Once Invisible

When I was a boy my superpower was invisibility.

My best friend shared the gift. We discovered our unusual abilities when we were 10. There was a cement pond in the woods behind Schlarman High School. It was hidden on the ruins of the old Hegeler mansion. It was a very hot, humid day, and despite the modesty of good Catholic and Presbyterian upbringings, we soon found ourselves two wild naked Indians romping through the ‘wilderness’ unworried about any eyes that might see us. For several years thereafter we did things with bravado that few others would have dared. Clothed and unclothed. We were invisible. 

There is another kind of invisibility that is not a superpower. It comes, when one is devalued and rejected. Black Americans, other people of color, and those living on the margins, know this experience well. The disabled and disenfranchised live beneath the view of most people every day.

““I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless heads you see sometimes in circus sideshows, it is as though I have been surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves or figments of their imagination, indeed, everything and anything except me.””

— ― Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

It takes a lot to be recognized as an equal when those with power are not interested. Power discounts the validity of claims that some are ‘more equal than others’ by hearkening back to the good old days when everything was copacetic. Or at least that was their experience. They object to any notion of personal bias. Blaming others is easier and denial has been such a comfortable hiding place. But now the powerless, who never languished in those good old days, will not be ignored. There is too much video evidence that affirms their position. Too many broken promises. Organized and passionate, they will be seen and they will be heard. 

There will be backlash. There will be resistance. But, once invisible and then noticed, there is no path back. Change is gonna come as the old song says. It is up to all of us to be a part of it, embrace it, and then to celebrate our oneness.

What Am I Supposed to Do?

As tensions rise, knowing what to do does not come with easy answers for most of us.

We have been faced with a seemingly relentless pandemic and a reawakening to the reality of discrimination, violence, mistrust, and hatred with the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis. Parts of our great cities have been burned and looted as cries for social justice are compromised by lawlessness. Alongside all of this, the fragile mitigation of COVID-19 is threatened as people flock together without regard to social distancing or wearing of masks. What are we to do?

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything.”

— Rainer Maria Rilke

We have a Zoom gathering of old friends every Sunday where glasses of wine toast another week survived. None of the six of us are exactly Spring Chickens. Let's just say we have been around long enough to be called elders. None of this "senior" business for us. We're just Baby Boomers with wrinkles and lots of experiences. All six served as professionals in fields providing direct service to those who suffer. And each has been active in spiritual/religious life.

We have shaken things up from time to time. So, when the question arose last Sunday, there was a moment of silence and hesitation. "What am I supposed to do?" In the face of these most recent crises, when confronted with hate-filled, conspiracy theory laden, fear and anger, "What am I supposed to say?" Though we batted the questions around and processed our feelings and worries , no answer was ever offered. And, I suppose, that’s because there isn’t any single response that fits all situations. Maybe the questions are more important than any answers.

Questions lead us away from the raging storm into a place of consideration and contemplation. We breathe for a moment and think before doing anything. Just think. Any of us can choose to fan the flames of violence with what we say and do...or, by our silence, can implicitly give permission to hate. But, we can also chose to use our words and actions to object with respect, stand nonviolently in solidarity, and offer healing by intently listening and finding common ground.

Nobody is untouched or undisturbed over the turbulent happenings of 2020. It seems like one thing after another keeps trying to pile on as we rush headlong into disaster. Governmental leaders are trying to do their best, but the results haven't been so good. But one calm, positive, compassionate voice will make an incredible difference. One leader, followed by a choir of others can right our ship and help us find our way. Senator Robert Kennedy gave that kind of speech in 1968 Indianapolis after the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King. It didn't magically bind up all of our wounds, but rather gave us direction and reminded us of who we were. It reset the tone. I've listened to it several times lately, and offer its timely words for all of our readers today. There is a way back to sanity. We have all the right stuff to rise above the suffering. A new age of social justice and an awakening to better understanding one another is at hand. Be that one voice to make it happen.