*below follows an unedited transcript of tonight’s journal entry. Very unedited, more than normal even, which is hopefully apparent by the uncharacteristic lack of punctuation or any sentence structure whatsoever. –e
How can I possibly put my feelings from this weekend and what happened in Charlottesville into words and the fact this means these people are everywhere which I knew but am lucky and privileged enough not to have to remember every day although maybe I am because I’m a woman and it’s exhausting remembering because then I have to think about and relive and re-internalize all the examples of patriarchy and misogamy I’ve experienced in my life and how do I even do anything when it seems like nothing is enough, when fighting anger and hate with anger and hate is logically not the answer but is the default response, but how can I feel anything but hatred and anger towards people who point their own anger and hate at suppressing other people, which I can see as misguided but they can only see as their reality, so how is theirs any different than my own anger and hate, well I hope to use mine for good rather than evil but doing nothing isn’t doing good but who am I and what can I do against people who I have a visceral reaction against when their view of the world is colored with such hate and entitlement how can I possible get through to them or anyone, so maybe I just need to get through to myself and people like me who are struggling with this newfound awareness and sense of struggle – not my own but my fellow humans – who want so much to fund the empathy that helps me with others I disagree with, but these aren’t people cutting in line or doing stupid things in traffic, these are people who want to run people over with their car, so how do I find empathy or a way to understand? Do I even want to?
Do I yearn for someone else to validate my feelings or do my processing for me, therefore scrolling through Facebook and Twitter to assure me that I’m normal but that’s not letting me look inward to know how I am feeling. I am angry. I am scared. I am disgusted. I am helpless. I am not hopeless but it seems far away. I search for a fix to make these feelings go a way because I don’t like feeling them and I try to sit with them but that’s also exhausting and could be quite debilitating so I try not to think about them but suppressing isn’t good, either. So I write and rant and ramble and curse. And run and connect with people and try to look for the heroes who teach me how to feeling the feelings without being overrun by them and to turn that hate and anger into something good, something bigger, something pure and true.
Words are pure and true. I immediately want to qualify that statement – something about the messenger. But the words are pure and true even if the messenger is not.
So I am a messenger. I have words.