This Time Last June

This time last June, the country was on fire.

We either participated, or we watched. There was nothing else to do. Participating meant taking to the streets, taking to social media, taking to the dinner table, taking to the institutions we are a part of. Watching meant being complicit, or it meant being afraid, being in denial, being just not ready yet.

This time last June, the curtains were pulled back.

In all of our relationships, we either found support or we found disappointment. Both were equally eye opening. Both served a purpose: to deliver solace, or to clear space. There is no room for disappointment and lack of solace when the country is on fire.

This time last June, we realized the consequences of a disconnect between politics and humanity.

We either put aside our differences in policy or we put policy ahead of human breath. How could people still make it about taxes? How much money are faces of color worth? Where were the leaders who stood for both and why was that something that was so hard to find? There is no voice louder than silence when the country is on fire.

This time last June, the medical masks were on but the societal masks were off.

Would we be here today if we hadn’t been trapped in our homes with no option but participate or watch? This wasn’t the first time people of color had been unable to breathe, and deep down we knew it wasn’t the last. But finally, people were listening. Participating. Watching. There is nothing else to do when you’re stuck inside and the country is on fire.

This June, the medical masks are off.

As people resume their normal lives, with options other than participating or watching, I’d like to believe that the progress continues. I’ll choose to believe that as social media comes alive with adventures of a summer much different than last, people are still listening. I’ll hope that some of the black and brown faces who were scared to leave their homes, scared to do anything other than watch, have found some solace in leaders anew. I’ll trust that those who pledged to do better, will.

This June, I’ll believe. I’ll hope. I’ll trust.

And next June, and the one after that, we’ll see how we did. Masks off, space cleared. Fires extinguished, unless you’ve chosen to keep one within.