There is an unrecognized fact about any move, forced or even voluntary. At any given moment of “now,” we are an event of integration of all the causal threads that constitute the integration that we experience. When certain features are constantly repeated, such as our house, they literally become a part of who we are. So, we are in danger of losing our felt-identity when the change happens. That’s why it can cause temporary dis-identification, very unsettling until we have enough other experiences to fill the gaps. If it’s forced, even when necessary. There should be community supported relocation grief groups.
Yes, thank you for this comment, moving really isn’t just logistics. Those everyday repeats (your street, your kitchen, the familiar sounds) become part of who you are, so when they disappear it can feel like identity whiplash until new routines settle in. And I love your idea of community relocation grief groups. We treat moves like “fresh starts,” but for a lot of people (myself included currently) it’s grief, even when it’s necessary. A simple circle where people can name that would matter a lot.
Shanley, another beautiful and true and thought-provoking piece. Thank you! I think a lot about the overlap of migration and climate. As the climate chaos deepens, more and more people will be forced to flee their homes and create new lives in a strange place. How will we, the privileged of this earth, respond? It's certainly one of the moral issues of our times. I admit I'm not very optimistic, given the current situation in our country.
Thanks for this, we think about that overlap constantly. “Climate” gets abstract until you trace it to what it really means: people losing homes, being forced to move, trying to rebuild in a place that may not welcome them. Your question feels like one of the defining moral tests of our time. And yes, the lack of optimism makes sense right now. Still, we try to hold onto this: public response isn’t fixed, it’s shaped locally, by what we normalize and who shows up. Even in bleak moments, there are communities quietly building real infrastructure of welcome.
That said, I am so sorry that you are facing that loss. You being able to see the connection between your own situation and the larger part of humanity gives me hope for the future of that humanity. Thank you. Keep writing.
Rick, thank you so much for the kind words, it's great to see a familiar name in the comments. Your support means a lot, and I'm flattered that you felt my writing worthy. My ultimate goal is that enough people in my age group can start to recognize these patterns and help change the course of our futures and the futures of our kids.
Are you still fishing these days? I heard that a large number of blushing fish have been reported, I wonder if it's because they saw the ocean's bottom? Apologies, I've had that joke in my back pocket for too long.
I know I have no reason for it but, still, I feel proud of you. Maybe it's that I am proud to know you.
Your plan to inspire your peers is worthy as well. I worry constantly that the generations coming behind mine will give up when faced with the world/country/late-stage capitalism being what it is. We struggled hard but it wasn't hopeless. The income inequality situation your generation is faced with is bad and getting worse.
I don't go to sea anymore but we still own the boat and still sell our catch under our family label sacred sea tuna.
Robin and I are watching a series called Our Oceans narrated by the Obamas. The depiction of plastics in the oceans is horrific in places. Luckily, we in the US, have done a better job than other places but it eventually becomes all of our problem.
I upgraded my subscription to do my small part to encourage you and your mom to KEEP WRITING!
I am glad to know you! My mom and I were just talking about you the other day. Thank you so much for your support! We will keep fighting the good fight!
I've never been displaced. But I know what it is. Losing a friend whose house down the street burned down while I watched from my bedroom window. Losing a family because they can't afford the apartment across the street. I saw it and was lucky. Being from a Navy town, it always felt like everyone was displaced. But it was always a tragedy. And I feel for you in this moment.
You always speak from your heart and my heart feels it and understands. We've all had that unspoken fear in the back of our brain, some from divorce, children splitting up from family or each other, for me, an elder, it was WW11 and dad was taken. Moving, new people who didn't have room nor food to feed us and plenty of their own kids bigger boys, first, family boys then the girls and we newcomers at the end of the line to get our tortilla with salt in it for dinner, our only meal of the day. Mom of course had to work and she could bring home food, so we didn't starve. My story is similar to many in the US. It happened a long time ago. The psychic trauma never leaves but your narrative today sparked the memory and pain you speak of. I've learned to live to please my consciousness and my belief system that it's the earth speaking to us, to save her. When we are aware. of ramifications, we make a special offering. We walk softly upon the earth. Keep up the good work MG.
Thank you for sharing this with us. We’re so sorry you had to carry those memories, war, separation, hunger, and being the “newcomers” at the end of the line are wounds that can echo for a lifetime. We really hear you. What you wrote about “walking softly upon the earth” and making an offering when we understand the consequences is exactly the kind of grounded, lived wisdom we hope these posts can make room for, without forcing neat endings where there aren’t any.
