A Prayer for Sanity
Dear Lord, How do we stop this?
That’s the question that I couldn’t turn off in my head as I thought of the wave of new voter legislation that was essentially ensuring the next era of Jim Crow.
How can we let people change voting laws to make it more difficult for people to vote? And to do so under a false pretense set by a former president that was willing to see democracy fall rather than admit he had lost an election - free and fair. In my heart of hearts, I knew the issue wasn’t Trump. It was the wave of people who backed him. It was the bone-deep thread of right-winged hatred for anything resembling radical love, radical freedom, or radical justice.
It was the people who say that sure, kneeling on a man’s neck for eight minutes wasn’t the best idea. But maybe he did something to deserve it. After all - he couldn’t have been approached just for being black. There had to have been something else he was doing or had done that warranted officers approaching him. That the altercation resulted in ending his life was nothing more than an unfortunate happenstance. And then there was the thing that was worse. I’m married to a white man. A white man told me earlier this evening that while the wave of voter suppression laws was not right, there was no way it’s success was purely a result of Trump and those who followed and believed his claims of voter fraud. Oh no. That can’t possibly be what was happening.
The people really responsible were the Jews who were driving their hidden agenda.
Take a pause with me and digest that. I spent the next 30 minutes in the bathroom under a hot spray of water - crying. Sobbing as I listened to him running around downstairs and playing with our beautiful toddler son. Weeping as I listened to their laughter and knowing that I loved him. That he was one of the best fathers I had ever known or seen. But I didn’t understand. I couldn’t. Because I was heartbroken. For the future me who knows that our marriage might not survive the differences that were separating us while quarantined together. And I don’t have the slightest idea of how to get around or above or under or through the wall he’d has just thrown up. We have been married almost 7 years. Our anniversary is on July 4th. You would think there was nothing more American than our interracial love story. But there actually is one thing that is more American than our miniature melting pot.
The idea that white people have been or will be victimized.
Whether it’s the virtue of a white woman threatened. Or the integrity of our employment system being shaken by affirmative action. Or the idea that a free and fair election was stolen without any other evidence other than a Twitter rant.
It’s the belief that white people are under attack.
Which is strange. Because they were not the target of the Diaspora. They were not subjected to genocide for the theft of thier ancestral lands. They were not denied the right to marry, vote, have property, or receive an education. But somehow - in their minds - they have always been under attack. And what I’m learning is that without that identity of victimization, they are left with the terrible possibility that they are the victimizers. And who wants to be the villain of your own superhero origin story? A story birthed by a dream of liberty that arose from the fiery spirits of our Founding (white) Forefathers? So yes - I wept. Because if I follow the bouncing ball, it seems like there is nothing I can do to stop the spread of these suppressive voting legislations and the inevitable outcome in four years - which is something or someone worse than Trump in charge of the richest and most powerful nation on earth. A president placed in power by unfair suppression who actually believes that a knee on the neck for eight minutes is not nearly long enough to keep white culture safe. I weep for what I fear my son and my brothers and the children in my family may one day face. And all I can see is Emmit Till and that open casket. And all I can do is weep under a hot spray of water and wonder how long i can allow myself to sleep next to a man who is more afraid of the Jewish agenda than he is of the hate our interracial son may one day face. From people who actually look and think like him.
Dear Lord, How do we stop this?