June 2022

A miscarriage

Has occurred.

Actually, an

Abortion.

Fifty years in the making

Seeking to criminalize

Those most

Desperate.

Overturned

But not over,

The tide will turn

Toward Justices

Corrupt

From Dark Money

And desperate for

Supremacy.

Rights for

Individuals

Who can’t get

Pregnant.

Now

The law sanctions

Open Carry

To full term.

I’m expecting

Violence

In response to

“Pro Lifers”

Who care

Nothing

For those already

Born.

Except

For the right

To bear arms

Anywhere.

I hemorrhaged

Tears

And could barely

Breathe.

This is an

Assault

On women and girls’

Rights.

I will not dwell

In the cruelty

Pain

And contractions.

We will

Heal

And create

Anew.

Mourning Sickness

Today I feel gutted.

I was already gutted by the mass shooting at the Tops supermarket in Buffalo, and the next day, as though re-gutted, the mass shooting at the elementary school in Uvalde, Texas. As unbearably horrific as that mass shooting was, the cover up is even more grotesque to me. Anyone could understand the fear police might have when encountering a deranged shooter with an automatic weapon. Hesitation might occur. Hyper-caution to avoid children…ok. Then why the lies and covering up the story? I am not sure I have the stomach for the answer.

I felt gutted yesterday watching The January 6th Hearings and listening to members of Trump’s DOJ recount 45’s intense and insane pressure to install Jeffrey Clark in the final weeks of his presidency. This, after hearings in which witness after witness relayed Trump’s efforts to overaturn a legitimate democratic election that he lost. Election workers were abused; their lives endangered. VP Mike Pence’s life was in danger. The sickness of Trump’s pathetic cleaving to power and the sad, angry, delusional devotees who are empowered to serve him leave me distraught. When I am not angry and fearful (of so many angry, fearful people with serious gun power), I am profoundly sad that so many people have succumbed to such a gross excuse for a human being and for perpetuating cruelty and selfishness.

Yesterday, upon hearing the news of the Supreme Court’s ruling allowing open carry–because….you know….individual rights/liberties–I was at once terrified and broken. I believe there is now such a tension between the hyper-individualsts who embrace a particular definition of macho and those who are actually more driven to protect the lives of the already born, that the menacing and threatening that seems empowering will only cause if not a conventional civil war, then a serious threat to everyone.

And this morning, with the news of the Supreme Court overturning Roe v wade, I am actually sick to my stomach. I am in mourning. Democracy, which I certainly took for granted in the once USA, is on life support. I am mourning American life that had promise.

I was briefly uplifted by the seemingly ordinary people who became heroic to me: during Trump’s 2 impeachments; during the worst days (and throughout) the COVID19 pandemic; Zalensky; some Republicans who have been Trump loyalists in his administration; unceremonious election workers; Capitol police officers, all of whom bravely stood up to endure under duress and bear testimony to truth. There is still truth. There is still decency. Perhaps too little too late, but some people have been moved. I have learned of goodness and decency during such trials, when so much crazy and serious danger has been thrust upon us and relentlessly spewing through media over the last 6 years.

But whatever solace I felt was amidst the mourning for the beauty that was the promise of life here in the USA, even in this very dangerous 21st century. I am grieving not so much for the world in which I grew up, but for the willingness that we had to continue to improve; to no longer stand for what was, even if we endured it.

I have had queasiness every day for years now, but hoping it would subside when this period finally settled down. Today’s overturning of Roe v wade was not surprising, but it is nonetheless chilling. It is nauseating. And the waves keep coming.

I am mourning the loss of separation between church (all religion) and state; of the recognition of the dignity of all living beings who have been born; of the danger of guns; of peaceful elections and transitions of power; of a healthy climate–political, social, economic,natural.

But after the mourning one must get on with the business of living and creating a healthy life. I don’t see how the current conditions are sustainable. The sickness that has pervaded too much of the American culture and now American deomcratic institutions and democracy itself, from the base to the Supreme Court, is deadly. But succumbing to mourning is deadly too.

