Almost Captured
How Capitalism Tried to Sell Me My Own Mattering
It started (as so many modern initiations do) with an email.
From someone I trusted, no less — which is maybe the most dangerous kind of email.
The subject line was flattering, a little pompous: You’ve been selected for Who’s Who in America.
It sounded like one of those weird legacy things people’s grandmothers used to care about — but also, I’ll admit, a part of me wanted it to be real.
Because I’ve been doing this work — slow, quiet, relational work — for years, mostly in the margins. And there’s still that tiny, aching part that wants to believe the world eventually notices.
So when the “representative” called, I didn’t hang up.
(Okay, not immediately.)
To be fair, I avoided her calls for almost a month. Fifteen attempts, I counted.
Each voicemail sounded patient, professional, slightly too invested.
My gut said no. (My gut usually knows.)
But curiosity — and maybe a trace of hope — won.
I told myself it …
