The Light Side of the Force
I live in a limbo sort of state - U.S. citizenship and American cultural baggage that pains me to see what happens there, coupled with a Mexican husband, Mexican children, Mexican permanent residency, and a Mexican heart that makes me experience life here first hand, with all its own terrible realities and shocking inconsistencies. I cannot say I have it hard. Don't get me wrong. What I'm saying is a see lots. Too much, I think. I feel it all too closely. I see both sides of lots of debates. And I can't get my head around a lot of it.
Let's get one thing straight. I'm writing this from the comfort of my home, my privilege, my very privileged life; that on any given day, can be sheltered from the hard, heinous reality that so many others live and struggle through. I am not afraid that I will be shot by a policeman on a routine traffic stop. I am not in fear of my children not going to school because their teachers are on strike. I do not worry where our next meal will come from or if my home will be taken away from me because I cannot make a payment. I am extremely, unfairly, privileged. And what I write today won't help in any way to make those who are not living in privilege have it easier. I cannot do that. But I need to write something. To talk this through.
This week I've seen reports from the U.S. about race and privilege and violence that shake me to my core. They bring me to tears. I've seen reports in Mexico about injustice and staggering inequality in an education system that is already rotten, that make me wonder how on Earth this country will ever make it out of the hole we are in with children who have no proper place to learn, no one to teach them. Violence everywhere.
And in all of this, I think about my sons. Boys born into privilege, into calm, security, safety. Beautiful boys who I am trying my best to raise as good, kind people. I try hard to raise individuals who are generous of heart and action. People aware of the differences and not indifferent to them. But with all of this comes the inevitable...my eldest has begun to ask questions. About Trump, about violence, about the bad guys. About corruption and Presidents here and there. He's worried about terrible events happening again. To him, to us, to his loved ones. And I find myself at a loss about what to say.
I talk. A lot. As much to explain (or try to explain) things to him as to explain them to myself. I talk about fear. About how fear makes people feel vulnerable, angry, and how that anger makes it hard for them to see things clearly, that it makes them want to find people to blame, people to make them feel better about what's hurting them. How fear and anger engender hate; blinding, violent, vicious hate. How fear of the unknown, ignorance, can lead to thinking that a person is fundamentally less than you, unworthy of respect of kindness just for being/looking/loving different. But yesterday for him, something clicked. For me too, perhaps. And it came in the form of Star Wars.
I know. It's everywhere. It's banal and fantastical and silly even. But the truth is Star Wars, in all its fantasy, is right. There are light and dark sides to all of us. And fear and anger and hate lead to the dark side, just like little green Yoda says. But what clicked for him and what I walked away with as a simple, perhaps too simple but nonetheless useful, way to talk about things is this: we all have a choice. We always have a choice. Even in the darkest moments, we have a choice and we must, always, pick the good side of the force, the light. We need to be aware, even when it pains us, of the dark in us and in others, and push it aside with light. Always light. Even as I write this I can feel the eye rolls from those who would say I'm simplifying it all way to much. Perhaps I am. For a 5-year old and for me, this is working now. And in the face of hate and violence and fear, easy is good, clarity feels nice. So if, like me, you have a need to get your head around the unthinkable, and help littles do it to, just remember Luke and Leia and Han and Chewie...and choose The Light.
We can't change the world, but we can start making a difference in our own little spheres by becoming aware, talking through the hard things and looking for the light in us and in others.
May The Force be with us.
Let's get one thing straight. I'm writing this from the comfort of my home, my privilege, my very privileged life; that on any given day, can be sheltered from the hard, heinous reality that so many others live and struggle through. I am not afraid that I will be shot by a policeman on a routine traffic stop. I am not in fear of my children not going to school because their teachers are on strike. I do not worry where our next meal will come from or if my home will be taken away from me because I cannot make a payment. I am extremely, unfairly, privileged. And what I write today won't help in any way to make those who are not living in privilege have it easier. I cannot do that. But I need to write something. To talk this through.
This week I've seen reports from the U.S. about race and privilege and violence that shake me to my core. They bring me to tears. I've seen reports in Mexico about injustice and staggering inequality in an education system that is already rotten, that make me wonder how on Earth this country will ever make it out of the hole we are in with children who have no proper place to learn, no one to teach them. Violence everywhere.
And in all of this, I think about my sons. Boys born into privilege, into calm, security, safety. Beautiful boys who I am trying my best to raise as good, kind people. I try hard to raise individuals who are generous of heart and action. People aware of the differences and not indifferent to them. But with all of this comes the inevitable...my eldest has begun to ask questions. About Trump, about violence, about the bad guys. About corruption and Presidents here and there. He's worried about terrible events happening again. To him, to us, to his loved ones. And I find myself at a loss about what to say.
I talk. A lot. As much to explain (or try to explain) things to him as to explain them to myself. I talk about fear. About how fear makes people feel vulnerable, angry, and how that anger makes it hard for them to see things clearly, that it makes them want to find people to blame, people to make them feel better about what's hurting them. How fear and anger engender hate; blinding, violent, vicious hate. How fear of the unknown, ignorance, can lead to thinking that a person is fundamentally less than you, unworthy of respect of kindness just for being/looking/loving different. But yesterday for him, something clicked. For me too, perhaps. And it came in the form of Star Wars.
I know. It's everywhere. It's banal and fantastical and silly even. But the truth is Star Wars, in all its fantasy, is right. There are light and dark sides to all of us. And fear and anger and hate lead to the dark side, just like little green Yoda says. But what clicked for him and what I walked away with as a simple, perhaps too simple but nonetheless useful, way to talk about things is this: we all have a choice. We always have a choice. Even in the darkest moments, we have a choice and we must, always, pick the good side of the force, the light. We need to be aware, even when it pains us, of the dark in us and in others, and push it aside with light. Always light. Even as I write this I can feel the eye rolls from those who would say I'm simplifying it all way to much. Perhaps I am. For a 5-year old and for me, this is working now. And in the face of hate and violence and fear, easy is good, clarity feels nice. So if, like me, you have a need to get your head around the unthinkable, and help littles do it to, just remember Luke and Leia and Han and Chewie...and choose The Light.
We can't change the world, but we can start making a difference in our own little spheres by becoming aware, talking through the hard things and looking for the light in us and in others.
May The Force be with us.
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