I’m making all o’ y’all a promise right now. When I see a stranger on the receiving end of hatefulness, I’m going to find something in that person that readily reminds me of someone I LOVE—one who stirs feelings in me I cannot repress, hide, or reason away. Victims and their situations must be made tangible, familiar, valuable, deserving of my care and protection should the need arise.
When I see someone aggrieved because of the color of their skin, I will conjure Ms. Arnetta, the memories of afternoons spent with her in the costume shop at Birmingham Children’s Theater, sharing a snack, listening to tales of her grandbabies, the latest fabulous frock she’d created and for whom it was designed, all of which she could show me in the accordion of picture pages in her pocketbook.
At the first sign of homoassholery (ain't no fear in it, just ignorance and mean-spiritedness) you can bet the memory of my cousin Brian will haunt my heart: the soft-spoken gym boss, prodigious pianist, and all-around awesome human—a life ended too soon by violence and hate. I looked up to that man so much, both in his strengths and gifts, as well as his ability to overcome his weaknesses. His senseless death still stokes the fire of anger and incredulity, and the hollow of loss, in my bones.
And when I encounter a situation where a woman is given anything less than her well-due respect, I’m gonna try to put my sweet momma in her shoes. And may the good Lord HELP you if you trespass against Donnie Sue Bullard while *I’M* around. You better relinquish your soul to heaven, because the rest of it belongs to ME.
It is not enough to shake my head, stank my face, cross my arms, clear my throat, change seats, complain to bystanders. It is insufficient to do no more than pray that the mistreatment of our brothers and sisters—religiously and otherwise—stops. I have a bad habit of reasoning why I shouldn’t make waves, how keeping my peace would be a better option than standing up and speaking out. But if I want things to be different—and I do, especially from what we’ve seen in recent events—in these types of situations, I must demand the change I want to see in the world.
Y’all know I love words and try to keep a few pretty fancy ones at my disposal. I’m hoping they will be my weapons in this fray. But if they’re not, well, the time is nearly upon us to shed some knuckle blood. Discussion will always be my first resort, but make no mistake, friends: it will not be my last.
Do something for someone who reminds you of someone you love TODAY. I’d do it for you. And I promise to do it more often.
Love y’all.