Escaping

“To get the fixin’ that you’re itching for” – Isn’t that what we all crave? To find something on a dark day that lights up our life. Some turn to drugs others to thrill seeking or you name it. We all need that vice that grounds us in life, makes us feel alive, but at what cost do we chase this vice? Like a lion that abandons its pride just to chase prey believing that this is what’s best for all, what is necessary. The only difference between the lion and me is that I am human and therefore I am inherently selfish. Some days I feel the need to chase some dream to the point that I find myself alone on a deserted street unsure of how or why I got there. Escapism is a phenomenon that only humans know, placing so much at risk for little reward... it is hard to imagine any other way of living. To live is to gain and to lose, to chase something only to feel it slip out of your fingers at the last second with no warning. But if you get lucky enough to catch it, is this accomplishment of obtaining the unobtainable enough? Abandoning everything just to lay back and soak up every last bit of this moment. Living in a moment with “no need for community.” This is idealized life, but not realistic to live out from day to day. We need community for support in the moments when we can no longer be resilient. Because this high that we chase, a high on life, or a high on a moment, is not enough to sustain us. We will just fall back down to Earth time after time realizing that we have nothing to show for it. Alone, the faintest sound of what is left behind in the distance calling us, but not to come back, to tighten our grasp on what is real, what is here and now.

-BR

Re: Napoleon

I don’t know how Napoleon differentiates between rights and interests. Don’t they overlap because it’s in a person’s interest to protect their rights? That said protecting your rights often involves risk, and while protecting your interests sometimes does, it seems that fighting for your interests will see some sort of reward or profit, while fighting for your rights is fighting for principles and dignity, so while you will still have your pride you may not have much else.

The inverse of this statement is sometimes true when applied to other people, since we sometimes fight for the rights of others but seldom do what is in their best interest when it conflicts with our own.

Napoleon’s statement depicts humans as selfish, which I don’t disagree with, but it’s an interesting type of selfishness. Could it be said that fighting for your rights is also selfish, because it is often in the interest of oneself?

I don’t have much to say in response to this. I don’t find it that interesting of a dichotomy because of its lack of specificity. It sounds like something someone says just to sound thoughtful and profound. I wonder if when this was said he knew it would be remembered. It certainly sounds like that’s what he wanted.

This type of cynicism is bothersome to me, but I’m not sure why because I’m cynical about most things. I’m even cynical about his motivation when saying this, since I just accused him of saying it just to say something that sounded a certain way.

I wonder if Napoleon took issue with this statement of fact, if he would rather live in a world of men who fought harder for their rights, or if he liked things this way because it makes people easier to herd. You can pander to their interests more easily than you can uphold their rights.

MT

Memories

We forget a lot of things and for many different reasons. I don't mean the little things like phone numbers and passwords. Big things. Entire days and nights that are nothing more than a fuzzy blur in our minds, and more often than not, these are the moments, the minutes, the hours we want to remember the most. The tighter we try to hold on, the faster is slips away. An amazing performance, a day with family. A first kiss. The moments slip away from time and memory like water in cupped hands, like a dream drifts away from you in the morning. These are the moments we don't want to forget, can't forget. We need them to drown out the endless monotony of our lives, like a morphine drip to keep us on our feet, pushing forward, charging head on through life, day after day. And yet we forget. Time after time we forget the details we need the most, like the smell of the campfire against the rain while backpacking that one time, or the way your dog runs through tall grass, ears flopping behind him. You can imagine it, picture it, construct it, but it's destined to be forever out of focus.

-EB

Selfish

I've always wanted children. No, that's not true. I've always wanted a child, singular. And not a child, but a daughter. I envision my future so vividly with a girl with pigtails on a swing set waving to me and whispering to her playground friends, "That's my mom." I never see this future with a partner by my side. My boyfriend and I talk about the idea of children all the time - not that we're that serious - but not once have I been able to picture him or anyone else as a co-parent. Though when I think about what I want - a little girl who is mine and only mine - I know that it is selfish. Above all, I want to be a good mother. I don't think I'd be a good mother to a son, and that's why I don't want one. How the hell am I supposed to potty train him alone? But raising a daughter within heteronormative conventions wouldn't make me a good mom either. I've been fortunate enough to be surrounded by people of all sexes, genders, sexualities, and identities. I love these people like my brothers and sisters, so I know my queer daughter will have that same love from me. But I would be so scared to guide her through a world that is not kind to the LGBTQI family. How can I comfort her when she comes home from school, crying because she is actually he, and he can't use the bathroom he wants? What can I, a cis, straight, kind of white woman of privilege who has never even by a margin experienced that level of hate and discrimination, say to my son to keep his hopes up? That terrifies me, that the disparity in our identities and experiences would push him away from me. I just want to be a good mother.

-jcn

Selma and MLK

A few weeks ago as the new President was being inaugurated, I was looking through old pictures from the Obama administration. The one that struck me the most was the photo of him, and thousands of others walking arm and arm across the Edmund Pettus Bridge. This same bridge was a destination for my father and me as we drove from North Carolina to Texas to make the move for his new job. There is nothing quite like standing where people marched and fought for their freedom. A place haunted by violence that was thrown on those who were only saying

“Hi, we are humans just like you.” When I looked at the picture of Barack Obama marching with his family and countless others, I mourned what our country was losing: a man who has always had to prove himself, not the new man coming in who was given anything and everything. The resilience that is gained through fighting for a cause is greater than I have ever truly known, you fight and march and sing and cry just hoping someone with authority will hear these cries and come to your aid. But this march on this day in this picture was filled with abundant hope that could not be contained by anything, not even the road they were on. As they marched on and sang songs to elevate their message nothing could stop them from taking one step after another, inching their way closer to the future that they so craved. A desire that ran from their heart down to their feet, these men and women know fury, and they know they have been scorned. Those who could lash out with violence but instead choose to walk in peace, in solidarity. Alone, they are mere mortals but together they are immortalized but what they stand for. Something that will outlive even the youngest of the marchers. That is true sacrifice, they leave a legacy. “Planting a seed in a garden they may never get to see.” Hats off to them and abundant praise for what they did for you and me, creating a future that is better than what they left behind as they walked and walked inching their way away from the oppression that has plagued so many of their lives.