one small step in the right direction
After a long, somewhat uncomfortable conversation with SK a few minutes ago, (as usual) I understand something much better about the thing that happened earlier at the coffeeshop (see previous post entitled "high drama at the black cat"). Maybe not the thing that happened itself, but my reaction to it and some beginnings of an answer to my stubbornly unanswerable questions about how to stop something -- how to change it -- from the swirling middle of it.
I asked SK, exasperated, like a blockheaded fool banging my blocky head against a cement wall, "what should I do? What practical step can I take in my life to change this? Should I choose another neighborhood to live in? And if so, why?" I was feeling deeply confused about my own role in my gentrified neighborhood and stubbornly stymied around a solution. SK, calm as usual, said, "You have black neighbors. Do you say hi to them when you pass?" And I, with my blind, blockheaded stupidity, answer "No, I don't say hi to anybody," as though being an equal-opportunity recluse immunizes me from culpability here.
No, I am not immune. I AM the lack of community. I AM the bad thing about gentrification. I AM the reason those guys could waltz into the coffeeshop and steal the tip money right out of the barista's hand. I AM the problem. The solution (or at least a step in the right direction) is to simply say hi to the people I see on the street. To start talking to the barista and other patrons of the coffeeshop. To start talking to my neighbors, whoever they are. To act like there's a community, even if I can't see it or feel it. To be the community I want to see around me.
I walk around with my head in a cloud of my own neuroses and old wounds and drama and self-doubt, but who doesn't? Maybe our clouds look a little different and make us behave in slightly different ways, but we're all struggling with our own stuff. Just because I'm shy or not very assertive or whatever I am doesn't exempt me from being a necessary part of the solution, whatever it is. And I can't wait until I'm not shy anymore. I can't wait until I've solved all my own racism issues or fixed my inferiority complex or learned to accept my power and rank in the world, I can't wait for all that because I could be working on all that my whole life. I have to start now. I have to just do it, no matter how awkward I might feel at first. Otherwise it will never in a million years change and we'll all be stuck like this forever.
I asked SK, exasperated, like a blockheaded fool banging my blocky head against a cement wall, "what should I do? What practical step can I take in my life to change this? Should I choose another neighborhood to live in? And if so, why?" I was feeling deeply confused about my own role in my gentrified neighborhood and stubbornly stymied around a solution. SK, calm as usual, said, "You have black neighbors. Do you say hi to them when you pass?" And I, with my blind, blockheaded stupidity, answer "No, I don't say hi to anybody," as though being an equal-opportunity recluse immunizes me from culpability here.
No, I am not immune. I AM the lack of community. I AM the bad thing about gentrification. I AM the reason those guys could waltz into the coffeeshop and steal the tip money right out of the barista's hand. I AM the problem. The solution (or at least a step in the right direction) is to simply say hi to the people I see on the street. To start talking to the barista and other patrons of the coffeeshop. To start talking to my neighbors, whoever they are. To act like there's a community, even if I can't see it or feel it. To be the community I want to see around me.
I walk around with my head in a cloud of my own neuroses and old wounds and drama and self-doubt, but who doesn't? Maybe our clouds look a little different and make us behave in slightly different ways, but we're all struggling with our own stuff. Just because I'm shy or not very assertive or whatever I am doesn't exempt me from being a necessary part of the solution, whatever it is. And I can't wait until I'm not shy anymore. I can't wait until I've solved all my own racism issues or fixed my inferiority complex or learned to accept my power and rank in the world, I can't wait for all that because I could be working on all that my whole life. I have to start now. I have to just do it, no matter how awkward I might feel at first. Otherwise it will never in a million years change and we'll all be stuck like this forever.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 4:52 PM
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