My Granny, Mother, Aunt, Niece, Sister’s and Daughter’s legacies.
How to hold onto hope
As a woman in a blue-collar industry—specifically a scientist in the U.S. mining industry—born and raised in the Midwest, I often think about the things I’ve held onto every day that gave me hope.
When I was a young girl, my grandmother—aka Granny—took me on the trip of a lifetime.
We visited my Godfather in Washington, D.C., and went on the most epic tour imaginable, led by one of the most epic tour guides of all time: my Granny, Marilynn.
Granny was everything you’d expect and more from a spicy East Coast belle. A sharp-shooter extraordinaire. Not much slipped past her—except maybe my sister, Rachel.
Rachel passed away in 2022 from fentanyl poisoning. It turned our entire world upside down, and in a flash, everything I had ever known and loved felt gone.
My big sister.
My keeper.
My best friend.
My everything.
Rachel was the kind of sister who made things happen. It didn’t matter where you were, what was going on, or who she had to call—she would get it done. That was just Rachel Jean.
My sister battled demons throughout her life, but nevertheless, she persisted. She held my hand through my entire childhood and reminded me that tough times don’t last—tough people do.
“Chin up. Elbows out. Keep on keeping on. Go have a cigarette if you need a moment. Or go talk to the fourth oak tree, then come back and let me know when you feel better. I’ve gotta work.”
Rachel was no-nonsense, kind, and completely down-to-earth. She didn’t know a stranger. She was the most epic salesperson in the universe—I’m convinced of it. I may be biased, but I also know this: Rachel’s determination and grit guided me into becoming the person I believe God called me to be.
She was a strong, God-fearing woman. And honestly, that was about the only thing she feared.
Unlike me—little Miss Perfect Attendance, never missed a test, always tried to be on time (usually failed at that, but my intentions were good… lol).
One of my fondest memories of Rachel is my mom and stepdad walking into her bedroom on Milliken Street with pots, pans, and pitchers of water to wake her up for church. It didn’t work. I giggled under my breath.
So Mom brought out the heavyweight:
“That’s fine, Rachel. You can just tell God you didn’t want to go to church.”
Rachel got up, brushed her teeth, threw her hair into a ponytail, and put on the best clothes she could find on the floor—because that’s what she had. God told her she had to go. Not my mom.
I think often about the resilience of the women in my family. When every easy option has been exhausted, you can count on us to succeed.
There’s a quote from a woman poet that captures this perfectly—Ariana Brown. You can find her on TikTok.
Later in my career as a blue-collar chemist, I came across one of her poems about Goodwill—the store—and I felt seen. I’m a Goodwill girl, too.
I grew up going to Goodwill with the women in my family—whether it was for school clothes, a prom dress, or just fun tchotchkes. Goodwill was where it was at.
So as I wrap up these thoughts, here’s my advice to anyone entering a blue-collar industry—especially my fellow women:
Chin up.
Elbows out.
Deep breaths.
And if you need to sit in your car, cuss up a storm, have a smoke, or punch the ceiling—do it. But at the end of the day, don’t let them catch you slipping.
Cheers, family.
You’ve got this.
I’m rooting for you.
Godspeed.
