Thinking too much
I’m a riot, y’all!
You know what I talked about during my labour? Female genital mutilation and cultural competency in medicine. Really.
I think too much.
But I cannot help it. Asking me not to think about these things is tantamount to asking me not to breathe.
It’s because I care, deeply, about the human race.
It’s because injustice slices away at my insides leaving soul wounds that never quite heal.
It’s because it forces me to think about not only the injustices perpetrated against me, but how I am complicit in perpetrating them against others.
It’s because I’m a mother and I want my son to be free of oppression.
It’s because I’m a mother and I want my son to not be an oppressor.
So I read, and read, and read these wonderful blogs filled with the writings of very.smart.people. And then I think, and think, and think. And then I want to talk about it with someone who gets it. And I open my mouth to speak. Or I sit down to type. Then I find out that no one else seems to want to think about these things the way I do. So I think that I think too much.
Because I can’t easily laugh at that oppressive joke everyone likes to tell.
Because certain off-hand comments aren’t harmless.
I’m a riot, y’all.
Now check out some of what I’ve been thinking about lately:
What’s been on your mind lately?