Just 'cause you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there

I stayed up entirely too late reading If You Feel Too Much by Jamie Tworkowski.  We get up early to get the girl and her friends to volleyball practice and as we get into the car, One More Light by Linkin Park starts. It seems fitting, given the book I was reading late last night and into the new morning. I feel sad and happy and overwhelmed. I've been feeling heavy lately and Jamie's words lifted that for a bit and the song is, actually, doing the same. Chester Bennington's soft voice rides with us through the fog and teenage silence around me.  It's early and I wonder if today will be heavy or light. I can't quite feel it yet. The girls are off now, and I get a few minutes of being alone in the rain. I resolve to read more stories of kindness and struggle, of heaviness and light.  I think about my dad and my husband and the men in my life who would never wave torches in polo shirts and khakis. Who would never choose to intimidate and scare just because they can. The man who would be horrified by it all but who might know just the words to help me think it through and keep my faith that all will be well. I smile when I remember that a friend I've never met is sending a piece of art he created and thought I'd want to have. I think of the women who lift me and carry me and the times I've gotten to carry them. We take care of each other and challenge each other and put kindness into the world the best ways we know how.  I think of them and the words from last night and I am hopeful and grateful and light.

Freedom

There are people out there who can't be reasoned with.  Huge revelation, I know! These are the individuals who are so entrenched in willful ignorance that no amount of talking or facts presented will sway them.  There is always a countering that defies logic and often involves me wondering if that glint in their eye is, in fact, the wheel of insanity turning, turning, turning deep inside them. Discussing politics has ceased to become a mere difference of opinion and has moved into hateful rhetoric and lies versus facts and inclusiveness. I can have a healthy exchange over a difference of opinion.  What I can't abide is the spreading of misinformation, outright lies, and divisive speech. I won't react well to someone lying, and then trying to sell me on their lie. I won't react well to someone trying to defend abhorrent behavior as "no big deal." The fact that people I know are buying into the fear and hysteria is sad and disturbing and has been a point of great stress for me lately.  People I have to see on a semi-regular basis are being awful online, then acting like all is well in real life. People I haven't spoken to in decades, people who haven't "liked" or commented on a post in the entire time we've been social media friends are coming out of the woodwork to spread misinformation and bigotry. One "friend" even deleted comments that pointed out (with actual facts!) that the meme this person posted was full of false information after the comment got liked and had positive support (from the poster's own friends, not exclusively the commenter's friends.) This follows right along with the new administration's policy of silencing and belittling anyone with a differing opinion, so I'm not sure why I was surprised. Anyway, all of this got me to realize that I, in fact, do not have to put up with those who choose to wallow in their own willful ignorance.  I don't have to be pulled into the swamp with them! I can unfriend them! I know, another huge revelation. I don't have to care what their misinformed opinion is, or whether they even notice or are offended by the social media unfriending. I don't have to care if they gloat that I "just couldn't handle them."  *I'm laughing as I write that* I don't have to justify why I marched. (Oh boy. That's an entirely different ranting post.) 

Here's what I do have to care about: that I'm informed about the issues up for a vote, that I call, write, or email my representatives, that I donate my money to good causes that are doing wonderful, life-affirming work in this world, that I volunteer in my community, and that I set an example for my girls that while I will be kind, I will not, and do not have to, put up with anyone's ignorant shit. Especially if I've tried to kindly point out that the rhetoric they're listening to and repeating is hurtful, exclusionary and divisive, and they insist on defending it. I will wish them well, and move on from them. 

This is probably pretty self evident to most of you, but it took me awhile to come this conclusion, and to be ok with it. I hate confrontation, and we live in a very small town.  I don't always have a choice as to who I will be standing next to in line, or sitting near at a volleyball game, or sharing snack bar duties with at the next basketball game. I can, however, be polite and not engage.  That's the game plan for now and, fingers crossed, it works. 

Carry on friends, and hold the line.

I'm back!

