Why I Have Hope and No Fear

 While many of us are isolated right now and worried about the future, our livelihood, and our families. I still feel a comfortable calmness amidst the chaos. While I have many shared frustrations, they aren’t things that worry me much as I continue to find ways to entertain myself, keep focused on work and fitness, and end each day with a feeling of accomplishment and reassurance. How do I manage to keep my head amidst the craziness around us? To put it plainly, because I’ve seen so much worse.

When I graduated college in 1993, I was thrust into a military career that I wasn’t entirely enthusiastic about, but needed the scholarship money and decided that if military service was what it took, I’d jump in head first and do it to the best of my ability. I entered the Army Aviation world as the first female pilot assigned to a particular combat unit when they opened those positions to women in 1995. I arrived full of fire and drive for my career. I was recently married but had zero desire for children as I intended to pour myself into my job and continue to break down barriers and stereotypes regarding what women could be in the workforce. Having grown up in a somewhat tumultuous household, I was generally callous to family life and wanted only to hang my aspirations on things that I could control – which was myself and my career. Little did I know that in nine-months’ time, I would recant on everything I believed and desired.

I went to Haiti in 1998 to serve as the Secretary to the Joint Staff, or assistant to the commander of the US Support Group. The group was responsible for humanitarian assistance in the form of mobile hospitals, drilling wells to provide water, building schools for children, providing general security, and sometimes even working with organizations such as Food for the Poor to help feed the people of Port-au-Prince.

Shortly upon arrival, I knew that Haiti would change me. I’d never seen such poverty anywhere other than on my television, which doesn’t begin to provide the full effect of the smell, sounds, and feel of true human neglect. I watched a society so broken it was unable to effectively distribute the assistance it received, and I witnessed suffering in ways I’d never considered from the comfort of the United States. I watched our military hospitals treat unfathomable illnesses due to non-existent sanitation and horrifying hereditary conditions. I then watched parents, after waiting hours in the sun to receive treatment for their loved one, immediately trade medicine for these conditions outside the walls for food because, you see, your child might die eventually from that disease, but before that, they will die of starvation. I watched children bathing in drainage water and carrying buckets of the same for use in the shacks they called home. That same drainage water, before being transported, had already been used as a human toilet further up the road and as a means to rinse filth off cattle. I watched hordes of children and adults clamor around US vehicles in hopes of a handout and I felt the sting of a stick across my hand from a Food for the Poor worker as I tried to give an extra scoop of slop to an adorable child who looked like he needed and deserved it all. Still, if you give more to one, you give none to another, so the struggle was heartbreaking and life changing. I wanted to help them all, but the problem was too vast and complex. It seemed hopeless.

But more profoundly than the extreme poverty I witnessed was a commonality that seemed to bring these people together – and it was love. The same love you see anywhere in the world, but with a different background and circumstance. I began to see that if you have love, you can survive even the darkest, most hopeless and painful conditions. I know because I saw it. I saw smiles on faces of those who had no reason to smile. I saw hope from individuals who had no reason to expect such a luxury. Ultimately, I saw families knitted together in their own meager happiness through it all. I saw laughter and affection, and joy. And it melted my cold, little Grinch heart. I left Haiti knowing that I now wanted children more than anything. My career meant far less as I boarded the plane to depart. I wanted this magic that conquered all fears and hardships.

I returned home early in 1999 and my first child was born in March 2000. Had it not been for Haiti, he, nor his two siblings may ever have graced my life. I’m glad my eyes were opened during those times and I decided to toss my careers goals to the side for the opportunity to groom lives and build better humans. My kids are everything, even though they are now almost all adults and they bring me more joy that I ever imagined.

And today, as I scroll through all the social media and listen to the woes of a nation during the current crisis, I think back to places with real, lasting, and impactful issues that we don’t have to consider. I don’t worry about fresh water, a lack of health care, schools for my children, or safe housing options. I sit at home with my high-speed internet and blog about my gratitude and love for my family and friends. No problem outside my walls is too much to handle because as I learned in Haiti, all you really need to make it through is love. And I have that and more right here. Therefore, I have no fear.