Thank you for an exceptionally insightful and challenging essay...you raise many issues that I've considered, and worried about. Hope your work goes viral!
Thank you, I really appreciate you reading it so closely and for sitting with the hard parts. I'm glad it connected with questions you’ve been carrying, even if it’s unsettling territory.
beautiful way of placing all the abstract concepts of displacement into a "it's your real life too" frame. So sorry you have to go through this to get to that frame.
Thank you for saying this. I'm really glad my essay landed in that “this is real life” way, because displacement can get talked about like an abstraction until it touches your own body, your own relationships, your own sense of home. And thank you, my family and I will navigate, I truly feel grateful that I have the opportunity to try and to find a solution, so many others don't.
So very sorry! I hope you are able to keep your home, or at the very least find another that you can make your own and settle into for the long term. You are so talented and eloquent!
Thank you for the care, truly. We’re working our way through it, slowly and sometimes painfully, but we are moving forward.
And thank you for the kind words. The more I sat with the feeling, the more I kept thinking about the many others who are forced into situations like this without the safeguards I have. If it’s this hard with support, I can’t imagine how hard it is without it. Whatever we face, as a nation, as a species, my hope is to help shed light on what’s so easily lost in the noise: the people who aren’t able to speak out for themselves.
I am in fact, 27. I am not, however, Mary. I'm her daughter, so I had an early education path into writing and recognizing patterns, I'm lucky to have grown up with her, and I hope when I reach her age I'll be half the writer and observer that she is.
Your mother is a powerful writer. You, are too. Nancy and I start our day with your mother’s Substack. And through out the day we check back to see when and what you write. It hadn’t occurred to us that displacement is designed. Now you have connected the dots for us. Thank you for helping us see this situation.
Thank you. That means a lot to hear, especially that you start your day with the newsletter and keep checking back. We’re grateful you’ve made this part of your routine. And yes: the idea that displacement can be designed is one of those “once you see it, you can’t unsee it” frames, patterns start to connect, and what felt like isolated chaos looks more like intention, incentives, and policy choices.
There is an unrecognized fact about any move, forced or even voluntary. At any given moment of “now,” we are an event of integration of all the causal threads that constitute the integration that we experience. When certain features are constantly repeated, such as our house, they literally become a part of who we are. So, we are in danger of losing our felt-identity when the change happens. That’s why it can cause temporary dis-identification, very unsettling until we have enough other experiences to fill the gaps. If it’s forced, even when necessary. There should be community supported relocation grief groups.
Yes, thank you for this comment, moving really isn’t just logistics. Those everyday repeats (your street, your kitchen, the familiar sounds) become part of who you are, so when they disappear it can feel like identity whiplash until new routines settle in. And I love your idea of community relocation grief groups. We treat moves like “fresh starts,” but for a lot of people (myself included currently) it’s grief, even when it’s necessary. A simple circle where people can name that would matter a lot.
I’ve moved a lot, mostly out of necessity. It’s at least 6 months before I can get around when it’s dark.
Shanley, another beautiful and true and thought-provoking piece. Thank you! I think a lot about the overlap of migration and climate. As the climate chaos deepens, more and more people will be forced to flee their homes and create new lives in a strange place. How will we, the privileged of this earth, respond? It's certainly one of the moral issues of our times. I admit I'm not very optimistic, given the current situation in our country.
Thanks for this, we think about that overlap constantly. “Climate” gets abstract until you trace it to what it really means: people losing homes, being forced to move, trying to rebuild in a place that may not welcome them. Your question feels like one of the defining moral tests of our time. And yes, the lack of optimism makes sense right now. Still, we try to hold onto this: public response isn’t fixed, it’s shaped locally, by what we normalize and who shows up. Even in bleak moments, there are communities quietly building real infrastructure of welcome.
And Minneapolis is showing us the way.
I've lived in the same house for 30 years. The though of not being able to live here, for whatever reason, is terrifying. I wish you the best.
My goodness Shanley! Your writing is so awesome!
That said, I am so sorry that you are facing that loss. You being able to see the connection between your own situation and the larger part of humanity gives me hope for the future of that humanity. Thank you. Keep writing.
Rick, thank you so much for the kind words, it's great to see a familiar name in the comments. Your support means a lot, and I'm flattered that you felt my writing worthy. My ultimate goal is that enough people in my age group can start to recognize these patterns and help change the course of our futures and the futures of our kids.
Are you still fishing these days? I heard that a large number of blushing fish have been reported, I wonder if it's because they saw the ocean's bottom? Apologies, I've had that joke in my back pocket for too long.
