Speaking your truth is the most powerful tool you have.
The man who gives you a back rub without your permission. The guy who stands a little too close to you on the bus, so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath. The boys who joked and the men who joked and so many jokes but you were never laughing. The jokes you didn’t understand because you were too young to understand. The gut punch when you were old enough to finally get what they meant.
Originally posted on Just Follow the Joy:
This morning I found myself standing in a strip mall less than a mile away from…
I understand that part of this anger is about my own deep wounds. My own story of harm by a mad man–and the perceived betrayal of the otherwise sane people who knew better than to believe a madman and ultimately align with a mad man.
This is also what I know about being wounded: there is no greater pain that not being seen. We don’t expect a mad man to see or understand our pain. He’s not capable of it. But the ones who we know are capable of empathy and love? We except better.
I am sitting here in my favorite oversized sweater that smells a little bit like beagles, but maybe that makes… Read more Stitching it back together with love
I showed up because even though I know that gun violence is not solved with vigils and flowers, it just might begin with open, broken hearts that refuse to accept violence as ordinary reality in America