And a day of reckoning. Do I give up?
Do I move on? Why is every day an existential crisis?
At least, every work day.
How do I move beyond it?
This is the point where the lesson of kindness I sought in Father Lightning should kick in.
Unfortunately, the lesson I’ve learned out of that has become something else. It’s a story about men and women, and how even the best of intentions can blind us if we don’t address the reality around us.
It’s one thing to say you support women and you’re an ally in the face of sexual aggression.
It’s a whole other thing to actually pay attention, and help where it’s needed.
And sometimes, boys, that means leaving it alone. This has nothing to do with the book; our hero should have done more sooner, but with trauma, sometimes, your support must be indirect.
If a women has been abused by a man, is a man who she wants to comfort her? There’s an inevitable mistrust there, in many cases, whether it’s warranted or not. It doesn’t matter.
Sometimes, you need someone who knows what you went through to offer the helping hand. You don’t want to hug someone who might just be your next abuser.
So, do what you can boys, jump in where needed. And if you see any of those boys from Cornell (or their enablers in the police or the administration, feel free to let ’em know what’s what. Fucking garbage people, every last one of ’em.)
Target: 1700 words
Written: 1698 words, novel: Father Lightning
Read: Proof Of Conspiracy, Seth Abramson
Comics: Cloak And Dagger v5 3
Music: Healthy In Paranoid Times, Our Lady Peace