Photo: I’m making a ragdoll for the adopted daughter of one of my friends. The cotton I’m making her from, the perfect tone to match her skin (and mine) is named “soil brown.” I gasped when I read it on the spool in the store, even seethed a little. My reader/writer’s mind quickly reminded me of the following thought: aren’t we all, supposedly, made from clay? Are not some of the most perfect and beautiful things in this world born from soil? Does not soil, good soil, dark and rich like this fabric, mean life?
It’s the morning after and my Quiet Thoughts are silent, yet screaming. I refuse, however, to feed the growing beast with my fear. If history is repeating itself and we are facing down the next great battles for humanity (or, at least, this democracy), then this is the earth I will stand on and these are the words that I’ll be writing and speaking until They come for me. I hope there will be someone left to speak for me when They do. If you listened to that candidate last night, and heard the words I did, then you’ll know why this morning I feel like They may come for me and my own first.
If so, I am unafraid. My words and the words of so many others will be our testimony. We know how we got here, what we’ve endured here, what we strive for, what we contribute.
We know who we are and what They think of us. We’ve always known, yet here we are.
And here I am. Here are my sons. The danger is real and undeniable. We will face it. We have no other choice.
But I’m not leaving. They will not have my fear.
My feet are planted in the soil with my name on it, in this republic that I love above all others, that I’ve invested in, that I raise my boys in, and They will never convince me that I’m the problem.
I know better.
Be kind, Dear Reader. Speak truth, Dear Reader. Walk in love in the pursuit of justice, Dear Reader. Resist the temptation to draw in the darkness, Dear Reader. Instead, my Friday wish for you is to the seek the light in loving understanding of your neighbors. Not just today and this weekend, but always and forever. I won’t tell you how to vote. I’ll just tell you what I heard: that candidate told us that They are coming. I will speak out for you.
Will you speak out for me? For my sons?