Today the rain was falling fat like little birds fighting over the last crumb of bread, the tin roof clicks and clicks at me until I stop and pay attention. Watering the basil I’ve planted over the summer, refreshing the old yellow peppers still on the vine. Someone once said “water holds memory” maybe like a movie or a script waiting for the playback in the back of my head.
I was there two weeks ago sitting at a table. The conversation went something like this,
Mrs Potrho: you know, I’m thinking nonviolence didn’t do much.
me: how’s that?
Mrs. Portho: well my daughter said she had a bit of an incident, at the shopping mall where a woman ran into her or they ran into each other. Anyhow, my daughter said excuse me. To be polite and the other woman involved said “watch it you black B***ch”, now at this point my daughter said in haste, “do you want to take this outside”?
me: um, I hope she was able to walk away?
Mrs. Portho: you know – my daughter was right. It’s too late for turning the other cheek.
me: but, nonviolence is resistance in itself. It’s offering, peace, it’s offering something that the world is shouting for. That is to say, do I want justice? Do I want the laws to change? Do I want all persons, no matter the color of skin to feel safe? Surely I do.
me: revenge only calls for more blood and more death.
After that, we changed the subject.
feel free to add your thoughts below- I’d love to hear what you’d done in this situation your Kindness sis. Krissy