“Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.”- John Lennon
Last Friday, I woke up with one goal: To have the best day possible, because by the end of the day, our lives would be forever changed. There would be no going back to the people we once were. But before we reached that unfortunate crossroads, we would have one last perfect moment.
If only…
That last perfect moment was shattered by the ugliness of an unknown young white man, who in choosing to call my family niggers not only stole the last shreds of joy that my family desperately needed but over the course of a few short days would turn my family into a viral story being shared and dissected across the world.
We’ve all read about people becoming a viral story but nothing can prepare you to wake up and see details and photos about your life and your family being laid bare for all to see. To see bits and pieces of your words cobbled together without your permission and curated into a “story” without anyone speaking to you for an interview. To see judgement rendered on your reactions in a highly tenderized moment laid bare for others to judge. To see your discomfort judged as a hoax based off your occupation. To be told that you are not entitled to your feelings or even your words.
Nothing can prepare you for just how raw and vulnerable this will make you feel. That for every kind message, it’s the ones that threaten you and dehumanize you and your children that will linger in your mind and make you pour that third glass of wine and ultimately keep you from sleeping. That even for a well-seasoned veteran of ugly, the sheer scope of this ugly would make you finally grasp how easy it is in a moment of desperation to simply give up.
To say that the last few days have been a clusterfuck would be an understatement. I had no idea that in choosing to speak up which, as a typical hard headed person who sometimes struggles with shutting up…that this time, I may have been better served by not writing that last blog post, by not popping off on Twitter and blowing steam. I had no idea that in choosing to write my blog post in response to Jackie Ward’s well-intended post on her Facebook page that I was essentially unleashing a world of hurt upon myself and my family at a time when to be frank, my personal reserves are lacking.
Despite my day job, it was not my intention to spark a discussion on race when I wrote that post. It was the frustration of a middle-aged woman who can no longer stuff herself down, who is fueled by the hormones of that uncomfortable journey we call middle age or perimenopause. Yet this is one time where I am kicking myself for my decision to speak up. I do hope that a larger conversation on race happens especially as we grieve the loss of yet another dead Black man at hands of law enforcement. We need deeper conversations on race, because even without my professional background, it is clear that far too many Whites don’t see the world through the lens of many non whites. That as much as we may want race to not matter, it does matter, that we are simply not at the place where we can divorce ourselves from the color of our skin. We do need those hard and uncomfortable conversations. However, having it come on the back of my personal pain is a hard pill to swallow.
In the past few days, I have never felt so utterly alone in my life, so utterly scared after receiving messages from someone signing off as Concerned Citizens of Maine, so utterly fucking dejected at this mess in the middle of an even larger mess in my life. I am also struck that during this time words like self-care and support, while often thrown around when in crisis, truly have little meaning. Yesterday, a friend called me to ask me how I was holding up and after I hung up, I broke down crying with the sad realization that in the midst of this unholy mess, he had been the only person to call me up. (Note: I have received countless texts and messages which I am extremely grateful for, so thank you)
As I sit and reflect on clearing up the rubble from my life and attempting to build a new foundation, I am struck by the words that were used to refer to me in the immediate aftermath after that ugly word was said to us: “calm and stern.” I wear that mask well and perhaps I wear it so well that it is easy to not see that it is not real at all. That in the days since that fateful and Crash-like moment, I have been anything but calm, that when the person who knows me best at this time in my life told me to be strong, it felt like the ultimate slap in the face. That sometimes I don’t want to be strong; sometimes I can’t be strong. Sometimes, I need help with my burdens…and this would be one of those times. Yet in a 24/7 hour world that never sleeps and takes a series of unfortunate events and spins them out of control, maybe we all need to step back and hold fast to our collective humanity.
Note: In the past several days, it seems I have picked up a few new readers. While I do write on race often, I also write on the struggles of growing older and raising kids as well as occasional musings on our culture at large. I hope you stick around. Blessings.
