Is my ambition getting in the way of my anti-capitalist values?
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Today, I turn 35.
As I officially enter my mid-30s, I find myself grappling with ambition.
Ever since I was younger, I’ve always had big ambitions and a work ethic to match them. I knew at a young age that I wanted a creative career. Considering that I don't come from generational wealth, and that most of the Filipinos I knew pursued careers in healthcare or tech, I had a feeling that it would be an uphill battle.
So I took Adobe Photoshop and Illustrator classes at a nearby community college during my junior year of high school. I got a partial scholarship into a prestigious art school, and took classes in the summer to make sure I graduated in four years. After I graduated, I worked myself to the bone to secure a job in the fashion industry in New York. I had the pleasure of working backstage at New York Fashion Week, and one of the garments I worked on got featured in Vogue. When I found my love for writing, I pitched dozens of stories to editors each week until I finally got hired full-time. And when I decided to start Queer & Trans Wealth, I gave it my all.
Up until now, my whole life has been defined by ambition and striving — by the need to prove something to other people.
Don’t get me wrong — I still have a lot to give, and there are dreams that I still want to accomplish. But in the last few weeks leading up to my birthday, this feeling of calm washed over me. On an individual level, I feel like I truly have enough. If nothing changed about my life today, I would still be pretty happy.
Sure, my partner and I could use a bigger apartment, and I wish I had more to put away for retirement. But just for right now, every new change feels like a happy bonus or surprise.
When I was younger, I couldn’t imagine living past 30. And even when I tried to picture it, I thought I would at least have a nonbinary version of Jennifer Garner’s life in 13 Going on 30: a fancy apartment, a job title that intimidates other people, and enough clout to party with Madonna.
When I was busy striving for all these things, I couldn’t see outside of myself. Instead of understanding that I am living through a polycrisis, I would abuse myself into working harder so I can achieve all my individualistic goals. And that self-abuse sometimes made me a mean, inconsiderate, and crabby person toward the people I love.
Today, my life couldn’t be any more different: I live in a small apartment that I share with my partner. My half of the rent is less than $1,000 per month, but I still get to swim in our building’s pool as often as my heart desires. I have six figures in student loan debt, but I have a job that makes me smile everyday. I’ll probably never party with Madonna, but I have incredible friends and family. I’m an avid traveler, and I’m really good at finding fulfilling experiences with a small budget. My life is not what I thought it would be when I was younger — and I couldn’t be more grateful for that.
This personal contentment clarifies deeper collective desires: I want universal basic income, so that artists can do what they love without worrying about housing, healthcare, and food. I want all of our student loan debt to be cancelled, so we can stop taking jobs we hate. I want landlords to stop hoarding housing, so we can all afford to buy homes instead of subsidizing a landlord's lifestyle. I want community gardens and vegetables free of diarrhea-causing parasites. I want the US out of the Philippines, so that my home country can be self-sufficient and reclaim our natural resources. I want ICE to stop kidnapping our neighbors. I want enough for all of us.
Now it’s my job to orient my life, my resources, and my labor toward all of that — what a joy that I don’t have to do this alone! That I get to fight for these things alongside smart, funny, hot and talented people makes it even sweeter.