Ha! Good one!
I know I have no reason for it but, still, I feel proud of you. Maybe it's that I am proud to know you.
Your plan to inspire your peers is worthy as well. I worry constantly that the generations coming behind mine will give up when faced with the world/country/late-stage capitalism being what it is. We struggled hard but it wasn't hopeless. The income inequality situation your generation is faced with is bad and getting worse.
I don't go to sea anymore but we still own the boat and still sell our catch under our family label sacred sea tuna.
Robin and I are watching a series called Our Oceans narrated by the Obamas. The depiction of plastics in the oceans is horrific in places. Luckily, we in the US, have done a better job than other places but it eventually becomes all of our problem.
I upgraded my subscription to do my small part to encourage you and your mom to KEEP WRITING!
I am glad to know you! My mom and I were just talking about you the other day. Thank you so much for your support! We will keep fighting the good fight!
I've never been displaced. But I know what it is. Losing a friend whose house down the street burned down while I watched from my bedroom window. Losing a family because they can't afford the apartment across the street. I saw it and was lucky. Being from a Navy town, it always felt like everyone was displaced. But it was always a tragedy. And I feel for you in this moment.
Blessings and much hope for your future
Thank you, Judith!
You always speak from your heart and my heart feels it and understands. We've all had that unspoken fear in the back of our brain, some from divorce, children splitting up from family or each other, for me, an elder, it was WW11 and dad was taken. Moving, new people who didn't have room nor food to feed us and plenty of their own kids bigger boys, first, family boys then the girls and we newcomers at the end of the line to get our tortilla with salt in it for dinner, our only meal of the day. Mom of course had to work and she could bring home food, so we didn't starve. My story is similar to many in the US. It happened a long time ago. The psychic trauma never leaves but your narrative today sparked the memory and pain you speak of. I've learned to live to please my consciousness and my belief system that it's the earth speaking to us, to save her. When we are aware. of ramifications, we make a special offering. We walk softly upon the earth. Keep up the good work MG.
Thank you for sharing this with us. We’re so sorry you had to carry those memories, war, separation, hunger, and being the “newcomers” at the end of the line are wounds that can echo for a lifetime. We really hear you. What you wrote about “walking softly upon the earth” and making an offering when we understand the consequences is exactly the kind of grounded, lived wisdom we hope these posts can make room for, without forcing neat endings where there aren’t any.
Thank you for an exceptionally insightful and challenging essay...you raise many issues that I've considered, and worried about. Hope your work goes viral!
Thank you, I really appreciate you reading it so closely and for sitting with the hard parts. I'm glad it connected with questions you’ve been carrying, even if it’s unsettling territory.
beautiful way of placing all the abstract concepts of displacement into a "it's your real life too" frame. So sorry you have to go through this to get to that frame.
Thank you for saying this. I'm really glad my essay landed in that “this is real life” way, because displacement can get talked about like an abstraction until it touches your own body, your own relationships, your own sense of home. And thank you, my family and I will navigate, I truly feel grateful that I have the opportunity to try and to find a solution, so many others don't.
So very sorry! I hope you are able to keep your home, or at the very least find another that you can make your own and settle into for the long term. You are so talented and eloquent!
Thank you for the care, truly. We’re working our way through it, slowly and sometimes painfully, but we are moving forward.
And thank you for the kind words. The more I sat with the feeling, the more I kept thinking about the many others who are forced into situations like this without the safeguards I have. If it’s this hard with support, I can’t imagine how hard it is without it. Whatever we face, as a nation, as a species, my hope is to help shed light on what’s so easily lost in the noise: the people who aren’t able to speak out for themselves.
You are 27?
I am in fact, 27. I am not, however, Mary. I'm her daughter, so I had an early education path into writing and recognizing patterns, I'm lucky to have grown up with her, and I hope when I reach her age I'll be half the writer and observer that she is.
Well, she is amazing
I subscribed after reading one column
Your mother is a powerful writer. You, are too. Nancy and I start our day with your mother’s Substack. And through out the day we check back to see when and what you write. It hadn’t occurred to us that displacement is designed. Now you have connected the dots for us. Thank you for helping us see this situation.
Thank you. That means a lot to hear, especially that you start your day with the newsletter and keep checking back. We’re grateful you’ve made this part of your routine. And yes: the idea that displacement can be designed is one of those “once you see it, you can’t unsee it” frames, patterns start to connect, and what felt like isolated chaos looks more like intention, incentives, and policy choices.
Mary did not write that piece.