My favorite photos taken in the past ten years

20. Siena

Siena, Italy
March 2018
Photo #3008

In 2010 I studied abroad in Siena, Italy, having the time of my life. It ended up being one of the most personally enriching experiences. I grew confidence as a person, got to expand my creativity as a photographer, and discovered just how much I loved to travel. I was thrilled when I got to go back in 2018, bringing Deanna along with me. One amazing thing to observe was the way I evolved as a photographer over that time.

19. Karen Refugee Class

Mae Sot, Thailand
June 2014
Photo #1637

One of the coolest experiences I’ve had was being able to guest lecture at a sociology class inside a refugee camp in Northern Thailand. These guys rarely get to leave the camp area. Their lives aren’t the easiest, but along with their families, they’ve been able to create a robust system of life inside.

18. Jesus

Viotá, Colombia
May 2019
Photo #3422

When I went to Colombia last year, I got to capture the stories of people affected by their years of brutal conflict. Jesús had one of the most memorable stories, having been kidnapped as a teenager and having escaped his captors. He now lives a much happier, more peaceful life as a coffee grower.

17. Durdle Door

Bournesmouth, England
July 2013
Photo #1293

I spent most of the summer of 2013 backpacking Europe. I connected the dots between friends I had in various countries, places where I had friends-of-friends, or extended families. I managed to connect with a distant sort-of-uncle outside of London, and he took me on a family trip to some beautiful parts of Southern England. I’ve since seen this location in various screensavers and postcards, and it’s just as majestic in person.

16. Stormtrooper Monthly

Omaha, Nebraska
October 2012
Photo #1010

Easily one of the coolest experiences of my past decade was spending my first term after college living in a van, touring the heartland to talk to schools and churches about human rights in North Korea. It was a beautiful, bizarre adventure. While I have plenty of photos on stage, with North Koreans, or with the various people along the way who hosted me, this moment seems to capture the randomness best. A former Nebraska state senator took us to a Barnes & Noble to do some work off their wi-fi. With no explanation, this guy was browsing the magazine rack.

15. Sleeping in Tents

Bonita, California
May 2014
Photo #1605

This photo is framed so simply and cleanly, but that makes it pretty fun. I went on a casual camping trip just outside of San Diego. This day is memorable for other unfortunate reasons. I was talking to my friend Daniel on the phone. Me in San Diego, him in Santa Barbara. He mentioned how he was at a theatre and couldn’t leave because of a security threat. That turned out to be the Isla Vista gun massacre that year that shook up my old neighborhood.

14. Smith Rock

Bend, Oregon
March 2016
Photo #2277

This was our first family trip since adopting Beignet, just the first weekend after we picked her up. She captured our hearts on this trip and we got to see her personality really emerge.

13. Biking Through Rain

Santa Barbara, California
January 2010
Photo #0019

A photo from my very first month of this project makes it onto this list because of its simplicity, and because it reminds me that it doesn’t take much to celebrate what life looks like at a given moment. The treat of heavy rain in the Santa Barbara area, the bikes that we would mostly use to get around while in college, all of this kind of captures the feeling of this time in my life.

12. Deanna: The Future is Here

Santa Barbara, California
April 2012
Photo #0842

We wouldn’t begin dating until a few weeks after this was taken. At this point, we were just very good friends and the thought of being anything more hadn’t crossed my mind yet. But it would very, very soon. This day, we took each other’s senior portraits, and we kept joking how this photo looked like she was seeing a vision of the future. Maybe that was more accurate than I realized.

11. The Old Medina

Fez, Morocco
July 2013
Photo #1287

As part of my backpacking summer, I got to swing down to Morocco for a bit and visit with my cousin who was serving in Peace Corps. It gave me a good window into Moroccan life, and I had some truly memorable experiences with Moroccan hospitality during my week there.

10. Dievole Wine Tasting

Tuscany, Italy
August 2010
Photo #0215

My photography style is nothing like this anymore, but I remember this picture being the first one I felt truly, truly proud of. The wine glass offered interesting reflections and warped the vineyard in the backdrop in a way that was so engaging to the eye. 

9. Jah Cho

Chiang Rai, Thailand
November 2017
Photo #2876

All these pictures helped me realize my favorite kind of photography- humanitarian photography and capturing the images of how different people live life around the world. Something about Jah Cho’s smile here was so warm and inviting, I loved spending time in his community.

8. DMZ

Demilitarized Zone, Korea
July 2014
Photo #1631

North Korea was such a big cause I dedicated myself towards this past decade, it was surreal to take a picture that half includes the closed country. I’m not sure if this opportunity still exists for Americans given the changing relationships, and I hope I get a chance to visit the country properly some day as a free and open place.

7. The Mate Maker

Buenos Aires, Argentina
April 2011
Photo #0476

I spent the first half of my 2011 living in Buenos Aires. While that time was full of adventures, I loved that living somewhere longer allowed me to appreciate everyday life in Argentina. Not just the mountaintop moments. This image captures the beauty of everyday grit for me. The motion blur. The man at work making yerba mate gourds. The Buenos Aires hustle.

6. Kiddos

Johannesburg, South Africa
January 2016
Photo #2219

I spent a large part of my 2013 in South Africa working with vulnerable children at a care center. In 2016 I got to take a second visit to work on my thesis and I got to see so many of those kids more grown up. The last time I was there, these kids were really little. A bunch of new kiddos joined the crew, too.

5. Rhys Miguel

San Diego, California
October 2019
Photo #3591

Of course, if I were ranking these photos solely based on the memory and not factoring aesthetics, this photo would be right up at the top. But I’m also happy with the way this turned out, and it’s pretty meaningful to me that I got to take Rhys’ first photo. Ending such an eventful decade with a newborn seems perfectly appropriate.

4. Tanzanian Karibu

Rombo, Tanzania
July 2017
Photo #2730

On my first field visit with Plant With Purpose, the Tanzanian communities would welcome us with shouts and songs and waving palm fronds. It was such an eruption of joy and a reminder that I was in the right place.

3. The Zulu Boys

Johannesburg, South Africa
January 2013
Photo #1125

The day I got asked to photograph all the kids in the Johannesburg care center was the day I really had a reason for being there at that moment. I also love the way this photograph plays with the next one on this list. It reminds me that these kids grow into those young men.

2. The Guys of 5Cees

Johannesburg, South Africa
March 2013
Photo #1174

“Let’s take a group photo,” Neo instructed me. The guys were already casually hanging out on the steps in this arrangement. Some of them looked at me, some of them didn’t. This photo somehow captures so much personality from each of them.

1. 96 Years of Lola

Iloilo City, Philippines
July 2014
Photo #1644

I went to the Philippines in 2014 to celebrate my grandma’s 96th birthday. I also wanted to meet Deanna, since we would get engaged later that summer. I am so thankful I got to make that happen. She passed away two years later, just after her 98th birthday.

Joshua Tree: Checking in to what's next

MIDNIGHT

The fireworks went off about a minute and a half into a YouTube video titled- What to do when your RV’s generator goes out? I could hear them reverberating all throughout Desert Hot Springs as the clock struck midnight. Meanwhile, I was playing electrician on a camper we had rented for the evening.

It was a humorously anticlimactic way to end what had been an extremely eventful decade. Like an epic TV show ending with the most mundane finale. We were spending New Years Day in Joshua Tree a half hour away. The camper we rented seemed like a good deal, but the faulty electricity would end up making it the worst Airbnb I’ve ever rented.

While fireworks continued to go off, I flipped the switch to the breaker again, hoping I could get the camper to stay powered longer than twenty minutes. It would be pretty cold in that camper if we couldn’t use the heater.

In the end, my efforts were never successful for very long. The power would go out again and we wound up using every blanket we could find for warmth and my laptop screen’s brightness for light.

At two months old, Rhys took this all like a champ. His parents, on the other hand, had a rough time with this arrangement.

We weren’t the most rested the next day as we drove into Joshua Tree National Park. But I did feel my energy reignite once we made it through the entryway.

Snow blanketed the large open desertscapes. It managed to make the usually dusty, dry area feel cleansed. The stretches of sky, the towering rocks, and the piles of pristine snow made the park feel just like the year- an open, clean slate.

TIME PASSING

The 2020s sound so futuristic, right? Then again, every year has felt that way since 2000.

The passage of time– days into weeks, then years into decades, has always been something I’ve been extra-sensitive to. I’ve always felt like it seems faster to me than it does to most people. I’ve also always had a pretty strong sense of my mortality. Like, I know this doesn’t last forever.

I frequently think about how my time is limited. And I know that this might sound like a burden, or a curse, but I think in a lot of other ways, it’s been one of my biggest blessings.

I think I’ve been able to live life with a stronger sense of urgency than most. And I think that sense of urgency is what’s propelled me towards some of my biggest adventures and accomplishments thus far.

Every day is an opportunity. When you live with urgency, you avoid wasting your time on things that don’t really matter.

One of my biggest missions in life is trying not to let ideas, dreams, ambitions, hopes, or adventures go to the grave with me. It’s why I write and create videos and share thoughts as often as I do. It’s why I say yes to invitations to other countries and invite others along often. It’s why I wanted a career that would allow me to combine my creative itches, my desire to help people, and my love of other cultures.

Life is just a little too fragile to run the risk of not saying what you need to say, not going where you want to go, or not trying to figure out a way to do what you love.

WHAT’S NEXT?

On the way in to Joshua Tree, we stopped by the visitors center to get ourselves an annual National Parks pass. Seems like there’s no better time to pick one up than the 1st of January. The sun turned everything a bright white while we waited in line.

The blank white page is an artist’s biggest invitation, but it can also be an intimidating sight. The pressure to put something beautiful on it. The pressure not to mess up. A new year feels like that too, except the work of art is your life.

At the start of the last decade, I approached that blank slate with a sense of urgency. I knew a few things I wanted: a good relationship, a creative outlet, a career in helping others, and a chance to see the world. Like, a lot of the world. I gave myself goals like writing a book, going to grad school, and visiting new countries every year. And then I did those things.

Now, the 2010s will be a tough act for me to follow. I know at some point late in life, I’ll look back on that decade so fondly. I mean, I already look back on it fondly. In the 2010s, I lived a variety of places, from Oregon to South Africa, Santa Barbara to Italy, Argentina to San Diego, Bakersfield to a van that took me everywhere. I ran two half marathons. I visited three dozen countries and every state except Alaska. I wrote a book and launched a podcast. I took a photo every single day. I finished two bachelor’s and two master’s degrees. I fought for human rights in North Korea, environmental justice in rural villages, and better education in South African slums and Thailand’s refugee camps. I got married, adopted a dog, and had a kid. I landed my dream job of doing creative work for a nonprofit focused on international sustainability.

Please forgive me if that sounds boastful. I just needed to highlight what a big and eventful decade it’s been. Also- this is why the idea of trying to make the next decade even better seems like a tall order. Does it even need to be better? That act of comparison does seem like a recipe for disappointment, doesn’t it.

Well, I really don’t like the thought that my best days might be behind me. I want to know that there are more adventures ahead. When I hear the words the best is yet to come I really want them to be true. 

So many of my dreams have come true, by the decade. I turn 30 this year and except for small bits like getting a tattoo or visiting Alaska, I do have just about everything I hoped for at this point in life. Family. Career. Experiences. At the same time, new dreams come into focus. And those dreams remind me that there is still room to level up. I can surprise myself all over again.

