Thursday, September 27, 2018

The Quality of Luck

I have spent the better part of the year feeling down in the dumps, mopey, Eeyore-esque. I'm fortunate in that I can feel this, and that I can wallow in this and still go about the must-doings.

The last several weeks have had "lucky" come to mind a lot for me. We are all being affected, somehow, by what is happening in our world. Our world, right now, is fractured by a virulent and overwhelming argument about men and women and power and bravery and fear and justice. I am sure there are other factors, but those are the ones that roll off my tongue.

This is how I know I am lucky. I have, as a female in the world, encountered abuse, sometimes from co-workers, sometimes from friends, but I have never been truly assaulted, and for that, I am lucky. LUCKY.

Any person's safety and well-being, both physical and mental, should never, ever come down to that.

When words intended to subdue, or objectify, or humiliate me were casually or deliberately thrown my way, my immediate reaction, each time, was to throw them right back. How dare you say that to me? How dare you ask that? What is wrong with you that treating another person like that is all right?  Where is your humanity? And when it happened, usually in a co-ed and public place, everything quieted down, for a while afterwards. I cannot say that it never happened again. I can only hope that it didn't.

I never feared because I had my voice. And that makes me lucky, because there are so many out there whose voices aren't giving them the courage and the confidence and the righteousness to raise up their humanity and hold it above someone who would subvert it.

I may start coming out of the funk, and I may not. And during this funk, my voice has been a little lost. Today, Dr. Ford used her voice, despite terror and horror of memories no one should ever have. Today, I start to use mine again.