Distancing: Day 79

I’ve stayed away from the news as much as I can, and escaped through books and films from the past, where people can hug and punch and travel however they like. This has led to a form of inner peace, a bubble of me and mine and now, where I can concentrate on my writing, my wellbeing, and the wellbeing of those nearest to me.

But it’s impossible not to be penetrated by the horrific and tragic news out there, whether or not it’s related to the pandemic. I’m thinking particularly the news from America, which continue to sadden and disturb and move me. There are reports and there are opinions that are impossible to stay unaware of, which in turn gives me a bit of hope.

It’s encouraged to join the discussion and movement online. But I don’t know how to respond, in my ignorance and compliance and privilege.

If I say nothing, it might come across as condoning the structure and system they’re fighting; if I say something, it might come across as idiotic and self-serving. I wish to come across like neither, because every cell of me want these structures gone. So of course they have my sympathy and my support, and of course black lives matter. But this is not my fight; I’m part of what they’re fighting. And right now, black voices matter more than white ones.




This is why I keep quiet on my social media. But here, on this blog, my diary and record of this most unusual spring and summer, I cannot leave out this vital development in the world that I think about every day. For prosperity, for my memory and my own future conscience (in other words, for completely selfish reasons), I need to put into writing that it’s happening, that I’m aware and supportive of it, and why I’m mute about it elsewhere.

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