THE PROCESS

Last year, I became a dad. Three years ago, I got my dream job- telling stories about global sustainability for Plant With Purpose. I’ve gotten to travel, to create, to contribute to causes I care about. I’m thankful for all of this. One of the things I’ve learned in life is that setting goals and dreaming dreams is worth it. They give direction. And I’m happy I still have plenty more dreams to pursue.

I want to see our family grow. Both in size and in intimacy. I want to be able to provide a secure childhood for Rhys and the best memories of adventures. I’d love for our family to extend warmth and generosity and hope to others. 

I want to keep doing creative work for Plant With Purpose that captures people’s imagination. I want to make videos and online content and podcasts that leave people unable to sit still. I want to surprise people with how much they really care about sustainability.

I want to grow as a voice and as resource meant to help other nonprofits and do-gooders tell better stories. I want people to learn how to promote their cause effectively. Ethically. To be invited to speak and consult and share what I’ve learned by doing so. It’s easy for me to feel like I’m still a long way from this, at times.

My current challenge, however, is to be less focused on goals and more focused on the process.

Something James Clear says struck a chord with me: achieving a goal only changes your life for the moment. Setting up good systems, habits, or processes changes the way you do things, which actually leads to consistent and lasting results. And for me, I think that would look like truly showing up and being totally locked in to the moment in front of me. As a dad. As a storyteller. As an advocate. And I can’t help but think that would lead to some of my best work.

When I sit down to write, I want to truly enjoy the thought that goes into each word. I want to care less about meeting my quota of articles written that week. When I spend time with Rhys and Deanna, I want them to know they have all of me. When I’m in front of another person, I want them to feel like they’re all that matters at the moment. Building this habit as a default way of doing things will take some getting used to, but I think building habits like these is ultimately how you get to where you want to go.

YOUNG FAMILY

Joshua Tree is beautiful. The Mojave Desert is a different place altogether in the winter time. The wide open stretches of land are worthy of attention. We caught sight of a red kestrel perched atop one of the Joshua Trees themselves. It was perfect.

The first sunset of the decade was appropriately mesmerizing. The sky hummed a gentle purple and orange, somewhat muted by the faded colors of the Mojave landscape.

Rhys’ first time in a National Park was everything I would have hoped for. We of course didn’t do any more extensive hikes. Most of the trails within the park were closed, anyhow. Not to mention, we had our dog with us, which severely limits where one can go in a National Park. But no matter. The day was beautiful and free and open anyways.

This does feel like the most appropriate way I could be starting this decade. Exploring a National Park with my young family. My two-month old son. I want him to see me live out my values of creativity, sustainability, and adventure. I don’t want him to just pay witness to it as a spectator, but as a direct recipient. I want my life at home to be the primary spot where I put those things into practice.

I’m ready. I believe this decade holds good things in store. I believe it contains missions and projects and quests and adventures and relationships and peaks and valleys like I never would’ve anticipated. But I don’t want to turbo through it in an effort to check stuff off a list. I want to savor each day of it.

I want each day to contain moments that feel timeless. I want to be less divided. I’m ready for the years ahead to stretch like endless acres of public land. Most of all, I want to love the process.

LISTS OF THINGS

2019: A Year of Joy

If you had told me in January that a Sunday afternoon in December could look like this, I wonder what my reaction would be. Skepticism? Hope? Curiosity? Most likely, some crazy mixture of the three.

But right now, Rhys is feeding and our house on Marlborough is quiet, apart from Disney+ streaming in the background. None of these things were a part of our lives when the year began.

We’ll be heading out for Joshua Tree pretty soon, to launch the new year and new decade quietly and in nature, but I wanted to spend some time reviewing the events of the past twelve months, celebrating the big wins, and reflecting on the unexpected surprises that came along.

At the end of each year, I also like to decide on a theme. So many people I know pick a word or theme at the start of each year to guide them. I’ve found life to be a little too unpredictable for that to work for me at the beginning. To paraphrase Soren Kierkegaard, life only makes sense when you look at it in reverse, but you have to live it forward.

First, some stats:

Places Visited: Lake Tahoe, California; Charleston, South Carolina; Charleston, West Virginia; Viotá, Colombia; Jackson Hole, Wyoming; Atlanta, Georgia

Favorite Meal: Rodney Scott’s BBQ (Charleston, South Carolina)

Favorite Album: Maggie Rogers, Heard it in a Past Life

Favorite Concert: Vampire Weekend in San Diego

New Skills Learned: Boxing, Adobe Premiere, Infant Care

Best Read: American Spy by Lauren Wilkinson

Favorite Movie: Parasite

Five “Mind Pictures” That Will Stick With Me Forever:

• Driving to the house the same day we saw Rhys’ heartbeat for the first time and confirmed we were pregnant

• Swimming in my underwear and going down a waterfall slide we found just off a quiet trail in Colombia

• Coming within 50 feet (about as close as you’re supposed to) to a wild cinnamon brown bear in Yellowstone

• Spotting “Ube Cake”- the stray black mini-lab we rescued and came oh-so-close to adopting

• Seeing Deanna push through the challenges of learning how to nurse Rhys and becoming an amazing mom

Favorite Actual Photo Taken: Rhys is Born | 31 October 2019, San Diego, California

2019 will be a bit of a funny year to look back on because one major event totally eclipses the rest. My son Rhys was born on Halloween and our lives have been forever changed for the better. Our pregnancy began in mid-February, and so the story of our year tracks very well with his development and birth. Still, this was an eventful year in many other ways as well. Here’s what happened–

The Big Events

Before getting to the big piece, here were some of the other big happenings from 2019:

The High Water Festival

As a birthday present to myself, Deanna and I got tickets for the High Water Festival in Charleston, South Carolina. It’s a two day festival curated by the group Shovels & Rope (also one of the performers) and although it’s not widely known outside the region, I knew I had to go once I saw its lineup. Leon Bridges? The War and Treaty? The Head and the Heart? So there! We had an amazing time, ate incredibly well in the South, grooved dreamily to Leon crooning Beyond, and enjoyed side jaunts to Charlotte and West Virginia while there.

Colombia

In May, my friend Milmer invited me to his home country of Colombia. He specifically wanted me to help tell some of the stories of a community a little outside of Bogota that had been severely affected by the recent conflict. I learned so much on this trip, about the importance of the environment in the post-conflict era, and how difficult but beautiful the work of peacebuilding can be. I talked to kidnapping victims, farmers, children, ex-combattants, and local officials to gain a robust perspective on the country’s recent history.

Jackson Hole

Wyoming was my 49th state, and it was a really pretty one to save for my second-to-last one. Jackson Hole and the surrounding areas were especially gorgeous. I got to spend time with family in both Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Park, and enjoy a refreshing, slow-paced week up at elevation hanging with bison and bear.

Buying Our First Condo

When we moved to San Diego, I figured that would push back our expectations for buying a house by at least five years. So I was quite surprised when we were able to buy a little condo- our first- in March. It’s a cozy little place that fits our small family just right. I suppose we may outgrow it or have different needs in the future, but the timing of making this kind of purchase was just right for us.

…and of course…

Rhys

I’ve already written about the story of my son Rhys’ birth quite extensively, and if you’ve read even a little bit of it, you’ll know it’s kind of a miracle that he’s here. He overcame pretty much every obstacle to becoming part of our lives, from a year of trying unsuccessfully, to a triple-high-risk pregnancy, to a miscarriage scare while we were in West Virginia. Thankfully this kid is as strong as they make ‘em, and his arrival has taught me so much about holding on to hope when things are difficult.

The Big Wins

What separates a big win from a big event? I think events can just happen outside of your control, but a win is a decision you’ve made that you can feel proud of and thankful for. Here are some of mine:

I launched the Grassroots Podcast

One of the coolest things I’ve gotten to do during my time with Plant With Purpose has been launching the Grassroots Podcast. I wanted a show about the environment where the conversation was being driven- not by political leaders, academics, or well-known influencers- but by the people who are actually the most affected by the environment. Rural farmers in exploited countries. Women. Children. And we also got to talk to some people I admire along the way.

I ended up working with the great team of Chad Snavely and Nick Laparra to produce this show, and I’ve been impressed with how high quality they’ve made us sound. I’m also thankful that this show has allowed me to interview everyone from Colombian ex-combatants to Shane Claiborne, Mozambican scientists, Haitian farmers, Matthew Sleeth, and my boss. I’m really proud of the product that came out, and I look forward to making more.

I started making videos

Late in the year, I started considering investing in a new camera. I picked up one with pretty good video capabilities and figured, hey, if I’m about to be a dad, I’ll get great use out of this. I was right.

I definitely use the camera a lot to get plenty of Rhys shots, but I’ve also started making short videos each week for YouTube. It’s a creative outlet that’s been a lot of fun for me lately and I feel excited to continue to work on video projects.

I started taking up boxing

I’ve wanted to learn how to box for such a long time. It’s one item I’ve had on my “Before I Turn 30 List” and this year I was finally able to give it a go. It’s been a fun sport to dive into! The blows to the face have been pretty minimal, and I have felt myself get into much better shape throughout the year as a result. One caveat- I haven’t been back since Rhys was born. Boxing probably isn’t the best sport to be doing in a sleep deprived state, so I may have to put my boxing gym membership on hold. But I’m glad I did this for most of the year. I try to always be a rookie at something, and this year, it was boxing.

We navigated an extremely difficult pregnancy together

There were about three major physical challenges to Deanna’s pregnancy. Each alone would’ve made us a high risk pregnancy, but the three of them put together was intense. Deanna got pretty sick twice during her second trimester, she began the pregnancy on a broken leg, and she finished it with a baby who wouldn’t flip upside down and required a c-section. She also did all this while at a high intensity job that is far more stressful than what most people do for work. We ended up at the gynecologist every other week, and I’m happy to say I was with her at every one of those appointments minus one.

The Unexpected

Over the course of a year, not everything goes to plan. When the unexpected happens, it isn’t always an outright bad thing. In fact, some unexpected things, like our pregnancy, turn out pretty fantastic. But what matters when these things come up is how we respond.

Deanna’s broken leg and housing drama

While this year ends on a joyfully triumphant note, I don’t want to forget how it began pretty much the opposite way. We started New Years hoping to put some of the hardship of the previous year behind us. We didn’t go two weeks before Deanna called me at night telling me that I needed to pick her up from a rock climbing gym because she fell and couldn’t drive. I didn’t realize that what she meant was her leg was broken and we’d spend the night at the hospital.

She had to be off her feet for the next eight weeks, during which I took care of most chores like walking Beignet, while picking her up and dropping her off at work every day. We also entered a super chaotic February where we needed to pack and move from our house without knowing where we’d end up. That added an almost daily trip to the storage unit on to my packed schedule, and a lot of cardboard boxes to our lives. We ended up basically moving twice in a month. I’m so thankful I was able to just keep taking care of the day’s problems one at a time, and I think that crisis mode was a poetic way to prepare us to end the year as parents.

Not going outside as much

One of my goals for 2019 was to go outside more often. More camping trips, more hikes, more paddleboarding. I missed when we lived in Oregon and could do those excursions pretty much every other week. Well… that goal didn’t exactly happen.

Deanna’s tricky pregnancy would make “roughing it” lose its appeal. No worries, though. We’ll simply take on this goal in 2020 and beyond with a new camper in the crew.

Two postponed trips

Two trips I was really looking forward to this year ended up not happening- but they’ll probably happen again some time in the future.

