Last night I showed up scared. I’ve been posting on my FB page about not staying quiet when it comes to the rights of the marginalized. A woman I know that is very active in the school leadership community made me aware that there would be a school board meeting at which it was rumored that book banning would be brought up by a group of individuals and that she would be attending to speak up against them.
I immediately started thinking of excuses not to go. I needed to be home with my kids, I needed to feed them and it’s right at dinner time… I knew that the truth was I was scared. But if I gave into the fear, I would continue to be afraid. The only way to combat this type of anxiety is to do it anyway.
So, despite being extremely anxious, I told the woman I would attend but was not yet ready to speak. I even mentioned it in Sunday School. I felt like the more people I told, the more I was ensuring I’d go. Because I really wanted to back out.
I prepared dinner for the kids and told them they were on their own. Then I messaged the woman and let her know I was on my way and super anxious. She said, “Sitting is easy.” She clearly did not understand anxiety.
She and one other woman had signed up to speak, as had two men who wanted to remove a list of books from the school’s libraries. The two women talked about how much they don’t like speaking, but feel they have to. Their speeches were short and to the point, unlike the rambling of the book banners. One of which isn’t even a resident of our district, which he tried to not mention. Listening to the speeches, I knew I had a different perspective, given the fact that I’ve been on the inside. I’m not just a parent, but at one point I was a librarian in this district.
While the rest of the meeting continued, I began drafting what I would say if I had spoken. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the nerve to speak, but I want to. I want to stand up for the rights of students and families in our community and beyond. I want to be bold. I don’t want to stay small. But boy is it scary.
I’ve been trying to figure out who I am. I’ve been such a shape shifter all my life, making myself into what I think others want me to be, that I have no idea who the real me might be. Maybe the real me is an activist? Maybe the real me speaks out against injustice. Maybe the real me shows up scared. And maybe the real me knows that the rewards are greater than the fear.
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