Yeah, I know. It’s been a while. To be honest, watching the transition unfold brought on this sense of pointlessness. Anything I wrote would just be shouting into the hurricane. It hadn’t helped on November 8th, what good would it possibly do now? Oh sure, I ranted on Facebook and posted outraged comments on outrageous links. But I didn’t have my voice. Or at least, I didn’t feel like it mattered. So I hunkered down, stayed off of here, watched events unfold, and waited.
I’m kinda over that now.
When I first started running, I’d stare at my feet. All the time. Part of it was that the combined effort of running and looking forward was too much, and just standing there staring straight ahead wasn’t going to do me much good. So I kept my head down and trudged along, sparing a glance for cars and traffic signals and the occasional glance at my phone.
But since November, I tried to be different. I’d look around. I wouldn’t just peek at people out of the corner of my eye; I’d wave and say hi. Sometimes I got the old version of me and they just trudged on by. But more often than not, they’d say hi back. It was a little thing, but it started making things feel all right. If our president-elect wasn’t going to bring people together, then dammit, I was going to.
The same thing applies here. Going dark let Immortan Don win. And my voice does matter. Even if I’m the only who hears it. Because we need to exercise every right we have, no matter in how minor a way we might do so. Unused muscles weaken. Unused rights fade away.
So it’s not time to keep our heads down and trudge along, hoping we can finish the distance before we pass out. It’s time to keep our heads up, to look every passerby in the eye, and make ourselves heard. I alone might be shouting into the hurricane. But all of us together can shout down the wind.