The Importance Of Having A Support System
Supermarket girl.
That wasn’t her name, but that’s how I’d saved her number on my phone. It was the way I’d always saved the numbers of random people who weren’t friends, or family. ‘Plantain guy’ for the African man I met on my evening walk. He’d offered me green plantains. ‘Go-Go girl’ for my co-worker who took pole dancing classes on a Saturday. ‘Man on the train’ for the Caucasian gentleman I’d exchanged phone numbers with because I was reading a book by his favorite author. ‘Supermarket girl’.
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I met her in 2018 while shopping for groceries in my local supermarket. Two black women anywhere else in the world, you nod, and you move on. Two black women in the same supermarket in Japan, we stopped to talk. I learned she lived a station away and had been in Japan for almost 20 years. I told her I’d been here for three. We exchanged numbers and promised to meet-up. I walked away knowing we probably never would. This is Japan. The intense work culture dictates that I leave my day job at 5:00 p.m. and head to my evening and week-end part-time job by 6:00 p.m. Sparing time to meet and greet was a concept I’d given up on from year one. My off day was used to replenish, rejuvenate, and rest.
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In April 2020, the Covid-19 pandemic upended life as we knew it, and seemingly overnight, the entire world slowed down. My day-to-day existence shifted from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo to adjusting to a daily routine of sitting in front of my computer screen learning how to navigate BBB (BigBlueButton) Virtual Classroom, Google Classroom, and Zoom.
My personal space becoming a virtual public space, coupled with being confined to my tiny apartment did something to my psyche --- or maybe it was the stress of online teaching. Sitting in front of a computer for six hours each day, learning as my students learned, thinking on my feet, and trying to be innovative was taking its toll. After week one, I noticed a drastic shift in my mood, as well as chronic pain in my back and neck.
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In week two, time started playing tricks. Some days were moving too fast. Some were moving too slow. Each day began morphing into the other without a specific end or a defined beginning and everyday felt like a fresh eternity. The supermarket became my escape. I’d go there during my lunch break, even when I didn’t need to purchase anything, just to walk the aisles.
That’s where I ran into her again. ‘Supermarket girl’. This time, I learned her name. Julia. She explained that Covid had her feeling anxious and isolated, and working from home was beginning to take a toll on her too. We immediately recognized there was a need for sun, solidarity, and sisterhood and so we made a date to do a Saturday morning walk. That’s how it started.
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A ten mile walk to the nearest recycle shop.
We talked about the stress that comes with trying to flourish in a foreign land --- the differences in culture, the language barrier, the difficulty of building meaningful relationships. We talked about moving away from friends, family, foods we love, hair products we need, to settle in a country where you always feel like the odd one out, and oftentimes felt certain that you didn’t belong.
An eight mile walk to Costco.
This time we bonded over the main thing we had in common. Struggles that come with being a woman. She shared that the world expected her to have her life together, and though on the surface it appeared that way, there were many insecurities poking through her wall of confidence.
Insecurities that make her feel perpetually overwhelmed and unproductive in her professional life. Insecurities that made her pessimistic about what she had to offer to the world. Insecurities that kept layers of sadness beneath her mask of happiness.
I gave her a glimpse into what was happening behind my surface as well. Allowed her to see me in the same authentic way she had showed herself to me. I opened up about my emotional exhaustion. About feeling like there was a rush on my biological clock to find romance and have children by a certain age. About not always being in alignment with myself and not walking in my truth and integrity.
A five mile walk to the ocean.
This time we went to pray. Our talks had revealed us to each other, and we both came to the realization that we were not okay. Tears ran down both our cheeks as we cried out to God and asked him to help us rediscover ourselves, rediscover our strength, and find value in self-love.
Every single Saturday. Rain or sunshine. We were devoted. Soon, we switched to better shoes, and authentic hiking gear and our walks became hiking different trails in the Kanagawa prefecture. It wasn’t long before we both noticed the changes. We’d began to lose weight, we were sleeping better, and the anxiety of living in a pandemic, though it didn’t diminish, wasn’t at the forefront of our minds.
By the end of July, I’d also started to notice that there was drastic reduction in my back and neck pain as well.
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Walking outdoors had not only provided a connection with nature, but it had also given us the beautiful simplicity of human connection. I was able to open-up to someone who looked just like me. Someone who could relate to my black experience as well as the experience of navigating the world as a woman. It was something I didn’t even know I needed.
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I’m proud of us. Instead of isolating ourselves, drowning in despair, and allowing Covid to become the bane of our existence, we took control. We decided to walk, talk, fellowship, pray, lace up our sneakers, lean into our pain, and focus on existing in a whole space again. Through sisterhood, solidarity, and sunshine, we used our walks to truly change our lives.
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“We get to the beauty through the brutal. Not over or around or under but straight through. We do not ignore each other’s pain—we help carry it.” Glennon Doyle
If you need support in your own journey today, join this community. We are here to support you through to success.
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