It is noon on Saturday, Aug. 19, and I am watching live news from Boston. I notice that chants can sometimes disturb me, but it mostly depends on the voices that chant — the ones that are proud and peaceful or the ones with confrontation set in their minds.
The tension twists in my gut as I watch, listen and wait for what might be yet to come. The news reports hype, some protesters on both sides hype, but there is a difference between hyping for love and hyping for hate. I find the hate type intolerable.
When I am willing to open my eyes and look carefully, it scares me. I want to lie down and take a nap. But sleeping my way through a conflict is not helpful. Actually, it can be quite harmful — giving voice, while I am asleep, to the hate and discrimination that seem to get stronger and more prevalent every day. And every day we can counter it with love, caring and resistance and very little yawning. There is no way to speak my voice if I fall asleep.
How does anger have a place in the midst of love and compassion and resistance to what is universally wrong? I am afraid to look closely, or I am too angry to see. I was taught as a young child to not express my feelings, so I hid them in the silence of repression and unacceptability. My parents knew no other way to teach me back then.
Perhaps I am finished taking naps now — falling asleep in the midst of conflict to escape the necessary and severe need for a change of leadership in our country. I will do what I can and what I must to speak my voice so that I and others who may not be able to speak out can hear.
Today is my granddaughter Brooke’s 9th birthday. What legacy can I leave her in my own daily interactions, hopefully full of love, compassion and openness? And how can I begin to show her what is happening in the world?
She may not understand, but I can’t assume that, especially when she asks questions like “Grandma, what does ‘discrimination’ mean?” It fills me with pride that her interest is blossoming in a way that she will hopefully internalize and then express as her heart grows and touches those around her.
Jennifer Delozier
Easthampton