I have learned that one of the hallmarks of our white culture is to point fingers at individuals as a means to smoke out injustices. I’m worried that among all the pot-banging and horn honking the night Biden+Harris won the election, we won’t hear the alarms of those people still caged by a system of our making. I’m worried that we’ll be lulled back to sleep and a self-congratulatory stupor, deluding ourselves as we kick the can up the road. I’m worried we think this election was about Trump, not about us. I hear white women talk about being exhausted and our over-taxed adrenal systems, and it feels like that deep yawn and stretch we do before we head off to bed for a deep slumber.
Maybe, just maybe, my worry isn’t a bad thing, but is the very thing that will keep me up on this dark night, mindful of how many people in our country do not have the luxury of going back to sleep. Maybe staying up on this dark night will be a form of holding vigil for the reality of so many Black women in this country that are standing over the beds of their children this very moment, wondering and worrying about their future and their safety at their kids sleeping at night. Maybe my worry is the pilot light in the stove at night, signally that all is not lost, but is also not actively making anything.
Want to know what these daily verses are all about? Read here to learn what inspired this practice on my birthday post, November 1st.