Stepping out into my backyard in the early dawn of this grave morning, I am surrounded by heavy fog. Fog so thick that the massive maples that stand watch a mere 10 feet away are faint shadows. If I walk forward and turn I can imagine Dracula’s bride materializing in the moist swirls left in my wake. It is heavy, oppressive, cold. It will persist throughout the day, a fitting metaphor for what I and so many of you are feeling today.
A diary by Killer of Sacred Cows expresses the anguish so many of us feel on this day. Jolting awake at 2am in a cold sweat, terror roiling the stomach into a raging beast of anxiety and dread. Grief for what might have, could have, should have been. Dread of what might befall us all. We’re all feeling this weight of despair, lost in the heavy, cloying fog.
But this is not a place in which we can linger long. We have been visiting it daily, hourly, minute by minute, finding comfort in sharing our collective rage and fear. To pause for too long is to wallow in our misery, a fruitless exercise that will only compound the problems we now face. No, we can not linger here. To do so is to concede the high ground we’ve fought so hard to attain. We cannot let our pain get the better of us. As the old adage says, pain is inevitable but suffering is optional.
And so I come to offer you words of hope, written and spoken by a woman many times wiser than myself, whose travails in this world and struggles to overcome them give her words the power of truth. I urge you to click through to the youtube video to hear these words spoken by the great Maya Angelou herself, as I cannot embed it here. No one will ever be able to says these words with the righteous command that she had. Today of all days, let’s strive to embrace the spirit of her wise words. She knew the power of those words. She lived them.
“You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.”
Maya Angelou
I urge you all to turn and face the beast before us. Don’t hide in fear, don’t turn away. Let us turn as one to face what’s coming, fight tooth and claw for what is right and just, and take comfort in the knowledge that however isolated we might feel in this moment we are not alone. We can do this together.
I will rise.
You will rise.
We will rise.
Together.