A Whole Plague Of Our Own

It's been a lifetime since March, hasn't it?  Every time I step out of my house, I am shocked that it's +30 and lush green outside.  I keep expecting it to be cold and snowy.

It's not, though.  it's half-June; nearly midsummer.  The weather is gorgeous, and I suppose I'm happy that we spent most of the crappy muddy and inconsistently cold Winnipeg spring indoors.

Days have blended together; timelines mean very little, anymore.  Sunday only means that it's the day before another work conference call.  My workdays start around 7:30 am, and titter through until about 9 pm.  I won't complain about working from home - I've been productive, and I thrive with the flexibility.  I recognize that not everyone has had the same experience

I haven't had the worst time homeschooling, though my son and I have experienced the stress of forgetting what day it is, and rushing to make sure assignments are due on time.  We are both very proud to say that as of today, we have completed the fourth grade.  There has been celebration -  and I embrace it.

What a shift in...everything...we're living, now. It has encouraged me to look at a few things differently.  

Goals that I had set for myself in January, look vastly different in June. Such blissful ignorance the Beforetimes afforded me.   

Self care has become a definite need and priority.  I am acutely aware of my mental health status.

The lens through which I exist is different.  Sharper.  Darker. 

I don't "miss" the Beforetimes.  I don't long to go back to whatever normal that was.  Because it was not right.  We are in a historical moment of vast change.  Force.  A moment where those who have been oppressed and "under thumb" have reached a boiling point.  Humanity is being made to take a look at how shitty it's been, and is being more than gently encouraged to be better.

There is resistance, though.  Strong resistance, from those who recognize, on some level, that their privilege is being brought to light.  They're being called out, and it's uncomfortable.  That's the whole thing about privilege, right?  It brings comfort...and for any number of reasons, the idea of all folks of all colours and lifestyles experiencing the same privilege is uncomfortable.  As though BIPOC and LGBTQ+ folks having the same privileges as an average cis-gender white person would somehow take something away.  

It won't, but white supremacy is an unfortunate belief system.  A helluva drug.

"Beliefs contagious, spreading disease..."

Ghost, my band-du-moment (and likely forever), has an album titled "Prequelle".  It's a concept album on the theme of the bubonic plague.  It has become my personal soundtrack in these Quarentimes.  It aligns so beautifully with current events; and if I use it as a timeline of sorts, I would place us somewhere around "Danse Macabre" and "Pro Memoria".

We're out and about...the dance looks like many things - shopping, gathering, protests, rallies...but,

"Don't you forget about dying

Don't you forget about your friend death

Don't you forget that you will die"

We are living in our own plague.  Too much time has gone by, letting the pot simmer.  Humanity has reached a boiling point.  We are divided.  Frustrated.  Tired.  Angry.  Craving resolution.

Ready to deconstruct a deeply flawed and racist system.

My 10 year old has become familiar with why "all lives matter" is not a respectful compliment to "Black Lives Matter"; because Black folks are being killed - for existing as Black people.  He is aware of the injustices being faced by transgender folks in America.  He is as confused as many of us are, about how Trump is in charge of anything.

He is also happily anticipating the arrival of a plague doctor mask that I've ordered; to complete the costume he's modeling in the photo at the top of this post.  He and I will go through our goth phase, together.

I realize that my child's teen years will be vastly different from my own, and different from what they would be without the presence of a novel pandemic virus, and political tensions so heightened.  What I hope for him, is to use opportunities to use his privilege to raise others up.  To use his voice to call out injustices.

This is a concept he already understands, and talks about...I'm relieved that he's not traumatized by the discussion of white privilege. I'm proud that he recognizes what it is, and that he benefits from it.  It's not hard to raise anti-racist children; they learn what we model.  If we continue to practice anti-racist parenting, he will continue to be an anti-racist human.  Anti-racism is nurtured.  Bigotry is not born, it is learned; meaning that it is taught.  Parented.  Cultivated.

If I may, go back to my theoretical Prequelle timeline, the next track is "Witch Image".

"While you sleep in earthly delight

Someone's flesh is rotting tonight

Like no other to you

What you've done you can not undo

I have always kept you closer than you have known

I am riding in the shadows behind you on a pale white horse"

I'll make a prediction that we're all about to get called on our collective bullshit.  

This is a golden opportunity to look at ourselves.  Do some shadow work.  Wade through the yucky parts of our psyche that hold the ingrained bigotry that has been normalized for ourselves.  

Check our privilege.

It will be uncomfortable.  It will suck.  It will show us ugly things...and it will make us better.

When you know better, you do better.  There is nothing wrong with changing your perspective when you are confronted with new factual information.  Remember that knowledge is not defined by what you know, but how open and willing you are to learn more.

When you know better, you do better.  Raising a generation of anti-racist advocates is doing better.

Shadow work is doing better.

Admitting that you may have been wrong in your thinking, and you can change your mind, is doing better.

So, for the - long foreseeable - future, wear a mask in public places with other people around, and be a decent human being.

Hail yourselves - y'all need Satan.

S