Read this first and then come back. I’ll wait.
Now. Let’s talk.
I decided on this writing gig at the age of eight when I realized all I wanted in life was to craft something so beautiful that it makes someone cry. This has not changed one bit in the twenty-two years since then. I want to make people feel. I want to make people react. I want to change the world.
I have always been the person who reads the news and cries. I take everything to heart, waving my arms around and screaming, “This. Why is this acceptable to you? Don’t you see what’s going on around you?!” You feel this enough times a day that you wonder if anyone is even listening anymore. You become numb. You avoid things that make your heart break. You stop getting outraged in a crowd.
But I’m still outraged. I get in the car with my husband and I rage about Rush Limbaugh and the country trying to tell me that they have a right to probe me. I rage about the sick poor. I rage, and I cry. It is too much for one person to tackle. I give my money when I have it, but really it’s never enough. My outrage only takes me so far.
Reading the above article (You read it, right? You skimmed it? Go back and read it. I didn’t post it just to use up space.) something clicked. I pulled back and looked at the desk where I occupy my days. If I want to use what I’ve got to make a difference why the hell am I sitting here slowly editing? I’m one of the lucky few that works at a non-profit with a message I believe in, but even that chafes on days when all I want to make my own mark on the world.
It’s time for the artists of the world to stand up and use their voice for something more. Make things with a message. Stand up for what you believe in, even if it conflicts with someone else’s idea of truth. Dig deep. Figure out the whys of what you believe and put them into something you can share with the world. Use your voice. Fight.