I was supposed to take a group from my church to the Dominican Republic to visit a Plant With Purpose community that they support. Unfortunately, the timing didn’t work out for a few key participants on the trip so we had to reschedule. But hopefully this is something I can pick back up at another time.

I was also planning a trip to Alaska in September to visit my 50th state. But- that was pretty late in our pregnancy and we were on travel restriction by then. That’s something I’m looking forward to in 2020!

Some financial roller coasters

This year was probably one of our hardest years financially. Not like, skipping meals hard, but y’know, we’ve had to get a little more creative to make things go further.

It’s funny to say that, since we are actually collectively earning more than we’ve ever earned in the past. We also bought our house, and so we’re in many ways more financially secure than ever. But also- our needs have grown quite a bit. Having a kid will do that. And this year, we had two unexpected emergency room visits, an emergency iPad repair, a couple of needed repairs to the Volvo that might be falling apart. We’ve also been missing about 30% of our income recently, due to being on parental leave, but I’m thankful for workplaces and state systems that still allow us to have a decent income while bonding with Rhys.

The Year of Joy

So what to make of a year when the thing we waited long for, but didn’t expect happens? You could call it a Year of Hope- though, surprisingly that’s what I labeled 2018. Because I think it’s during the darkest hour, when hope seems lost, that it matters most.

So what comes after a hard season of hope?

Looking back over all these pieces… it’s been a year of joy. It’s been a year of looking at places where there once was devastation and ruin and seeing life.

Where there used to be a cloud of uncertainty and not knowing where we’d live as Deanna’s leg healed, there’s now the warmth and comfort of the Marlborough House.

Where there used to be conflict between the Colombian military and armed guerilla members, there are now students and community members working to make Viotá a hub of sustainable ecotourism.

Where there used to be month after month of negative pregnancy tests, there is now baby gear scattered all over the place.

I think back to the way this year started. On New Years’ Day, we hung out at my parents’ house, playing Tokkaido and watching Crazy Rich Asians. My stepdad unintentionally brought up the subject of us having kids, accidentally triggering a tearful night at the start of the year. Now, looking back over the first several weeks of Rhys’ life, I have never been in a sweeter, more joyful season than the one I’m in right now.

It’s been quite the year, and I really like where we are to begin 2020. There’s a lot to look forward to as well. But I’m in no rush. If anything, this is the point where I especially want things to go by extra slow. These days are too sweet and joyful to rush.

Best Reads of the 2010s

How much do the books we read ultimately impact our lives? 95% of them probably don’t- they’re entertaining or informative in the moment, but don’t have much of an impact afterwards. Then there’s the one in every twenty that changes the way you look at the world. One average, that’s probably 1-3 reads a year. I imagine the way I would look at the passage of time would be different if not for novels by Ruth Ozeki and Matt Haig. Hans Rosling’s Factfulness has given me concrete support for my optimism towards the world. Todd Henry’s Die Empty has given me a mantra for how I want to live.

Picking my top 10 fiction and top 10 non-fiction reads from this decade was not an easy task, but it was fun to think back on all the incredible literary journeys I’ve been on in the past ten years.

FICTION

10. A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki

A Japanese-American writer discovers a washed up journal in British Colombia and discovers it belonged to a Japanese sixteen year old who lost it in a tsunami. The girl has written freely about her life and goes from suicidal thoughts to documenting the life of her very elderly grandmother. It’s a novel about connection across times and cultures despite distance and missing links in your own story, one with spiritual tones I enjoyed very much.

9. Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng

Celeste Ng can really write. Just missing this list, though not by much, would be her earlier novel- Everything I Never Told You. This novel focuses on upscale small towns and Ohio suburbs and two families who keep secrets, despite getting extremely close together. It’s a novel that reminds me that everybody is facing hidden challenges at any given moment.

8. Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter

Beautiful is the right word for this novel. Set against the romance of a generic Cinque Terre village, the story jumps back and forth between the fifties and Hollywood idealism and the present day. This is the right book to remind us that no matter how much time passes, the things that matter most come back around for us.

7. Boxers & Saints by Gene Luen Yang

My favorite graphic novel of the decade. Boxers & Saints is actually a two part book series, but I’ve batched them together since they’re sort of only complete together. Boxers follows the story of a young boy fighting in Ancient China’s Boxer Rebellion against the foreign influence of missionaries. Saints focuses on a Chinese peasant girl who has found solace in the missionary communities. It’s a reminder that even in the fiercest conflicts, both sides have their stories.

6. The Tiger’s Wife by Tea Obreht

This was an impressive debut novel that was written in the spirit of classic Russian and Balkan literature. Set in that part of the world, it contains themes of ritual, legend, and folklore, primarily around a young doctor who befriends a “deathless man” and a tiger who escapes from the local zoo and befriends a deaf girl. It’s a great story for awakening a sense of wonder at the world.

5. Pachinko by Min Jin Lee

This book made me so proud for all the strong Asian females in my family’s history. The novel starts in Korea in the early 20th Century, and follows a family through the next several decades into the present. Parts of it follow members of the family to Japan and the U.S. as those countries play a role in the family’s history. It’s an impressive, expansive story about family legacy.

4. How to Stop Time by Matt Haig

Here’s the premise: An approximate 600 year old guy has to deal with the challenges of aging ten times slower than your typical person, like grieving losing everybody over and over and over again every few years. That, and the secret society that protects his identity and his secret aging process in exchange for one assasination job every eight years. For someone who often feels like time simply slips by way too fast- this was an amazingly relatable read.

3. Children of Blood and Bone by Toni Adeyemi

This is going to sound like a big compliment, and I mean for it to be a massive compliment– you’d have to go back to Harry Potter to find a fictional world I’ve enjoyed getting to know as much as the ancient magical Africa that’s centered in this novel. The characters, the setting, the rules, everything is so rich and I’m thankful that there will be even more books to come in this series.

2. Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi

Following members of a family line from one generation to the next, from Ghana to America, Homegoing is all about getting back in touch with roots that were erased due to slavery and other ills. If other novels on this list are any indicator, I love sweeping, epic, expansive storylines, and this is a key example.

1. A Map of Salt and Stars by Jennifer Zeynab Joukhadar

I think the great tragedy of our past decade has been what has happened to Syria during that time. This novel provides a retelling of the story in a way that does justice to the tragedy, but also captures the brilliance and the heart of the Syrian people. It leaves you feeling something more than devastation- maybe even hope at the end, in spite of all the horrors throughout the novel and the real world incidents its based on.

NONFICTION

10. Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah

Seems like every well-respected name in comedy has traded spots on the best-seller list at some point this decade for their memoir. Of all of them, Trevor Noah’s was the one that really stood out to me. His book was basically stories from his early life, coupled with some thoughts on racism and apartheid. You wouldn’t have even known he was a comedian just by this book, his pre-comedy life offers enough material. The final chapter was amazing.

9. On the Other Side of Freedom: The Case for Hope by DeRay Mckesson

I’ve learned so much about activism and justice and standing up for what’s right from the writings and ideas of DeRay. I’m particularly happy that he chose the topic of hope on which to focus his first book. He’s been in the middle of so many situations in which it’s been really hard to be hopeful.

8. The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything by James Martin, SJ

This book was written as a simple introduction of Jesuit spiritual practices to laypersons, but it was one of the few books I brought with me to South Africa while I was there, so I read it over and over again. This was how I learned about centering prayer and contemplation and examens and the spiritual practices that were most helpful to me over the past eight years. I read this at just the right time- needing to take my faith beyond just believing the “right things” to the practice of finding God in all things.

7. Dear America: Notes of an Undocumented Citizen by Jose Antonio Vargas

This was only the second book ever by a Filipino or Filipino American that I’ve read- which makes me a little sad. Still, this was a beautifully written and very important read. Immigration continues to grow as a topic of importance, and I’ve found Jose’s voice and honest-to-life storytelling so important as a way to hold empathy throughout the discussion.

6. Factfulness: Ten Reasons We’re Wrong About the World – and Why Things Are Better Than You Think by Hans Rosling

Every day, you’ll be exposed to messages that portray the world as a devastating place where things keep getting worse. Maybe nobody is literally saying that to you, but pay attention to the succession of headlines, and they’ll certainly paint that picture. Hans Rosling uses real and important data to show that the world is actually getting better. Drastically. The present is the best time to be alive. This book not only is a beacon of sensible optimism, but also some of the best storytelling I’ve seen done with data, hands down.

5. Between the World and Me by Ta Nehisi Coates

If I were making a list of- not necessarily my favorite reads of the past decade, but the most culturally important, this just might make the top of the list. Coates writes about the pivotal, uncomfortable moment we’re in in our country’s history of racism and bigotry with so much heart– in a letter to his young son. Highly relatable.

4. Die Empty: Unleash Your Best Work Every Day by Todd Henry

My work ethic is driven by the awareness that I won’t live forever and that I don’t want my life to end with my best work still inside of me. If something can help other people, I want to be sure to do it, and that means acting with a sense of urgency. Todd Henry does a great job of putting these values into words.

3. Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion by Greg Boyle

Ten years ago, more of my reads consisted of things you would’ve found in the Religion section of a bookstore. I tend to read less from that section these days and instead look for the sacred in aspects of all the other sections, though there are still a few books here and there I find genuinely helpful. Greg Boyle’s book of stories from his years of working with people involved with gangs has so much heart and paints a true picture of what compassion looks like. I felt like my soul came to life while reading this.

2. Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand

This book blew my mind when I read it in the winter of 2011 and the story of Louie Zamperini continues to amaze me. This biography captures an incredbily lived life, starting with it’s subject’s running career, his survival of a month on a raft at sea, his imprisonment and torture in a Japanese prison camp, and the aftermath of his trauma and struggle to forgive his primary tormentor. This book ultimately is a reminder to me of what hope, resilience, and forgiveness look like.

1. Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson

It’s hard to believe this book only came out this decade; it already feels like a much longer-established classic. Stevenson’s book recounts his experiences as a lawyer, defending those on death row, seeking to exonerate the wrongfully imprisoned. His story highlights the flaws of our prison systems and systematic racism, but also the way we’re connected through our own brokenness. It’s a reminder of what justice really is and how each of us is more than our worst mistakes.

My favorite songs & albums of the 2010s

The 2010s are coming to an end in just a few weeks, and a lot of places are releasing Best of the Decade lists for all kinds of things. Best albums. Best movies. You know the drill. I’m a big fan of these lists, the debates surrounding them, and all that.

Since I became a dad just a few weeks ago, I’m taking a break from my usual writing habit to simply enjoy making Best of the Decade lists of my own. Unlike the lists you’d find in Paste, Pitchfork, or any of those other sites, these lists are more subjective to my tastes and how strongly they resonated with me. If you’re looking for opinions on cultural significance, well, there are plenty of other sites doing that.

I’m starting my list-making with music, since I’ve been seeing Best Albums of the 2010s lists popping up everywhere. Music is the closest thing we have to time-travel, I think, and I love how quickly these albums can take me back to years gone by.

25. James Blake

James Blake’s self-titled debut would’ve seemed like an unlikely choice to make my list when it first came out, but man, this album aged really well and it remains one of my favorite “moody vibe” albums. His cover of Limit To Your Love was my first impression of how classical piano and dubstep production could actually combine to make something pretty sweet.

24. Leon Bridges, Coming Home

It was so easy to instantly fall in love with Leon Bridges’ style– soul vocals with a style that took you back to its golden era. There’s a vintage, golden-toned sweetness to almost all of his music and that comes through strongly on Coming Home. His follow-up Good Thing could’ve just as easily made this list, and Beyond makes for one of my favorite slow jams of the decade.

