I am furious. And I am scared.
I am furious. And I am scared. I am a white woman outraged by the condition of our country today.
We've got a race problem, a class problem, and a love problem. I am filled with rage at the hate, cowardice, and abuse of power demonstrated by some of our nation's police and those blindly oppressing the truth of the ugliness of our condition.
While I don't have to worry about me or my 10 year-old son being direct victims of the oppressive systemic racism and classism I see in our society, we are all victims of the culture and systems that devalue the lives of our brothers and sisters in humanity. I do not want to stand silent. I do not want the reality I see today to be the reality my son lives in 10, 20, or 30 years from now.
I'm grateful that I am not alone in recognizing and wanting to eliminate the ongoing race and class crisis of our nation. I’m grateful for those taking action in Ferguson and around the country. I'm grateful for those who have shared the stories of their pain and suffering. I'm grateful for the openness, courage, and voices seeking and speaking truth. Standing in witness, I honor the true power that it takes to stand up in the face of the hatred and cowardly violence of the individuals and systems we all expect to protect us.
I often wonder whether I'm doing enough to fight for what I believe in. I wonder if I should protest, meditate, pray, write, create performance art, move away to a foreign land, rant, or perhaps attempt to do something I've never done before... But mostly, I wonder if I can sustain the faith I have developed in the potential of unconditional love turned into action.
Today, just as I began deeply questioning my belief in the power of love, I was moved to tears of connection by this series of images from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.
And so for now, I write, pray, rant, and love:
To Lesley McSpadden, Michael Brown, Sr., Louis Head, Desuirea Harris, and all of Mike Brown’s loved ones, may we grieve together deeply and connect to our primary and unconditional sources of love.
To all of us with our hands up, may we hold our centers and stand in love.
To all of us speaking out, seek truth and speak out of love.
To all of us following orders, connect with the compassion and love you have known and remember we will each hold the weight of our actions.
To all of us seeking justice, look for the truth and love beyond politics, beyond identity, beyond success.
To all of us bearing the guilt of wrongdoing, of violence in word or action, or of racist thought or action, may we seek forgiveness, be vulnerable, and honor the lives we have hurt.
To all of us wondering what to do now, let us break free from the silent majority, speak, connect, open up to others, ask questions, and tap into something greater.
To all of us regardless of who we are or where we stand, let's please find love. Let's love when it's easy. Love when it's hard. Love those we know and those we don't. Love those who challenge us and those who affirm us. Love our selves. Love the other.
Let us love.
(Photos by St. Louis Post-Dispatch; see full timeline of images from Ferguson online here.)