Righters Block

I haven’t said much here in quite some time. It’s not that there isn’t anything left to say. It’s just been a horrendous case of Righters Block.

Righters kvetch about freedom while blocking access. The righters block loves walls and barricades, obstructing processes and others. Righters tear down that wall of Democracy that is the foundation of freedom. It’s a party of destruction that is punishing all that’s left.

Disruption is their right, while blocking safety for the rest. Facts remain on the side of what’s left, exposing truth and lies that righters tell. It’s insanity. Crazy like Fox, anything goes because they have rights, no matter how wrong.

We live in an era of storytelling. Maybe we always did. Now, everyone is a storyteller. It’s even encouraged and platformed. Meanwhile, righters block evidence as having any meaning, and ideate strategies to the contrary.

Righters claim populism and patriotism and nationalism and supremacy, redefining and insinuating with hopes of defeating. Righters block responsibility feeling entitled to anything and accountable for nothing.

There is no contest when suffering righters block. Being left alone to anguish and expose reality, those seeking to conserve Democracy have been flailing. Institutions have been weakened by righters block, but are not yet left for dead.

Too many weapons of mass destruction fired off by boys who are proud and keepers of an oath, automatically arming themselves for….?

I have no idea.

….Other than the notion that power trumps and powers Trump. Left to their own devices, righters block. This is the unbearably sad, scary, true story of our time.

Conventional Wisdom

I don’t remember ever enjoying the Conventions, and the last several prior to this year’s, I forced myself to endure. Sure there were the rare soaring moments, (Obama 2004), but I generally find them tacky and mostly outdated and useless, except for the nominee’s speech. Yes, people get fired up, which is the point. Then the campaigns go into high gear and bombard us with hyper-intense messaging—usually negative, or idealized. It’s obnoxious and exhausting and usually turns off many voters.

In an attempt to change the game, Obama’s campaigns were mostly positive and summoning Americans’ better angels. He was criticized for his “Yes We Can” bromide. The stakes in 2008 seamed existential, as the economy was in free-fall and we were embroiled in those seemingly endless wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. And Sarah Palin was unleashed and the viciousness that was until then unimaginable, was released. 

The expansion of communications and media throughout the 21st century has made each Presidential campaign a bit different from previous ones. (The Citizens United decision of 2010 allowed unrestricted corporate spending on election communications.) As much of the ways in which Presidential campaigns were being run were changing, the party conventions remained relatively conventional (and largely insufferable).

Then came 2020. This COVID-19 Pandemic that has destroyed over 170,000 American lives and crushed their families (as of this writing), and over 5 million cases of the virus in  5 months (that we know of at this writing) has been a disaster that none of us have seen before, which includes a nightmarish economy, not to mention the reckoning with systemic racism that has made enduring the pandemic that much worse. And climate issues are even harder to manage with this pandemic. There is no Presidential leadership–only corruption and division. We never imagined we would be living in this America. The virus has been a threat around the globe, but American exceptionalism has taken a new and dreadful form. The Trump administration has nothing to offer but lies, hate, and distraction. His abdication from his duty to protect Americans is stunning and yet after 4 years of his cruel absurdities, we know we can’t expect anything else. Meanwhile, this extremely horrific pathogen (I mean COVID-19), has upended life for the next many months to come. 

How could there be a national party convention when people can not gather together? Conventional wisdom would suggest that it would be a rare substitute this cycle, and we could return to normal next time. BUT…..necessity birthed an invention that showcased some of the greatest American beauty. I didn’t watch the entirety of the event this week, but saw some key features and speeches, and despite some conventional cheesiness, the necessary format Zoomed into our essence: The cross-country roll call must be the new format. The absence of a live audience somehow created a more direct and intimate experience for the viewer. We were each being addressed. The cross section of every demographic represented a truer us. US. The emphasis on decency and having a plan for action, for each American’s participation, was urgent and in this moment, authentic. It was less lofty and idealistic, and more about basic goodness and actions that we all need to take to ensure that we all can move forward. It was incredibly powerful in a most unconventional convention. 

