It’s Monday morning and I ought to be writing.
I really should.
I have deadlines. I promised my editor Fleet of Malik Book 3 by January. I have impatient crit partners wondering when I’m going to hand the manuscript over.
And yet… here I am. Monday morning. Eleven A.M.. Staring at my computer screen and trying to think about something other than US politics.
It’s hard coming from an immigrant background (my grandparents were Rroma/Gypsy refugees after WWII) and seeing the same rhetoric that destroyed past generations rise up again to thunderous applause.
Part of me understands. The world is tough right now. People want to believe that they can fix everything, and there’s someone promising to make all their problems go away. It’s just going to cost them some freedoms, maybe the lives of the disabled or LGBTQ+ people in their lives, maybe some education options will go away… but food will be cheaper! That’s important to them. It’s okay if a few people die if the food is available.
That’s a very human response. We’ve seen it hundreds of times through countless cultures. Times get tough and people buckle down, focus on their own families, and ignore anyone else’s suffering because Tough Times Call For Tough People.
As a disabled person with LGBTQ+ family members, it’s hard to not feel like this is an attack.
It sounds eerily similar to the lines the Nazis and Hitler used when they blamed everything on the gays, and the Jews, and the Gypsies, and the disabled… The Germans were willing to look the other way because they were hungry. Because they were angry. Because they were scared.
My grandmother was one of nine children, and Slavic Rroma (Gypsy). She’s the only one who survived the Holocaust.
Because people were scared, they voted for Hitler. Because people were hungry, they let eight children from my family be murdered. Because people were selfish, they looked the other way.
I have four kids, all who knew their great-grandmother. All who grew up knowing our history and our people’s story. All who were raised to know they have to make choices to help people because we can’t let that happen again.
And yet… here we are. Watching someone use Hitler’s talking points rise to power in the United States. Online men are saying “Your Body My Choice” to women. Able-bodied people are shrugging as disabled people are threatened.
What do you do in the face of such selfishness? In the face of not pure hatred, but cruel disregard?
I don’t have a perfect answer. I wish I did. I wish I had a magic wand I could wave to make everyone safe and happy. I don’t.
What I do have is the capacity to love. I can get up today, and choose to be kind. I can make space in my world for people who need love and support. I can write about fighting hate and oppression. I can lift my community where I am.
I can’t change the world for everyone. I can change a small part of the world for one person at a time by being there when they need it.
Maybe a book will help, if they see a world where they’re welcomed and included.
Maybe a post will help, if they see a world where they aren’t alone.
Maybe a smile will help, if they see a world where people welcome them.
Maybe.
Days like today, Maybe is enough. Maybe is better than despair. Maybe is better than quitting.
Because, eventually, we can have a better world. Maybe.