All the Feels
I can't think my way through a problem. I need to feel it, to let it work through me, to rage or cry or whatever. Then, maybe I write. But I can't leap over these steps to thinking. I try, believe me, but then I am bound up in anxiety. I am incomplete. The cycle needs to complete itself.
The world (i.e. men) does not like feelings. We are hysterical, we are overemotional, we are unprofessional, it's not personal, it 's business, good vibes only, it's all good, man.
I actually heard a cashier say that to a man who was raging against Pres. Biden in the ShopRite, I mean cursing, raging, going at it, as he was packing up his groceries. He mock-apologized, because even he, deep down, knew that he was being, at the very least, inappropriate. And the cashier responded: "It's all good, brother." NO. And I said, "Actually, it's not good."
I couldn't believe this man was subjecting the rest of us to his rant. He was verging on violent. He was dripping with vitriol. The hate was sick. Sure, it likely was rooted in his fear and bewilderment, in his sense, as an old white guy, of being displaced.
I understand the why He's human. I don't want to dehumanize him the way he was dehumanizing those of us who voted for Biden, because, yes, he was cursing us out, too.
But explaining him does not excuse him. And I see this anger everywhere----on bumper stickers and T-shirts and in the ways in which people drive or talk to strangers. This is scary.