exploration as we do exploration of the outside world. We can understand a lot from our children, and I believe they will be our greatest teachers in redeveloping our curiosity.

February has finally arrived and with it comes Black History Month. Having lived in New Hampshire for a significant portion of my life, I have only recently become aware of all the wonderful events happening across the state during this commemorative month. For those who, like me, wish to address racial injustice and to work for a more integrated nation, here are some things I’ll be doing to expand my commitment.

Attend a Black Heritage Trail of NH Tea Talk. This year’s series is being offered virtually with an in-person option with limited capacity on the subject of “Courage Conversations: Leaning in for Change.” For the 2022 Elinor Williams Hooker Tea Talks Series, BHTNH will work collectively to create a safe space for meaningful interchanges, grounded in history and lived experience between different segments of the Black, Indigenous, People of Color (BIPOC) community. We will also investigate the current issues that continue to create tension in the community. All talks are on Sundays from 2 to 3:30 p.m. and are free of charge. More information can be found at blackheritagetrailnh.org.

Address legislation impacting racial justice in New Hampshire. There are several bills in this year’s legislative session that will have an impact on how our state’s public education systems are able to practice their right to teach our students. The most promising, SB304, counters the harmful HB2 “divisive concepts” bill that has sent a chill throughout our state’s public institutions, especially K-12, in their efforts to address inclusion and equality especially around race. Passage means removing provisions concerning freedom from discrimination in public workplaces and education, and would clarify the authority of public schools and public employers concerning discrimination.

There are two additional bills that are looking to limit free speech and free expression in the classroom. HB1313 expands HB2 to include public higher education and limit the essence of higher education learning by promoting the omission and silencing conversation on important parts of our nation’s history as it relates to race and other protected identities. HB1255 seeks to ban New Hampshire public school teachers from promoting any “negative account or representation of the founding and history of the U.S.”

Explore my own biases and assumptions This is, for me, the most critical piece of this work. What is my vision for our society and what role will I play in helping to create this? I need to know that I am not free of racial biases and healing myself of these comes from self-responsibility, patience, love and mindfulness.

This work, of course, doesn’t end in February. This is a years-long journey and it will continue to require collective community to bring about the change.

On Nov. 9 UNH will be hosting its second program in the 2021-2022 Sidore Lecture Series. The topic will be Caregiving: Honor and Burden, Contributions, and Impact, and it will feature local and national subject matter leaders. All are invited to attend this virtual (and free) Zoom session.

My own involvement with caregiving is a personal one at both a familial and a community level. Having spent my entire life in New England, I have seen the ways the belief in individualism can ripple out into communal care. My grandmother hid her memory loss from her family and my Péperé struggled with managing his diabetes because neither one wanted to be seen as a burden. Relying on one another can seem counter to many of the values I’ve seen espoused in whiteness.

Intergenerational relationships have been paramount in my life and I see the ways that these connections have held mutual benefit for all involved. I can literally say I wouldn’t be where I am in life without them. There is something beautiful when we can honor the experiences and humanity of each other and, especially for me, when it transcends many of the social norms we’ve been conditioned to expect.

Being a member of the LGBTQIA community has given me heightened appreciation of the role of caregiving. The experiences shared with me from the “elders” are ones I’ll never find in the history books.

As the AIDS epidemic devastated the gay population, there were many members of their chosen family who were there to offer the care needed to navigate the virus. The stories I’ve heard are both heart-wrenching and uplifting as they have demonstrated the true value of love when we are at our most vulnerable.

As I’ve navigated this process, I can sense the fear of becoming too needy or overly relying on other people to live my life. I find this to be a devastating side effect to the notion of freedom and I often wonder what lies beneath these fears. Do we truly believe we are not an interdependent species? That without you there really cannot be a me?

Caregiving is a two-way street and I encourage all readers to tune into this important program on Nov. 9. You can find more information by searching “UNH Sidore Lecture” or just email me for the link. I am excited about the possibility presented in how we view this critical part of our society. We may be the “Live Free or Die” state but, maybe, we can begin to consider a new path grounded less in burden and more in honor, contributions and impact.

Memorial Day and Labor Day are our unofficial bookends of summer and both offer spaces for reflecting and honoring their roles in U.S. history.

I remember, vividly, the Memorial Day school concerts and parades throughout my childhood but I cannot say the same is true for Labor Day.

On June 28, 1894, Grover Cleveland made Labor Day a federal holiday. At their height in 1954, 34.8 percent of all U.S. wage and salary workers, public and private, belonged to a union; today that number is 10.8 percent.

The private sector is where most of the losses have come, which saw membership slide from 16.8 percent in 1985 to 6.7 percent in 2015. Who is protecting our most vulnerable workers, often low-wage earners, if unionization is not allowed? That’s a reality that has been facing our nation for several decades now. The stagnant wages, lack of access to health care and retirement benefits, and disintegration of the middle class over my lifetime cannot simply be coincidences.

Although some may argue that there is no longer a need for these protections, I would beg to differ. I think of Amazon and Walmart employees who have, for years, worked to try and unionize only to have their efforts thwarted through political tactics. Unions have consistently worked to put the power in the hands of the people and that can be threatening to many in executive-level positions.