It's been a little while since I've posted.  I've been thinking about the year to come and mulling over the healthiest ways to make it through. I love to read, so one of my goals for this year is to read more diverse books, books to help me understand other people's perspectives. Our experiences shape who we are and how we function in the world, so this year, I want to read about others' experiences (especially those who grew up in a different way or place than I did) and how they see the world. I can't travel the world and speak to all of the fascinating people I'd like to learn more about, so I'll have to settle for reading their words. I hope to find others who've read their work, too, to discuss the things we've learned from them. I started with Caitlin Moran's Moranifesto, and loved it.  She is a feminist writer from the UK and is witty, thoughtful, and, I discovered, a lot of fun to read. She writes with what I found to be a sensible voice on topics of poverty, feminism, and what it means to be a responsible person in the world.

The next person I got to know was Trevor Noah.  His book, Born a Crime, is a series of essays on his life growing up in South Africa, both pre- and post-apartheid. I can't recommend these two authors enough. Moran is hilarious, and covers topics of feminism, politics, and raising girls with a sense a humor that made me laugh out loud as I was listening to it. Noah was raised in a system meant to keep him down, and does a lovely job of describing why apartheid held for as long as it did, and how difficult a job his mother had in raising him to be a good man.  He has one paragraph that resonated with me:

In society, we do horrible things to one another because we don't see the person it affects. We don't see their face. We don't see them as people. Which was the whole reason the hood (this is how he refers to the areas of South Africa that blacks were forced to live in) was built in the first place, to keep the victims of apartheid out of sight and out of mind. Because if white people ever saw black people as human, they would see that slavery is unconscionable. We live in a world where we don't see the ramifications of what we do to others, because we don't live with them. It would be a lot harder for an investment banker to rip off people with subprime mortgages if he actually had to live with the people he was ripping off. If we could see another's pain and empathize with one another, it would never be worth it to us to commit the crimes in the first place. 

Wow, right?! And it's only January! I'm looking forward to finding some voices that I wouldn't normally read, and learning from them. Anything you've been reading that I should know about? Next up for me is March, Book Three by John Lewis, Andrew Aydin, and Nate Powell. (Thanks Bev!) It's the National Book Award winner for Young People's Literature. John Lewis is that guy who's "all talk, talk, talk, no action." *sigh*

Tomorrow I am off to D.C. to join hundreds of thousands of other people for the Women's March on Washington. I'm excited and apprehensive, and wishing I didn't have to go. More about that later :)

Until next time, carry on and hold the line.

Salve for the Soul

These last few weeks have been hard. I've been lifted up by the kindness and commiserating of friends and family, and brought low by the ugliness of "friends" and family.  I'm trying to be more active in communicating with lawmakers and making plans to go to the Women's March on Washington to help me feel like I'm not completely out of control of what's in store for us in the next four years. Still, I'm crabby.  I'm sad.  I'm having a hard time finding joy in my fellow humans. Yesterday was a friend's birthday, and we made plans to meet at a local eatery to help her celebrate.  This place is what I consider to be the heart of our little village. Whenever we're there, there is no doubt we'll run into someone we know, probably share a glass of wine or beer with them, and spend time chatting while waiting for our food. There are strings of white lights hung diagonally across the room and the fire from the pizza oven keeps things warm. The atmosphere is calming and welcoming. My daughter works there, and I work in the bookstore at the front of the building, so we spend a fair amount of time there.  When the winter months come, the owners often have musicians play because, well, winters are long here and we need all the entertaining we can get! Saturday night they hosted The Ukeladies (and Lad). The Ukeladies are a large group of women who play, not surprisingly, the ukulele.  They sing and play and seem to love what they do.  I went with two friends and the place was packed. The Ukeladies (and everyone else!) sang Happy Birthday to my friend, the town's librarian, and the energy in that restaurant was the most positive I've felt in awhile. Half the town was there, smiling and laughing and singing together. It was good.  It was good for my soul that has been bruised a bit recently, and it was good for my heart that has almost given up in believing that human beings in this country are good, giving, compassionate creatures. With the Badger game playing on the tv, and the Ladies singing Christmas carols, with friends smiling and tapping their feet and singing along, it was a good night. That energy and camaraderie reminded me that joy isn't always so far away. It reminded me that despite the ugliness of what we're becoming as a nation, there are always moments of goodness to look for and to celebrate when I find them.

