Heavy, heavy, heavy world.

It is all just so heavy right now.

The humidity mimics the heaviness in the air--but it is not the humidity--although, it is the air. 

The feeling in the air. 

The tone of the day. 

The mood. 

Heavy.

I recall a time when we--especially as part of a school--looked to early June as pure celebration! and congratulations! and moving on! and moving-up! and running with joy towards a warm summer of fun!

 

I am so sad that it not where we are. 

Both we as a school and my community; and we as a larger world.

My school community cares and is committed to diversity, equity, and inclusion. 

When the larger community aches so deeply with what is happening, we talk about it. 

It is so important to have these discussions. And they are heavy. 

As I walk around in my white skin, I will continue to reflect on what privilege that brings and has always brought me--and what that means for others. 

I will never fully know what it means, or what it is like to walk this world in brown or black skin; but I commit to working toward a knowledge and understanding of what those experiences mean for those who have them. With empathy, deep listening, and care, I will humbly learn thorough reading, and through listening from those who are both brave enough and have the bandwidth to share with me. 

And most importantly, I will take action. My first goal is to fully understand what those action are. I am receiving a clear message that it is no longer enough to care and be kind. We also need to actively participate in anti-racist ways to make change. 

It is important for me to do this because the amazing, thoughtful, delightful, beautiful, talented students and friends about whom I care so very deeply deserve a world that gives each of them the same privilege that I have by simply having this white skin. 

My students and friends have all kinds of skin. I hate that the same skin that makes them beautiful, can make others look at them with eyes that criticize their movements in callous ways. All I ever want is for people to feel safe and loved--for their whole lives. At some point, many will be scared of powers that I trust to protect me because of their skin.

That is heavy on my heart and mind and soul. 

I want to do better and I want to know how. 

For now, Chris and I have made several donations to organizations like the NAACP's Legal Defense Fund--these folks brought us change including Brown Vs. Board of Education. More change like that is clearly needed. We also donated to the Pimento Relief Fund which is an organization committed to rebuilding businesses owned by Black individuals that were destroyed in the Minnesota riots. We also gave funds to the Minnesota Voice which encourages voter registration so that all voices can be heard across the state of Minnesota, especially underrepresented voices. 

I wish there were more I could do in this moment. When I am with the children, I will do my job well. I will ensure we commit to the diversity work that is desperately important for a better future. 

In this moment, I am chilly and feel the heavy air.

I have the heated blanket on high. 

I don't know why it is chilly in early June. 

I don't know why a lot of things are the way they are right now.

If you come to this blog to learn how I am doing and are surprised that this is not about my health, please know that this is about my health--not only my mental health, but my physical health too. 

My biggest challenge right now is eating. When I was sad and upset on a healthy, regular, pre-cancer day--this would make me have no appetite. So, to navigate this heaviness and heartache now makes it feel nearly impossible. 

I know I need to eat.

I'll try. 

The heaviness makes it so hard. But I've made a commitment to myself that I will do better in this world, AND that I will be here for those who need and want me. 

To be here and to do the good I want to do; I must eat and be healthy. 

It is all so hard. I wish it were easier. Always.