A Hug Emoji is Not Enough!

Once again, I am up late, night owl that I am, and I have been running through all kinds of posts on social media, tonight mostly Instagram. As you can imagine, most people's feeds and stories are filled with posts about George Floyd, and the protests and riots that have resulted from him being murdered by a white policeman. I have waited a while to write about this, because I truthfully do not know what to say. Here's the sad thing. This is nothing new. I remember sitting in my apartment in September of 1992, 9 months pregnant with my first child, watching the riots being filmed and broadcast after the Rodney King verdict was released. I couldn't believe what I was seeing! I was born in 1963, so I lived through the civil rights movement, but I was really to young to realize what was going on around me. 1992 was really the first time I saw what was going on with my own two eyes. It was so scary to me. I watched film footage of two black men going up to the cab of an 18-wheeler, opening the door and pulling the white driver out and beating him with baseball bats. I was shocked. I remember thinking, "I'm glad that's not here." But you know what else I did?...NOTHING. That was the first real event involving race that I really remember. Fast forward to 2012, and the murder of Trayvon Martin. Oh, you'll be so proud of me. I posted on Facebook about his death. I changed my profile picture to his image. I even wrote a blog post about what I thought when the verdict came down. You know what else I did?....NOTHING. Then I watched the video posted of the policeman who shot and murdered Philando Castile in 2017 (ironically also in Minnesota). This time I was very distraught. I truthfully could not believe what I was seeing. I wrote a blog post then, too. Don't worry. This one even had a tone of anger and outrage! I try to look at things logically. I try to see both sides. There is nothing worse than blabbing on and on when you don't know what you're talking about. In my opinion, you do more harm to the cause than good. This was the first time, and I am ashamed to say it, that I really saw what I didn't want to see. I didn't want to believe that this was happening. So you know what else I did?....NOTHING. I have scrolled through Facebook, and I have seen posts from my black friends and colleagues about how much they are hurting, and I started to hover, and use the "Hug Emoji, " and then I thought to myself, "Are you kidding?!? A hug Emoji? It's so trite! It's meaningless. I cannot even pretend to know what is going through any black person's mind right now, and trying to pretend that I know or can feel what they are going through is just BULLSHIT! It's not about me! I'm white. And this has nothing to do with guilt. I'm not apologizing for being white. I can't change the color of my skin anymore than a black person can change the color of theirs. What I am saying, and please hear me. I have no idea what it is like to be you. I would not even begin to say I can relate. I cannot. But I know that this cannot go on, and it needs to stop, and I want to be part of the solution, not the problem. Something has got to change. Do you know why there is a hashtag and phrasing everywhere that says black lives matter? It's because over and over this nation has proven that they don't. Sorry, plain and simple. I don't have to say white lives matter because I have never been shown that they don't. When I began this post, I looked up whether the officer who murdered Philando Castile was convicted. He wasn't. I cannot believe that any jury member who watched that video could have done anything else but convict. When I was raising my girls, and they would do something to hurt my feelings, or each others, they would always say they were sorry. My response to them was. Don't tell me you're sorry. Words mean nothing. Show me you're sorry. Change your behavior so I know that your words mean something. We can hug emoji, and hashtag all we want. We can post and say how outraged we are, and it means NOTHING! unless we change the way we act. No Justice! No Peace! Know justice! Know peace!

