Your description of the safety bin logic chain made me laugh out loud, but I think it was missing something, which was the sense that we didn't know what kind of precipice the country was on—one of the big things that precipitated the safety pins (which were 100% silly) was the reports that hate crimes were increasing rapidly. So it wasn't just myopia about how people of color viewed white people (though it certainly WAS that), it was also from a fear (borne out by news reports) that things were getting worse, and were likely to keep getting worse.
I say this because I think we've kind of memory-holed the national popular mobilization against Trump, and while some of it was regrettable (like the safety pins) some of it was really effective (like the spontaneous protests against the Muslim bans at airports). I know I'm not telling you anything you don't know already, as the coiner of the phrase "never apologize for the times you cared a little bit more") but I think there's a bit of nuance here to add. Again, not as a safety pin apologist!
This is a great point, and I think there's a place for apologizing for the safety pins specifically! I actually debated being a little less flippant and a bit more nuanced in how I wrote about them-- for me, why I think about those pins a bit less lovingly than things like the airport demonstrations is that the latter was fully focused on trying to be immediately useful and the former (for me at least) was a lot more about trying to prove where I stood on a "good/bad White person" dichotomy. You make really important points about how we've memory holed that moment (see also: the first year of Covid, another moment when we were sometimes clumsy in our caring but when we definitely tried to care!).
I read Milwaukee, boy, 6th grade, and my mind immediately began to race as I anticipated a school shooting. I cannot imagine how it must have felt to be in your position, and I am so glad your boy is okay. I'm not American myself (a fellow Canadian here) but America news is everywhere and its often more depressing than it is good (hense my school shooting assumption). With everything currently going on in this world, I appreciate this uplifting piece and I hope for the best in the upcoming elections.
The fear of a parent who isn't sure their child is safe is utterly visceral. I'm impressed you were able to carry on with your talk. Somehow your logic brain managed to hold the emotional brain while waiting for more information. This, by the way, is a sign of emotional maturity, a person having "adulted." I wish I could say the same about both presidential candidates.
There are so many layers here. This essay touched me and I will be thinking about it for a while.
And— when I saw the photo at the top I had an immediate and visceral reaction. Some mixture of amused embarrassment and the touching-a-hot-stove feeling of remembering that raw, tender, intense moment that I definitely have not fully metabolized. I remember leaving the UU church I had been going to because the pastor gave a sermon about safety pins and the newly awakened rage in me could not handle another second of kumbaya energy. The feelings I had in the last two months of that year were the most intense of my life to that point. Looking back it feels like a kind of insanity.
I think you nailed it. That specific November-January stretch is so fascinating to look back on because all the emotions were so visceral but all my actions/reactions don't seem fully real. Very, very dream state like.
Now I'm trying to imagine what would have happened if there had been an actual emergency if one of my parents was out of town when I was a kid, back in the pre-cellphone era. Call the hotel, leave a message, which they would get hours later...? I mean, at least we didn't have to worry about false alarms...
That's the thing. In spite of this false alarm causing a lot of unnecessary stress, in general I'm grateful to cell phones on this very specific front.