Everyone has a role to play, even from a distance. We have much that needs addressing just to be functional, and for a just recovery for all. It was important to pause and celebrate the milestone of Kamala Harris’ nomination, and admire the steadfast decency of Joe Biden, and so many people who were featured who stood for decency and dignity.  The pain and loss is profound now, but this unconventional convention provided us with the wisdom that seeing so many who look and sound so varied can be united in purpose and take common action. This is US. This is our Democracy that insists on each one of us to pull together. Conventional wisdom? We needed the reminder! 

Low Grade

It wasn’t just that Michelle Obama recently expressed how we all feel these days (… weeks, months, years), but that she articulated the truth with such precision: “some sort of low-grade depression”.  I think that’s how we knew it was/is the truth. There was a universal nod. YEP. 

We are all trying to cope with extreme and constant disruption, even when we are basically ok. We are fearful and angry. We are frustrated and fatigued. We are anxious and sad. Even when we are otherwise ok. We don’t feel ok. Ok. America is not ok, even if individuals are hanging in there. 

We are terrified of the fever out there. Everything feels feverish. The intensity of the fever overwhelms, and the experience for most of us is exhaustion. Low-grade depression. Meanwhile, the POTUS seems to do everything possible to enable the fever’s spread. Whether or not he experiences delusions, he inspires them. 

The multiple contagions afflicting us feel overpowering. The persistence is enervating. How will we be able to live with this going forward? 

When we can’t just breathe, because a police officer is shooting or choking someone, or COVID-19 has consumed one’s lung capacity, we can air the truth. Thank you, Michelle Obama.

I couldn’t help but notice that her choice of words, “low-grade depression”, which seemed to resonate so exactly with our experience, was so perfect for this moment. No one seems to care more about grades than Trump. I’m not aware of any adult who cares about grades (other than being concerned about their kids’ grades). 

When Trump was saying anything to get media attention during the Obama administration, he glommed onto the “Birther” conspiracy theory in attempt to get attention, test the political winds, fan the fires of racism, build his brand, and whatever else explains his disgusting lies. But he also made a point of bringing up (or making up) President Obama’s grades. Even then I thought it was a weird and pathetic attempt to make some sort of point. 

Trump ran for POTUS talking about having “the best words”, and his great grades, and other school related nonsense. Remember when Michael Cohen revealed that Trump directed him to ensure that the College Board and colleges never release Trump’s grades or SATs? What is it with Trump and grades? 

Of course, he projects and lies and is shameless in doing so. 

And we are struggling on every front as a result of Trump’s incompetence, corruption, and shamefulness. He gets the lowest grade of any POTUS. 

Slurred Speech

What’s in a name?

Representative Yoho called Representative Ocasio-Cortez “a Fucking Bitch” on the steps of the Capitol. He continued to tell her that she was “disgusting” for saying that poverty was the driving force behind a rise in crime in New York City. I think we know who is disgusting, but we don’t have to yell it at him on the steps of the Capitol.

Then, they each went to the House floor to speak about the incident. By now you know that Yoho apologized for being disrespectful, while denying that he called A.O.C. a “Fucking Bitch”. He went on to talk about his wife of 45 years and his two daughters and his love of country etc.

A.O.C. gave a powerful rebuke, suggesting that Yoho came to the House floor to “make excuses for his behavior”.

She continued, “What I do have issue with is using women, wives and daughters as shields and excuses for poor behavior,” she said. “Mr. Yoho mentioned that he has a wife and two daughters. I am two years younger than Mr. Yoho’s youngest daughter. I am someone’s daughter too. My father, thankfully, is not alive to see how Mr. Yoho treated his daughter.”

For many, her words were a moment of clarity. Regardless of party affiliation, or political attachments, she spoke to the significance of speech as behavior. What is decency? What is responsibility? How we treat each other matters.

I was floored that so many men were awakened—men who typically value women and have sided politically with women’s issues. Like the #MeToo outpouring that revealed basically every female (and plenty of males and those on a gender spectrum) who have experienced sexual harassment and/or abuse, so many men were shocked.