The Beast is FREE

It is a little after 10 on Sunday night, and I have just come in from standing outside holding a tiny tea light candle (because it was the only thing I could find) as a vigil for Heather Heyer, a girl I never met and whose family I do not know. In fact I know nothing about her except this: Yesterday she was mowed down by a car that purposely drove into a group of people gathered to oppose the "Alt-Right" (TRANSLATION: WHITE SUPREMACISTS, NAZIS and the KKK) at their "Unite the Right" (which I would like to refer to it as "Unite the Wrong") rally in Charlottesville on Saturday morning. Supposedly these groups were there to protest the removal of a statue of Robert E. Lee from a park in Charlottesville. I say supposedly because if all they were there to do was protest, make their voice and opinions heard, why did they show up in riot gear with clubs and guns and other weapons?
Charlottesville is an hour's drive from me. I have been there many times. It's a quiet little college town. Friday night it turned into something else. It was as if some giant clock had been turned back to 1950. Hundreds of white men carrying tiki torches - don't even get me started on the irony of that - flooded UVA's campus standing in front of the Rotunda chanting "You will not replace us" "Jews will not replace us." (Side note: What do Jews have to do with anything about the Robert E. Lee statue?), but I digress. Here's the thing. They weren't there about the statue at all. That was the excuse for white men from all over the country to come to this little town to intimidate people with fear and hate, because that's what their groups are about. They hate people who aren't white. I did not know this until today as I just read an article from UVA's president's perspective about Friday night, but the Tiki Torch Terrorists were violent on Friday night when they gathered in front of the Rotunda when NO ONE was there to oppose them. They were primed and ready to cause some trouble on Saturday. They never made it to where the rally was to be held because it was broken up before then, and yes, both sides did engage, but no one in that group of people walking away from the rally was doing anything to provoke anyone. They were trying to walk through a very narrow street to get back to their cars or their homes, much like they would be if they were leaving a huge concert, and this car speeds through and purposely hits them. Heather Heyer was in that group, and she died Saturday. SHE DIED!!! Correction: She was murdered.
When I woke up Saturday, image after image popped up as I scrolled through my newsfeed on Facebook, and I thought, this can't get worse. What is going on? A Nazi flag was being carried, proudly, mind you,  through the streets of a little town in my state, and before the day was over an innocent girl had been murdered. What the hell people? The beast has been let out of its cage, and I have no idea how we are going to get him back in again and at what cost?

A Storyteller's Job

Last night I had the pleasure, if you can call it that, of seeing "The Pillowman" by Martin McDonagh, produced by Cadence Theater Company. Occasionally, one has the great fortune of seeing a play that moves them, or provokes thought, or even changes them in some way. This play does all 3. I did not know what to expect. I had never read the play, but I knew from Facebook status updates that it was dark. The play was in a small stadium seat theater, very intimate, which I believe aided in drawing the audience member into the playwright's world totally. Most of the play takes place in two interrogation rooms. Last night's set was dark and dank as you would expect rooms like this to be. A writer, Katurian, is being questioned by two detectives about the macabre nature of his short stories, most of which end with the harming, and even murder of children. From Katurian's reactions to the interrogation, he obviously has no idea why he has been brought to the station. He has no inkling of any crime that the detectives obviously think he has committed. As Katurian discovers just why he has been brought in for questioning and how soon his world will become as dark as his stories, so do we. The first act was almost 2 hours long, and I was riveted every second. The detectives, played by David Bridgewater and Tony Foley, had the good cop/bad cop routine down perfectly. I have only seen Tony in one other role as Paul in "Barefoot in the Park". Last night's turn was quite a departure, and it was nice to see him in such a serious role. I have seen David Bridgewater in many things. I have always had great respect and admiration for him as an actor. What I love about David is that he is so natural on stage, and I believe every word he is saying as if I have been invited to watch his life. This role was no exception. I had never seen Jonathan Conyers, the actor who played Katurian, in anything before. All I can say is after seeing last night's performance, I hope I get to see him in many more roles! There were some small roles to portray some of Katurian's stories for a mother, father, and children, and I was especially impressed by the performance of the younger members of the cast with the way they handled such heavy material. But the performance that really blew me away was David Janeski's portrayal of Michal, Katurian's older, but brain-damaged childlike brother. I was mesmerized by David's consistency and commitment to the role emotionally and physically. What made this performance so wonderful was the fact that even though the words that were coming out the character's mouth would have made most people almost ill, I found myself feeling great empathy for him, and at times wanting to rush the stage and cradle him in my arms and say, "Everything's going to be all right!" The chemistry between David Janeski and Jonathan Conyers is sweet and very real. I wiped away tears more than once. The play is masterfully directed by Steve Perigard using the small stage to every advantage, sometimes bringing the actors to the very edge and almost into the audience to draw us in. I left the theater almost numb with what I had just seen, but also, strangely uplifted at the way all was wrapped up. I felt as if I watched an evolution of all these characters over the course of the last 3 hours, and as the characters gained insight into themselves and their lives, so I did as well into my own life, and isn't that the storyteller's job? Only two more performances. Go see it! You will not be disappointed!