Nothing brings out the ugly in people quite like Black Friday.
You might think I’m referring to the people tackling each other over IMAX-sized flat-screens and Frozen II ride-ons. I’m not. I mean yes, some truly reprehensible stuff does go down on Black Friday. But that’s not the ugly I have in mind.
I had a rather large glass of wine last night while I was watching the election results roll in, and I fell asleep before the finale. I was awakened at 2:16 am by a text from my eldest daughter: “I don’t know if you’re up and saw the results of the election. Be careful going on social media tomorrow.” My youngest also texted me: “Why is he allowed to be the president, mom? I’m so scared.”
“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” – Dietrich Bonhoeffer
“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.
“Sometimes, quiet is violent.” – twenty one pilots
So, here’s the thing: A few weeks ago, a Black friend of mine called me an ally. I’ve come to understand that’s an earned title, and I intend to keep it—which means I need to say some things. As shaky as my hands are… as nervous as my belly is… as swirly as my head is… I need to say some things.
A few Sundays ago, my parents’ pastor offered me her pulpit. I hadn’t preached for more than a year, and because she said I could teach about “anything,” I leapt at the opportunity.
Hi. It’s Kelley. It’s been more than two months since my last confession post.
The last few weeks, I’ve been wholly self-absorbed. My youngest squirrel graduated from high school. We sold one house and bought another (much smaller) one. We discovered none of our furniture would fit in the new place, so we spent hours shopping for a bunch of new stuff (which is not nearly as fun as it sounds) (first-world problems).
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I brag about my kids on Facebook.
Over the past several weeks, I’ve posted many, many times about my high school senior, Bekah. Yesterday, in my ongoing attempt to dispel my kids’ assertion that I have a favorite child, I posted about my college sophomore, Emily. I mentioned how smart she is. I mentioned how much she’s learning and, consequently, teaching me. I mentioned that she’s a queer woman.
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I’ve been arguing with myself all evening about writing this post. I’m always, always, always afraid of saying something stupid/offensive/ignorant, particularly when it comes to issues of social justice. But then I decided that if we don’t talk about stuff, nothing’s going to get better. So, here I am: Talking.
Note: A friend of a friend of a friend wrote this post on Facebook and it made its way to me. I reached out to the author, Dr. Timothy Huffman, and he graciously agreed to allow me to share it as a guest post here. Just so there’s no confusion: This is neither my experience nor my words; they’re Dr. Huffman’s. And they wrecked me in all the best ways.
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It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m driving on Thurman Ave, on my way home from FedEx making copies. As I drive north, the traffic is sorta strange. Cars pulled off at weird angles or creeping very slowly. As I drive on, I see why.
There is a man standing naked in the middle of the street.
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I might’ve talked about this before. If I have, I apologize.
Actually, you know what? I take that back. I’m not at all sorry. Somehow, this conversation seems to be dying, and that’s just not okay.
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I learned a new word this morning.
pedant: a person who annoys other people by correcting small errors and giving too much attention to minor details
Oh.
You mean, my openly hostile response to the disappearance of the Oxford comma isn’t charming? My habit of editing billboards aloud on road trips isn’t adorable? My propensity to rearrange sentences beyond all reason to avoid ending them with a preposition isn’t brave and pure?