No Such Thing as Coincidence-My Much Needed Focused Rant Release

For years, I have believed and shouted out that there is no such thing as coincidence. What happened this week had simply reaffirmed! 

We are supposed to be on vacation this week, floating in the lake, enjoying the view of my horse in the mini-paddock as we laze under the camper awning, laughing with my parents over grilled burgers and brats. 

Life happened and we had to stay home.

Sad.

Life happened and we had to stay home.

Whoo! 

The multiple events I was going to miss instantly popped into the emptied vacation slots on my calendar. 

Making lemonade from lemons. Silver lining. 

     Thursday morning writing with MMWG in Ionia. Yay!

     Friday night, Artist's Umbrella: Art is Shelter. Yay!

     Saturday afternoon I can go visit my cousin at the Grand Ledge Arts & Crafts fair and Sunday I can ride my Mustang with friends all day long. Yay!

Any of these would have been enough to ease the loss of lazy vacation days with my hubby, dogs, horse, and hilarious parents.

Last night, Thursday evening, at Rayner Park, I participated in The Creative Collective's open mic and listened to amazing performances centered around Social Justice. Morgan Madden @madmanpoetics; Keyante Saxon AKA "KT The Conscious Poet" of The Conscious Streamers; Sema Melek @preachyourprose

The words of these artists struck chords inside me. 

As KT spoke the lines, "Gunshot. BANG!" I felt my body flinch as each bullet struck its mark, ended a black life that should have gone on to be fully lived. Tears welled as George Floyd called for his Mama. 

Sema's empowered poems, read from the twisting and winding paths in her simple composition notebook had me locked in, unwilling to look away, feeling all the feels of lost childhood, abuse, illness, loneliness, and the fight to regain power and independence.

The final portion of the event was a discussion panel with reps from the local Equity Task Force (ETF), NAACP, and Senate. I listened as they spoke, gasping as details erupted of discrimination and bias in Mason's schools were shared. A mother shared how the klan showed up on their lawn three days after they moved into a Mason family neighborhood, how her daughter was call n****r in the school hallways every single day she attended 8th and 9th before leaving for early college. I learned how their vehicle was surrounded by a gang of thugs on motorcycles, tapping on their windows, threatening them; how their house was vandalized; how not a single person spoke up or welcomed them while these things were happening.

My heart wanted to crumble, but it was too busy turning into molten lava, fueled by my rage and disgust. I wanted to turn back time, stand in their yard, fight for them, demand justice. Of course, none of that is possible. I knew this family, I realized as the night progressed. This beautiful young woman had been one of mine, and I never knew these things happened. How terrified she must have been, how alone she must have felt. 

All I could do was tell them how sorry I am for all they have been through. "It's okay," she assured me. 

It's the go to response from people who have been mistreated. I do it, too, but we need to stop telling others that it's okay. It isn't okay. It is not okay that she was called vile names, ignored, and worse. Even though she will be much better than okay (she is brilliant, strikingly beautiful, surrounded and supported by powerful and determined parents), it is not okay that she's been put through horrible things.

Not anywhere, but especially, not in my town. 

As I went to leave, I was stopped by the ETF rep. Not sure I will be running for school board, but definitely amping up my efforts to get involved in making the change, applying pressure, doing what I can to help.

My friend and I walked toward our cars, stopped by Sema as she called out and ran to meet us. She had to thank us, telling us how our attentiveness as she spoke meant so much to her. "You look so familiar..." We shared, chatting a bit, and then...

There is no such thing as coincidence...

Sema gasped. "You spoke at Okemos High School when I was a student. I was in a bad place. You said things that changed my path." (paraphrasing for privacy and other reasons) 

I hugged this beautiful young woman as goosebumps raced across my body. I cried and held her just a bit tighter to let her know how much her story meant to me, to know that she matters. 

As I was pulled away by another couple, I listened peripherally as Sema and my friend chatted, connected, encouraged and supported each other, hugged and held tight.

We walked to our cars.

I shouldn't have been here this week.

I should be up north: bonding with my horse at Liberty and rides through the Rattail, bobbing in the lake on rafts with my mom and wine coolers, holding hands with my husband and walking our pups on the sandy roads.

I shouldn't have been here this week, but life happened, and plans changed.

I had to stay home, and got to hang out with my friend, attending powerful artsy events. 

     My friend told me how much she needed it, that these days mattered greatly.

     Sema floated into my space, connecting, changing my heart and encouraging more.

     KT's poems and all that came after punched me awake, demanded 'Greeting Card' be written, opened my eyes to what is happening in the dark, smarmy corners of my own town.

I shouldn't have been here this week, but I am, because life happened, and

there are no such things as coincidence.