Well, goodness…that was an interesting week.
I’ve started about forty-seven versions of this entry from an equal number of directions, but I keep finding the backspace button to start again.
The question I keep returning is, “What do I want?”
What do I want my words to do or how do I want them to land?
What do I want?
That’s the question we should all be asking ourselves, isn’t it?
What do I want?
What do you want?
Why is it so much easier to identify what I don’t want, than what I do?
- I don’t want to spend another minute locked by the horns because can’t they see how stupid they are?
- I don’t want to be served a single bite more of the fear force-fed from the media, neighbors, family, or friends.
- I don’t want to feel backed into a corner while trying to find the exact right words to express why my choices are just that, my choices.
- I don’t want to join the throngs of people deleting people from their lives over something that many, when it comes down to it, only have surface-level knowledge about.
I have voted in many elections but, good grief, the last three have taken it out of me.
What do I want?
- I want kindness brought back to the top of everyone’s priority list.
- I want to feel hope again.
- I want to drive through my community and not be bombarded by signs at every corner offering misinformation.
- I want to hear the actual truth rather than blurred versions of it meant to scare the many who are too distracted to do their research.
- I want to live in a world where research isn’t even necessary because we share sweetly and with empathy and with, at most, a simple whisper of bless your heart.
- I want to stand in the city park, red and blue together, singing show tunes as we watch the sun set on another beautiful day. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but these are my wants, so stand down.
A few weeks ago, I attended a seminar hosted by the great-great-granddaughter of Richmond’s Maggie Walker, Liza Mickens. The talk highlighted Maggie’s life and impact on our country. Maggie was born to enslaved parents and eventually became the nation’s first female bank owner, transforming the lives of countless minorities throughout her life.
Learn more about Maggie Walker here.
I loved that Liza was so in touch with her great-great-grandmother and was so driven to continue Maggie’s legacy in educating others. It was Liza’s closing remarks, however, that impacted me the most. Without referencing any political alliance, Liza, a wise 24-year-old, sent us off with this simple message:
We have work to do. No matter what happens in November, there will still be much to be done.
Those words have been banging around my head ever since. There is much to be done.
We cannot continue perpetuating the divide by turning our backs on those who are not in alignment with us.
We cannot.
We cannot continue to launch attacks on those who believe, just as confidently as you, the exact opposite.
We cannot run from the turmoil but, rather, we must face it together and become a part of its healing.
We cannot demand that others flee from this country that they love in response to their concerns or grievances.
We are all still here–in the same country built on a democracy that only we, each of us, can foster.
What do you want?
If the idea of softening or opening your mind or listening quietly or offering empathy causes you to bristle, ask yourself, “Why?” Is this who you are, now? Is this who you want to be going forward? Start by looking inward rather than suspiciously outward. Why? I have asked myself this several times this week.
Why do I completely shut down, in anger, the moment I engage with someone from across the aisle? Why? I’m not proud of this. Just two days post-election, I’d all but packed a suitcase and written a “Dear John,” letter to my husband. Why?
For me, the answer was this: HOPE.
For the first time in nearly a decade, I felt politically hopeful.
That may not be your answer and that is okay. You may think I am naive or have stock in rose-colored glasses or that I wasn’t paying attention to the things I should have been paying attention to but, good grief, it felt so good to feel hope.
What do you find when you look inward and decipher the difficulties of understanding the stance of those around you?
There is much work to be done.
While the majority of us cannot pack our things and move out of the country OR into the Executive Branch, there is still much work to be done.
Get involved. Listen. Speak. Share.
Start from a place of kindness, rather than attack.
Even if the only thing you can do is pause before pandering or posting or pontification, do that.
A single change is still a worthy change if offered with good intent.
There is much work to be done.
We all must dust off the dirt and get to it.