Wow - I have no idea how you were able to retain any composure to speak to a group of people. I’m so glad it was nothing! I believe I turned that feature off because I didn’t want to drop my phone down the stairs and alert someone 😂
We’re in a dream. We’re on a track. Running laps. Finding clues for what we lack. Told of life, “It’s so solid. This is it. Just go to college.” Lock step to a grand old foist. We’ve lost our senses. Had no choice. Stumbled onwards through this maze. Hard-to-find bearings. A hazardous haze. Lo and behold, I pick up my voice. Handed to me as if it’s my choice. It’s been here waiting. (It’s amazing what one can do after given up on mating). I’m zooming backwards to a time in May. A wedding to smile about. Yet I find myself frozen. No longer can play. The chips have fallen. A daring new day. The falsified games nearly drove me insane. Forever pondering a future for, too many, swirling down the drain. I hear your chitchat with our cousin at dinner, all reminiscing and spunky. “Hardeeharhar. Wish upon a star. How about them wound up toy monkeys?” The truth is here and it’s so stupefyingly severe. For we’re all someone else’s toy. We are all wound up. No one’s filling all cups. And the results are rather clunky. Yes, you’ve been a good guy. Never a sinner. When you’re a winner, I’d guess, another’s story can once upon you impress. Your hands are not dirty. You didn’t make this mess. Old timers, dead and gone, can be exuberantly exalted for “those” glorified days. The shine of their pistol. A criminal phase. A ruse that it’s different now. It’s just the same craze. While our relatives can be propped up and literally paid to scald the screen with this story’s page. Like those viral TikTokers, so too our sweet Uncle, mob-bossed, living large at the Knickerbocker. Passing out to us kids stale bazooka joes. Feigning all innocence so no chumps will know. “Oh my god that sounds like glory. I want to enter into that fabulous story”. Some might think so. Well that’s good for YOU. Now go find the people who think so too. Together YOU can consent to economically enter into that stale-for-me story. Just don’t splatter on everyone else what’s fetishized and gory. To me those days were not what a good man makes. Those were once boys picked on and bullied. They picked up the baton needing to run from what’s sullied. Sadly it’s contributed to all that’s now falsified and fake. Please stop giving to others what you’d refuse to take. Just because you’ve found the good life doesn’t mean everyone’s eating from the same saccharined cake. It’s time to open up eyes and rise and shine wakey wake.
"All in for Asheville: Block MAGA and Back the Recovery post-Hurricane"
Congratulations. Y'all have exceeded even my exceedingly ow expectations for you wretched reprobates. Pray they don't show up while I'm helping a neighbor put a new roof on his house.
Thank you! I made the mistake of listening to some depressing news last night, and I started spiraling a little. This writing helps!
The hard thing about avoiding depressing news is that it's everywhere. So glad this was helpful.
Your description of the safety bin logic chain made me laugh out loud, but I think it was missing something, which was the sense that we didn't know what kind of precipice the country was on—one of the big things that precipitated the safety pins (which were 100% silly) was the reports that hate crimes were increasing rapidly. So it wasn't just myopia about how people of color viewed white people (though it certainly WAS that), it was also from a fear (borne out by news reports) that things were getting worse, and were likely to keep getting worse.
I say this because I think we've kind of memory-holed the national popular mobilization against Trump, and while some of it was regrettable (like the safety pins) some of it was really effective (like the spontaneous protests against the Muslim bans at airports). I know I'm not telling you anything you don't know already, as the coiner of the phrase "never apologize for the times you cared a little bit more") but I think there's a bit of nuance here to add. Again, not as a safety pin apologist!
This is a great point, and I think there's a place for apologizing for the safety pins specifically! I actually debated being a little less flippant and a bit more nuanced in how I wrote about them-- for me, why I think about those pins a bit less lovingly than things like the airport demonstrations is that the latter was fully focused on trying to be immediately useful and the former (for me at least) was a lot more about trying to prove where I stood on a "good/bad White person" dichotomy. You make really important points about how we've memory holed that moment (see also: the first year of Covid, another moment when we were sometimes clumsy in our caring but when we definitely tried to care!).
I read Milwaukee, boy, 6th grade, and my mind immediately began to race as I anticipated a school shooting. I cannot imagine how it must have felt to be in your position, and I am so glad your boy is okay. I'm not American myself (a fellow Canadian here) but America news is everywhere and its often more depressing than it is good (hense my school shooting assumption). With everything currently going on in this world, I appreciate this uplifting piece and I hope for the best in the upcoming elections.
Isn't it so depressing that that was a very reasonable assumption for your brain to make? Ugh!
I still have the safety pin on my jeans jacket and there it will stay.
It sounds like it's remained a really powerful reminder of what you value and care about, which sounds lovely.
The fear of a parent who isn't sure their child is safe is utterly visceral. I'm impressed you were able to carry on with your talk. Somehow your logic brain managed to hold the emotional brain while waiting for more information. This, by the way, is a sign of emotional maturity, a person having "adulted." I wish I could say the same about both presidential candidates.