Carry on warriors, and hold the line.

The Ukeladies

I miss my dad

I miss my dad.  He's been gone for a year and a half today, and it's gotten easier to remember that I can't call him anymore and that I won't see him when I go home for a visit. These last two weeks, it's gotten harder again. I've wanted to talk to him and be outraged alongside him, and make a plan to march on Washington with him, and to just hear him say that he's with me, he feels the same, and we'll figure out how to make a difference together. I have my mom, who is an activist in a different way than my dad was.  She's quieter about it, but just as determined to make a difference and see the good in people, and to stand up for herself. That quiet determination is just as important.  The quiet ones get shit done, too, and they are just as dedicated to their cause as the louder ones. Mom and I talked this week and have been outraged and sad and stunned together and that made me feel a little better.

My dad was one of the loud ones. When he started high school in the 1950s, my grandfather had just been transferred to Hawaii. He experienced being the outsider those first two years in high school and he later said that this experience helped him realize that siding with the one perceived as "other" was important work.  He worked hard and vocally for LGBT rights. He wouldn't stand by and watch people he cared about being put down and vilified because of who they were. He wouldn't stand by as strangers were put down and vilified simply because they were perceived as different and less-than. He met with church officials to make sure his voice was heard.  He worked within a church he loved to try to make a difference for the marginalized and those who were consistently pushed to the side by people claiming to be christian. I often wondered why he didn't just leave the Catholic Church. He could have moved over to the Episcopal Church, like I did.  The national church is much more in alignment with his (and my mom's) beliefs. He chose to stay, though, and strive for change within.  I didn't really understand it until recently.  I had jokingly said that if #notmypresident was to become the next president, we were packing up and leaving.  Why?  Because that would indicate that this country I've lived in most of my life was not the country I had believed it to be.  Do we have issues  to work on? Of course.  Would we EVER elect an immature, Twitter ranting, racist homophobe who makes fun of the disabled, and just about everyone else, and who only makes fear based decisions as our next president?  Of course not!  And then it happened.  A minority of citizens was allowed to elect this morally bankrupt person to the highest office.  And then allowed him to name his fellow good ol' boys to some of the highest offices of government.  I will never understand the women and minorities who voted for him. (Do not try to justify your actions here.  That will fall on deaf ears because there is no justifying it.) So, when this happened, was my first thought, "We are OUT of here!"? Nope.  My first thought was, "OH HELL NO." I'm pretty sure this is how my parents feel about the church they grew up in and why my dad chose to stay and effect change from within.  It was his church, too, and he loved it.  This is my country, too, and I will not allow it to be brought down to the lowest levels of racism, xenophobia, and the persecution of "otherness" that the new administration based its campaign on. I will let my voice be heard.  I will make phone calls.  I will spend my money to help charitable foundations further their causes of kindness and inclusiveness. I will stand beside other women and we will say, "No longer will I allow you to make me or anyone else feel less-than." I will let my voice be heard in a thousand different ways, every day. Some days that will involve actually speaking or writing, and some days that will mean keeping my mouth silent and acting out my voice with kindness and action. My family and I will carry on with the example our parents gave us. As Glennon Doyle Melton wrote, “The love warrior fights. Not against people- but against deadly ideas that infect humanity like cancer.” Keep on, fellow warriors. We’ll get there, but the work is just beginning. It’s going to be a long road. Have patience and faith that if we just keep moving forward, if we start conversations, if we can convince those with fear that has hardened into hatred to truly listen, we may get there, one person at a time.

