Skip to main content

An Open Letter to All of Humanity

It is 9am and I am sitting in my classroom at PS84 in Brooklyn waiting for my first kindergarten karate class to show up. It is my first class of 4. They are good kids and I am a very good karate teacher, yet I am always a bit nervous right before my day starts. I want it to be a good day. I want the kids to learn a lot. I want them to have fun. I only get this particular group of kids for 10 weeks so I feel extra pressure to make every class the best it can be. To be perfect.

Today, the Monday before Election Day, seems extra tense. The florescent lights hurt my eyes and I feel as if at any moment a full blown migraine is going to explode across my field of vision. At one point my daughter pokes her head in on the way to the bathroom and her little face makes me feel slightly teary. 

Am I the only one who feels this way today? Like the top layer of my skin has gone missing? Like all of us are just hanging on by a tiny thread, and at any moment it could just blow away?

Its not my kindergartners, who are still so innocent and full of hope, who come to class every week just wanting to jump up and down and say "kiai!!" really, really loud. Its not my daughter, who is still young enough to be proud and happy that her mom works at her school one day a week. 

In the event of full disclosure, I am voting for Hilary Clinton tomorrow. I don't really like her much, but I think she is by far the better candidate for our country and I think Donald Trump is a racist misogynist who has no idea what he is doing. 

But it is not fear of a Trump presidency that has me so stressed out. It is that never before has the distance between me and my fellow human beings seemed so far, the thread that unites us so fragile. 

What if we forget? What if we are so angry, so scared, so lost in the horrific reality show that has been this election, that we forget who we really are?

We may not vote the same but my kid and your kid both get sick. And you and me, we both lie awake in the wee hours of the morning putting cold towels on tiny, feverish foreheads. We both drink extra coffee when we need it and keep a bottle of wine handy just in case. We both have waited for biopsy results. We both knew someone who was not as lucky as we were. We both have panic attacks. We both cry in the shower where no one else can hear. We both feel joy beside the ocean. We both love the sound of the rain on our car window. We both sing along to Justin Timberlake and dance around our living room in our PJ's. We are both trying every day to be better than we were yesterday. A better mom, a better wife, a better boss, a better employee. Better.

The truth is, I could go on for hours about how alike you and I are, despite all that separates us. No matter the outcome of the election tomorrow, we cannot forget that deep down, beyond the anger and the fear and the masks that we all wear, we are all one. 

So if your candidate wins, cheer and then move forward.  Please don't brag, don't gloat. Just move on.

And if your candidate loses, cry and then move forward. Please do not resort to violence, to intimidation, to bullying. Please do not refuse to accept the election results and make this horrible experience go on longer than necessary. 

We have to move forward, together. We can disagree but we cannot disintegrate.  

Please, above all, do not forget that we belong to each other. 

And our children are watching.

Comments

  1. Tears. Yes, we are kindred hearts, and I love you, dear one.

    "Please, above all, do not forget that we belong to each other.

    And our children are watching."

    Beautiful. Just beautiful.

    ReplyDelete
  2. "and our children are watching" .......... <3

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dear Ronda Rousey

I am not into celebrities. If you want to know what Snooki named her baby, or who in Tinseltown got married and divorced this weekend, don't ask me. I do not consider the people prancing around on my television role models for my daughter, representatives for women-kind, or at all relevant to real life in any way. So twerk away Miley, I do not care. But I am a martial artist. I learn arm bars and rear naked chokes. I throw punches and knee kicks. I work on traditional katas and do pushups and try to pass the guard and sweet Jesus, I even occasionally throw low kicks which other people check with their shins. (  http://www.latimes.com/sports/la-sp-ufc-20131229,0,7356884.story#axzz2os6WWXVl ) I am not a professional fighter. But I am a woman who loves to fight. And as such, I was thrilled when Dana White finally allowed female fighters into the Octagon. Seeing you armbar Liz Carmouche was incredible. And I could watch you Judo toss people onto the mat all da...

November 20th

I am going to tell you a secret.  The name of your school does not matter. The patch you wear on your uniform does not matter. The belt you tie around your waist, the color of your gi, the medals on your wall, none of these things matter.  All that matters is the sweat on the floor. Period. I am not saying that you should not be proud of those things. You earned them and they deserve to be celebrated.  I am not saying that all dojos are the same. They aren't. But none of that matters. What matters is that you did one more pushup that night. When you thought you were done, you did one more.  What matters is that you kept fighting, even though he had you pushed up against the wall and for a moment there you were pretty sure he forgot who you were. He certainly forgot how small you were, yet you kept fighting, or at least you kept your hands up and waited for the bell to ring. You didn't quit. What matters is that you went to class. When you would really ra...

Blogging About Promotion is Inappropriate

As a kids karate teacher I am often trying to get my students to not focus on promotion. Don't get me wrong, a new color around your waist is an excellent motivator. But I hope the kids will ultimately come to class because they love karate , not just because they are punching the clock (so to speak) on their way to a new belt. When I first started studying jiu jitsu it was all about the thrill of something new. I just wanted to learn how to do all these awkward techniques with their odd Brazilian names . I didn't care that I was a white belt, on the contrary I loved it. It had been a long time since I was a beginner. About 8-10 months into my training a bunch of the people in my class got blue belts. I knew I wasn't ready for a promotion yet. But still, when the woman who was my partner almost every day got her new belt tied on right next to me I felt a little wierd. Ok fine, I was a bit envious. She was definitely better than me, but she was not that much bett...