For six years, I tried to navigate a world without working labor. In that time, I worked for non-profits, coffee shops, juice bars, regular bars, delivered cupcakes, did some editing, was paid for writing one article, and a bunch of other random gigs. It could seem as though none of these jobs came naturally to me, but it was quite the contrary. The thing is, I actually liked these places, which made it way easier to get things done. I, maybe for the first time in my life, loved what I did during that period. Besides the shitty pay and the grossness of some of these jobs, socially speaking-mentally speaking, I was much happier than in my past professional life. The joy I felt in most of these places came from the people I worked with. While I was working within nonprofits, I also loved the people I served, specifically the seniors. The same goes for the patrons at several of these places. Working manual labor offers a community of people whose social behaviors and political ideologies aren't as complicated as those in the more liberal organizations. More often than not, work sites are not places that you want to talk about how you feel. You don't want to go on about any politics, especially not liberal politics. Not because it would make someone uncomfortable, but because you would most likely make yourself a target. I am not a person who hides my ideologies behind niceties. I think that (and being a big Black ''man'') is what kept me in the good graces of those I mostly ideologically opposed. For one, there is a lot that we do see eye to eye on, and for two, those types of sonsabitches love a motherfucker that won't back down. These types of men get off on other men that ''don't take no shit.'' had to learn to navigate that at a young age. On the other hand, in the more liberal establishment, I shined by being nice and being myself. I got to talk openly about who I was and how I felt, and so did the people around me. My ''don't take no shit'' mentality got to take a backseat to the parts of me that are sweet, fun to talk to, caring, funny, queer, and complicated. It actually felt nice to be in a professional echochamber. There isn’t exactly an exuberance of queerdo-radical POCs that work in the world of manual labor. You can't possibly imagine how hard it is to share more than half of your waking hours with people who would probably be fine with seeing you hurt if they knew who you really were. At the very least, someone that you get along with and have maybe been learning a skill from for years would look at you completely differently if they knew any intimate details of your life. And there is a chance they would not be willing to work with you anymore, or be a total asshole if they had to. Fortunately, in labor, the guy next to you, liking you or not, has almost nothing to do with whether you have a job or not. I have actually never been fired from a manual labor job. I have a clean record in the labor world of leaving jobs as opposed to being fired. And trust me, there have been not many, but a few of those sonsabitches that I did not like. In the labor world, you can get those things off your chest with the person that you don't like, and it's pretty normal. While in (what I will continue to call) the more liberal establishments, I was fired from six jobs. My ability to do and finish a job well never disappeared, and no one in any of those places would tell you that I did a bad job. In fact, I think they would say that I did my jobs very well. And that is when I would put them on the spot and ask, ''Then why exactly did you let me go?'' Fun fact, all of these job losses came from white women, so you know that looking them in the eye and asking that question would cause them to fumble considerably. The common thread here is not to be ignored, but you can draw your own conclusions. Actually, I'll say this: We are aware that in America, white women, popularly speaking, see Black men in two ways: As a sexual conquest or as a threat. On a personal note, this saddens me greatly. I am not a person who can carry multiple hustles while working labor full time. It is hard work, as many who started in the white-collar world and decided to ''try learning a trade'' figured out. You are often needed more than eight hours, the heat is hot, and the cold is freezing. The sound of the machines is deafening, the chemical smells sting, and the sparks are blinding. Our muscles don't rest until that somehow exhausting ride home, and before you walk in your house, you have already resigned yourself to doing the bare necessities. Those being food, TV, shower, and usually a drink because, “I need a drink.” For a person like myself, who can be cool under pressure but very easily overwhelmed, this does not equate to much more activities outside of work. Waking up early literally makes my stomach hurt and thus Saturday becomes all I really look forward to. By then, everything has piled up, as you all know. When I was a teenage mechanic, I made up a list of my favorite days of the week, from worst to best. To me, Tuesday was the worst day of the week. I would say that it sucked because it didn't really feel like time had passed. Next was Monday because, well, Mondays. Third was Wednesday because ''Yeah, we're gettin there!'' Fourth was Thursday because it is ''pretty much the weekend, right?'' Or at least I was going to drink like it was.Sunday followed by Friday.And Saturday is obviously the best because there is no work in sight all day. Sunday falls a bit short because even though there is no work, the Sunday Blues are real. I feel that it's time I quit looking for jobs that I don't belong in. I mean, I do think you should always chase your dreams in some way at least. And if that means quitting your old life, then do it if you can. Hell, move away if you can or take whatever leap you can. If the opportunity is given to you, you had better take it, if you ask me. Though, I personally can't continue like this, and sustainable opportunities haven’t been coming my way. I am currently homeless and chronically homeless, jobless and chronically jobless, and practically speaking, I just can't struggle in this way anymore. My son is in his last year of high school, and I have no idea where he is going next. He is brilliant, so it could be literally anywhere, including the military, unfortunately. It's not that I hate the military option, even though I don't like it, but if it is the option, it will make it way harder for me to see him once he leaves. It's ironic, but to see him as much as I can, I will need as much money as I can, and that means I will have to work as much as I can. This sucks because I am not into the typical amount of time America gives dads with their children. I want more than that. Unfortunately, I will have less time to spend with him on a regular work schedule, but at least I'll be able to take him to the movies sometimes. Today was my first labor-only job search in years. In times of money crunching, I looked for wrenching work but not as a means to an end. I would apply to one or two and then apply like crazy for programming, writing, bar, non-profit, or whatever jobs. Whatever I could to help me stepforward towards what I wanted out of life. Now I'm taking a step back. Maybe not forever, but to be honest, I feel so under supported by my community, why not forever? You know, the community that told me that I wouldn't have to go back to that life if I didn't want to. The community that told me that I have good ideas and that my ideas would take me somewhere. The community that told me that my words, my ''art,'' was worth something. Maybe it is but not to them, not here, not in America.To me, the picket line between labor and liberal organizations has a brick wall on it, and neither side wants you to cross it. So, this is my resignation from the liberal working world. I'm dusting off my wrenches and hoping my hands are still as hard as they were back then. Mentally preparing myself with the good ol' ''You do what you gotta do'' mantra. The one everyone uses instead of saying that their dreams were crushed. Ultimately, it doesn't matter how hard or easy a job is. If it's not where you want to be or where you see your best self going, then what is it worth? Is it even worth the paycheck? To most, it is, and I do wish I could be so easily motivated by money, but I am not. Money does not move me to do just anything in order to receive it. Nevertheless , I must bow to fate and do what I gotta do.