The one that it's calling is you
The post that finally sees the light of day, while there is still day to be seen
It is evening. I’ve felt sick all day as the reality of not having a full time job and living in this economy sinks in. I am a freelancer now. I have amazing assignments in the works for venues I would pledge my sword to, and I’ve got to figure out how to pay my COBRA. I’ve been in much tighter jams. I’m usually not worried, but when I am, I hold onto my copy of “The Devil’s Triangle” by Mark Judge and I’m okay.
Some of my friends think it’s odd that I’ve been so inspired by someone who is known for being on the Right. We do agree on big issues. But if you are a writer, or someone who just loves freedom of speech and believes in rational discourse over hysteria and cancel culture, you’d understand.
For the last few years I’ve had full time jobs with organizations whose missions I believed in, else I would not have joined them. Educating the children of Philadelphia, treating people with alcohol problems (now that I am a freelancer, not an employee, I do not have to use diagnoses, and no, I don’t believe that alcohol use is a lifelong medical condition and that’s my first off-brand statement and it feels so good!) I believe in those things. But I was not able to write freely. My freelance career, where I published almost daily for quite a few years and then at least twice a month, came to a halt.
I thought that a little money and some security and some praise from capitalists who admired my ability to get things done was what I was supposed to want. I tried to forget the power of writing what you believe, what is true, even when it is a blade that cuts you just as hard as it cuts the other side.
We don’t have to like reality. The Philadelphia schools are dangerous places for both students and teachers. I will write about the trauma there, now that I have found my voice again. I can wish it were like the magical places where I was a substitute teacher, in the poorest district in Pennsylvania, in schools where high school kids who had failed out of the main high school were sent to be thrown away. In those schools, we did our own thing, and I took over classrooms that had been vacant all year and taught the kids lessons they engaged with. No one cared, so me and a bunch of teachers who had somehow found ourselves on the outside of the system got to teach what mattered to kids who were already involved in gangs and the criminal justice system. And we graduated them and gave them a chance.
I went to Philly hoping to do the same. I was wrong.
I have been up close and personal to other realities that didn’t suit me so well. Those are a little too fresh to write about.
Here is what I have learned:
I can not sit quietly and conform while I feel others are being harmed. When the fascists take over, I need to figure out the most impactful, fastest act of disobedience that will get me killed while helping the most people at once, because I’ve run out of Stockholm Syndrome (there is a lifetime limit) and I’ll stand up to my abusers fast.
Autonomy is my highest value. I’d rather be poor doing what I believe in, my way, than be able to afford all the things capitalists show off by playing their game.
I am on the side of the poor, and I have been one of them a lot more often than it appears. I also value the perspective of those who have been born into or know how to create wealth. Being poor or rich just informs your perspective - it doesn’t justify it.
I believe in the fair exchange of ideas. If you have something to say, say it. Write it. I’ll read you and write back. Do no censor, cancel, dismiss. I stand against cancel culture, and I also don’t automatically give anyone credit just because they’ve been oppressed or gotten degrees. I’ve both been oppressed and gotten some fancy degrees. Please evaluate my work on its own merits.
Gender and sex are complicated, but I will never sign on to a culture that denies the joy of raw male passion connecting with feminine energy. I’ve lived the best parts of my life on that, and I plan to continue. I have deep respect for those who are lesbian, gay, trans, etc. I happen to be a straight female who loves a strong straight man. I like it when he likes me in short skirts and manicured nails. I’m still an activist, an independent woman who stands up for what I believe in, and who finds a lot of power in the connection between male and female. I don’t see my lovers - past, present or future - complaining. I’m going to write what I want with glittering nails and go out with whom I want, when I want, where I want, honoring the tradition of Erica Jong and many others who came before me declaring that loving men and a good, uh, time, does not invalidate your feminist credentials.
I started reading “The Free Press” and read Bari Weiss’ letter of resignation to the New York Times. I felt a kindred spirit and then met many among the authors she publishes. We can do this, I thought.
Mark writes at length about one of my favorite songs, “The Voice” by the Moody Blues. It’s been a powerful song for me since I was a child. I’ve been listening to it more and more.
I will tell you about a dream that I had where a voice was calling to me… that changed everything, soon enough.
“Understand the voice within, and feel the change, already beginning.
Won’t you tell me again?”
There have been many times in the past few months when I’ve said, “Won’t you tell me again?” and a tweet from Mark or an article or email or text from my true friends has hit.
“Out on the ocean of life my love, there are so many storms we must rise above.
You’re already falling, it’s calling you back to face the music and the song that is coming through. You’re already falling, the one that it’s calling is you.”
Tell me again.