Tag: #reflection

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Podcasting Reflection and a big Announcement

In lockdown last year while getting into podcasts, I felt like I was traveling a huge gap in societal understanding of intersectionality. I wanted to build within it – to create sign posts around the darkness and shine a light through it, so that others can understand.

That’s how the idea of the (Un)marginalised podcast was born. Within a few weeks, I had the generous help of a few people – friends, acquaintances and even a couple of strangers. 

I didn’t know much about podcasting, but I had a vision – of telling stories of lived experience of intersectionality, in a way that was authentic, engaging and moving. The vision grew and materialised with the help of many including Matt McCleish (the first co-producer and editor), Lior Kenigsman and Gilad Etzkovich (who created the perfect logo), and my guests – Emily McIntyre, Sue, Pascha, Julie G., Jennifer Hankin, and Shira. 

One day in December 2020 we started. Sue connected and we pressed ‘record’. Sue and I chatted and untangled the complexities of living through intersectionality, of what it means to belong, don’t belong and partly belong. It was a beautiful couple of hours, where we talked about many interesting subjects including Mothers Day, mental health, racism, and more.

[ID: a photo of Liel sitting at a wooden desk in front of an open laptop and a large microphone. She is smiling, looking down at the laptop and is wearing a black top, brown glasses and a white watch.]
First Podcasting Interview!
[ID: a photo of Liel sitting at a wooden desk in front of an open laptop and a large microphone. She is smiling, looking down at the laptop and is wearing a black top, brown glasses and a white watch.]

Matt did an initial edit, while I orgniased more recordings. The next recording I did alone, with just my anxiety about technical issues. With each interview, I learned more about my interviewing skills and podcasting goals. Holding space, asking questions and expressing curiosity were already parts of my toolbox from counselling work. But I needed to learn other skills like when and how to disagree, and how to keep the conversation entertaining. I needed to find the light and shade, and I wanted to tell multiple stories simultaneously. 

Exploring and telling personal stories through an intersectionality lens has been a reflreshing, invigorating, at times tears-inducing process. Subsequent interviews went well, with thought-provoking conversations which I slowly got more comfortable to direct.

After sourcing out music and helping me find the right tone and structure to the episodes, Matt had to leave the project. He gave me a crash course in editing and soon I’ve spent nights editing. The whole thing took a lot more time than I’d anticipated, but I enjoyed every minute of it. 

Accessibility has always been a top priority of this project – I wanted to make sure the show reached as many people as possible, and made people feel safe and welcome. One of the ways to do this was to provide full episode transcripts, and it took me several hours per episode to transcribe. 

Becoming a podcaster has been such a learning curve. It was challenging to balance the funny, positive or entertaining content with the serious, heavy and sometimes even traumatic aspects of the storytelling. It’s not a balance that’s easy to achieve, and especially not in real-time interviewing. I had to get in touch not just with my curious self and the part of me that wanted to connect, but also with the content-consumer part of me that knows what an engaging episode sounds like. There were many different things to think about all at once! 

As I listened and moved tracks around on the screen, the importance and power of stories cemented in my mind. There is nothing quite like hearing from someone who has lived experience. To become an ally, to be an effective health professional, an advocate, or a good world citizen, one must engage with lived experience. 

My favourite part about the process was connecting with fellow humans. Although everyone has a unique story, there were many similarities. Validating isn’t a strong enough word to express how it feels when you realise there’s another human who shares your thoughts and feelings – it is more like anchoring my body into the ground. The season spoke to the fact that struggles I face are often struggles others face, and highlighted how many of those are avoidable, or at least could be mitigated through social justice. I can’t think of a better way to improve society than storytelling – and so I hope that by listening to those stories everyone can learn something and work towards a more just, equal world.  

The responses to the show have been incredible. It has received top ratings and excellent reviews. A couple of highlights were when Jennifer Hankin contacted me wanting to get interviewed, and when (Un)marginalised was ranked as number 3 in the top intersectionality podcasts of the year. 

The wonderful responses helped me feel that the work was worthwhile. Another aspect of podcasting that surprised me was how much money it cost. I’ve been using my personal savings for this, and due to the ongoing financial and time commitment, the season ended at episode seven. Finishing the season was sad, as I felt it was a job unfinished – there were so many more voices and perspectives I wanted to have on the show. 

With this in mind, I applied for grant funding, unsuccessfully. With the support of amazing and generous people I tried again a few months later – which brings me to the news part of this post:

A new season is coming, supported by the City Of Melbourne Arts Grants 2022. I am incredibly grateful and excited that the project was selected, and that I get to return to podcasting, producing and interviewing real people who navigate intersectionality.