Stop the Hate

Here we are again, only weeks from our last remembrance walk/run, watching more hate crimes scroll across our news feed. I’m purposefully not mentioning the victims’ names – not because they don’t matter, but because I want this message to resonate at any time either now or in the future. The names change but the air around us does not. The list of victims alone would make a painfully long novel and I shed tears for them all but I’m definitely not going on another walk for awareness or “understanding.” What I will say is this:

STOP THE HATE. I can type those words over and over, and picture many of you standing up to applaud, yet not noticing the giant shadow of your own hate looming behind you that you’ve made peace with and carry with you every day. It’s okay if it’s aimed at Trump. It’s okay if it’s aimed at Biden. It’s okay if it’s for that guy not wearing a mask. It’s okay if it’s for another nationality, and then finally, it’s okay if it’s for another race or sexuality.

Stephen Covey once said, “We judge ourselves by our intentions and others by their behavior,” and I’ve never seen that sentiment on finer display than I do now while scrolling across any headline or social media outlet today. We’re selling hate to the masses and scrambling to find new ways to recruit followers on the quest. You’re simply not a good person or social warrior if you don’t pick up your sword of hate and follow me.

Hate is a comfortable vice. We often wrap ourselves in it and get so comfortable that we mistake it for security. It is not. It carries with it a disease that spreads so rapidly it becomes the standard rather than the exception. We are living in a culture of hate and the only way to stop the spread is to become aware of where it lies within ourselves, hold ourselves accountable, and actively work to adopt better attitudes and behavior towards dissent. Dissent is a naturally occurring event and one that can be quite useful when applied with civility and respect. However, this is where we are failing in droves. Instead of finding constructive ways to deal with dissent so we may become more tolerant, we are simply choosing to become more judgmental and angry. We are unwavering in our hate for opposing views...or people unlike ourselves.

More specifically, my writing is currently spurred by the horrific acts we continue to see against our black community. Having been raised in the south, I’m grotesquely aware of the racism that still exists in society and I cannot fathom or stomach the fear that my black friends and their families live with every day. And I feel hopeless and paralyzed in my ability to help other than to lay down these words and hope they take hold in someone’s heart.

I’ve heard countless rants from the white community that we should move on from past injustices because after all, none of today’s individuals experienced slavery themselves, so what’s the problem? I mean, I didn’t own any slaves so why should I have to pay for this? We should all move on because the field is level now, thanks to the Civil Rights Act, right?

The answer, of course, is a resounding and thunderous NO. It’s no because hate lives on and while I agree everyone and anyone should work past hate and move forward, I can imagine it is very difficult when hate stalks you and your children in the supermarket, in your car, or even walking down your own street. It seeks you no matter if you’re rich or poor, fat or thin, tall or short, smart or dumb, breaking the law…or following the rules. It seeks you anyway. There is no refuge for you.

Until the white community can effectively and passionately police ourselves and our own behaviors and actions, I expect and understand the fear for black lives. I understand that many blacks can only lay down their fear when the white community can demonstrate the willingness and desire to vehemently demand justice for all human beings. This is plainly and repeatedly not happening. We must adamantly demand better from ourselves first so we can raise the bar for our society at large.Do not accept hate from your own lips and stop harboring those that do either through actions or words. 

Perhaps you’ve even shed your own tears about the racial injustices happening around us, but if you detest that kind of hate and spew your own flavor elsewhere – YOU are also part of the problem. The problem of hate isn’t unique to crimes against the black community. It is possibly one of the larger manifestations that most of us can agree is wrong, so we like to linger on that topic and feel better about ourselves for actively mourning each victim through ribbons, walks or other passing fancies. We should definitely and deeply mourn the victims – but we should also mourn what is happening in our own hearts. We are normalizing and justifying hate everywhere.

The same people I see condemning racial hate crimes are also continuing to commit hate crimes of their own via their social media posts and conversations EVERY SINGLE DAY. I see it. I hear it. I can’t Unfollow or Unfriend fast enough and I fear before long my social media feed will only consist of advertisements and cat videos because hate is spreading far faster and killing more souls that COVID can ever hope.