Those moments of clarity are sobering. For those of us who feel redeemed, we know we are not alone or that we didn’t do anything to warrant such behavior. For those (mostly men) who are sobered by the pervasiveness of disgrace, despite thinking that they are champions of women, welcome to the real world.

Language defines worlds. As (his)tory has unfolded, it has been his. Women have been the other. We thought we moved beyond the 70s and 80s, those waves of feminism that brought women’s issues to the forefront. Like our  reckoning now with systemic racism, we are still reckoning with sexism.

I see this moment as an opportunity to confront what I call “Slurred Speech”. You know when someone makes a racial slur. It’s a form of name calling intended to evoke an image—perhaps a stereotype or a negative image, even from a bygone era, that demeans and depicts the person as less than. It is intended to degrade and humiliate, and is expressed with venom, anger, or disgust. Or maybe it’s expressed as a matter of fact, which is more insidiously dangerous. It is intended to wield power, and even children understand this without being explicitly taught.

I dare say we have all used Slurred Speech at one time or another. For kids it’s part of play. Kids learn how to deal with insults of all sorts, sometimes in useful ways; usually not.

We define ethnicity with Slurred Speech, and despite decades of “political correctness” that has sought to remind people that insults are bad behavior and beneath our character, many have been slow to grasp the social cues. Our recognition that insulting people based on ethnicity, sexual preference, gender, mental capacity, (dis)ability, is not only about decent behavior, but about transforming the way we think. Transforming speech is transforming behavior. I’m actually appreciative of Sarah Palin’s directive to not use disability as an insult, including “retarded”.

Now, this is different than merely saving denigrating speech for private or select situations. Comedians have always sought to push the envelope by using Slurred Speech for its shock value. Audiences laugh because it gives them permission to not be perfect—to feel like their perceptions are true in some way. It’s validating.

It’s also distorting.

Slurred speech, when one has a physical condition, whether congenital or temporary as brought on by drugs or alcohol, is difficult to understand. The distinct phonemes blur together. It’s interesting to me that a slur also means a derogatory name or insult. It blurs together everyone in a category and demeans and dehumanizes them.

Throughout history, humans have used Slurred Speech to dehumanize the other. Racial, ethnic, (dis)ability, sexual preference, gender,  have been verbal weapons. Sometimes the Slurred Speech conjures up some myth that lingers—even as a myth—but remains as an understood insult, and so is hurled because it is a known weapon, like a knife. It doesn’t matter that it’s not a new tool; it still stabs and wounds.

Feminizing someone and using female related words as slurs have always been weapons. The most demeaning thing to say to a man has always been that he is like a woman—as though that is the worst thing imaginable. How to degrade a man? Call him a pussy. And what’s the worst thing to call a woman? Aside from a Fucking Bitch on the steps of the Capitol, call her a whore. Because a woman who has to sell her body to make a living must be worse than the John who seeks her out.

We’ve seen a shift in speech since the Baby Boom when letting it all hang out became preferred to uptight polite repression. Everyone just lets it rip. It has lead to a moment that still sends chills and nausea through me: the moment when Representative Joe Wilson shouted, “You lie! ” on September 9, 2009 during President Obama’s joint address to congress.

That was not Slurred Speech, or was it? It was a direct reaction, but it was hard not to believe that the only time that such a disrespectful outburst occurred was by a White congressman against the first Black POTUS.

When did letting it all hang out evolve into disgraceful behavior through speech? There is no doubt that aggressive speech is better than physical aggression, but they are not disconnected. Words inspire. Words are reflections of control. Who utters what matters. Shifting norms is a fluid process. We are always evolving as a culture. But evolution can be messy.

Sometimes, we get clarifying moments. Other times, we get to hear language that sounds familiar but in a new context, and we have to learn to listen differently. Controlling language shifts power dynamics. That’s why there was a backlash to “political correctness”. It was a threat to a power dynamic.

When words like the N-word, Bitch, and Queer are newly controlled , people, along with those words are transformed. Those previously victimized are empowered. Power dynamics shift from dehumanizing/objectifying  to ownership and control.