23. Band of Horses, Infinite Arms

The early part of this decade came dangerously close to overdosing on the indie folk-rock that Band of Horses had a hand in bringing to popularity. Their 2010 release showed why their style caught on so well. Infinite Arms is an example of the subgenre at its finest. A tune like Evening Kitchen can paint a picture of a tender moment with brilliance.

22. Maggie Rogers, Heard it in a Past Life

I’ve been excited for how strong of a reception this album has gotten since its release earlier this year. This list is probably more biased towards older works, since they’ve had more time for me to see how well they’d age and hold up over time. I feel confident in Maggie Rogers debut to be convinced it’ll be looked back on fondly.

21. Anderson.Paak, Oxnard

The crowd will prefer Malibu, and I get why. But Oxnard was the album that cemented Anderson.Paak as one of my current favorites. The joy, ease, and funk in his flow creates a type of music that flies between genres and gives him a style of his own. Plus, the wordplay and energy are especially ripe on this album– Who R U? Makes for one of my top pump-up jams.

20. Jónsi, Go

Sigur Ros is wonderful, but I feel like Jónsi’s solo project allowed him to flex certain musical muscles that his more orchestral group projects often restrain. By hearing his signature eruptive sound packaged into more accessible pieces like Go Do or Animal Arithmetic, I think we got a gift of songs that created an instantly magical mood.

19. The Lone Bellow

By the time The Lone Bellow made their debut, I thought I had my fill of the stomp-clap type bands and was ready for something new. While they definitely did have those folksy, bluegrass inspired elements, their music was simply so sincere and symphonic that it felt like the style was secondary to their transportive storytelling.

18. Kendrick Lamar, DAMN.

Gimlet’s Dissect podcast is currently exegeting this entire album song by song, and its making me fall in love with it all over again. It’s hard to argue against vibing out to LOVE. or getting amped to HUMBLE., but some of this album’s real beauty comes from its nuanced songwriting- and it always feels like there are more layered meanings to be unearthed.

17. James Vincent McMorrow, Post Tropical

This album came out in very early January, 2014. I remember thinking- wow, one of my favorite albums of this year can’t be coming out this early, can it? (January is historically a dead zone for good music releases, though there are exceptions). I was blown away by the textures and freshness of just about every track of this album.

16. S. Carey, Range of Light

S. Carey’s second solo project was just stunningly beautiful. I have yet to come across an album that can pull off such textures and layers in such a delicate way. Alpenglow is a favorite song of the decade, and the simple, wistful melody made me want to talk our wedding singers into covering a very different soulful version of the beloved single.

15. The Civil Wars

The chemistry between Joy Williams and John Paul White went from intoxicating to toxic-feeling in such a fast and dramatic way that it’s easy to forget that their music collaboration for a few short years was actually really, really good. The dramatic rises and falls of Poison & Wine or C’est La Mort could’ve marked the beginning of something amazing. If only…

14. The War and Treaty, Healing Tide

During a difficult year in my own life, and a chaotic time politically and culturally, The War and Treaty’s album landed exactly the way you’d hope for an album with “healing” in its title. It’s main anthem, Love Like There’s No Tomorrow is a prayer, a battle cry, and an anthem all at once, and I frequently want to erupt in that refrain.

13. Kendrick Lamar, To Pimp A Butterfly

If I were in charge of the list for Pitchfork or Paste or any other major culture publications, making a list of the top albums based on quality and cultural impact, this would be number one. From Alright to i to King Kunta- so much of this album presented a once-in-a-generation level of hip-hop storytelling that set Kendrick apart from anyone else.

12. William Fitzsimmons, Gold in the Shadows

Sweet. Melancholic. Tender. Heartfelt. There are so many ways to describe the softness of William Fitzsimmons’ vocals which have never been better supported than the way they were on this album. The contrast of somberness with light and beauty make this album feel like the rays of warm light that crack through on a pretty cold winter.

11. Sufjan Stevens, Age of Adz

This album wasn’t well received when it first came out. Not by the general population. Not by me. It wasn’t the Sufjan I was used to- it was some new, odd, robo-Suf. Then, I saw most of this album played live with added context and I loved it. And I played it so much, I gained a new appreciation for it. Ten years later, I must admit, it’s an album that gets much better over time.

10. Freelance Whales, Weathervanes

I tried looking up whatever happened to Freelance Whales, and it seems like they just unceremoniously stopped making music with no big announcement. I loved this album so much, I get a bit longing when I think of what could have been if they continued to put out stuff like this. I loved how each song could range from the pep of Kilojoules to the lament of Broken Horse.

9. Johnnyswim, Georgica Pond

We played Paris in June at our wedding and Diamonds was one of my top songs of 2014. So how does this album get ranked higher than the one that had both those tracks? It was just that high caliber all around. I loved the sweetness of Summertime Romance and the at-home sentiment of Touching Heaven. It’s an album for big life transitions and the sweet in-betweens.

8. Gallant, ology

I remember thinking that Gallant seemed like an odd choice to open Sufjan’s Carrie and Lowell tour. Then I heard him belt a splendid cover of Blue Bucket of Gold and instantly understood. Gallant has one of the most fantastic voices out there and his new releases are some of the ones that get me the most excited these days. ology was a fitting introduction to his talent.

7. Ben Howard, Every Kingdom

I respect Ben Howard for letting his style evolve and not getting stuck in the singer-songwriter box, but a big part of me wants him to head back that way because he was so good at it! Old Pine might just be my favorite tune from this decade, and his show at a small club in Santa Barbara remains one of the best live acts I’ve ever seen.

6. Chance the Rapper, Coloring Book

This was probably the most unique and original album of the past decade, and it deserved all the attention it got after its release. It brought to the surface so many things we needed desperately in 2016- joy, justice, and the unbridled spiritual hope that Chance the Rapper embodies. 

5. Noah and the Whale, Last Night on Earth

There are albums lower on this list with much more nuanced and crafty songwriting, lyricism, and musical composition than this. So why so high? I think of tracks like Give It All Back and L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N. and think, yeah, that put into words and music exactly how I feel and I can’t say it any better. Good music doesn’t always need to be cryptic. 

4. The National, Trouble Will Find Me

The National may have been one of the most consistently outstanding bands this decade, and this album was them at their very best. (High Violet could have easily also made this list.) Few bands can strike the tone of playful and dead serious and romantic all at the same time. I Need My Girl and I Should Live in Salt hold up strong over time.

3. Sufjan Stevens, Carrie & Lowell

The ultimate musical expression of vulnerability I’ve heard. I loved it. So many artists try to do what Sufjan does but it ends up just seeming like them looking for catharsis. Instead, Sufjan turns the personal into the universal, makes small moments into sweeping feelings, and turns several low-fi recordings into one of the best albums in a long time.

2. Vampire Weekend, Modern Vampires of the City

Few bands basically embody the 2010s quite the way Vampire Weekend does. Their witty, playful lyrics are underscored by more sincerity this time around, and the themes of faith, nostalgia, and mortality are addressed so perfectly with their tongue-in-cheek approach. Their other albums this decade were also strong, but this was them maturing into a top band.

1. Run River North

I am a bit surprised this took my number one spot, but after comparing it against other candidates, it makes perfect sense. Run River North was still a raw, relatively new band at the time of this release, but the truly magical ways they performed songs like Foxbeard and Fight to Keep were full of heart. Few songs can move me the way Growing Up does.

BONUS: My favorite songs of the 2010s

It would take way too long to share my thoughts on each one, but here’s a playlist of what I thought were the 100 tracks that stuck with me most throughout the past ten years.

You Will Be Thankful

It’s been an unreal past few days. I’m a dad now. Rhys is here. Everything has slowed down to focus on the smaller, sweeter details of life.

It also seems like a good time to capture the journey we went on that led to him being here. It took about two years of trying and being pregnant, none of which could be called easy. I’ve shared bits of the story before, but never in one big sum. Buckle in, it was a long ride for us, too.

It’s worth noting is that when I say I heard something from God, I don’t say that lightly. Throughout most of my spiritual life, I refrained from using those particular words, always wanting to leave room for the possibility that I was just telling myself whatever I wanted to hear. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I became more open to the practice of contemplation and listening. Those moments of divine connection carried me through one of the most challenging and rewarding stretches of my life so far.

November 2018 was one of the hardest times in my life. It was in the middle of Fall, and Deanna had gotten sick. And not just casually sick, but a weird, fast, complicated illness that struck suddenly in a single afternoon. When she went on antibiotics, the road to recovery wasn’t exactly a clean one either. First, one med created some strange side effects. The next day, we were worried about blood clots. Those fears became a reality the day after.

This feels like a cruel joke, I prayed. We had been trying to have a kid for a year, and all we managed to get was this ridiculous illness. It felt like torture, in so many ways.

In a year, you will see how good I am, I heard in reply.

No way did I just hear that, I thought. It seems like too convenient of a reply. Too good to be true.

But it wasn’t the first time I heard something like that.

Years ago, just after we had gotten married, I listened to an episode of Radiolab that told the story of a girl who was born 23 weeks into gestation. She wasn’t supposed to survive, but the podcast followed the story of how her parents watched her round the clock, reading Harry Potter to her. Singing to her. Her two day prognosis turned into a week. Then two. Then a month. Then three. Finally, she grew and was released from the hospital. She was four years old at the end of the episode.

It remains the only podcast episode to ever move me to tears. And I couldn’t help but wonder about what it would be like when we started trying to have kids. Deanna’s medical history was complicated enough that we weren’t totally sure it would be possible. And if it were, I wondered what effects there might be on mother or child.

I felt four words whispered to me.

You will be thankful.

I was alone in the car. You will be thankful, I heard again. I kept those words in my back pocket.

We started trying to have a kid in April 2018. I had been at my job for over a year. We had been living back in San Diego for a similar amount of time. Things were alright financially. We were in a good place.

We started trying the way most couples do. Passively. But as time passed, we intensified our efforts. Paying attention to calendars, tracking fertility. But months went on.

In that span of time, we saw dozens of friends announce their pregnancies. I had four other coworkers get pregnant. Five other people in our family had kids as well. And we were happy for them. But also, each was a reminder of what we were missing. I hated the fact that we felt that way, and that kind of made things even worse.

There was one moment, late that summer, when Deanna told me that we weren’t having a baby that month, for yet another month in a row.

I was sad. I looked at her, imagined her with an occupied womb and told her that she would make for the cutest pregnant lady when it finally happened.

“If it happens,” she corrected me.

“Yeah, sure.”

I don’t easily admit defeat. And that stubbornly optimistic side of me held on to this feeling that someday it would happen. But I was deeply discouraged and another big part of me doubted it at the exact same time.

In August of that year, I took a work trip to Haiti. I would meet with some of the participants of Plant With Purpose’s program and hear their stories. I do about one or two of these trips every year, but this time around, their stories resonated with me at a deeper level.

Messoyel talked about the struggle of not being able to provide food for his kids. Gernita told me about not being able to reap what she sowed. Nael talked about making 34 cents a day after working 12 hours. Raymond told me about the time his brother was killed in a car accident and he developed a drinking problem.

All these instances were about 10 years ago. Around that time, an organization called Floresta was rebranding itself as Plant With Purpose. Earlier versions of my current colleagues were figuring out how to effectively bring agroforestry and food farm projects to their communities. The answers to their prayers were already mobilized, before anybody knew.