Right to Work bills are presented each legislative session in New Hampshire and across the country. Although it hasn’t yet passed in the Granite State, I worry that it’s inevitable that it will eventually become law.

Much like most of our systems, labor unions are not perfect. They have their own dark history of racism, sexism, political manipulation and many other tools of oppression. But, at their essence, the organized labor movement is what helped to create safe and healthy places for people to work. They helped to build the United States and we cannot forget that as we enjoy our annual long weekend.

I cannot imagine a world today where a woman with an eighth-grade education and for whom English was a second language would find a job that not only paid a living wage but also helped to save for retirement, reasonable hours and good health insurance benefits. Yet that’s exactly the story of my Nan, who worked for a private manufacturer in Nashua for her entire life. She was able to appreciate class mobility and, in turn, so have I.

I hope we can find the space to move out of the political polarization of unions and appreciate their role in giving our most vulnerable populations a space to survive and thrive.

Two activities that seemingly share little in common are the two that hold the most life lessons for me: golf and mountain biking.

Rarely do I walk away from these activities without new insights and appreciation of a multitude of issues. The top three that I work to fold into my life regularly are these:

• Trust your instincts

• Know your environment, and

• Focus on where you want to go.

There is much to be said about all of these and each will present itself differently on any given day. The unexpected thunderstorm on the golf course or a fallen tree on the middle of the trail teach me how to remain nimble while working to keep myself safe. Admittedly, I have a difficult time embracing any of these three thoughts on a given day but none more so than the last one.

I’ve been completely conditioned to think about all the spaces and places I don’t want to be. This fixation demands so much of my time and attention that I am not able to see the possibilities that lie in front of me.

When I’m trying to avoid the sand bunker on the golf course, I am not seeing the hundreds of yards of grass surrounding that one area. If I want to steer clear of a rock on the trail, I often miss the intricate carvings of the dirt that winds around it. In the end, I, unfortunately, usually end up going in the one place I did not want to go.

Conversely, when I have found those rare moments when I can focus on the where I want to go or be, it seems to just flow without my even realizing it. My body adapts with gentle encouragement and I achieve my goal with much less effort.

In a larger societal context, I know that I’m operating from the trance of fear in more ways than I wish to share. I know I’m in my healthiest space when I am seeing things from the space of possibility instead of the constriction of anxiety.

Take, for example, discussions around race. These no longer scare me because I see them as an opportunity to better fully understand this country and all who call it home. This took time to shift my perspective but I’m so grateful for all of those who lifted up my chin from the micro vision and helped me to see the bigger picture.

We need not be afraid of what isn’t when there is so much more to what could be.

The stores are full of patriotic paraphernalia right now. I can skip past the metallic flag pinwheels; the red, white and blue wreaths; even the super-fuzzy flag blanket. But anything emblazoned with “America the Beautiful”? I start singing.

Katherine Lee Bates wrote the poem that would become the lyrics of our unofficial national anthem in 1893, inspired by the vista from Pikes Peak in Colorado. Samuel Augustus Ward had composed the melody earlier and in 1910 the words and music were wed. To me as a kid, “America the Beautiful” ranked right up there in holiness with “Silent Night.” Fifty years later at a family reunion I shivered with emotion as we cousins from across the country sang it together. Imagine my delight during this year of division when I stumbled on a new rendition by New Hampshire folk musician Steve Schuch. Weaving together Bates’ words and others inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Schuch and collaborators created a version that seeks to unite all ages, colors, religions and voices, a vision of America for everyone. You can listen and download sheet music at americathedream.org.

Another iteration of “America the Beautiful” is in a recent report recommending how to meet President Biden’s ambitious “30 by 30” environmental goal. Biden’s challenge to Americans is to conserve at least 30 percent of our lands and waters by 2030. Although the report describes principles rather than plans, one step endorsed is creation of a Civilian Climate Corps. Echoing FDR’s Civilian Conservation Corps, Biden’s program would put a new, diverse generation of Americans to work in well-paid jobs that restore the environment and build community resilience to climate extremes. Unlike the original CCC, Biden’s would include women and people of color.

I hiked Mt. Pemigewasset last week. It’s a popular mountain in Franconia Notch, not as rigorous as the towering 4,000-footers but high enough to provide a spectacular vista. Stepping out of pine forest onto bare ledges near the summit sent strains of “America the Beautiful” pulsing through me. According to New Hampshire’s 52 with a View: A Hiker’s Guide, Frank O. Carpenter wrote about this “striking view” and the “rugged shoulders of LaFayette” in his own guidebook in 1898, not long after Bates penned her anthemic poem. In the 1930s, Roosevelt’s CCC cleared hiking and ski trails in this area, enabling generations to appreciate New Hampshire’s beauty.

I’m grateful to those who inspire me with their words and music and to those who have protected some of our lands and waters. I am hopeful that a new generation of much more environment-concerned Americans can lead the way in meeting the 30 percent by 2030 challenge. That’s the Americana I buy.