When a woman is called a Bitch, it is an attempt to remind her to step down from power. This is a concept that isn’t even thought by most who utter it. Words just fly off the tongue. It is a habit, passed down to each generation. The human need for power is eternal. But in the USA, everyone seems to fear losing whatever power could possibly be held. I see snarky comments by so-called bleeding hearts all the time. Everyone seems to have Slurred Speech. Some contain it better than others, and know their “safe spaces”.

We have become a scared ,diminished society, not because of the Pandemic. This is America. We strive here, and when that is threatened, personally or as a group, we insult, degrade, dehumanize and diminish through Slurred Speech.

Resignation

Why has no one called for Trump’s resignation? His commuting Roger Stone’s prison sentence, despite ample evidence of Stone’s guilt, provided the familiar dyspepsia of horror without surprise.  Trump’s gall is endless. As is Stone’s. (I’m sure there’s a gallstone joke somewhere….)

But even Mitt Romney, who dared to vote to convict Trump, and called Stone’s commutation “unprecedented, historic corruption”, didn’t call for Trump’s resignation. Why bother? Americans can vote him out in November.

We heard that argument before the Impeachment proceedings. It’s too risky. We can just vote him out. Meanwhile, what could possibly be worse than what lead to the Impeachment?

Amidst the heinous policies against immigrants, that includes family separations still, and caging children, Trump has withdrawn from our allies and has continued to cozy up to autocrats. He is unconcerned with the plight of Americans, or those who seek to live as Americans, unless he benefits personally. 

Meanwhile, the only one who has not begun to confront the hideous, systemic racism embedded in our American being, is Trump. As the country is pained and seeks healing and transformation, he wants to restore the statues that glorified the Confederacy—that seceded from the U.S! As statues came down, literally all that’s left is the base.

And yet, while we as a country have been resigned to racism in insidious forms, we are being lead once again by a movement toward dignity—Black Lives Matter. The overt brutality caught on video has been effective in showing what most White people don’t see or experience. There is profound concern that the resignation that has endured for so long in this country will continue without dramatic change. 

And the concern about November….besides a rigged system of gerrymandering that has persisted and expanded for decades disenfranchising voters, especially Black and Latinx voters, we are losing a battle against COVID-19, that has us sequestered to stay healthy.

Trump’s abdication of responsibility to keep Americans safe should have demanded calls for his resignation, but we have been too resigned to his crazy. His recklessness and laziness, not to mention an ability to govern or be a serious human, has actual repercussions. His demand to re-open schools without adequate policy proposals or funding so that they are safe is simply cruel. 

It’s hard to list the top most egregious displays of flagrant abuse, but I still can not wrap my head around the Russian bounty on American troops in Afghanistan. Trump claims to not have been briefed. Still, there has been no effort to do anything about the fact that Russia has put a bounty on American troops in Afghanistan. No calls for resignation. 

Vote him out? We started with Russian interference in our elections. Here we go again. Resignation? Voter suppression. Resignation? A PANDEMIC that makes going to the polls a personal and public potentially life-threatening situation. And he seeks to limit mail-in ballots. Vote him out?

We are the ones who have been resigned. We have been resigned to injustice for too long. We have been believing that institutions and norms are too entrenched and difficult to change, and yet Trump has easily trampled and dismantled. 

We have revered traditions, institutions, and norms, even ones that have outlived their use, and have become afraid of big changes. Yet here we sit at home, if we are able to and are considerate, forced to change our behavior. We can’t be resigned to not take responsibility now. (I know–doubly negative.) We can’t be resigned and await guidance, hope, support from this so-called POTUS. Our representatives should have called for his resignation, but we have all been too resigned. 

Absent calls for Trump’s resignation, we must confront our own. 

Whine Country

Those who whine that the ones seeking personal, racial, societal, economic, and governmental health are impeding individual liberty, are happy to emulate their loser leader. They feign strength while whining. They feign independence while following conspiracy theories and zombie policies, also while whining.  They feign patriotism, while whining, and insist that they are the true representatives of the country. They keep America grate (and sick). 

Those who protest actual injustice, not merely awful inconvenience and discomfort, are thoughtfully, peacefully, and creatively seeking accountability and new direction. What’s the difference between the seemingly aggrieved constituents? 

