inkskinned:

i’m out of polite, out of gentle, out of understanding. i’ve signed each petition, walked in protest, went to marches. i called every representative, emailed, boycotted. i have volunteered every time i could squeeze it in, donated, got the word out, bent my head to pray about it. 

i am not polite. i’m fucking desperate. we have done polite and look at how they responded. we all throw up our hands and say “how are we going to get out of this mess!” and i’m promised if i’m polite and wait until we can vote again we’ll surely see a turnaround. just keep your hands to yourself and wait it out. i’m lucky because my life isn’t on the line if i wait four months. i can afford to wait four months. 

there are people out there. there are children out there. who can’t afford to wait four months. and we can all act like we’re shocked and scared and not my america but the truth is there’s nothing on this green earth i can do about it. i don’t have the individual power to stop it. i donate my last few dollars and skip lunch for it and bow my head to pray about it and email and call and raise awareness and we’re all watching, watching, complicit because we’re bystanders in this; watching, watching, horrified but unable to stop it.

i’m out of polite. there are children laying on mats on concrete floors and calling that home and you’re worried because when i said “if you think toddler detention centers are legitimate you can burn in hell” it comes off as unfriendly. i didn’t realize that this migrant crisis was about your feelings. also, you can burn in hell. the rest of us are burning ourselves up, because we’re calling, and we’re emailing, and volunteering and god. god. are you listening? because at this point, white-knuckled, on-our-knees, we’re praying.