There are so many layers here. This essay touched me and I will be thinking about it for a while.
And— when I saw the photo at the top I had an immediate and visceral reaction. Some mixture of amused embarrassment and the touching-a-hot-stove feeling of remembering that raw, tender, intense moment that I definitely have not fully metabolized. I remember leaving the UU church I had been going to because the pastor gave a sermon about safety pins and the newly awakened rage in me could not handle another second of kumbaya energy. The feelings I had in the last two months of that year were the most intense of my life to that point. Looking back it feels like a kind of insanity.
I think you nailed it. That specific November-January stretch is so fascinating to look back on because all the emotions were so visceral but all my actions/reactions don't seem fully real. Very, very dream state like.
Now I'm trying to imagine what would have happened if there had been an actual emergency if one of my parents was out of town when I was a kid, back in the pre-cellphone era. Call the hotel, leave a message, which they would get hours later...? I mean, at least we didn't have to worry about false alarms...
That's the thing. In spite of this false alarm causing a lot of unnecessary stress, in general I'm grateful to cell phones on this very specific front.
Wow - I have no idea how you were able to retain any composure to speak to a group of people. I’m so glad it was nothing! I believe I turned that feature off because I didn’t want to drop my phone down the stairs and alert someone 😂
Ddidn't know you could turn it off!
Wow. Powerful stuff. Yup, I've heard a few now comical stories about how sensitive that Apple crash thing is.....
Happy to add my story to the list!
We’re in a dream. We’re on a track. Running laps. Finding clues for what we lack. Told of life, “It’s so solid. This is it. Just go to college.” Lock step to a grand old foist. We’ve lost our senses. Had no choice. Stumbled onwards through this maze. Hard-to-find bearings. A hazardous haze. Lo and behold, I pick up my voice. Handed to me as if it’s my choice. It’s been here waiting. (It’s amazing what one can do after given up on mating). I’m zooming backwards to a time in May. A wedding to smile about. Yet I find myself frozen. No longer can play. The chips have fallen. A daring new day. The falsified games nearly drove me insane. Forever pondering a future for, too many, swirling down the drain. I hear your chitchat with our cousin at dinner, all reminiscing and spunky. “Hardeeharhar. Wish upon a star. How about them wound up toy monkeys?” The truth is here and it’s so stupefyingly severe. For we’re all someone else’s toy. We are all wound up. No one’s filling all cups. And the results are rather clunky. Yes, you’ve been a good guy. Never a sinner. When you’re a winner, I’d guess, another’s story can once upon you impress. Your hands are not dirty. You didn’t make this mess. Old timers, dead and gone, can be exuberantly exalted for “those” glorified days. The shine of their pistol. A criminal phase. A ruse that it’s different now. It’s just the same craze. While our relatives can be propped up and literally paid to scald the screen with this story’s page. Like those viral TikTokers, so too our sweet Uncle, mob-bossed, living large at the Knickerbocker. Passing out to us kids stale bazooka joes. Feigning all innocence so no chumps will know. “Oh my god that sounds like glory. I want to enter into that fabulous story”. Some might think so. Well that’s good for YOU. Now go find the people who think so too. Together YOU can consent to economically enter into that stale-for-me story. Just don’t splatter on everyone else what’s fetishized and gory. To me those days were not what a good man makes. Those were once boys picked on and bullied. They picked up the baton needing to run from what’s sullied. Sadly it’s contributed to all that’s now falsified and fake. Please stop giving to others what you’d refuse to take. Just because you’ve found the good life doesn’t mean everyone’s eating from the same saccharined cake. It’s time to open up eyes and rise and shine wakey wake.
"All in for Asheville: Block MAGA and Back the Recovery post-Hurricane"
Congratulations. Y'all have exceeded even my exceedingly ow expectations for you wretched reprobates. Pray they don't show up while I'm helping a neighbor put a new roof on his house.