There, at the very bottom of my soul, is the soft spot.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Every time I pray and ask God who I am supposed to be in this world, the image of a warrior, with dirty armor and scuffed skin, calloused hands and iron weapons, assembles itself in my brain. I have tried to ask for something else \u2014 a more peaceful assignment, but the truth is I\u2019ve always known that this was my commission. Not only that, it feels right to me. It feels important. When I try to lay down the armor of my faith and strength, the weapons of my words and deeds, it can only be for a short time before it boils up and out, and I once again take up my shield.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
It makes it hard to fit in, to be sure. The first job of a warrior is to call out injustice and abuse. This is never a popular task, because so often, the injustice is so entwined into the fabric of everyday lives it seems normal. The abuse is such a normal part of our being that if it were gone, we might feel empty and guilt-ridden. And when the warrior comes along and points a spotlight on it, calls it out, there are eye rolls behind her back and the anger of privileged fragility. When the warrior girl dares finds her voice, everybody gets super uncomfortable and they go on the attack.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Take, for instance, my private Facebook feed, where I post my political opinions. Yesterday, a man I know kept insisting that I stop posting about the election. His reasoning was that he<\/em> prefers to see lighter things, as my \u201cranting\u201d was not going to change anything. I told him that I was certainly not just ranting, that I was putting action behind my words, and that I would not stop fighting for what I believed to be right. His position continued to be about what he<\/em> wants to see on my Facebook feed.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n The exchange was a classic example of how male privilege operates \u2014 it was almost textbook. Here was a man being made uncomfortable by my voice, my calling out. His assumption that I, on my personal Facebook page (which he could very easily scroll right on by) should worry about what\u00a0he<\/em> wants to see, and make appropriate adjustments by shutting the hell up, smacks of male privilege. He seriously seemed to think it was totally okay to tell me to\u00a0stop speaking out in my own space, to adjust my voice to cater to his preference.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n And he honestly didn\u2019t seem to understand why I wouldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n When I told him no, he minimized my beliefs. He called me\u00a0hon<\/em>, and told me my \u201crebellion\u201d\u00a0was due to a caffeine habit \u2014 you know. Not passion. Not intelligence. Not a dedication to justice. Caffeine abuse.\u00a0Hon.<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n When I gave him the shocking news that my Facebook feed did not exist for his pleasure, he\u00a0pitched a fit, called me a sore loser and a \u201csoft butt\u201d, whatever that is, and stopped engaging. He was unable to face the fact that I might have a difference of opinion, and was shocked that I wouldn\u2019t stop voicing that opinion in order to attend to his needs.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n It\u2019s exhausting managing these kinds of entitled interactions on a daily basis, especially because privileged people can be very blind to their privilege. They (we \u2014 because I can do this, too) can get so busy defending ourselves that we can\u2019t hear the pain in the calling out. \u00a0Sometimes we are defensive because we really care, and don\u2019t want to participate in the system of privilege, and so we get upset to think that maybe, by accident, we do. And sometimes, we\u2019re just belligerent. Either way, the defensiveness gets us no where.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n There are times when I don\u2019t engage. Times when I think I\u2019ll choose my battles. But that time is not now. Even though I\u2019m exhausted. Even though I wish there was a different way, or that I could be a peace keeper, the time is now to take up my cross, which is made of iron words, steel-bladed action, the trumpet call of activism.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n