No Words…
The Bible says that faith is “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). Every day, I am thankful for my relationship with God, who I cannot see, but can feel His presence minute by minute and hour by hour of every day. Praise Him! I am especially grateful today, because He is able. His hand is unchanging. He is the one constant in my life, unfailing, always there. On Him, I can rely. Which, at this point, is not only what I believe He wants, but also where I need to be.
The events that led to the January 6th insurrection, as well as the fallout, thus far, has shown that accountability is something to be desired and not attained by those who caused so much devastation and destruction. For me, what happened on 1/6 was something I saw coming since DJT came down those escalators to announce his candidacy for President. I know that I was not the only person who sounded the alarm that this man was NOT the one. He only saw the office as a prize to win and not a job to perform. He already had a history of grift and was a bad showman. But, people wanted to be entertained. Hell, he wasn’t even good at that!
When he became President, I joined and/or contributed to many social action groups; I spoke up about any injustice I saw; I called and wrote my Congressman and Senators; I blogged; all so that we would avoid January 6th. When it happened, I wasn’t surprised. I was angry and disappointed. Because, how many people had to say or write about what he was capable of? How many times did people have to tell us we were headed to this point, one where thousands of people would show up to the Capitol and try to kill our elected officials? Seeing my husband’s face when he turned to me and said, “Look how they are tearing up my hometown!” just put me at a loss for words. He was hurt. I am hurt.
I read Danielle Moody’s piece on Zora, referencing DJT’s enablers (notably the GOP) as abusers, and I can’t stop thinking about how accurate that terminology is. What concerns me, though, is that most people, me included, advise people to leave their abusers. That if you don’t have the medical or educational background that is required to help reform abusers, you need to leave that situation. But, where do this country’s victims go, especially those of color, African-Americans, in particular? Where do we go?
People of African descent have been in the Americas for more than 400 years as enslaved people. We have built nations here. We have fought wars for these nations. We have created music, art, education, medicine, architecture, etc. We have roots here. All the while, our abusers have tortured our ancestors, torn families apart, lynched, etc. The atrocities are too many to name, and yet, we are told that somehow the abuse we receive is our own fault. I literally can’t. More than that, I actually won’t… will not cosign on my people giving one more ounce of blood, not another tear, not another son or daughter shot in the street like an animal, not one more hashtag, not one more offering. The one thing I can depend on is the evidence seen, actions demonstrated by too many people of these United States: that my life doesn’t matter and for the first time in my life, I am afraid for my safety.
Is this my cry for help? Maybe. When I talked to a close family member about how I was feeling, I was told that I could do this, I can hold on. But, why do I have to? Why should I utter one more word that won’t change people’s minds about the hate that is upon us. This is indeed a spiritual battle, because the line that has been drawn is clear. You’re either on the side of DJT or you’re not. Because I won’t go to his side, I deserve death? Wow. And, when I say that I don’t understand why my hair is not grayer than I think it should be by now, why tell me that I can take it? I literally feel like I’m going crazy. I feel trapped. I can feel the weight I have gained since the lockdown, and it feels like I’m wearing a fat suit. I physically can’t take it!
Where do we go? We have invested SO VERY MUCH into this land, and they won’t give reparations. They won’t at least offer DNA testing to say where our ancestors came from so that we, too, can claim a piece of the Motherland. We’ve been portrayed as so vile and violent that if we wanted to leave and go anywhere else, we’d be looked at with great suspicion. Hell, we don’t want what belongs to anyone here, WE WANT OUR OWN. Our own safety, liberty, land, jobs, opportunities, without someone saying that we don’t deserve it, especially when they know damned well we do!
When that same family member expressed that it’s better to stay with the devil you know than the one you don’t, I told her that the devil I know wants me dead. I have given so much energy, time, thoughts, words, screaming, utterings, etc. about how bad things could get, that when it happened, there was nothing left. I don’t even know how I’ve been able to write this much. I have family, friends, and coworkers that I cannot deal with, because they have fallen into the pit of disinformation. They send me links to videos and sermons of DJT being the “chosen one”…. GTFOOHWTBS. Videos of alien sperm and Democratic members of Congress being pedophiles. Of fake news. Of fake climate change. Of fake COVID-19 cases and death counts. Of real fear for a fake takeover. I can’t reach those people. I’ve had to leave people I love to walk their path and I walk mine, and I am so sad about that.
My Father God is a patient and awesome God. He is letting me mourn. He has confirmed that I am not crazy, but I am in mourning and that it is okay to be in this space. He has acknowledged that I am hurting, that I deserve time to heal, and that I can be honest in my pain. I heard a quote earlier tonight (and I’m paraphrasing) about being silent versus losing one’s voice. The quote is apt. I feel like my voice for fighting is gone. I know that I was screaming into the void for five plus years to stop January 6 from happening. Now that it has happened, AND that the perpetrators were permitted to walk away from the scene of the crime… (Lord, that hurt bad!), I just feel broken. It hurt to finally accept that the rot in our systems is by design. I mean… What is there to say? Lies were permitted to spread. The wound of racism was never permitted to heal. It was and is true that when good men do nothing evil grows. Look at what is happening to our democracy. It is on it’s last legs. The talk of Republicans suddenly trying to distance themselves from white supremacy when for decades there has been zero effort to include POC in their spaces is laughable. They were who we thought they were, who they’ve always been.
Over the years I’ve heard people say that God doesn’t say anything. But, does He really have to? We know right from wrong, and yet out of 16 candidates, they selected the most inept, uneducated, inconsiderate, unfeeling, disloyal, selfish, soulless man and let him ascend to the nation’s most powerful office. What do you say to that? I don’t have faith in man. Not anymore. Evidence seen is the history of violence in this country and the system that is set up to do nothing about it. Insanity is to do the same thing over and over again, and expect a different result. I have seen my people give and give and give again, and I continue to see evil people kill them for their efforts time and time again. I will not participate in this insanity anymore. My faith is in my God. If he leads me to speak again to help my people, then trust and believe as His vessel, I will speak the words He gives to me to share with His children. But, me? I have no more words.