Hoping that writing is helping you process what’s happening. I can’t imagine. I think your response, your previous post, was powerful, moving and necessary. Anyone with a protective instinct for their own children could relate.
Also, here’s a cute bunny joke because it’s supposed to be spring somewhere.: Q: How do you catch a unique rabbit? A. You-neek up on it. (get it? get it?).
Anyway, stay connected as you can, I’m looking for you on FB and Twitter. Signs of life and all that. Stay with us.
New FB follower. Followed your Phoenix column for years. Saw your talk with Debby Irving last year at the library. Also discouraged by the persistent, staggering ignorance and prejudice in my adopted state. I do not think your experience in the Old port is all that “isolated”. Would love to take at least six months off with a sabbatical to, say, Maui, or any place else in the country that looks like the real world, just take a rest from the New England miasma.
But here I am in Maine, with work to do to push back, as a “white ally”. Doing some things in the course of daily work. Lots of conversations. Might check on this Concerned Citizen character. Anything else that would help?
Blessings to you.
I wish there was more I could offer other than love as you go through everything you’re facing. Since it’s what I have, it’s utterly yours. <3
No person or family should ever have to bear this burden. Sending more healing thoughts your way, and a re-commitment to educating myself and others, speaking out, and standing up. Thank you for your bravery.
I am one of your new followers. I am sorry for what happened in Portland, Maine. And I am sorry that the whole thing went viral, because dealing with such things privately is hard enough. You are entitled to your feelings, whatever they are. Like it or not, God seems to have chosen your voice to bring this issue to the table (again), in Maine and beyond. I am so white. But I was not taught to hate based on color or religion or race. I have to admit being guilty of hating…the Chinese for what is happening to our economy, and the Japanese for attacking the US in Pearl Harbor… And the terrorists who kill Americans… But I only very recently saw that all that hating was wrong; you can’t effectively hate an entire race, religion, country… And it was a Black man helped me to see that all that hating was wrong. God must think you strong enough to be his voice in this matter, at this time… I feel sad when I hear your story, and I feel beyond sad when I saw that poor man get shot with 8 bullets while he was running away (down South). My heart is broken. It’s all gotten worse lately… The economy makes people look for someone to blame. My sincere sorrows to your daughter, son, husband and you. Not all white people are jerks. Some are. They are jerks to everyone… I am not going to tell you how to feel or what to do, but I am going to thank you for being brave enough to bring the issue to table again….sadly, again…. I will say a prayer for you and your family. Bless you for being brave. Cynthia Conkling
There is not a stitch of dishonesty here. Not a one. The comments you have been getting have been so ugly and so completely fucking undeserved. I would laugh off the “Concerned Citizens” stuff as basic tinfoil-hattery, but I know it’s coming from a place of rage and ignorance, from people who – because THEY don’t live with the cruelty and micro-aggressions that POC do – think these things don’t happen (Because 2015! Because we have a black President!), or believe that you’re whining/malingering/making shit up.
I know I’m not telling you anything new. I am just so sorry this is happening to you and your family. I’m just another internet acquaintance you kinda know, but if I could hug you and give you all cupcakes and bourbon right now, I would. In the meantime, I’ve downloaded “Waking Up White.”
Wishing you a little peace tonight, Shay.
Sis, you know I feel ya. Love and healing energies your way!
Hold on …. what you have done is open up a conversation that is so critical to the rebirth of Maine . A lot of white stupidity in the hinterlands of Maine…. the more that you, I and others expose this…. the better for this old state that has yet to reach any semblance of its potential !
The worst always seems to come at the times when you are most vulnerable. Reading and wishing you some peaceful space to heal.
I am sending you hugs and love along with a heaping pile of empathy for the whole messy peri-menopause craziness that makes everything more difficult. Know that you are divine child of the universe/god and therefore perfect just the way you are. Remember to breath and know that in truth all is well.