Things move slower in the village, and so one morning when I got up before anybody else, I decided to go for a walk in the woods. I care about them, I heard while praying. Look around you. I saw aloe plants and small pines. I care about these, too. These were plants in a remote, rural, frequently forgotten part of the country. And yet, they were of importance, and they were thriving.

I care about you too.

I came home. I was supposed to make a video of my Haitian friends’ stories, but when the footage didn’t arrive on time, I had to pen a script fast. The words flowed easily. I wrote the message I got out of my time in Haiti.

It turned into this video:

I am the reason you can keep going. The reason you will keep going.

Of course, the hardest part of my year hadn’t yet arrived.

It did two months later.

In a year, you will see how good I am, I heard in the midst of it.

Deanna’s recovery was slow and complicated, but she did get better. The year was coming to an end, and I had chalked 2018 up as a difficult year and I was eager to move on. I had no particular reason to think 2019 would be any better, but hey, we could hope.

Sort of.

That New Year’s Day, we spent the afternoon with my parents. For the first time ever, my stepdad asked if we thought about having kids. When we got home later, that set off a more emotional conversation between myself and Deanna. She had pretty much given up on the likelihood of us having kids.

I threw out the idea of IVF or other methods. 

“What if this is my body’s way of letting me know that I’m not meant to be pregnant?” she asked.

Maybe.

“What if this year we start looking at adoption?”

Okay.

We’ve always wanted to adopt. We still do. But we also both wanted biological children. I still hadn’t given up in that same way, but what was I going to do? I couldn’t argue my way into conceiving a kid. I agreed, wondering if we might still do both, just in a different order than we expected.

After all, it was finally 2019 and I was ready for a new start.

Yeah right.

Two weeks later, I was in bed reading, while Deanna was out rock climbing with a friend. I got a call: “Hey, I hurt my leg and can’t drive. Can you come pick me up?”

I thought I would just be taking Deanna home, so I simply threw on sweats and flip flops and went over to the gym. When I got there, it turned out that Deanna had actually broken her knee, and we would be spending the night in the hospital. Before they X-Rayed her, they asked us if we were pregnant.

Our answer was no, but they still needed to test. Wouldn’t it be the ultimate irony to find out this way? I thought. But once again, the test showed up negative.

The broken leg meant eight weeks on crutches, during which Deanna couldn’t drive. Plant With Purpose was gracious in allowing me a little flexibility. Every morning, I would drive her 20 minutes to work, then head 40 minutes in the other direction to my office. I would reverse that route every afternoon, keeping me on the road for two hours every day.

To add to the stress, we had started looking for a house. We were confident enough in our decision to move that at the start of the year, we gave our apartment a notice that we were leaving in 60 days. End of February. Deanna’s leg slowed down our house hunt. When we got back to it, we found that everything was just a bit outside of our range.

We had to pack everything up and move out by the end of the month, and we had no place to go. We kept looking for houses and short term rentals we could use as a backup plan. Meanwhile, after work each day, I’d come home and do more packing. Taking several boxes to storage every day became part of the routine.

Things were unbelievably stressful. One day, I found a stray dog on the street. A small black lab who was really sweet. I told the shelter we’d adopt her if nobody claimed ownership. One day went by, and then another. The owner had a week to claim her. Six days went by, but on the final day, she was claimed.

Over Thai food that day, I simply had to vent to Deanna how tired and upset I was at nothing working out. No luck having kids. No luck finding a house. We couldn’t even get that dog.

She listened intently. We stared and ate basil noodles. Then she started scrolling on her phone.

“There’s an open house right now in City Heights,” she said. “And this is way cheaper than the other places we’ve looked at.”

We met our realtor there in an hour. And we liked it.

Later that week, we made an offer that was almost immediately accepted.

On the last day of February, my mom came over to help clean the house. I took the day off work so I could keep taking large boxes over to storage. We were closing on the house, which we’d move into in April, but we found a sweet spot to temporarily stay in for the next month. Something about that day felt right.

The sun was out. Things felt lighter. I suppose it’s worth noting that this was the same day the Phillies signed Bryce Harper.

We moved out, and I was so glad to put that month behind us.

A week later, we were in La Mesa, in our temporary living room. I was reading on the couch before work. Deanna hobbled over to me on crutches. “I have something to show you.”

She pulled out a pregnancy test strip showing two pink lines.

My smile was sincere but guarded. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I wanted to hear from a credentialed doctor that all this was for real.

Conveniently, her broken leg called for lab work to be done that night. We checked the results and saw that HCG levels were indeed up.

That Thursday, we scheduled a visit with the gynecologist. She performed an ultrasound. And we saw him.

Our baby was the size of a rice grain. And he had a heartbeat. “That’s very good,” our doctor told us. “Most of the time you can find a heartbeat at this stage, you’ll carry to term.”

It would still be a high risk pregnancy, we were told. We’d need to see this doctor every other week. Deanna’s diabetes would be a tricky thing. We were warned that she would lose her sensitivity to her blood sugar levels. We were also given a list of all the things that could go wrong. A possible loss of lung function. A slight risk of death.

“I just have to say that stuff,” our doctor told us. “But I’m an optimist, and I think we’ll do this. You have to be an optimist about this.”

The next day, I took Beignet for a long walk. This is it, I heard. I want you to be parents.

We told our parents, but other than that, we kept this sweet news to ourselves. My cautious self wanted to wait until halfway through before we really started telling people.

We took an early Babymoon to Charleston. It was also partly a birthday gift to me, a trip to the High Water Music Festival. We had a great time, and we saw a lot of other pregnant women there as well.

The last day of the trip, however, would be the scariest day of our pregnancy.

Many diabetics can feel their blood sugar levels fluctuate and can adjust their food or insulin intake accordingly. When you get pregnant, however, your sensitivity gets thrown off and the amount of insulin you need gets thrown off. While I was driving from Charleston to Charlotte so we could fly back home, this caught us way off guard.

Deanna napped in the passenger seat, and when she woke up, she checked her blood sugar. The monitor said something I had never seen before. Sugar Dangerously Low. What? This thing measures as low as 30-- how low is she? 20? She should be in a diabetic coma right now if that were the case.

But oddly, she felt nothing. We waited as she drank juice and ate cereal bars to try and bring it back up. “This is very, very bad,” she told me. “If this baby is still okay, it would be a miracle.”

The next four days would be another painstaking wait until we could see our doctor.

I spent a lot of time on online forums trying to see if anyone had experienced a hypoglycemic shock while pregnant. The biggest source of comfort, oddly, were posts on a British website from diabetic mums in 2011. I had to do some conversion of units to see how low they dropped.

When we made it to the doctor after a long week, we watched the ultrasound screen. We found the heartbeat, and as far as anyone could see, baby was doing well.

I want you to be parents, I remembered hearing. And this baby- a boy, we’d soon learn- wanted to be alive. He found his way into our lives when they were the most chaotic- a broken leg, a housing crisis, and a ton of stress. He fought through blood sugar swings and chronic illness management and a challenging pregnancy. It looks as though he’s picked up his mom’s fighter spirit and resilience. It’s hard to overstate how happy that makes me.

And now, he’s here.

His arrival took me back to where this journey all began. Where, after a podcast episode, I heard the phrase you will be thankful. And it takes me to this time last year. A year from now, you will see how good I am. It takes me to Haiti. I am the reason you can keep going. You will keep going. It takes me to Charleston. I want you to be parents.

And you know what? A year after the hardest time in my life, I see how good God is.

I am thankful.

My favorite shows of the 2010s

The 2010s are coming to an end in just a few weeks, and a lot of places are releasing Best of the Decade lists for all kinds of things. Best albums. Best movies. You know the drill. I’m a big fan of these lists, the debates surrounding them, and all that.

Since I became a dad just a few weeks ago, I’m taking a break from my usual writing habit to simply enjoy making Best of the Decade lists of my own. Unlike the lists you’d find in Paste, Pitchfork, or any of those other sites, these lists are more subjective to my tastes and how strongly they resonated with me. If you’re looking for opinions on cultural significance, well, there are plenty of other sites doing that.

This time around, I’m listing my favorite shows from this decade, and I’m defining that pretty loosely. Here are my picks for the best podcasts, podcast episodes, scripted series, and online videos of the decade. To be honest, I’m probably not the best person to make a definitive list of the best shows of the decade, given that I didn’t really watch much. Especially in the first few years. I do hit those podcasts pretty hard, though. Either way, I still felt like sharing a few shows and segments that inspired me, made me think, or just put a smile on my face.

This list comes fully loaded- so click an image below to see my picks.

PODCASTS

SERIES

PODCAST EPISODES

ONLINE VIDEOS

Favorite Online Videos of the 2010s

10. “Unsung Hero”

The ThaiLife commercial has now been seen plenty, with some of its translation issues in tact. That said, I’ve used it so many times as an example of how to craft a compelling video.

9. Japan’s Master Inventor Has Over 3,500 Patents

Great Big Story are some of my favorite content producers out there. Their sole goal with everything produced is to create a sense of wonder, which they do again and again.

8. In A Heartbeat

Score one for the animators. This sweet animated short love story made quite the splash when it arrived, and I wish there was a more regular place to find these sorts of works.

7. Budweiser | This Bud’s For 3 | Dwayne Wade

This video, made by Budweiser to commemorate Dwayne Wade’s retirement from the NBA packs a surprisingly emotional punch.

6. Most Shocking Second a Day video

The saddest video listed, and it has a pretty bad clickbaity title. That aside, the Syrian crisis was the tragedy of this decade, and this Save The Children campaign starkly humanizes it.

5. A Pep Talk from Kid President to You

Kid President was one of the very best things to happen to the internet this decade, and this might have been his capstone video.

4. Proverbs 31 (Thank God For Women) – International Women’s Day

More nonprofit’s videos should look like this: blurring the line between giver and recipient and instead focusing on the many different appearances of strength.

3. Children Of Asian Immigrants Reveal Sacrifices Their Parents Made

Another pretty powerful soul-punch. Of course this is one I can relate to pretty strongly, but it’s pretty widely moving.

2. Meet Zach Sobiech | My Last Days

SoulPancake’s 22 minute highlight of a remarkable soul gone too soon is exactly the sort of thing that makes you just want to go out there and live whole heartedly.

1. A Balloon’s Story

Brad Montague’s short story about a balloon going through an existential crisis triggered by the awareness of mortality is sweet and relatable and comforting all at once.

Favorite Shows of the 2010s

10. Galavant

This feels like such a silly show to be putting on this list, since it takes itself not seriously at all, but fewer shows put me in a good mood like this over-the-top medieval musical.

9. The OA

The weirdest little Netflix series whose untimely cancellation means we’ll just have to live with a bizarre cliffhanger ending. Still, it was a bold, risk-taking show, that I loved.

8. Atlanta

Here’s the kicker, I’m still a little behind on Atlanta, but I’m confident enough off of what I’ve seen to give this a pretty high placement. I want more! 

7. Psych

Given that I call Psych my favorite show ever, this should probably rank a little higher, but its earlier seasons fall into the 2000s. Still, it stayed so good mostly up until the end.

6. Unbelievable

Okay, the content of this one-season limited series makes it a pretty difficult one to watch, but man is it compelling. Plus the acting performances were some of the best.

5. Jane the Virgin

Gina Rodriguez’s recent missteps aside, this show was brilliantly written, smartly self aware, and so full of heart. Plus a pretty big win for representation in a lot of ways.

