The truth is – I lost my voice.
Not a particularly skilled writer, I rely on documenting my thoughts in their rawest form exactly as they are rendered. Random opinions oft juxtaposed with a fact or two and sprinkled with some love, a little sarcasm and — don’t forget my favorite — plenty of righteous indignation. With all that crap piled up together at the top of a steep decline, one simple push and the words flowed easily.
Until they stopped.
Something happened to me that day Congresswoman Giffords was shot in Arizona. I’m not exactly sure what it was but on that day sharing my thoughts became an absolute struggle.
Something that I used to love turned into hours staring at a blank screen, millions of taps on the backspace key and nagging concern about saying the wrong thing.
Eventually, I found myself strangely indifferent even apathetic about making my voice heard. Even as they related to all of my old favorites — religion, politics, social ills and Snookie (although you could probably combine the last two.)
Even when The Help came out…I said nothing. If Hollywood wants to keep making movies about big-eyed, dancin’, singin’ coloreds on dem ol’ cotton fields down yonder who find joy in their oppression and the good white people that love ‘em, I can accept that.
Hey, even when folks made a connection between our nation’s newfound bad credit and our first black president…I said nothing. If Obama wants to continue to solve every unsolved problem in the world including the Ulam spiral and what Kim Kardashian’s butt is made of before attacking the problem of unemployment, I can accept that too.
Not to mention, that when the NY District Attorney dropped rape charges against Dominique Strauss-Kahn because the victim was, essentially, a tramp instead of reminding them with choice words that that sluts can be raped, too…I said nothing. If the DA wants to send the message that as long as you’re a poor immigrant, your vagina is public property, I can accept that, too.
Right?
I think it was the shooter. As we learned more about him, we discovered he was a walking ball of crazy. Flawed thinking and poorly crafted ideologies based on various and sundry blogs and opinions that he read on the internet with little to no basis in truth. In other words, it’s just shit folks say. And I got to worrying. Sometimes, I be playin’, y’all but what if people can’t tell? Am I participating in all of the stupid social noise, just one more insipid opinion that some idiot with a gun reads and considers valid or truthful? Think about it! The President is notREALLY my boo. He’s just my boo in my head.
Ok, so the last scenario is just evidence that I clearly watch too much Dateline. But really, social responsibility began to weigh heavy on my mind. I became concerned that, under the guise of freedom of speech, I was just putting a bunch of crap into the universe without regard for where or how it landed. I understand Andy Cohen has the same problem. (Think Real Housewives of Any Craptastic City in America)
And I struggled with that cuz you know I’m all sensitive and shit.
Clearly, I know that no one is reading this blog and doing anything other than arranging a psych eval for the author. But the sweet little Korean girl in me got all bent out of shape about my collective responsibility as a citizen of the world.
So, I smacked that overly conscious ho…and now I’m ready to go.
I missed you!!!! MWAH!
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