It starts with awareness. And then awareness turns to anger. Until anger boils over into action.
This year has been dubbed by many “the worst year ever.” It is very safe to say that in many lands, in many languages, there will be a well-deserved “Fuck You 2016” at the stroke of midnight in a few short weeks. Those few short weeks will be overflowing with anxiety, depression, binge drinking, stress eating, and pill popping. And it won’t be because we are spending the time with family. This year has bulldozed its way into what could be the most defining year for us as a species. This is the year where we seem to be repeating the worst chapters of our history. Same old game, in new and more technologically driven ways.
The year I was born was one of those defining years. The parallels of 1964 and 2016 have not escaped me. Fire hoses, protests, white supremacists, voter suppression. How can one not look at side by side images and ask “when did we take that switchback on the road of progress and evolution?” We are right back at the last year in the Baby Boomer generation and the whiparound has been so brutal, it signals for me, a loss of something that I had always believed in my heart. That we will learn work with each others differences and build a better planet.
This is the year democracy landed on life support and the world as we have come to know it was dragged along with it, kicking and screaming.
I am beginning to feel as though I have walked into the prequel to every post-apocolyptic sci-fi movie I have ever seen. For the better part of my adulthood I have wondered why some people are so driven to bring about the end of civilization. Asking Why has made an abrupt turn toward asking When. What is the point? To be able to say, “the Bible was right. See? It’s the End Times.” Too bad these same people won’t be hitching a ride at the Rapture.
I, being born in this body, in this time, wonder if I am witnessing the end of humanity. And I wonder if, yet again, the timing is off for me to fully take part in the revolution, beyond being a mere observer. It’s difficult to discern if I was born too late, to early, or at just the precise right time. I am a rebel and a revolutionary by nature; the ridiculous notion that I needed to curb that part made me a quiet worker bee, pursuing the American Dream. That dream had died, gurgling its death rattle before too many of us had a chance to taste it. Unemployment gives a person lots of time to reflect and a new perspective.
I want to be deep in the fray, using whatever talents given me by virtue of the will of the Creator. I am not too old to lend those talents to the fight that lays ahead.
I proudly join the Resistance. I proudly throw my heart and my voice into the Revolution.
Because this is still America. And it starts with awareness.