None of it makes sense. I don’t mean I couldn’t find an outfit. I mean the act of getting dressed (or eating, drinking, doing literally anything) makes absolutely no sense right now.
We woke up to 50 fresh holes ripped in the universe that aren’t supposed to be there.
It reminds me of after Paris. Of after 9/11. Of after Columbine or Virginia Tech or Sandy Hook. Of after Sandra Bland. Of after Alan Kurdi and the unnamed in his watery wake. Of after Trayvon and Michael and Eric and Tamir and Eric and Walter and Johnathan and Samuel and Freddie and…and… Of after this week when Istanbul quietly suffered its 4th terrorist bombing this year. Of after last week when over 100 bodies silently washed up on the shores of Libya with hundreds more still missing while attempting to flee their own homes. Of after….of after…. It is an infinity list eating it’s own tail.
I know these don’t all fit in the same categories; some are acts of terror (or the result of it), some are acts of bigotry and racism, some carry unthinkable malice, some are just insanity — but all are senseless. And on days like today the flimsy dividers we create don’t suffice to keep one neatly away from the other. They start blurring together into a great, singular darkness. There are no clear-cut categories for tragedy. It fills space with complete disregard for boundaries, just like the fear-fueled hatred that creates it. Today, the world is not beautiful. It is ugly and cruel in ways I cannot begin to comprehend. All the light and colors are gone — again. It’s not right.
And the every-other-headlines about which lipstick color goes with my horoscope sign or which celebrity got which haircut with which girlfriend because of which celebrity breakup makeup kit …. It’s like a foreign language. It is so incongruous right next to the headlines that announce unspeakable evil (in the same 155-character-click-bait-template).
So what do you wear to a tragedy? How do you dress heartache? What shoes should you wear while you walk past victims of…life. Of the world. Of us.
Post Script: What I Wore
I am wearing a black shirt in mourning and solidarity. But under that I put on my very brightest neon pink bra in tribute and celebration of the lives lived. Our world is far from perfect, but what makes it bright — or in this case sparkle and glitter and fabulous neon shine– are the people brave enough to be who they are, no matter what that looks like. Sometimes the struggle it takes simply to be yourself In this world is astounding, and this morning the sacrifice was far, far too high. Peace, love and power to those we lost, to those who survived, and to those who are out there living in truth.