It’s a big week for our world and a pivotal time in history. Naturally, I’m going to take space to discuss important issues on my heart like my personal rally to forever end the Rhinestone Butt-Bling Pandemic sweeping our globe’s streets since ’99.
But seriously. Enough with the butt bling, ladies. We’re all staring at the under girth of your tush, which, unless you’re Queen Beyonce herself, is not likely your best feature.
While we’re on the topic of pants, I’d like to remind you to please wear them while shopping this holiday season. I saw not one but two fellow mamas out there in the aisles today wearing silk long johns as legware. We get confused here in San Diego without true winter, but those are base layer. Not leggings. And definitely not stand-alone pants.
I have to let myself laugh at your blasé approach to underwear lines because I’ve been there myself and because my heart is heavy for our world. The sanctuary for refugees debate is a non-question to me.
There are plenty of examples in our recent history where mentalities of fear and scarcity wrote us hall passes to dehumanize entire sets of people – usually based on ethnoreligious grouping. Looking back on a not too distant past we are bewildered by these actions. Yet. The present repeats itself.
Look. I do not pretend to come at this with any more credentials than a housewife not using that liberal arts degree with an emphasis in multicultural studies. I am not a politician or a military analysis. And I’ve been hovering over the “publish” button on this for days partly because I talked myself into being unqualified and partly because there are so many voices already out there on the subject.
It scares me that when choosing shoes to complete an outfit before a trip to the mall, one of my fashion mental filters is “how fast can I run carrying children away from danger in these”. This hate is fearful.
What scares me more is living in a time when shared tragedy somehow permisses hate-speech to be spread. Okayed. Expected. Unruffling. This hate is fearful too.
That’s why I’m going ahead and hitting “publish”. Because while others are dehumanized, we, ourselves, are not whole.
I’ve been singing the last few stanzas of I Heard The Bells on repeat the past several days. A breath prayer. A heart plea.
And in despair I bowed my head:
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men.”
Staring at your unabashed panty lines and singing in my head as prayer. May voices of compassion and hope and a shared humanity speak louder than the fear.
“TO BE HOPEFUL in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness.
What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction.
And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.” Howard Zinn