I will say again, STOP THE HATE. But to stop it, you must be able to recognize it long before it grows so large it overpowers us all. Stop it in your homes, stop it from your friends, stop it in your workplaces, and most importantly, stop it in your heart. See the souls behind the eyes and realize that for every person you ridicule, roast, or condemn, you make the beast that much larger. I know I have my own work to do, so I will begin now. I hope you will too. 

Stop it everywhere. Please.

No, I'm Not Running 2.23 Miles Today

I will not be running 2.23 miles today in honor of Ahmaud Arbery. Not because I don’t abhor the fact these crimes continue to occur, but to me, it feels intensely too small and convenient. If I run my 2.23 miles and make my obligatory social media post, it may help show the world that I care about this tragedy and put me on the bandwagon of outraged citizens, but in reality, it does nothing to help change the climate or make any impact in bringing these issues out of the shadows and into the light. It merely makes us feel better but will likely not stop the next hateful murder from happening. To me, it likens to “thoughts and prayers” after every school shooting that occurs. When will real change happen and how? When the media frenzy dies down and another headline takes over, will we forget the importance of this event and make legitimate efforts to end this cycle of hatred?

The only answer in my mind comes down to daily, individual accountability. It is every single one of us making a conscious effort to police our own thoughts and actions, not shy away from conversations on the topic, and challenging those who espouse hateful beliefs in seemingly innocuous daily conversation. It cannot be through angry attacks or accusations, or through witch hunts for those we believe to be offensive, but rather through intelligent, thought provoking and inquisitive measures to determine where these ideas begin so we can better determine how to head them off. It can only be mitigated through a sincere desire to be better people, and that appears to be a huge ask if we don’t all have the emotional intelligence and introspect to take a deep look at ourselves, our peers, our family members, and friends with real desire for change. You can’t always change people’s opinions, but you can model compassion, curiosity, acceptance, and civil dialogue. I know it sounds great in theory, but harder to enact. Even I will admit I have watched or heard racism in action and choose to take the easier road of avoidance rather than attempt to engage in debate or challenge those with hateful words or actions. In that way, I was part of the problem.

I was raised in the south and have witnessed racism firsthand more times than I can count – even from my own family members. It is real and it runs deep through the veins of the soul. It has no apparent logic, but there is passion and hatred on both sides of the coin – some real, and some manufactured by loose explanations and generations of molded thoughts and feelings. In fact, all of my children were born in the south and before they started school, I decided that I did not want them raised in that kind of toxic environment which would lead them to believe those racist attitudes were appropriate or normal. I chose to avoid it. I never challenged my family or my friends. We moved to Colorado when my oldest child turned five years old and while there are issues of racism everywhere, I am happy that it is not to the extent of what I remember from my own childhood. I am happy that my children don’t understand the illogical hatred of others based on their skin. They know those feelings exist and they dismiss them accordingly when they hear them from others. My daughter is brave enough to challenge hateful words, but my boys are much quieter. However, I am satisfied that all my children recognize compassion and acceptance as desirable traits in themselves and their peers.

I definitely understand the fear black mothers share regarding how their sons will be treated and the exceptional risks they experience every day just for being themselves. That said, there are so many other injustices and fears out there that disturb me as well. I fear for my own daughter’s safety in a world that accepts and embraces sexual predators as long as they clean up nice for society. I fear for my gay friends and whether or not they will also experience violence or mistreatment for being themselves. I am angry about all of this nonsensical hate but if I dwell on that every day, the hate in turn swallows my own soul. The only way I know to fight the injustice that befell Ahmaud Arbery is to fight hate in general through my own daily actions and words. That means EVERY DAY choosing a positive outlet over hate of any kind. It’s hard. It requires work and personal accountability. Every day it requires being a good person, finding it in others, and compassionately challenging anyone who might stray off the path of tolerance and respect. It means honestly policing myself for anger and finding positive ways to channel that energy. Running 2.23 for Ahmaud is a healthy way to channel anger but please don’t convince yourself that it will move the ball forward effectively in ending this kind of treatment toward others.

We must become stronger together by asking more of ourselves and those around us. Be kind, be compassionate, be respectful, and don’t let that goal get lost in the headline of the week. Let anger spark positive action in ways that run much deeper than a daily post or symbol of support. Don’t just be a supporter, be a solution.