my mom always said I had a stubborn streak a mile wide as a kid. and I did, absolutely. if I’d decided I wasn’t doing something, any punishment would fall like water, because I’d sit snugly in my stubbornness until it washed over.
she stopped saying it so often when I was old enough to defend myself, and this hasn’t always been a good quality- I certainly haven’t always been right to dig my heels in until they bled.
but I linger on this, as my country further crumbles, exposing its rotting insides. as it threatens my friends, acquaintances, total strangers- as it crushes us all under its weight, urging us to flee or submit, flee or submit, flee or submit.
i linger on it, as the bills get harder to pay, the joys get smaller and smaller, the injustices become uncountable and accountability for those who caused them is a far off daydream.
I linger, and I dig my heels in. we can be better than this. we already are.
there’s fascists in the street and in the workplace and the military and the White House. There’s genocide and police brutality and really, the two are married to each other. And still, there are good people. Still, there are things we can do. Still, there is hope.
I know I’m far from the only one whose stubbornness was an ever continuing thorn for anyone who had to tell them what to do when they were children.
So I guess I’m saying- The water will rise and fall, and our only job is making sure as many people as possible keep their heads above it until our feet are all on dry ground again.
There will be those who get the buckets, those who teach others how to swim, those who start looking for where the water is coming from in the first place and put a stop to it. Decide what you can do and then do it.
And then be stubborn. However that looks like for you, hold fast.
