(Link above for the New York Times article about the Women's March and my activism)
But I have something to say about this article-
There is often a moment where many of us, the teachers and the story tellers, are forced to decide how to tell a story. How to pick a side. How to figure out if there even are sides. We have to decide if we are telling the story to do good in the world or are we telling it just to speak. Like a parent telling a story to a child we have to figure out how to entertain the child, tickle their ears with the words, expose the truth, and educate them to show them the moral behind it. But there's a line. There's a moment that we must figure out what is more important, how much they liked the story or what they got from it. Not all stories are intended to have happy endings or to make you feel good.
I talk about race a lot, that's my thing. I never wanted that be my thing but that's my thing. I wanted to be an ice skater as a child. I wanted to be a mom and also a writer. I loved coming up with stories in my head then writing them down. But one day someone told me reality was more important to discuss. I think it was my mother. I think she said something about survival. I can't remember, I didn't get as many of "the talks" about survivin as my brother. But I know I was taught how to live without joy nonetheless. Live to fight.
I'm trying to change that narrative.
I am not the division. I'm a young woman and I want to live safely in my skin. I want to not have to talk about race. I want to exist as bigger than what white America does to me. But people would rather hate the truth than fight with me to change that this is our countries truth. To everyone sending me hate because of this article I hope you find what you're searching for in your anger of my words. But you won't find it there.
This world is changing, with or without you. Your hate fuels me. It means I did something right.