I haven’t been able to sit down for four days. I have this nervous energy buzzing in my veins. I’ll try to relax and watch TV; within 5 minutes, I’m up again. Washing some dishes, checking on the kids, cleaning out the junk drawer. In my mind, I’m planning to sit and crochet. I pick up my yarn and hook and I can stick with it for about 8 minutes before I’m itching to get out of the house.
This weekend, Jack and I did SO MANY lovely things. We went out to dinner. We did some furniture shopping. We spent a morning in Coolidge Corner, shopping and walking and chatting and eating. We visited friends. We went to church and facilitated a really important meeting about a really important mission. We cooked and cleaned and did the meal planning and paid the bills. He watched a football game, but I couldn’t make myself sit. I did some lesson planning. And even then, as it was getting dark outside, I called him upstairs to chat with me as I was changing the sheets. “I need to get out of the house. I have this itchy, spinny feeling, and I just cannot sit right now.” We went to the grocery store, instead. At 5pm. Who are we? Groceries are for 7am. About that, I am sure.
So now it is nearly 7am, and I don’t have any groceries to buy. I have already sent three emails organizing a fundraiser. I have put in a load of laundry and made the bed and fed the dogs and had my first cup of coffee. I have removed Facebook from my phone because I think scrolling might be chipping away at my sanity.
And the itchy feeling won’t go away. It feels like my soul knows that something NEEDS TO BE DONE and nobody has informed my poor, sweet soul that no amount of folding laundry is going to fix this.
*********
Several years ago, I first mentioned the idea of a drop in center for LGBTQIA+ teens to my then-pastor. She thought it was a great idea. Then COVID hit.
I mentioned it again when our new pastor started. She loved the idea. And then she got sick.
I brought it up again at a church meeting in the Spring. People seemed open to the idea and suggested I explore it further.
I did. I connected with a local agency. We met. We chatted. We formed a partnership. We talked to other community members. There was a lot of enthusiasm.
And yesterday, we had a church meeting. The support was overwhelming. And the pushback was frustrating.
To be honest, nobody has outright said they don’t support the idea. We are, after all, an Open and Affirming church. Obviously.
But I feel sad that we’re getting bogged down in details. Permission slips. Insurance. Waivers. If I dig deep enough, I can appreciate that there are people who are looking out for our congregation. But inside, my heart is wailing, “Who is looking out for these KIDS?”
*****
A family with a trans teen in Florida travels to Massachusetts every six months to see a doctor who can legally prescribe puberty blockers and hormones.
A trans adult has a dream college in a deeply red state. He won’t go there for fear of violence.
A young adult just gleefully changed the gender marker on their birth certificate to ‘x.’ The family lawyer sadly advised them to change it back because it makes them a target if laws change.
Trans people across the country are stockpiling their hormone medication, because there is a very real chance that it will become unavailable or unaffordable with legislative changes.
Surveys tell us that 41% of LGBTQ+ young people seriously considered attempting suicide in the past year, including roughly half of transgender and nonbinary youth.
******
Is it something about the human condition that draws us to hatefulness? Do we need to have a target or a common enemy in order to feel like we’re part of something? Does there have to be an other for us to be in community? The group keeps changing. Black and brown people. Jewish people. Gay and Lesbian people. Refugees.
And as it becomes socially unacceptable to be hateful toward one group, do we just arbitrarily choose another? We look around at who seems most different, and we put a target on their backs?
My deepest condolences go out to the trans community. You are officially the new target. Well… you and refugees.
*****
Jack voted for Trump the first time. Some of our worst fights were about that election. I was focused on abortion. He rolled his eyes at me. “They’re never going to reverse Roe v. Wade,” he confidently proclaimed.
His world shook when it happened. He kept apologizing. “I really never imagined that we would vote to go backwards.”
He won’t vote again for someone who doesn’t support a woman’s right to choose. I’m so glad to be married to a man who can change his mind.
*****
I woke my son up with tears in my eyes on November 6th. “I kinda figured,” he replied, with sadness and resolve.
*****
“Our country is cooked,” mumbled a quiet, shy, hardworking 8th grader, as he walked into homeroom. He only had the nerve to say it because our vocal Trump supporter was absent.
*****
“It was a hard day, mom.” His technical high school is full of Trump supporters. He’s been hesitant to go against the crowd. “In History Class, I said I was rooting for Kamala. I kept getting side-eye from the football team, until the teacher said, ‘Me, too.’ That helped a little, but I don’t know if those guys are still my friends.”
*****
My tears were ridiculous to my husband. He thought I was overreacting. “It’s just politics. It’s not going to affect our day to day life. The only place politics have ever hurt me is in my wallet.”
And there it is. That’s the whole damned explanation, right there. I looked at him with sadness. “You understand why that is, don’t you?” He paused, but didn’t offer a response. “It’s because you are a middle class white man. Nobody has ever passed legislation about your body. About your medical care. About your marriage. Don’t you understand? That’s the WHOLE POINT. You have nothing to worry about. Must be nice.”
I am guilty of it, too. The word ‘privilege’ is so overused. But that’s what it is. It is a privilege to be able to focus on the economy as your highest concern. You can do that if you’re not worried about someone taking away your basic rights. For a long time, I wasn’t worried about that.
I worry all the time now.
*****
Yesterday, as we left the grocery store, I sighed. “I probably just need to write. I need to take all of these buzzy, frenetic thoughts and get them out of my head and onto a page.”
He held my hand and smiled. “Probably not a bad idea.”
*****
So here I am. Finally sitting. Buzzing just a little less. But maybe some buzzing is a good thing. Maybe we all need to be buzzing just a bit, so that we’re motivated to go out there and do something that makes the world just a little bit better today. And tomorrow. And tomorrow. And tomorrow.