Pockets & Sedition
Forming a more perfect Union one word, one pocket, one person at a time
Last week…
On Tuesday, November 5th, 2024 the unthinkable occurred.
Scratch that. The THINKABLE did occur, we just didn’t think the thinkable was what the majority of this country was thinking. And we were wrong. Then the thinkable turned actionable as the gleeful vitriol of threats and hate immediately began raining down upon the marginalized (and not-so-marginalized) in this country.
Communities of people who’ve been woven into the cloth of our country, as we all have, making the cloth of our country resilient in function and beautiful in form. I’m not a Pollyanna by any stretch of the imagination, and am the first to acknowledge this cloth is frayed in far too many places. Whether that’s through passive neglect or active destruction, the resulting wear and tear on the cloth of our country is the same.
Despite the wave of emotions and cycles of fight or flight, if I had to sum up what happened last week in one sentence, it would be this:
Tuesday was a seismic tug on threads, both hidden and exposed, that many of us fear will unravel the cloth of our country for good.
This last weekend…
After four days of numbness, this last weekend turned itchy.
I’ve been itching to write. To teach. To create. To eat chocolate ice cream for three meals a day. To binge-watch YouTube reactors reacting to Squid Game.
I cannot decide which itch the Squid Game is scratching. Maybe watching the expressions of horror on those first-time viewers’ faces makes me feel that what’s around the corner for us might be a smidge less horrific relative to (what I hope) are a fictional set of games? Maybe the looks of horror on the reactors’ faces mirror the horror I’m actually feeling? Maybe a little bit of both?
What I can say is this: there is A LOT of comfort in watching grown men openly weep watching Episode 6 (IYKYK), reminding me that my faith in humanity’s ability to feel, express, and act on empathy and compassion is far stronger than the faith that had been momentarily knocked akimbo on Tuesday night.
This week…
I write. I create. I feel the feels. I dust off my empty Substack that’s been lying dormant for the last year or so. Those of you who are friends with me on social media know that I have many (many many MANY) thoughts about politics, democracy, and humanity’s potential for following the pull of our better angels and being creative problem-solvers. I knew that this Substack would be a repository for those thoughts—a place for resilience and resistance in the face of despair.
One of my favorite TV shows is The Good Place. It’s hilarious, profound, absurd, heartfelt, quotable, rewatchable, and perfection from the opening moments of the first episode to the final moments of the series finale. One of my top ten favorite quotes from the show comes from the main character Eleanor: “We have to stay cool. As my mom always used to say, ‘If a cop handcuffs you to a bike rack, there’s always something you can gnaw through.’”
The spirit of the quote is exactly the spirit I would like this Substack to have. There’s always something to do, problems to solve, and choices to be made. With that said, I realize naming this Substack “There’s Always Something to Gnaw Through” was far too long, far too specific to only TGP fans, and far too absurd for everyone else.
So while ruminating on potential titles, I found myself doomscrolling through my Facebook news feed. Suddenly this poem cropped up, posted by one of my friends:
Dangerous Coats by Sharon Owen
“Someone clever once said
Women were not allowed pockets
In case they carried leaflets
To spread sedition
Which means unrest
To you & me
A grandiose word
For commonsense
Fairness
Kindness
Equality
So [people], start sewing
Dangerous coats
Made of pockets & sedition”
That was it! We can always find or create pockets to hold our forms of resistance, to carry our creations for educating and healing, and to embrace and protect ourselves and the people around us. So welcome to the Pockets Substack.
Next week…
I don’t know.
I don’t know the future.
But I do know we’re all in this together.
I know that if we’re handcuffed to a bike rack, there’s always something to gnaw through.
I know that you and I have everything we need to mend the cloth of our country.
I know we have our pockets at the ready.
So let’s form a more perfect Union one word, one pocket, one person at a time.