Season Two Is coming!
[ID: a colourful background and white text. The background is made of small colourful shapes in shades of red, orange, yellow, green and purple. The white text reads ‘[UN] MARGINALISED PODCAST SEASON 2’]

The second season will be even better, with a similar format. A couple of small changes are a focus on artists connected with the City of Melbourne, and one live, IN PERSON recording event in Melbourne (crossing all fingers!). So, if you haven’t yet listened to the first season, now is your chance. If you have listened and enjoyed it, please remember to rate, review and subscribe. Most importantly, tell your friends!

Until next time, 

Liel K. Bridgford 

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Missing Traditions in Crisis

CW: COVID-19 related grief.

Tonight is Passover night, and I am writing instead of celebrating. Passover is a major Jewish holiday and the only one I usually go to the lengthy effort of celebrating with my little family (and/or chosen family). We usually get together, cook, eat, drink red wine, tell the Haggadah story, laugh. Sometimes we cry. Always we connect. 

Carefree 2016 Passover.
Image: a large group of people sitting around a table looking at the camera, smiling. most are holding a drink and raising their glasses. the table has crockery and drink bottles on a white table cloth.

It is a very special time of the year for me. It holds sweet memories of favorite foods cooked by my grandmothers and games played with my grandfather. This year however, I am not celebrating in the way I’d like to with my toddler. We are in the midst of a global pandemic and many of us are grieving, feeling distressed, displaced or simply worried. I am experiencing a bit of all of those feelings. 

My family and I have decided to move and live with my parents in law, until the end of this crisis. The preparations for Passover have simply gone out the window amid emotional and practical demands. We were invited to celebrate with one of my best friend’s family. I am devastated this is impossible, and am missing them immensely. Grief takes hold of me, for the loss my toddler isn’t even aware they are experiencing today – of celebrating meaningful traditions and bonding with loved ones. 

Amongst everything I did not have the capacity to make Passover happen. It feels like a failure when reflecting on the only holiday I’ve ever wanted to continue celebrating with my child. Then I remind myself to be kind and gentle with myself and others during this time. I hear a voice saying it’s ok, and this is temporary – there will be other times. But this crisis reminds me of how fragile those future opportunities are and the need to treasure the present. I battle. 

I told my child it is Passover night and explained that we will celebrate another time. We read some of the Haggadah. Actually we just looked at the pictures. I wondered again if I should have gone to the supermarket to get a few essentials and organize something. I almost apologized, but instead decided to accept my reactions to our current situation. Being the only one in the family with my cultural background means the responsibility is on me – to decide, shop, construct menus, delegate tasks, cook complex traditional dishes, decide on dress code, set the table properly. In the last few weeks I have moved houses, adjusted to working from home routines, took my son out of day care and ceased essential self-care activities due to social distancing rules. Details such as how many boiled eggs should we have, which entrées shall we make, or can we Zoom everyone in an opposite timezone – simply did not make the cut.

Being kind to myself means acceptance of what I do and don’t do, where I am and what I feel. Today I need to process what is happening, grieve, cry over what I want for my child and our community, alongside delight in what we are managing. This is not the time for life projects, not yet anyway. My experience taught me – crisis is a time for breathing, reframing, connecting and daily re-learning how to live on this rollercoaster. No doubt innovation and new treatments may develop during this time. But right now, all I aim for is to live past this, to come out the other end with sanity, love and good health.  

I am sending hugs and love to everyone who is grieving the loss of lives or the life they’ve had or wished for. May this period be short and may we be able to connect with others and ourselves. May we be kind to ourselves and all humans, none left unaffected by the current world hurricane. 

Until next time,

L. K. Bridgford

The Passover plate – all the thing I didn’t make or eat tonight.
Image: A Passover plate with traditional foods laid in each section- celery, lettuce, egg, chicken, haroset, mustard.

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Concluding a Decade

It was almost impossible not to write a concluding reflection about the last year, actually, about the last decade. 

I’ll start from the beginning. In 2010 I was serving in the Israeli Air Force as a First Lieutenant at Flight school. I built, from scratch, a role of managing three operation rooms and seven unique soldiers. I was responsible for their personal and professional well-being, all of whom were no younger than me than by two years. It was one of the most challenging and rewarding experience I’ve ever had. During that year, I’ve finished my service and went travelling around Thailand and Laos. I’ve learnt to connect with others using other things but words, and appreciate my privilege in the hierarchy of the plant. 