4. The Good Place

Subtly, some of the smartest and funniest TV writing out there, slipped into a 30 minute sitcom format. Michael Schur tricked everybody into getting a robust ethics lesson.

3. Stranger Things

I don’t really think I can say much about Stranger Things that hasn’t already been said, but I liked it very much and thus, it places pretty high on my list.

2. Ugly Delicious

This is some of my favorite food-and-culture storytelling. The chicken episode is phenomenal. The way Dave Chang talks about race and food by going from Nashville to Japan is brain food.

1. Kim’s Convenience

A feel-good sitcom based off an off-Broadway play set in a convenience store run by a Korean-Canadian family takes top spot. The character of Appa and I have a soul connection.

Favorite Podcast Episodes of the 2010s

10. Akimbo: The Hype Cycle

Seth Godin’s breakdown of how ideas get popular, how things go from obscura to the mainstream, and how products need to adapt over time is sheer brilliance.

9. Rough Translation: American Surrogates

So many of Rough Translation’s episodes could’ve made this list, but this one actually does because it’s the one most seared into my memory. 

8. Serial: Episode 01 – The Alibi

Season One’s magic could never quite be repeated, but this episode was the one that started it on such a strong note. Sarah Koenig came out swinging.

7. This American Life: In Defense of Ignorance

This was the podcast episode so interesting that Lulu Wang’s story eventually was adapted into a movie– The Farewell with Akwafina. The original source material is worth a listen, too.

6. The Dave Chang Show: What Hip-Hop Can Tell Us About Food, With Shad

I believe that so much of creativity comes from making connections. Hearing Chef Dave Chang go back and forth with rapper Shad about parallels between their arts made my mind explode.

5. Ear Hustle: Bittersweet

Ear Hustle- a podcast produced inside San Quentin State Prison, was one of the most innovative and empathetic shows made on the medium. This was their best episode.

4. The Sporkful: Searching for the Aleppo Sandwich, Parts 1 & 2

I often tell people that most of the podcasts I listen to are food podcasts. They either get it or wonder how food could be that interesting. This episode is my response to the latter reaction.

3. The Liturgists: The Enneagram (Episode 37)

I feel like my wife and I have been having a never-ending Enneagram convo for about three years. This episode is still one of the best introductions to the Enneagram world I’ve seen.

2. Creative Pep Talk: 217 – Finding Your Style, Tricks For Getting Stuff Done, Imposter Syndrome, & More

I could’ve put one of many Creative Pep Talk episodes here, but this was one I found especially helpful. Plus it’s a good example of how packed with goodies a typical episode is.

1. Radiolab: 23 Weeks, 6 Days

To date, the only podcast episode to ever get me to tear up a little bit. Not only is Juniper’s story powerfully moving, but it was super helpful when our own journey to have kids got tough.

Favorite Podcasts of the 2010s

Funny how this was barely a thing when the decade started.

10. NPR Pop Culture Happy Hour

If I get really interested in an upcoming movie or show, there’s a good likelihood that I discovered it from PCHH.

9. We Came To Win

A one-season show released around the 2018 World Cup captured some of the most significant moments from the history of the Beautiful Game. Fascinating storytelling.

8. The Dave Chang Show

The past couple of years have made me a pretty big Dave Chang fan. He’s at his best when talking to people well outside the food world; ie. Randall Park, Michael Schur, or Shad.

7. Dissect

If you want to obsessively nerd-out line-by-line over albums by Kanye, Kendrick, Frank Ocean, or Tyler the Creator, there’s no better place. It makes you appreciate the albums much more.

6. Serial

While season one’s magic could never be recreated, it’s hard to look past the show that turned so many people into actual podcast listeners. And it was a damn good first season.

5. Rough Translation

NPR’s globally focused storytelling must be a difficult show to put together, but the payoff is huge. The podcast I host is loosely modeled after this one, and that’s no coincidence.

4. You Made It Weird

Pete Holmes is possibly the best interviewer today. (My other pick would be Stephen Colbert). His range of guests is impressive, but my favorite ones are always a surprise. (ie. Weird Al)

3. Akimbo

I have to admit that so much of my marketing knowledge comes from Seth Godin and Akimbo is one of his best outputs. What a fantastic teacher.

2. Sounds Good with Branden Harvey

I’ve discovered so many interesting and admirable personas– creatives, artists, nonprofit leaders, activists, via Branden Harvey and his podcast.

1. Creative Pep Talk

Man. Andy J. Pizza’s podcast is my gold standard. It somehow fires on all cylinders, being both fully inspiring and motivating while teaching me a TON about creativity, and even life.

Introducing Rhys Miguel

What a blessing. What an adventure. What a journey. And you know what? It’s simply just begun!

Rhys Miguel Lazaro arrived at 8:09 in the morning of October 31st at 7lbs 4oz, and 19 inches long.

I am so in love with this guy! I can’t believe I get to be his dad.

Deanna is recovering and is doing well. Rhys is a strong and healthy baby. It seems like he has his mom’s strength and spirit. I couldn’t be prouder of the two of them.

Things are about to change. A lot.

It struck me today at the doctor’s office. This is it. It’s almost done.

This time in exactly two weeks, I thought, the sun will be going down on the most surreal day of my life. I’ll be spending my first night with our newborn son.

It’s weird. We spent a year hoping and praying (and, y’know, trying) to get pregnant. Then when it finally happened, we spent most of this year preparing to become parents. A string of baby showers. A mural on the wall of the nursery. A doctor’s visit every other week. And now that it’s here it still seems so beautifully bizarre that it’s about to happen for real.

There will be a new little dude in the world I’d absolutely die for.

There will be a sense of love that goes beyond anything I can describe.

There will be a whole new rhythm to life- a pretty erratic and unpredictable rhythm, I’m betting, that changes everything I’ve gotten used to.

I wanted to capture some of what I feel. At this exact moment. Days before my son is born.

I feel ready.

I feel that in many ways you can never really be 100% ready, but as much as anyone can be ready, I’m ready.

Today, my friend H was telling me about how his life changed after his daughter was born. “I’ve never loved this much,” he kept saying. “I never knew I could love this much. It’s something I can’t really understand, like the concept of infinity or how the universe just keeps on going on forever.”

It’s not the first time I’ve heard that, and I’ve heard nearly every new parent say something to that effect. I believe that what they say is totally true, and I also think there’s no way I’ll fully get it until two weeks from now when I experience it for myself.

I’m ready for that. I’m ready for my mind to be blown, for my heart to come alive, and to feel that electricity. I’m ready to have mystery and wonder back in my life like that, and then some. I’m ready to learn new things about God, love, and wonder from this experience.

I’m excited to have a window to see the world from the perspective of a little man. Learning to breathe and eat and crawl. Then walk and explore and express himself. Then adventure and help others and create. I’m excited to see old things again fresh, like it was the very first time.

I’m ready to have all the other things I do in life matter less and more at the same time.

They matter less, because at the end of my day, my number one job is being a husband and dad. My main metric of success won’t be web visitors, views, revenue, or anything like that. It’ll be how present I was.

And they matter more, because everything I do will be shaping the world I pass on to my kid. I want him to develop a creative spirit, to realize the importance of doing work that helps other people, to appreciate the vastness of our world and all the different people we share it with. 

I’m ready to have the unessential things fade away, and to have the urgency to keep only the things that matter in focus. This is something I already try pretty hard to practice, so I’m curious to see how the baby makes that even more true.

I’m ready for our family unit to grow. For the past five years, most of my life has revolved around putting down roots. Prior to that, I was happy to move around a lot, collecting valuable but temporary experiences. There’s a part of all this that still feels a bit foreign. Knowing in my head that this kid isn’t just a tiny roommate who stays with us for a couple years then moves on. He stays and grows and turns into whoever he ends up being. This relationship will outlast just about all the other ones in my life.

I’m ready.

I’m capturing this all down, stream of consciousness, because I want to have a record of my heart and mind just before the baby arrives. The calm and the chaos and the sleepless nights and the figuring-it-out amidst the sweetness.

It’ll for sure be different.

Last night, I rested my hand on Deanna’s pregnant belly. It brought me back to a moment from the summer of last year. We had been trying to get pregnant for about five or six months at that point, and another one had just gone by where we realized it wasn’t happening that month either.

“You’re going to be so cute when you get pregnant,” I told her, able to imagine so clearly how she’d look.

“If I get pregnant,” she corrected me.

“Yeah, sure,” I acknowledged half-heartedly. Even though I was plenty discouraged, there was at least one small part of me that couldn’t let go of the feeling that it was supposed to happen. It was going to happen. I wanted to be open, humble to the fact that I wasn’t in control. But a part of me deep down must’ve known.

Last night, as I felt his head and feet protrude, I remembered all that. I was right. This is really happening.

And our lives are about to change.

What World Vision's new campaign is doing right

You’re going to want to watch this.

A coworker emailed me a link to World Vision’s newest fundraising campaign, Chosen.

World Vision is one of the largest international organizations out there. With a budget of over $1 billion dollars, they have a presence in nearly every country in need around the world. (Working for an organization with $5 million revenue to work in eight countries, I can fancy what it would be like to work with those resources!) And they’ve done some really good things with what they have.

The Chosen video started with a group of child sponsors gathered together at a church in Illinois. Nothing too unusual about that, I thought. World Vision became a fundraising powerhouse by recruiting middle class or wealthy Americans to pledge to sponsor a child in need every month.

Typically sponsors read short stories about the kids in need at a church event or fundraiser and then pick one to sponsor.

Then the video suddenly switched. Now it filmed a school in Kenya, where students were approaching a board full of photos. Photos of the sponsors in Illinois. The kids were choosing their own sponsors.

Wow, I thought right away, they fixed a lot of the problems with child sponsorship while keeping what works.

Child sponsorship is a complicated model, but it does one thing really well–

Child sponsorship moves masses of people to donate to international development. 

It’s hard to deny that this is an effective fundraising model. People give more when they can feel a sense of personal connection. Plus, it helps donors feel that they are actually making a difference in a child’s life, even if solving large-scale problems seem out of reach.

That said, operating a child sponsorship program can be really tricky. The amount of nonprofit staff resources required to report on outcomes and build the connection between donors, children, and international partners is intensive. Many organizations add a disclaimer to their sponsorship, noting that contributions actually go more broadly to the community rather than the individual child. This can make reporting and financial management easier in some cases, but this has also upset a few people when they discovered their expectations didn’t match reality

I haven’t even begun to talk about the power dynamics that are part of child sponsorship. There seems to be something off about sifting through photos of kids in rural communities to find the one who appeals to your desire to help the most. American individualism creeping into African and Latin American villages? More opportunities for more bias to affect who we think is most deserving of help? 

More often than not, I advise newer organizations not to use a child sponsorship model. I believe that there are more effective ways out there to build connection and get recurring revenue.

Simply by reversing the model of child sponsorship, it looks like World Vision found a better way

There’s got to be a lesson for other organizations there somewhere, right?

Isn’t there always?

I don’t think every organization is about to follow suit and let children pick their sponsors. I’m curious enough if World Vision will be promoting this as their main sponsorship appeal in two years or if it’s more of a seasonal campaign for the moment. I kinda want them to stick with it.

For other orgs, there are plenty of takeaways to apply:

1) In an industry full of sameness, do something different

In a world where sponsors are asked to pick children, World Vision asks children to pick their sponsors. See how clean and compelling that sounds when you read it out loud?

