It was intended to inspire her to do right by those who came before her, to build off of all the work that had been done before her, and to continue to fight for freedom and social justice.
Listening to her, I had a different thought that coursed through my white woman’s body that day: “I am my ancestors’ worst nightmare.” And the thought made me chuckle a bit because it’s true. I’m not going along to get along. I’m no longer “working for the man.” I’m not muting myself because it might make someone else feel uncomfortable. I’m not “playing nice” and I’m not “acting like a lady.” I’m bringing my fullest expression of myself to this go-around on our blue-green planet, and am hell-bent on leaving it better than I found it, intent using myself to be of service to the greater good, and with an eye to those not as fortunate as me and the white people who surround me. I ask too many questions about my ancestors. I see the need for truth and reconciliation where there is denial and sweeping under the rug. I will not “move on” or “get over it”, but will take a stand, rooted like a stubborn oak.
I am that woman that my ancestors would have talked in hushed tones about, behind their white gloves at tea parties at cotillions and DAR meetings. I would be called outlandish and brash, inappropriate and uncouth. I would be tolerated, but shunned. But somewhere in that crowd of white ancestors of mine, there would be another woman like me. And we would find each other. And make good trouble together.
Want to know what these daily verses are all about? Read here to learn what inspired this practice on my birthday post, November 1st.