respair: the return of hope after a period of despair
This week, a post on anything but grief feels wrong. We lost the formidable Ruth Bader Ginsburg this week, and Breonna Taylor’s murderers walked free — charged only for the bullets that missed. I am gutted.
Instead of trying to parse my own grief into words, please let me share novelist Jesmyn Ward’s piece On Witness and Respair: A Personal Tragedy Followed by Pandemic. Ward loses her husband, suffers through the pandemic in a grief-fueled depression, sobs and bears witness to racism protests — and does so with lilting grace and courage.
I hear you, Breonna. I hear you, Jesmyn. I hear you, Ruth. We are here. We aren’t going anywhere, except forward.
This week has been hard. Another man is dead for the crime of being black. George Floyd was killed by a police officer, and Minneapolis is reeling, seething, hurting. A CNN crew was arrested and detained last night by Minneapolis police as they reported on the protests, despite their every effort to cooperate and do the right thing. How can we be the home of the free? It is not freedom if all of us cannot walk safely. It is not freedom for our press to be locked up without cause. It is not freedom to be killed for the color of one’s skin.
This is so beautiful and so heartbreaking. Thank you, Keedron Bryant, for sharing your song.