The nonprofit world is full of cliche. Don’t give me another video with a soft piano playing over a plea for help. Get me Kendrick Lamar. Don’t tell me to donate the equivalent of four cups of coffee. Tell me it’s the equivalent of two unicorn frappuccinos and that I can’t get those anymore anyways.

2) Always consider what your program looks like from the point of view of the people you’re trying to help

Part of the design of this campaign considers how to improve the experience of the kids who are being sponsored.

3) A fundraising campaign involves three parties: the donor, the recipient and the organization. The best campaigns work well for everyone involved.

This campaign fires on all cylinders.

• Uphold the dignity and identity of the people who will be receiving help from those funds

• Provide a meaningful experience for the donor

• Be manageable for the organization to deliver what it promised

4) Sometimes the simplest change can be the most effective

While this campaign is for sure creative, it also didn’t reinvent the wheel. It simply took what was working well enough, and flipped it to work even better. It also did so in a way that prompted more surprise and delight.

• Uphold the dignity and identity of the people who will be receiving help from those funds

• Provide a meaningful experience for the donor

• Be manageable for the organization to deliver what it promised

Designing a fundraising model that is ethical, effective, and engaging is no easy task. Believe me- I spend just about all my working hours trying to do this in some way or another. The Chosen campaign seems to represent a huge step towards empowering children to have more voice and decision making opportunities in their lives.

The Changemakers You Should Know in Fall 2019

Changemakers are driven people, and that often means we’re the competitive type. Seriously- the nonprofit world and social entrepreneurship circles, are where I’ve met some of the most competitive people that I know. And while in some small circumstances, we might occasionally compete against each other- for a grant or attention or that sort of thing, at the end of the day, we belong on the same team. People and organizations committed to bringing joy and justice to the world have the same end goal. And so, we get to learn from each other! Here are a few of the causes and changemakers who have really caught my eye in the past few months.

Equal Justice Initiative

Equal Justice Initiative is hardly a new organization. I’ve been a big fan and supporter of theirs for years. But back when I first learned about them, I wasn’t doing regular shoutout posts highlighting my favorite changemakers, so now is an excellent time to highlight what they’re doing.

EJI is the organization founded and led by Bryan Stevenson, author of the book Just Mercy. If you’ve read that book, then you probably have a good idea of what they’re all about. And if you haven’t read that book, you really should.

Stevenson is a lawyer by trade whose life work has been dedicated to helping the poor, the incarcerated, and the condemned.  EJI provides legal assistance to innocent death row prisoners, confronts abuse of the incarcerated and the mentally ill, and aids children prosecuted as adults. He’s especially savvy to how this problem disproportionately affects black people. His guiding belief is that each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.

Part of what makes this a very appropriate time to feature EJI is that Just Mercy will be getting the movie treatment this month. None other than Michael B. Jordan will be playing Stevenson, in a cast that also includes Brie Larson and Jamie Foxx. Last year, they opened a museum dedicated to the legacy of slavery and mass incarceration in Montgomery, Alabama. Earlier this year, one of their most high-profile exonerees, Anthony Ray Hinton, released his story in the form of a best-selling book The Sun Does Shine.

What I learn from Equal Justice Initiative: We become much better agents of change when we connect with people through our brokenness.

The Diversity Gap

I was introduced to Bethaney Wilkinson through participation in Plywood People’s events in Atlanta. When I learned that she was launching a podcast on the issues of diversity, inclusion, and representation, I was pretty excited. The only way for us to make progress in that area is by allowing ourselves to be challenged and open to the experiences of others. Her podcast provides exactly that.

Several episodes in, I’ve loved so many of the conversations that have been featured. I feel like this is one of the podcasts that I learn from the most. The first episode that especially caught my attention was one featuring Adrian Pei speaking on the emotional experience of being a minority. I also really appreciated a more recent conversation with Doug Shipman that helped me understand how not making a deliberate and articulated plan for inclusion is a good way to make sure it doesn’t happen.

This isn’t the first time this week I’ve recommended this podcast as a way to become more proactive in creating diverse and inclusive spaces. This show often speaks through the lens of organizational leadership, so I often share it with administrative leaders, HR people, or team leaders, but it’s one that anyone can learn a lot from.

What I learn from the Diversity Gap: It isn’t enough to simply think racism is bad and move on, we need to actively examine our spaces to see how we can make them anti-racist.

National Birth Equity Collaborative

Watching my wife be a fighter and champion throughout the course of a complicated pregnancy has made me much more appreciative of what a challenge pregnancy is for so many women. While our past nine months haven’t been the easiest, we’ve certainly had privileges that have made it a lot easier. We have solid jobs and health insurance, meaning our wallets have been shielded from taking too much of a hit with all those doctor visits. We have the resources to get things like a glucose monitor which helped keep our kid healthy despite his mom’s blood sugar challenges. We both come from supportive families to help us through the hard emotional parts.

But what about moms who don’t have those privileges?

Every month, I hear from our international partners asking for prayer for different things. Hardly a month goes by without somebody asking for prayer for a challenging pregnancy. Maternal health is still a very serious issue in many parts of the world- and that includes many parts of the United States.

I was surprised and angry to learn that black women are four times as likely to die from complications in childbirth than white women. And the data reveals that regardless of economic status, education, lifestyle, and access to health care, this stat is still true. Simply being a black mom increases the risk of maternal mortality about four times.

Why? I wish I knew these things well enough to explain articulately, but it is a combination of systemic racism and a variety of complicated factors. For much more information about this problem and what can be done, I’d have to point towards the National Birth Equity Collaborative. Their aim is to erase that statistic through training, policy advocacy, research, and community-centered collaboration that promotes black maternal and infant health.

What I learn from the National Birth Equity Collective: Understanding how racism shows up in levels of power, leadership, and worldviews is key to addressing health inequality by its roots.

And that’s my roundup for changemakers to keep your eye on this fall. Consider a donation to NBEC, subscribe to the Diversity Gap, and plan on seeing Just Mercy this fall. I know I’m really looking forward to that.

Telling human-centered stories about immigration can create change

“Migration is the most natural thing people do, the root of how civilizations, nation-states, and countries were established. The difference, however, is that when white people move, then and now, it’s seen as courageous and necessary, celebrated in history books. Yet when people of color move, legally or illegally, the migration itself is subjected to question of legality. Is it a crime? Will they assimilate? When will they stop?”

I recently finished Jose Antonio Vargas’ book Dear America and I can’t believe it took me as long as it did to get around to reading it.

When he was twelve, Jose Antonio Vargas was sent on a flight to California with his uncle to stay with his grandparents. He expected his mom in the Philippines to follow shortly afterwards. That never happened. It wasn’t until a bit later in life that he discovered the person wasn’t his uncle. And that he wasn’t in the United States legally.

After years of hiding, Jose had established himself as a prominent journalist. Then, he came out in public. Nine years ago, he released an article revealing his experience as an undocumented citizen.

I learned about Jose a few years after that, when he was arrested in Texas during a demonstration in solidarity with Central American refugees. I remember seeing him on the news shortly after being released from a detention center holding cell that he shared with young boys from Guatemala.

That same year, he appeared on the cover of TIME with a dozen other undocumented Americans.

Jose’s strength as a storyteller comes largely from his ability to center big issues on people’s shared humanity.

This book made a pretty strong impression on me. As soon as I finished it, I thought, this could be the defining book of the decade. The only other book I felt that had that same thought about was Ta Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me. It also struck me as only the second book ever that I’ve read written by a Filipino American.

But I know Jose didn’t write this book just for the sake of flexing some writing muscle. He wrote it because we really need a new narrative when it comes to the topic of migration and his personal experience can help deliver that.

Here’s what Jose Antonio Vargas taught me about the way we approach migration:

We need to focus the conversation on the human experience 

“Humanity is not some box I should have to check.”

One thing that frequently happens during arguments about immigration is that people are quick to dehumanize others.

It becomes so much easier to detain children in squalid conditions, to overzealously separate families, or to fail to create effective pathways towards legal citizenship when you don’t see the humanity of the people affected by those decisions.

Language that dehumanizes migrant families is way too common. Unsurprisingly, inhumane policies shortly follow.

People may cross a border illegally. But a person cannot be illegal. There is a difference.

I’m not always convinced that the right set of facts will change people’s minds. I mean, facts- statistics, data, and relevant trends are extremely important when designing a policy or program. They’re less effective at moving people towards compassion.

If that’s your goal, one well told story will outweigh a thousand precise statistics.

And telling a story only you can tell does even more.

Jose’s story doesn’t just propose policy. It exposes why that would matter in the first place. It offers a micro level look at how being an undocumented citizen changes daily life.

Dear America erodes the us versus them narrative

“What would you have done? Work under the table? Stay under the radar? Not work at all? Which box would you check? What have you done to earn your box? Besides being born at a certain place in a certain time, did you have to do anything? Anything at all? If you wanted to have a career, if you wanted to have a life, if you wanted to exist as a human being, what would you have done?”

During conversations about immigration, I hear a lot of people ask the question “what should we do?” When we answer the question, we usually answer as if we were deciding for the U.S. Government. This shows that our default setting is to think of the issue from that perspective.

That’s worth asking. But another worthwhile question almost never gets asked. What would you do from the perspective from a migrant seeking shelter? An undocumented individual? When we leave out that perspective, we’re missing an important part of the story.

Many people often say, “just enter legally!” What Dear America highlights is that for many, there is no clear way to do this. Jose explains that if there were any way for him to have done it in his 25 years in the US, he would’ve done so long ago already.”

One moment that stood out to me in particular came when an interviewer started pressing Jose with the charge- “you don’t deserve to be here!”

Really, what did any of us do to deserve to be here? We didn’t pick the circumstances of our birth. Very few of us can point to citizenship tests or testimonies that can actually answer that question.

The humility to not think of ourselves as better than anyone, regardless of citizenship status is very much needed in these discussions.

Dear America fights separation by pointing to connection

“When people think of borders and walls, they usually think of land. I think of water. It’s painful to think that the same water that connects us all also divides us, dividing Mama and me.”

When it comes to storytelling, I’m a big believer in looking for the conflict that goes deeper than the obvious. Harry Potter is more about Love versus Power than it is about Harry versus Voldemort. Similarly, the conflict present in the topic of migration isn’t so much about citizens versus outsiders or one political party versus the other.

It’s about separation versus connection.

Jose first highlights the obvious separation that gets created when there are no good pathways for him to gain legal citizenship. He and his mother have only seen each other a handful of times since he came to the United States, and he points out how many families- especially from Central America have been separated in even harsher ways.

However, that’s not the only example of separation created by being undocumented.

The book goes way into depth talking about the way a person’s sense of self can be divided when they live a life of hiding. “This book is about homelessness, not in a traditional sense, but the unsettled, unmoored psychological state that undocumented immigrants like me find ourselves in,” writes Vargas. “This book is about lying and being forced to lie to get by; about passing as an American and as a contributing citizen; about families, keeping them together and having to make new ones when you can’t. This book is about constantly hiding from the government and, in the process, hiding from ourselves.”

Then there’s the separation that gets created between us and each other when our perception of migration loses the human element. When we begin thinking in terms of us versus them. When we let labels like legal versus illegal take precedent over what we owe to each other as human beings.

This book better helped me recognize the need for human centered storytelling in the area of migration. So much of how we relate to the issue comes in the form of statistics and figures and policy- all of which are important, but all of which become less humane when we lose sight of the lived experience.

