Be the Change

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This Valentine’s Day our country faced yet another mass school shooting, with another weapon of war, in the hands of another American male. Seventeen dead, students and teachers. Human beings who woke up on a Wednesday morning and went to school only to never come home.

Recently a friend posted the poem, “Days” by Billy Collins, on Facebook. I read it aloud to my nine-year-old daughter, a budding poet and tender soul who doesn’t yet know about the Parkland tragedy. She swallowed her bite of cereal and looked at me with wide eyes. “That is beautiful.”

Now, reading it again, I got an additional jolt – here are the first and second to last stanzas:

Each one is a gift, no doubt
mysteriously placed in your waking hand
or set upon your forehead
moments before you open your eyes…

No wonder you find yourself
Perched on the top of a tall ladder
Hoping to add one more.
Just another Wednesday

Seventeen people in Parkland didn’t get a chance to finish their Wednesday.

Yesterday morning, I hugged and kissed my kids goodbye before they boarded the school bus. Then I jumped up and down and blew kisses to my kindergartener. He likes it when I show him how much I’m going to miss him. As I watched the bus disappear from view, I felt sick thinking about all those Parkland parents who said goodbye that morning, or didn’t, and never saw their child alive again.

When you send your child to school, you should never have to worry about them not coming home.

I’m not interested in debating about gun laws or the second amendment (though if pressed, I will say I believe it is more of a privilege than a “right”). If someone feels safer having a firearm in their home, or uses them for hunting – that is their choice and fine by me – so long as they are safely stored.

However, I resolutely and unequivocally believe civilians should NOT legally be able to purchase automatic weapons. Weapons of war. Nope.

There is a lot of talk about the upcoming school walk-outs for students, staff, and families. I understand and support the reasons behind these protests. Recently I heard someone say, “what’s the point?” And then, “it’s not going to accomplish anything.”

I don’t agree. Walking out for 17 minutes, or longer, depending on which protest you participate in, will not make immediate change, of course, but if done with a genuine and lasting intention, it represents something just as important.

Walking out means saying NO.

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“The Kids Are Alright” by Pia Guerra, from The Nib

Teens feel powerless in many aspects of their lives, but imagine how powerless they feel knowing their own schools are not necessarily safe. Walking out to prove a point, to take a stand, to show solidarity to their peers in Florida – and all across the country –IS accomplishing quite a lot.

But it can’t be all on them. The kids need our help.

We should be enraged that kids – amazing kids like Emma Gonzalez and David Hogg – have to be strong and inspiring when they are raw with grief. They should be able to cry and mourn without having to be activists, but they can’t, and they know it. Like them, I feel a sense of urgency to make change happen now.

But change only happens with action. If we want to keep our kids safe, and our teachers, and the general public, we have to vote out those who currently wield the power. Every single Republican (and Democrat, they are out there) who lines their pockets with NRA money, who chooses wealth and power over the lives of our children and teachers, simply must GO.

If you want to take action, but feel frozen or unsure about what to do, there are tangible ways to help. First, get off FB and get in the NRA’s face (advice I posted on FB, ha!) and consider joining your local Moms Demand Action group, as I recently did.

Fight back. Don’t let any of the lives lost in these 20 years since Columbine be in vain.

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Choosing Discomfort: Time to March

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Recently my husband complained about the weather. “I’m done with winter,” he said, glancing out our kitchen window at the muted gray sky. All the snow had melted leaving behind the messier side of the season.

I agreed. Winter without snow looks, and feels, especially dreary. But I know the monotony of these cold spare months will eventually turn into spring, and the contrast between the two will be a gift.

I’ve always felt this way about seasons, about life. How we need the light and the dark, grief and joy, to feel fully alive. If we want to taste all the flavors, we must drink out of every cup, even the less appetizing ones.

Choosing the cup of discomfort, for example, instead of ignoring it. This has been on the periphery of my mind for years, but it rose swiftly to the surface after my country’s recent presidential election result.

What a wake up call that was, to many people I know, in particular, white people. Getting more particular, white women. Even more so: Myself.

Women of color, people of color, were not surprised. There was a scathing and funny Saturday Night Live sketch about this “phenomenon.” A group of white liberal city dwellers (in a neighborhood that looked suspiciously like my old one in Brooklyn) choked on their glasses of wine watching the election results while their two black friends rolled their eyes and howled in laughter at their ignorance.

It’s uncomfortable being called out as a rube, even more so as a perpetrator, but that’s what you are when you stand by and do nothing. When you’re even a little surprised by the widespread virulent and rampant racism that has been around for decades, centuries, that people of color live with every single day.

A writing friend wrote a short and fiery post entitled, MLK Isn’t A Holiday. “It is a call to action,” she said. But more often than not, for white people especially, it’s a day where many Instagram and Facebook feeds are rife with hopeful images and love filled quotes, mine included. Then, nothing. Until next year, Dr. King.

I squirmed in recognition. I have been that person. I am that person in some ways, but I’m changing. It’s a daily practice. It takes effort, and often, it’s uncomfortable.

This Saturday I’ll be attending the Women’s March on Washington. I signed up in November, a week after the election. Early on there were rumblings of discontent. About leadership, about the proposed name (The Million Woman March, which had been an African American women’s protest in Philadelphia in 1997).

Some white women couldn’t understand why there was a controversy at all. Why they were being asked to “check their privilege” and let women of color lead the way (literally and figuratively).

But the women who sowed the seeds of this march knew why. As momentum gathered, it was clear that after an election where 53% of white women voted for Trump, they alone could absolutely not lead this march.

I was relieved when minority activists took the helm and the march was renamed. The Women’s March on Washington is a respectful nod to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s famous March on Washington in 1963, and came with a blessing from his daughter, Bernice King.

Racism within feminism has been a sticking point for decades. Transferring the bulk of leadership to minority activists was a chance for this march, and feminism, to go broader and deeper than the core concepts of equal pay and reproductive freedom. Those rights are vital, of course, but they are not the only ones that matter.

This quote from a recent Vogue article explores the layers of meaning behind the march:

“Where past waves of feminism, led principally by white women, have focused predominantly on a few familiar concerns—equal pay, reproductive rights—this movement, led by a majority of women of color, aspires to be truly intersectional. So though the Women’s March has partnered with organizations like Planned Parenthood and NARAL Pro-Choice America—and though second-wave feminist icon Gloria Steinem is now an honorary co-chair [along with Harry Belafonte] —the march’s purview is far more sweeping. Women are not a monolith, solely defined by gender; we are diverse, we represent half of this country, and any social justice movement—for the rights of immigrants, Muslims, African-Americans, the LGBTQ community, for law enforcement accountability, for gun control, for environmental justice—should count as a “women’s issue.”” 

Women’s rights are human rights, to quote Hillary Clinton, and on Saturday, January 21st 2017, the day after the presidential inauguration, women and men are coming together to raise their voices and their fists in protest.

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Can’t make it to Washington DC? Check out this incredible list of sister marches across the country – wait, let me amend this – across the globe.

https://www.womensmarch.com/sisters