Lately, I feel stuck. My hands grip the horns as the beast spins. I fly through the air in circles, the soles of my feet to the sun, unable to take a step forward or back. More unsettling than not having my feet on solid ground is that I’m wrestling several sets of horns at once.
Becoming an ally —and I use “becoming” intentionally because I think it’s an evolving, intuitive, and learning process and you never full arrive —becoming an ally requires your “good listening ears,” steady knees that don’t jerk to conclusions, humility as you learn because you don’t know what you thought you knew, and mindfulness about your role because allyship is not about being a savior or taking charge.
Your leaving helped me understand that I held my own obstacles in place. What I clutch with fear is never mine to begin with. It is just a door handle. Releasing my grip, the old door that held fear at my feet swings open to possibilities I couldn’t see before.
If you have a hero-in-my-works in your life, please know that we wear a cape to justify ourselves and feel worthy, AND we do big things because we love you.
The breezeway and creaking swing are long gone. I remember very few specific words exchanged over that slab of covered concrete. New birds fill the air with song, different crickets fuss at night, but the sanctity of those shared moments in the breezeway lingers.
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