Photo by Aliyah Jamous via Unsplash
F R E E
And cry some more
So much pain to purge
Before I can begin to feel joy...
But it will come
As sure as a rising sun
Got to go through, though
Photo by Lou Batier via Unsplash
For the record, I am not ok. I have survived teaching in 2020 and am on holiday break. I should feel elated. I should feel relieved. I feel neither. I am slowly beginning to process all that I have endured and am still enduring.
Sometimes I just need more than to be believed.
I shouldn't have to explain to you what just happened from my perspective. If you are my friend, you should already know. If you are my friend, it should have hurt you as much as it did me. Are we still here? Are we still not really friends?
I need more than an apology.
Why was your apology private? Do you realize how often well-meaning people apologize to me? In private? What do you fear in making it public? How do I believe you are sincere when it isn't?
More than a vow to step up next time.
Next time. Again, I must wait for the next time. Will you even recognize the next time?
Now that you know, will you do anything to address the harm? What is your plan for changing the system?
I need you in solidarity from jump.
We have been here before. We have had this same discussion before. You can not claim ignorance. Perhaps it is my turn to claim lack of will.
You will need to prepare yourself when you enter the arena with me. Your privilege prevents you from needing to prepare. Your lack of preparation is killing me with every instance, every interaction. I am left hanging on a limb alone, absorbing the blows while you watch.
So there it is. I have already told you I am not ok. Now what? What will you do? You know what I want.
Will you come through this time?