Thanks mom and dad, for showing us that we were born with voices that are meant to be heard and used to make life better for those who are pushed aside and ignored.


Carry on friends, and hold the line.

Do me a favor, will you?

I made some online friends angry a few days ago in a Facebook post. People apparently don't like being called small minded because they voted for Trump.  Duly noted. One even wrote that if we put Jesus first, all will be well. I don't even know what that means. Pray, and then sit on our asses doing nothing?  That doesn't work for me. Peace, love and prayers will only get me so far and mean nothing without action behind them. Most people were kind and respectful, and most friends agreed with me. I saw one friend who was offended and commented yesterday, and we had a nice talk about it. I'm not hurt by the criticism because it's laughable to me that anyone, especially women who voted for Trump were surprised that someone would find that act to be small minded. "When you roll around in the mud, you're going to get dirty." That sums up my thought that voting for Trump = you agree with his rhetoric, at least for me. And yes, it was exclusively women who were offended and sounded off. Mind boggling to me. I have no way of reconciling that a vote for that man does not equal supporting his rhetoric, but I'm trying.  I understand that time may change hearts, once the true nature of how badly they've screwed up comes to light.  

I understand "we're all in this together" being thrown around on social media, but don't agree with it.  Yes, we all live in one geographical nation, but some have been treated abhorrently for centuries, simply because they are not able-bodied, straight white men. This nasty turn of events seems to be a wake up call for those who knew before Tuesday that change was needed and maybe haven't done much to help effect change. I include myself in that, because yes, while I've regularly donated to causes that support change and equality, have spoken up for those who are being held down, marched in a Pride parade with my girls, it's past time to do more.  Will I be as affected by this administration as tens of thousands of others will? No, probably not.  But my daughters' futures will be different than I envisioned, family members will be that much more apt to be harassed, more friends will live in fear for themselves and their children, and people will be killed because of this man and his hateful rhetoric. Just because my everyday life may not be impacted as much as someone else's is no excuse to sit by and watch it happen. I'm thinking about and working on what to do, how to make a bigger difference.  

Here's the favor I ask of you, especially if you chose to vote for the morally bankrupt individual and you're still reading this: Please, please, please, write to your lawmakers and express that you do not support his bigoted rhetoric.  Demand that they publicly denounce the racist, reprehensible words on which he based his campaign. Demand that they publicly denounce the appointment of misogynists, racists, and anti-Semites to his transition team and to his cabinet. Demand that they ensure that the disabled are not going to be made fun of by our Commander in Chief. Tell them that you want them to stand up for every American. Hearing from Republicans and Trump voters will have a greater impact than just hearing from Democrats, and third party voters. They may never respond, they may ignore your words, but you will have let yourself be heard. And if you voted for Trump, it's a good way to demonstrate that you are not, in fact, small minded, and that you do not support his violent rhetoric. This is something we can all do, and it's a start. 

Carry on my wayward friends, and hold the line.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— 

Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— 

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

--Martin Niemöller

Hello there!

Hi! *waves elegantly from the breakfast table* I'm tired and stunned and heartsick.  How 'bout you? I've been grieving the loss of human kindness this week by staying in my jammies and stress eating.  Today I've decided to cope in a healthier way by writing my feelings instead of eating them, donating to causes that promote equality and kindness, and getting down to the business of pointing out bigotry and hatred instead of ignoring it. I'm finding that writing is a good way for me work out the hurt and anger and hopefully turn those feelings into something positive.

I'm not entirely sure what this blog will look like, so bear with me as I work it out.  I'm sure it will be a little political, a little humorous, it may contain the odd book review or dog picture and "Hey, look at the great thing my kid did today" posts. I may post daily at times, and I may take weeks between posts. Read what you like, take from it what you want, and if you choose to comment, be careful with your words.  As you move through your day, choose kind as often as you can. We'll all be better for it.