I am weary of how some of us find it acceptable to insult or dismiss people with whom we disagree. 5178716203

I am weary of some of us posturing as experts when, really, we know very little.

I am weary of the way I dismiss things/ideas/people because they make me uncomfortable, because they challenge me spiritually, emotionally, socially.

I am weary of people with privilege being blind to that. Of white people not recognizing the relative ease in which we shop and apply for work. Of men not seeing that they can walk outside at night or hike in Turkey or drink a few beers at a party with less (but of course not no) fear than a woman may have. I am weary of the richer not recognizing that their complaints about the quality of the new sandals they bought ring blessing to  people who scavenge my shoes from a garbage dump. I am weary of this blindness in myself.

I am weary of us berating one another with labels like Marxist and feminist when what we really mean is not “you believe in the economic balancing of power” or “you believe in equality between the sexes” but instead mean is “you lazy fool who doesn’t value hard work” or “you man hater.”

I am weary of our decision to be blind to our privilege and yet, still, to act as if we have answers about how life SHOULD be lived for people’s whose lives we haven’t even tried to understand.

I am weary of the way we have forgotten that redemption is a gift unearned and grace a lavish overflow that pours life into us even when we pretend we have earned it all.

And yet, I take sustenance.

In the way a new friend hears my tiny pain and responds with grace and love.

In the way a person spoke witness into a phone and saved three women from imprisonment.

In the way a man speaks to the way gender violence is an issue that men, first and foremost, must address.

In the way Jamaica Kincaid calls out and rejects the labeling of her work as angry because she is a black woman.

In the way that voices long silenced by hands meant to maintain a status quo long decrepit, long oppressive are starting to be heard. In the way the rush of whispers is echoing.

In the hope – the everlasting hope – that change is possible.

And in the knowledge that all will – definitively – be well and right.

What are you weary of today? What gives you hope?