Protests (and whining) are designed to call attention to some issue. We have all been affected by the COVID-19 pandemic, some obviously much more than others. The whiners just want to do what they want to do. Who doesn’t?  Everyone wants to get back to work, socializing,  commerce, entertainment, etc. The #BLM and associated movements’ protestors have taught most of the rest of the country (and the world) that the opportunity for health is upon us. We all want to be able to reengage in healthy ways, and we also can’t ignore the systemic injustices that have yielded so much more pain and suffering and death in black communities in this country.  This isn’t whining. This is growing. This is maturing. Even as a novel virus spreads.

The whino-in-chief can’t stop kvetching. He hasn’t started planning or learning anything. His schtick is a Borscht Belt cadence of whining. The best thing to do is tune him out. (Thanks, Mom!)  And vote him and his enablers out, despite all the obstacles!

And the whiners who expose their noses know that they have everyone’s attention. But that’s all. They offer nothing (but potential germs). They whine that everyone else has ruined it for them. They love upsetting their foes (i.e. fellow Americans, albeit not in whine country), as their loser leader does. They are happy to ruin it for others.

2020 Whines:

Flabby. Not very refined. Minerally—like the taste of concrete on the tongue. Dense.  NOT elegant. NOT complex. A hint of lead—like the taste of a pencil. Also like an eraser.

Unpalatable. 

White Lies

Most of my life, upon meeting strangers, I was asked, “What are you?”  Sometimes the question referred to my last name: “Where are you from?” My answer was always honest: “I’m American.”

“No–but where are you FROM?”

I was born here. My parents were born here. My grandparents were born here. My great grandparents….they were from Eastern Europe.”

Already, you might be imagining my hair and facial features. Now you probably assume my complexion. You’re probably pretty close. You also probably have an immediate story in your head about what any and all of that might mean about me. That might be close too, but it’s still a meme that popped into your head. Probably instantaneously. You think you know me because you have already identified me as a certain type. You’re like an instant anthropologist.

We all do these instant assessments, often without thinking. Too often we assume and look for confirmation bias not necessarily because of one’s name or physical features, or even sartorial clues, but because we have assumptions about location, or upbringing, or job, or education, or….

In truth, I have always known what those questions were about, and I was always uncomfortable and a little cheeky in answering. I never thought that the ones who asked me, as an initial greeting, were interested in me as a person. I thought they were interested in whether or not I fit a type, and what that might mean for them. To be fair, upon getting to know people, last names, places of origin etc, may be interesting stories. They can be great connectors. When I was often asked by “others”, I never had the sense that it was an initiation into connecting. I always thought it was to highlight othering. And so, I answered honestly to connect. I’m American. I’m the third generation born here after my great grandparents’ emigration to the U.S., which for many whose families fled or perished in Europe during the World Wars, and in Russia/Soviet Union, that’s quite American. Over a century of American. 

Still,  my complexion didn’t convey a story, and I have always lived with that advantage. As a Caucasian, I was never a threat. I was never perceived as a story first. Maybe I was perceived as a story second, as instant anthropologists do with the clues used to identify and label. But my instantaneous backstory was neutral because my skin is considered neutral—white. 

And here lies the problem that we have all concealed: We can’t be colorblind. In fact, we have been blinded by the White Lie that Civil Rights of the 50s and 60s changed us all for the better. We have progressed. Slavery is so far in the past that it’s as alien to us as the wigs and clothing of the17th, 18th, and 19th centuries. And of course we have progressed in so many ways. But the lagging progress over the last few decades for so many people of color, despite historic breakthroughs including the first Black POTUS, (who happened to be the best POTUS of my lifetime), are still stuck with systemic disparities that have proven over and over again to threaten Black lives.

The White Lies are the ones that tell us that we don’t need to upend the system or disrupt. We have a Disrupter in Chief who seeks to undermine any and every institution and it feels like he is destroying the Democracy and culture of the USA. The White Lies are the ones that say that we are decent and believe everyone deserves opportunity without imagining how our systems have oppressed even with historic changes. 

