Maybe I left and never came back
We went to Egypt last September. It is wrong to be drunk, gay, or a woman there. It was much like Liberty University. The only difference was the call to prayer was blasted through the loudspeakers for all to hear.
We're going to move soon. I was happy in Egypt. I had very little baggage. I didn't buy fancy new clothes. I brought myself.
But we can't move to Egypt. Or the parts of America that are too much like Egypt. There are tiny oasis-like places everywhere, sure. But the day-in, day-out, constant regressive banter is exhausting— let alone the world-view enforcement. Spare me the misplaced conclusions.
I lived in the heart of fake news for facism during my four years in Lynchburg, Virginia. It caused me to walk away from religion entirely; watching the spiritual solace I found in childhood be compromised by powerful people merging religion and politics into a winner take-all pledge to end civil rights— the exact opposite message I accepted from Jesus and my exact experience raised in an upper class church by a single mother from a lower class family, in hindsight.
You fucked my generation by not preparing for us. I had to move away from home to try and find my footing since many affordable housing projects were shot down by people protecting their real-estate interests. Supply and demand. The market decided, fewer homes means more valuable homes. I loved learning about this in church while watching my mother struggle to make ends meet, yet parroting our affluent oppressors. Kyriarchy.
Stunningly, the same people today complain about how no one wants to work anymore. The truth is: everyone that has any ambition to succeed in this life left your sorry ass at the gate to your suburb and never looked back. Everyone that remains are the people you, and your other wealthy friends, defeated that have become content in their station. Congratulations, here's your sign.
We're moving. Not far, but a move is enough to trigger a new round of reflections. Losing my job, getting married— thinking as a partner in a family now, what is my life going to look like?
Different than it is now. Different if we must keep moving.
I'm going to have less. I've held onto lots of little things over the years— just in case.
At this point, I've explored the things I want and the things I need. I've found the things I can repair and can live without the things I can't.
I know who I'm going to be and not just wondering about who I could be.
I just need to shut up and do it.