This summer has been delirium. Disillusionment. Satisfaction. Confusion. A mixture all rolled into one heart.
Time is a fickle thing, having too much, having too little. Learning more about what is healthy and what is not. Putting things off, feeling like a letdown. Feeling a lot. I’ve been thinking about birthright. What about my life is a possession solely from my family and what has originated from the point of my birth onwards? How do I relate myself to my relatives, when can I recognize my privilege, and are there any moments in time where I can see past it? Should I, am I, allowed to disavow this immense advantage if only for a second? The world screams a resounding no and I am learning to live with that. To find gracefulness in my circumstances. To understand and appreciate opportunities with deeper widths. And when it comes straight down to it; only I know the truth of me. Only I can understand my birthright, and only I can work towards acknowledging it and how unfair this world can be for others. Lately my mind has been trickily seeing the world through money. Something that is cruel and ugly. It has been sneaking into my head constantly, now that I am on my own – with a little less of that birthright. I have been furiously typing notes into my phone, why is it money vs. people? I can’t quite figure out my thoughts on this, just that I know my life has been technicolor while other’s struggle with black and white. This truth bleeds through my actions and my experiences, it bleeds through me a night, staring up at the ceiling that I find myself under due to nothing else but my birthright. And when I am exhausted under the weight of money, the world shoves in my face color. How dare you feel exhausted when your skin shines white and, in this country, it gives you power. This body has hidden me, opened doors for me, and produced kindness from strangers for no other reason than its appearance. It shames me. For I know not what others have to go through, have to endure. It shames me for wanting something different, if only to allow me to connect better with those who have had to learn to be strong. Stronger than anything I have ever had to be. It is a strength that my privilege has allowed me to live without. And when I feel unkind or ungrateful, I know I do not deserve to ask for anything else than who I already am. So, this is me wondering if I can demand a world with more connection, less money, less color blindness, less birthright. This is me wondering how I can make it true. How I can make it fair. How can I make lightness where there has always had to be grit. This is me wondering if it is my place to stand when my privilege tells me to sit.
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Author's note:Hi, I'm Helen. Welcome to Lifted ~ I write to lift myself up. Archives
June 2021
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