Our White Lies have told us that the Black Community is separate (and not equal). Our White Lies have told us that White Saviors are not wanted, so support has been less visibly integrated. Our White Lies have told us that we are not racist, yet everyone seems to judge everyone by their complexion. At least we can acknowledge the White Lie that we are not colorblind. 

The White Lie forgets about Red Lining, and Voter Suppression (in 2020!), and health and environmental disparities that disfavor (and endanger) many communities of color.

The White Lie is that what seems like a life of doing what one should and being decent is enough. It ignores the privilege of being on the path at the start. Even from less than optimal circumstances, and for those who have overcome great challenges, the White Lie tells us that there’s no difference between challenges to overcome. 

The great shock of this moment is twofold: One is the heinousness with which police brutality has killed black men and women and kids across this country because they were black, especially in the 21st century when the White Lie was that we were so far beyond this barbaric behavior. The second shock is that so many of the people with whom I went to high school and college have posted of their own experiences of driving while black; walking while black; raising black children to be safe. I was floored. I had no idea that people who lived in my world—in a late 20th Century/21st century comfortable, progressive world—were subjected to not just such indignities, but life threatening situations.

The White Lie of the middle and upper middle class (and beyond) is that everyone is safe if they just do the right thing. My heart aches at this White Lie that we are confronting now. 

Like the Women’s Movement that #MeToo alerted everyone to say “ENOUGH!”, and shocked everyone that in this day and age, we are not as far along the path of progress as we hoped or thought, #BLM has touched us to stand together to say “ENOUGH!” 

We understand that trolls are a fact of life, not an old tale. They lurk in the shadows and feed off baiting others. We also have learned that Zombies exist. They linger among us with dead ideas feeding off of us. Monsters exist. The White Lies have told us that they have been beaten forever. We see with our own eyes that monsters are tolerated until we stand together to squash them. 

We have changed our culture from time to time. We have overcome horrible pandemics, and endured horrific losses along the way.  I often think about how the culture of smoking has changed so radically in my lifetime. And Gay Marriage! That was unthinkable, until it wasn’t. Despite the very real fears and dangers of the dual pandemics of COVID19 and Racism in 2020, I also see the creativity and strength that are emerging. We can acknowledge the White Lies and monsters among us, and reimagine how we want to protect and serve our communities—all our selves. 

The Future

The future was open, busy, individual, 24/7. The future was scheduled, patterned, abundant, better. The future was crowded, but moving. The future was fresh and free, hectic and hopeful. 

The future was vacations, concerts, sports, movies, meetings, appointments, graduations, weddings, funerals. 

The future was predictable, mathematical, scientific, masterful. It was logical, creative, rich, and user-friendly. The future was applicable, identifiable, improvable, and personal.

The future was about each one, but really no one. It included fear and anger, histories of oppression and resentment, inequalities, and bigotries. But in the future, each person could be rich. Or on a path. Or connected. 

The future was bifurcated. The future was media driven. The future was about social influencers and fake news. The future was artificial intelligence and egos. The future was angry, manipulative, power-hungry, and lazy.

The future paid the least to people who teach kids and nurse the ailing; those whotake care of our youngest, oldest, and neediest; police and firefighters, EMTs—those who respond first; those who work diligently not for profit; and the artists who enrich our culture and inner lives. The future ignored those who pick our food; process our food; serve our food; deliver our food; allow us to buy our food and whatever stuff we want whenever we want. 

The future decided that guns are essential rights and that the market is the most essential. The future was a struggle for affordable healthcare that was too big to handle. The future forgot the basics, because everyone had a megaphone and a platform to distort.

The future was distorted, but was constant opportunity. The future was streaming what we wanted whenever we wanted, and we could ignore the junk. But there was an abundance of junk in the future. 

The future was an increasing environmental disaster resulting from climate change. The future was not a moment, a specific crisis, so we ignored what was not seemingly imminent. The future was more building, and much more stuff. 

The future was for each person to breathe and be anywhere. We didn’t think about separation in the future. Or distance. The future was possessive. The future was.