I’m excited to dig deeper into Define American, Jose’s project to spark a new narrative about immigrants and identity in America, what it means to be undocumented and what it means to be a good citizen.

Cancel Culture Exists When Accountability Doesn't

What do you do when the pastor who helped you discover new spiritual insight turns out to have sexually mistreated multiple women?

When the life-changing author you’ve read for years turns out to have a bunch of racist views?

When the charity you’ve donated to for years has done more harm than good to the people it claimed to help?

Recent occurrences have brought up so many different thoughts about cancel culture and accountability in the past week. 

My own thoughts surrounding cancel culture, accountability, and our current moment aren’t exactly clean, but I had to get them out in some way.

On Cancel Culture

• First of all, when I say cancel culture, I’m talking about the current moment we’re living in when influential figures can instantaneously find themselves “cancelled” by society, usually because of a sudden discovery made about their past. This includes everything from multiple women coming out with awful stories about Bill Cosby’s sexual harassment to a bunch of racist tweets posted by Josh Hader being discovered as he was pitching during last year’s MLB All Star Game.
  
  

• So often, somebody getting “cancelled” feels a bit like justice. Like, when I think about how Bill Cosby is finally paying the price for what he seemed to get away with for decades, that seems fair. When I think about how Louis CK no longer has the reach he once had, or how Kevin Spacey won’t be making more movies anytime soon, that also seems fair.
  

• A lot of people feel like cancel culture goes too far. Standup comedians and right-wing shock jocks have become unusual allies when painting a picture of a world of oversensitive audiences. Sarah Silverman describes today as a “mutated McCarthy era, where any comic better watch anything they say.”
  

• On the other hand, a lot of people see the backlash against cancel culture as insensitive to those who have received harm. Tori Williams Douglass makes the case for this much more eloquently than I can:
  
  I wonder if the complaints about so-called cancel culture are primarily driven by those adjacent to power who believe people lower on the social hierarchy shouldn’t have a say regarding what happens to people above them.
  
  I get that. Sometimes the case against cancel culture sounds more like a thinly veiled request to keep being abusive.
  
  

• My immediate reaction is to think that people with power and privilege shouldn’t be the ones to determine where things go to far. My other reaction is that I don’t want to be the one to determine that either.

• A world where everybody’s most careless words will ultimately be turned against them by an angry internet mob seems like one dystopia. A world where people can spew all kinds of racism and misogyny with no consequences whatsoever is another dystopia. Many people would say the world we live in is already one of these two extremes, they just might not agree on which one.
  

• Neither of these is the world we want to live in. And I don’t think we need to settle for one or the other.

On Remorse and Restoration

• I question cancel culture’s ability to create actual change for the offender. You typically see one of two things:
  
  Either that person will be driven into the shadows by shame – which isn’t a desirable outcome for believers in nonviolent pathways to justice OR;
  
  That person will double-down on their toxic beliefs and harmful practices, creating an even worse offender than before.
  

• I do acknowledge that publicly shining light on somebody’s misdeeds can accomplish two very important things:
  
  It can show victims that they are not alone, that their stories are legitimate, and their experiences are valid AND;
  
  It can send a cultural message of what is and isn’t acceptable.
  

• Showing solidarity and offering support to people who have been harmed should be the number one priority. So many “apologies” and promises to do better are more focused on the offenders than the victims.
  

• I wrote a book about second chances. I am a big believer in second chances. I agree with Bryan Stevenson when he says “each of us is more than the worst thing we've ever done.”
  

• Joseph James Morales tweeted this:
  
  Cancel culture calls people “trash”
  
  Instead let’s put people in the recycling bin for self-improvement, growth, and transformation.
  
  I agree. I should also add that being “recycled” isn’t at all a comfortable process. It involves things being broken down, restructured, and drastically reworked. And it doesn’t really happen publicly.
  

• A process of reconciliation that doesn’t center the victims isn’t real reconciliation
  

• Some people are truly remorseful and wish to change their patterns of behavior. The best place for that to take place is out of the spotlight. The spotlight isn’t an especially healthy place to shape your character.

Cancel Culture exists because Accountability Culture has been eroded.

Long before cancel culture became a buzzword you could easily search, a few things happened to create the conditions for its arrival.

In order to be a reputable news source, before, you needed a lot of journalistic credentials and a proper Editorial Review Board to ensure your practices were ethical. Now? If Uncle Jimmy’s Hot News & Views Blog gets millions of views, it’ll be seen as news by those millions of people.

Being a minister typically used to be a rigorous process, with denominational leadership holding each church’s leaders to high standards? Now? Many independent, nondenominational churches have formed, leaving it up to many pastors to set up their own decision-making structure.

Back in the day, most people would look to work within a larger organization. That organization would be regulated by boards and governments, based on whatever industry they’re in. At the same time that a lot of regulation has been rolled back, more people also seek to work for themselves, creating start-ups and independent projects. All of this results in fewer structures of accountability.

Over the past two or three decades, systems of accountability have been in decline. As more and more people were able to operate without accountability:

• there were no clear authority figures for victims of abuse to come out to.

• there were no people to help dismantle racist or misogynistic ideas before they did public damage.

• toxic workplaces were allowed to persist.

• conditions of trust were broken.  

Prevention is better than cure and that’s what accountability is to cancel culture. Whether you believe cancel culture is a toxic landscape or a necessary adaptation, we can probably agree that things are better if they don’t have to come to that point.

In almost every case of somebody being “cancelled,” I’ve realized that they’ve put themselves into a position of almost no accountability. In some cases they established a reputation that seemed too big to take down, in some cases they filled a board of directors with only yes-men. In other cases, they went without a board of directors altogether.

Someone with a good system of accountability should be able to answer these questions:

• Ultimately, who am I accountable to?

• Who makes sure that I do my job to the highest standards, no matter what that job is?

• Before I hit send or publish, who looks over my work?

• If I were causing harm to somebody who works with me, who would they be able to report to?

• Are the people I’ve trusted to hold me accountable simply protecting my reputation, or making sure the best interests of others are represented?

• If somebody were to support my work (as a donor, patron, subscriber, client, etc.), how could they learn about the way I worked with others in the process?

• Is my system of accountability heterogeneous? In other words, if I have a board of directors, are they all the same, race, gender, economic class, etc?

• How are people without systemic power represented in my system of accountability?

If you don’t have answers to these questions, don’t waste time in trying to make some. Action without accountability creates a huge possibility of risk. True accountability demonstrates love for yourself and the people you seek to serve.

Don't Rush the Tension

Creative magic happens when you learn to get really comfortable with discomfort

I was working on a video project pretty recently, giving feedback to how the story should flow. The video was for a nonprofit, highlighting a family they served. I was helping the filmmakers think through what story they wanted to tell in order to grab the right shots.

When we ended up looking at the different types of shots we would need, it became clear to me that we needed to capture a lot of shots of the family in their struggles, rather than their successes. This was a bit different for the organization that respectably wanted to show people as heroes rather than victims.

I agreed with that desire, but– you want that moment of victory to feel well earned, I highlighted. That means going through -not around- the parts of the story full of struggle.

I started to think of other movies as an example.

Like the Avengers. If you put the last two movies together, that’s almost seven hours to tell a single story. And six hours and forty minutes of that, give or take, featured the superheroes struggling. Things were going wrong right and left. The bad guys were winning. Literally half of the world was gone.

The more you map out stories like that, the more you realize that stories mostly consist of problems and tension.

I am so excited about this idea, that I had to bring in my friend Hasely to help me explain.

Okay, actually, I had to make up Hasely first. But he’s a character I’m having lots of fun with. Hasely became a film buff and self-certified film curator by hand picking the movies for the 3 for $5 bin at his family drug store.

By watching hits like Paul Blart 7 or Rude Gals (don’t mistake this for the more mainstream Mean Girls, he warns) he became a true expert in what makes a good story. Here’s how he explains the importance of tension.

Stories take place in the zone of discomfort.

In storytelling circles (like, literal circles that outline the structure of most stories) the place where a plot builds is associated with death, disorder, or chaos. Dan Harmon calls it the unknown. Joseph Campbell calls it the journey towards the abyss. Others have called it the special world apart from the ordinary world.

Feel free to go down the rabbit hole, and things will confirm, great stories require diving towards danger, risk, and uncertainty.

And as Hasely says, As it goes in film, so it goes in LIFE!

Your best stories begin when you ditch comfort, take a risk, and head into the uncertain and unknown parts.

Quit Chasing the Cool

One of the worst creative moves a person can make is to try to be cool. 

I was listening to a podcast conversation between David Chang and Michael Schur- the guy who created The Good Place. Towards the end, the latter went off on a mini-spiel about how trying to be cool is one of the worst ways for creators to focus their efforts.

He definitely isn’t the only person to have given this advice. Famed ceramic artist Grayson Perry famously said “coolness is a straight jacket for creativity.” As a gender-bending ceramic artist, he has never fit anyone’s expectations for cool and his work has benefitted as a result.

On that same note, vulnerability champion Brene Brown sometimes leads an exercise where she has everybody assume their “cool position,” usually a legs out, arms in front, confident pose. Then she nudges everyone to move out of the position, shedding the emotional straightjacket.

So this idea is far from new and far from original, but it’s one that I still find valuable to be reminded of. Here’s the problem with trying to be cool and what to do instead:

Being cool forces you to compare yourself to others.

The comparison game is a great one to play if you want to stifle creativity. It’s a fantastic way for you to make sure you don’t develop your own voice.

Looking to other people for inspiration or connection is one thing, but if you start to obsess over what other people are making, you’ll end up unwittingly trying to do what they’re doing but in a way that won’t be true to anyone’s real experience- yours or theirs.

Instead, stay focused with what you’re doing. Believe in it. Let other people’s great work inspire you to be more like yourself, not more like them. Don’t get distracted from the work you know you need to make.

Being cool stunts your emotional intelligence.

If you want to move and inspire people, you need to have a powerful emotional connection. You need to make them feel things, and that calls for emotional intelligence. Coolness often shuts down this part of your brain.

On the surface, coolness is often associated with detachment, being too self-important to care. A cycle of cynicism and apathy seem to run on a loop, and this is the opposite of what invites people. The most exciting and convincing creative works more frequently come from a place of sincerity and earnestness. 

Being cool tries to please people instead off trying to connect with them.

Chasing cool means constantly thinking of how others view your work. This leads to self doubt, which Picasso called the enemy of creativity.

This isn’t the same as empathy, when you’re trying to make work that others can relate to. This also isn’t the same as good editing, which involves thinking of how things will come across for the sake of your audience.

This is thinking of their perception in an ego-driven way. So much truth, beauty, and art has been cut off from the world because of self doubt. Don’t let this happen to the great works you have inside of you.

Being cool is a vain pursuit.

By that I don’t just mean it’s a self-centered goal, although it is. I mean that it’s meaningless and short-lived. Cool is a moving target, and once you’ve been deemed cool, time inevitably makes you uncool when other things come into fashion.

Instead, if you use your creativity to build bridges towards your audience, you inspire loyalty. This is far more timeless. Think of music careers whose careers have spanned decades versus those who remind you very specifically of 1998, 2004, or 2012.

If a crew as diverse and creative as Michael Schur, Grayson Perry, and Brene Brown are all “anti-cool” it seems like a reasonable suggestion. Don’t chase relevance, chase realness, and you’ll do yourself a much bigger favor.