Me passing the baton. Image description: a person in khaki uniform, holding a purple tinsel, she is looking away from the camera.

In 2011 I was studying: history, Bible studies and literature, to improve my already-high high-school grades with the aim of landing a medical school spot. When finishing those exams (with excellent marks I must admit), I decided to go travelling again. Cambodia, Vietnam, Thailand. During that trip I decided to ditch the childhood dream of medicine (thank goodness). I also met a nice Australian guy. 

Meeting an Australian guy. image description: two people on a hammock: a man is smiling with eyes almost closed, wearing a yellow singlet: a woman is smiling, looking at him, wearing a white singlet.

2012 was the year I moved to Australia to be with the Australian guy (ok, Mike) and study psychology. I’ve adjusted to living in the unpredictable and cold Melbourne weather, and the unfamiliar Australian culture. I’ve continued studying and getting to know Melbourne and Australia, volunteering in the community, and making life-long friends along the way. 

Learning about Christmas. Image description: a woman standing with one hand on her head. she is wearing a red long-sleeve top and red reindeer antlers.

In 2014, after finishing my psychology degree, Mike and I went back to live in Israel. I worked two mental health jobs (simultaneously).

Tel-Avivian life. A meal on the balcony was one of my favorite rituals. Image description: brown wooden table on balcony, a street visible in the background. On the table is a salad; two plates with sandwiches; a water bottle; glass cups.

In 2015, I got engaged (to Mike). Four days later my last living grandparent passed away. The year finished with a pre-wedding honeymoon in Europe and Japan. That was one of the best trips I’ve ever had. 

A moment in Japan. I am walking with a walking stick because I’m barely walking after exhausting my leg. There is always a price to pretending and pushing yourself too much. Image description: a woman is standing with a walking stick, holding an umbrella, camera hung on her neck. She is standing next to a pond, with trees in the background.

In February of 2016 I got married to Mike (the Australian guy). Then I started a Psychology Honours degree. While doing that, I started working as a mental health counsellor, a job which I am still doing. I graduated from my Psychology Honours degree. 

A bride. Image description: a woman in a white wedding dress. She wears a white flower crown and is smiling.

2017 was a tough one. I had to prepare for a testimony in a court case about my disability. It was something I never wanted to do, and never thought I’d have to do. I spent months with a therapist preparing for it. I tried to explain to my colleagues it wasn’t a holiday (even though I used all my leave to go). Testifying indeed was extremely triggering. The weeks I spent around family and friends, who didn’t know anything about it, was also challenging. No one knew about the court case. Hiding it, pretending I wasn’t going through re-traumatisation, was exhausting. Thankfully, the year ended on a positive note, as Mike and I moved homes and got Chilli the puppy (on the same day!). 

  • Bringing Chilli home. Image description: woman holding a cocker spaniel puppy, who is licking her face. She is smiling.

In June 2018 I gave birth to my son. I then spent almost a year at home full-time with him. That was one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences of my life. Yes, it was harder than my military service. The intensity and size of my emotions, as well as the natural tendency to reflect on one’s experiences after a baby’s arrival, brought me back to writing. 

With my precious one, at our six-week check up. Image description: woman sitting on green chair, holding a small baby. She is smiling. The baby is looking away from the camera.

In 2019 I’ve been writing, more and more. I’ve also been performing- reading out my poems to other people has been more rewarding and exhilarating than I expected. Connecting with other readers and writers, in person and online, has been brilliant. Importantly, this process of writing, reading, reflecting, and connecting, has brought me to where I am today. I am much more self-aware about my internalised ableism, as well as about the societal impact I’ve experienced throughout my life to create that. I am tackling both the external and internalised ableist attitudes now by challenging it daily. Sometimes multiple times a day. 

Performing my poem A Visit. Image description: a woman standing in front of red microphone. she is wearing glasses, light blue shirt and black scarf.

Today I’m determined to continue writing and connecting with people, educating others about ableism and promote inclusiveness. 

So what can I expect from the next year, or decade? It is hard to tell. I hope to be looking back and be amazed about the progress made by our society. I hope to be just as likely to pick up a book by a disabled woman than by a white cis man. I hope to be just as likely to see a disabled protagonist on TV and the movies, as an able-bodied white male. 

Why? Because it is time. It is time all of us marginalised and silenced people have a voice. It is time young, disabled, transgender, immigrant, Aboriginal girls feel included, like they have a place. It is time for them to know they can succeed and thrive, just by being themselves.  

Until next time, 

L. K. Bridgford