I made the mistake of watching one of the videos showing the murder of Renee Good.
No, “mistake” isn’t the right word, but the fact that it’s the first word that came to mind makes me realize how much I am being called to step up.
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I’m very sensitive to others’ experiences. I’ve been known to cry at Haagen Dazs commercials.
Some years back, I stated that I chose Love over fear and anger. A woman called me out, claiming that my attitude was the result of privilege. I explained that the reason I focus on Love is because it was easy for me to become overwhelmed by the tragedy in the world, and it was harder for me to do anything about it if I’m curled up in a ball on the floor.
The thing is, she wasn’t wrong.
I am privileged.
I am white, cisgender, and pass for heterosexual. My body size and shape and facial features conform to mainstream Western standards of attractiveness. I’ve never had to worry about food on my table or a roof over my head. I have a university education. Perhaps most importantly, I have parents who have loved and supported me to the best of their ability my entire life. The only way I could have more privilege is if I had perfect health, a billion dollars, and a penis.
So how can I use that privilege?
With the additional resources and fewer disadvantages (especially mental and emotional) that come with privilege, I’ve been working towards creating a kinder and more collaborative world, one that respects and has compassion for the complexity of human experience, and one that understands and celebrates that our relationships with each other and this planet are to be cherished and nurtured.
I believe this is valuable.
For all that we need warriors to stand against tyranny, we also need gardeners and artists, caregivers and creators, architects and organizers.
Each of us has a role to play, and they are all needed.
And yet, there may come a time when I am called to be a warrior.
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If ICE comes to my town and threatens my neighbors, I will not avert my eyes and pretend it’s okay. I will use every ounce of my middle-class, attractive, white woman privilege to intervene, but I will strive to do so in a way that is alignment with my values.
Can I look a government agent who is seeking confrontation in the eye and stay calm, releasing my fear to be fully present in the moment?
Will I be able to stand firm without anger?
Will I be willing to place my own life at risk in the service of protecting someone else?
Love in its deepest, most primal form, is what would give me the power to do so.
So, no, watching the video wasn’t a mistake. It was a wake-up call that I need to expand my ability to witness tragedy without being overwhelmed by it so I can continue to be the love I want to see in the world.
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When I was driving to the hospital to meet the ambulance that was carrying my husband, I asked myself, “If this is the proverbial ‘it’ and he dies, who do I need to be in order to get myself and the kids through this?”
I found out later that, by the time I asked myself that question, he was already dead.
But because I did ask that question, I found myself living in a state of pure love and grace over the next few days, even amidst the grief and sorrow.