I've toyed with this idea for a long time - putting my blog out there for the world to read. Until now, I've never been brave enough to do it. However, I recently read an essay by Audre Lorde in which she speaks about the power of breaking silence. My silences had not protected me. Your silence will not protect you. But for every real word spoken, for every attempt I had ever made to speak those truths for which I am still seeking, I had made contact with other women while we examined the words to fit a world in which we all believed, bridging our differences. |
So I'm turning over a new leaf, shedding my fear of judgment, and sharing my thoughts with whomever may read them. I'm most certainly not expecting to change the world with my words on here; rather, I'm doing this as a challenge for myself - for my own personal growth and perhaps to challenge you to do the same. Here's to breaking silences and embracing vulnerability.
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For the past few months, I’ve spent every week at my internship working with immigrants and refugees. Now I’m not usually one to speak publicly about my personal opinions on political issues, but as a friend recently reminded me, I should speak up when it’s an issue I care so deeply about. The comments I have heard and the posts I have read regarding the Syrian refugee crisis have knocked the wind out of me. We’re allowing fear to overcome our ability to feel compassion and empathy. Not only that, but I see hate written between the lines of harsh posts and ignorant remarks spreading like wildfire. The truth is, and I truly believe this, we need these Syrian refugees as much as they need us. Every time we say no or turn our backs to the refugee crisis, we say no to embracing diversity. We say no to motivated professionals and taxpayers who want nothing more than to contribute to our society and economy. We say no to youth who want a safe environment to learn. By rejecting these refugees, we are saying no to progression within our country. We say no, you are too big of a risk because a small percentage of your population has ruined your lives, homes, and your worthiness of a future. I can understand being afraid; yet how we can allow our fears to stand in the way of offering peace and support for individuals who are equally as fearful as we are? We have the power and resources to offer these refugees hope, yet in refusal to do so, we confirm their fears that they are worthless. I think it’s time to remember that a good majority of our ancestors were immigrants, who were given the opportunity to start a new life here in the United States. Let’s not forget our roots, and let’s certainly not forget how we claim to embrace all walks of life. I’m tired of seeing articles about our refusal to accept people in need. Let’s spread hope, not hate.
I read a blog post some time this past July that really resonated with me. Tonight, as a returned home from a run, I was reminded of the post and reread it. It was an apology letter written to herself. Now I’m writing my own. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to apologize to you, old friend. I’m sorry first and foremost for my post-run thoughts tonight. After reaching the 5 mile marker, something to be celebrated, I was harsh. I thought, damn I really was hoping to hit 6. I wasn’t satisfied with the fact that you had run 5 miles when the most you’ve run within the past few months has been 3. I would never criticize a friend, or anyone for that matter, for running 5 miles, and I’m sorry. I'm sorry for all the negativity I've ever bogged you down with. I now realize that through those criticisms and thoughts, I’m criticizing my biggest ally. I'm sorry for never being content, for always looking for ways to improve you or change you. I’m sorry for telling you that you’re not pretty enough or skinny enough or smart enough. I’m sorry for every time I told you that you’re not enough. You are always enough. I’m sorry for telling you that you need to be more outgoing, more confident, more approachable. Whenever I saw those qualities in others, I’d compare you to them. I know that wasn’t fair. You are not them. You are unique; you are you. I’m sorry for ever setting limits, for telling you something will happen “when I do this” or "if I change that." I’m sorry for telling you your dreams are too big and that you are too naïve and that you are not creative. You are meant for greatness yet I set boundaries for you. I dare you to break them. I'm sorry for not realizing all of this sooner. You are an intentional friend, an unceasing wanderer, and deeply compassionate. Those should be the words I use to describe you & those are the words I will use from now on. I’m sorry for not acknowledging these truths until now. You are exceeding expectations and surprising me every single day with your capacity to learn and grow. You are the reason I have friendships spanning across continents. You have provided me with 23 years of love and laughter and friendship and health. It’s time I start living each day in appreciation for the things you have brought me and loving you like I mean it. Be kind to yourself & mean it.
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Alexandra Rosetravel enthusiast. lover of yellowstone, coffee, and a good book. passionately curious. hopeful wanderer. Archives
January 2018
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