Yesterday, A Practical Wedding ran an essay I wrote and submitted. Like a crazy person, I also listed this blog in my bio. Y’all, OMG. I have no other words because people actually read and were touched by something I wrote. And that is truly, really awesome because I have been writing for some time now and I have not been very brave and talked about it or shown my writing to people and part of that is being scared of vulnerability (having all my feelings out there is not as easy as it seems!), but a bigger part of that is a touch of embarrassment.
If you have met me in real life, well, I honestly have no idea what you
think. I am going to guess you have recognized my passion, maybe you have been
the unfortunate recipient of my fiery indictments, perhaps you have looked at
me and thought to yourself, “Why is that woman yelling?” And it is not because I
am an angry person, but because I am passionate about things. I freaking care a
whole lot and I love that part of myself and I do not want to let it go. I like
to debate with people and argue with them and bring up points and counter points
and I do not shy away from tough conversations, like those about race and class
and gender.
Yet for all my wanting very hard to be “hardcore” and above
touchy-feely feelings, to be that cool person who just puts the truth out there
and drops the mic, I am hopelessly un-cool. It is not an easy job, but at the end
of the day, I am a touchy-feely, empathizing, “call me when you’re feeling sad,”
social worker. I want to have that aloof, “I could take him or leave him,” cool
approach to my marriage, but I am hopelessly, ridiculously in love with my
husband in a decidedly un-cool way. And I would love to sit down and write an
original, scathing indictment of the way our society systematically denies
people of color, poor people, LGBT people their rights, but when I sit down to
write, out comes feelings and empathy and vulnerability and body acceptance.
I wish the first thing someone had ever looked at and said was worth
publishing on their website or in their magazine or anywhere really was
something cooler than an essay about how much I love my husband, our wedding
day, and my mommy dying, but it is not. So, I was a little bit embarrassed.
But I have been doing some thinking in the last 24 hours and I have
come to a certain realization: these two halves of me are not on opposite ends
of some personality, badass spectrum. We do not have the touchy-feely and the staunch
battling each other out for the soul of humanity. I am not Black or poor or a
lesbian or transgender, so why do I care so passionately about the fates of
people who are? That right there is empathy. People marching in Ferguson,
Missouri because one of their neighbors, an un-armed teenager on his way to
college was shot dead in the street, reminding everyone of the immense pain
that comes from the lack of safety for Black children (and adults) in this
country? That right there is a hugely admirable amount of vulnerability. Here
in Kentucky, people talking to their city councils and pleading for ordinances
that would ensure gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people cannot be fired
from their jobs or kicked out of their homes for being who they are and loving
who they love? That is taking the conversation to an uncomfortable level of
honesty and speaking the truth to bring a whole community to a higher level of
understanding and unity. This kind of work (dismantling the structures of
oppression within our society) is heart work. It IS vulnerability and empathy
and truthfulness.
So what does that mean for me personally? Well, for starters, it means
I am not going to be embarrassed my first published piece of writing was not a
scathing indictment of society. Mostly because it is not what I want to write,
but also because I do not think that is the part I want to play in this work.
I think that people of color and poor people and LGBT people have
demonstrated an incredible amount of vulnerability. People have spoken up and
said, “This is what it’s like for me living here in this country.” Many people
with privilege (white people, straight people, people who have enough money) have
listened. Still many more of those same people have heard that vulnerability, doubled
down, and refused to listen. Or worse, viewed that vulnerability as their own
oppression, which is just ridiculous.
What I am trying to say is these kinds of conversations require all
those touchy-feely feelings. These are not non-essential things. These are
vital traits and tools of interaction. They get at the very ways in which we
understand one another. So, I vow to stop pretending like they do not matter
and to stop being embarrassed when I re-read my blog posts and feel like a
motivational poster because I have decided it is not un-cool to be genuine, to
authentically listen and express one’s self, to be vulnerable and make yourself
available for another person to be safely vulnerable. And if it is un-cool, oh
well. I have gone this far being un-cool, maybe it is time I accept it.
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