The Luxury of Discomfort

Screen Shot 2016-07-07 at 9.23.47 AMMy heartbreak over Alton Sterling and Philando Castile’s murders means nothing at all. It does not bring these men–all the people of color slayed by officials falsely claiming to enforce the law–back their lives; it does not return them to their families and friends. Once again I find myself–this middle-aged white lady in a boiling-over, messed-up major metropolitan area–at a loss about a country that so fiercely protects its right to bear arms and then slays people of color even when they don’t practice that right. God help them when they do. Drastic measures are the only sensible response. The question is: Which ones? When I was young I marched and whined and boycotted all the time. I still honor these actions (except for the whining) but see that something more is required. If the corruption is big–and it is monolithic–we must be so much bigger. We must be as uncomfortable as is required to effect true change. Discomfort is a luxury, for it means we are still alive.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy