Facebook Publication Date: 2/5/2022 10:02

To Bomb Or To Balm?

I checked the calendar. This weekend marks the one year anti-anniversary of one of the hardest days of my life, both professional and personal, that turned into the hardest year.

Yesterday and today, that time was revived in sharp relief, when Mr. Dan Werner came into our metaphorical living room, much like last year, lobbing perjoratives and threats, just like last year, attempting to pipe bomb the windows and smear feces on the wall.

Just like last year.

But not at all like last year.

Something changed over the last twelve months, when I, and the community, were met with vitriol. Much like my physical body has changed over this past year as I have gotten more and more committed to health, so have my convictions and my soul.

Below, in screenshots, you will see the subthread featuring Mr. Werner. It is substantially different from the conversation of last year, when I was blindsided and sucker punched.

Thanks to Dr. Chris G & Co at the rehab center, my physical core is a lot stronger. My balance is better. My stamina is too. And the strength that Chris has assured me that I always had is now channeled. This is a big deal. It means I don’t have to wait for someone to help me move a big rock. It means 40 pounds is an easier lift; I won’t buckle under the strain. It means there are people willing to spot me at the gym, which makes it easier to move and bend and lift.

So it is here. Balance, stamina, and strength are restored and channeled into greater good.

Here’s the thing though. Even with all the real work and sweat and tears I expend both at the gym and outside of it, my body looks pretty much the same. I haven’t gone down a size. I am still round, round, round (and bald bald bald). No hardbody here.

And to this, I say Amen.

Those of us who choose to walk together here, and who have done so over the last year with grace and reliability and faithfulness, look much the same. Those of you who have found your capacity, volition, and agency over this last year, and in so doing found your voice and your power, and who, crucially, then channeled it into concrete and effective action when you Got It In, and Lived It Out by Taking It Outside don’t look much different, either.

New People Doing New Things in New Ways aren’t about being musclebound. We are about power and strength, yes–but not to look good. It’s so we can do the work of racial justice with stamina and heart. The stories I have heard from you all, every day, every day, warm me so much.

One would think that this would not be the focus of contempt. But it is.

From Mr. Werner, obviously. But from others too.

Back to being blindsided and suckerpunched. Last year, I had no idea that people could act in the way I witnessed and experienced. Now, I know. Last year, I didn’t think that people would blow up, shut down, or run away–including those who asserted they never would. Now, I know. Last year, I didn’t think those with destructive intent would lock and load on our little beloved community. Now, I know.

This knowledge could have led me down more than one path.

It could have left me cynical and cold. It could have made me abandon my conviction and my call. After all, being called a cult leader, as Holly charged last year and as Mr. Werner charges today, takes a toll. It’s a pejorative that’s meant to land.

And it would, were my core less strong. It would, were my convictions and my motivations less sure. It would, were I not fixed on North Star values.

Because–because this. When I pressed the button that launched Lace on Race four years ago, I had no idea of what would be in store for me. I didn’t have grand plans. I simply wanted to make a difference for the people I cared about–which is, actually, everyone. I was and am convinced that lessening and mitigating the harm endured by Black and brown people perpetuated by white people and white supremacy would be a net gain to those here now, a hope to those who come after, and a tribute and a homage to those who came before.

So no. I didn’t push the button for Holly, or for Mr. Werner. I had a call to serve, a vision and a method I believed in, and was backed by both ancestors on whose weary shoulders I stand; to whom I owe a great debt and to those coming after, now and in years to come, who I would never see. This fortunate burden transcends those who would attempt to kill it.

When one walks in the crucible for a year, and is still charged with a vision and a hope for people and for principles, what burns away in the crucible is fear. Not pain. Pain is a constant companion. Thank you, Holly. But the crucible also supplies endurance.

I will talk about this later, but I will say this now. I think about Holly, and Annie, and Chris, and all who blew up, shut down, or faded away daily. I hope that they are doing good work. I hope they didn’t abandon their stated convictions when they left this space. I hope they either still have, or have somehow developed, a fire to lessen and mitigate harm and violence to those they said here they stood for and with.

I think about all of them. And about those in the Christian Left. And Jim and Kate. I hope that they are more the people they were meant to be. I have internal conversations with them. And I have, in these imaginary conversations, practiced being the woman *I* say I want to be.

Because it matters.

The second path I could have gone down was to water down the message, and just do my best to fly under the radar, so as not to attract their attention and their wrath and their contempt. That would have been a fool’s errand in any case; now that they (and Mr. Werner now, apparently) have locked and loaded, I am pretty sure that there is nothing I could do or say to disarm them.

I am somewhat counterintuitively glad they have ‘chosen’ me on whom to level their hatred.

Better me than someone else. One good thing about being a lightning rod is that others are spared. That it does not buckle my knees, or incite me to abandon hard fought personal conviction and hard won professional, intellectual, and academic foundations, is a testament to a stronger core, yes, but also because I have not been alone in the crucible.

Why?

Because this–the ‘minons’ and ‘deluded’ and ‘victims’ of me, your erstwhile cult leader, who have stood with me in the crucible, learning the lessons, and becoming refined. Because of the people I have abided with.

For every Holly, there is a Rachel. For every Chris, a Brenda. For every Annie, a Patrice. For every Daniel, a Greg. Actually more than one to one. For every person who visited violence, there are many who stand around them, ready to meet them. For everyone who took an off ramp, there are those who did not, and those who just now begin their eye to eye, shoulder to shoulder journey.

After the onslaught of this last year, up to and including today, I am amazed and humbled at the people who continue to walk with me. It is them to whom I am indebted. I love everyone in this space, absolutely. Those who walk with faithfulness, the intermittent, the spectators, and the Daniel Werners of the coliseum. All are welcome at the table down in the middle of the field.

But to those who have allowed me to serve them, in ever deeper ways, who have allowed and invited me to model and bare my flawed but determined Hesed Heart; to those deluded delinquents who affirm what we are doing here, and affirm who we are as we do it…yes. You are and have been a balm. A place where my tired feet have rested. Count it all gratitude. Count it all joy.

Those who lob pipe bombs, welp. Those who would assassinate, whether by shrapnel to the heart, or ‘just’ by attempted character assassination–they are free to answer and justify and dissemble for themselves. I cannot fully comprehend their choices. And it’s neither my job nor my burden to try.

I cannot reach everyone. I am not everyone’s cup of kombucha, and if ever there comes a day when I ever become more palatable, that will be a sign to go still deeper. And the day I ever become more acceptable to the Hollys and the Werners of the world–again, welp. That’s the day I fold.

Not bloody likely.

But–*hear this*.

I will never, never ever, be or model or endorse–or even think about– treating them as they have treated me; treated us. I can’t. When this stuff gets marrow deep, it closes relational and moral and ethical and behavioral doors. Good. It influences your thought life, to the point where the default is dreaming of restoration and reconciliation with those who harmed and visited violence, including Mr. Werner; repairing of the breach, rather than revenge, or retaliation, or toxic and gratuitous rebuke.

And yes. Yes. YES.

I want that for you too. I want for it to be abjectly impossible for you to ever be a Holly or a Daniel Werner. I want it to be so out of your nature so as to be unthinkable to meet anyone absent Hesed Heart.

Yes, I want that. I am unapologetic about it. Because without Hesed, you will never be the person you say you want to be–in racial justice, yes, but not only there.

I will say it plainly–I want you changed. I want us changed. I want for myself to change and grow ever closer to the ideal of Hesed, ever closer every day, every hour, every minute. No quarter. No retreat, not for me; not for you.

Effective, no nonsense, cherishing and succoring (here you go, Mr. Werner–that’s for you), muscular, relentless love–as contrasted to the flaccid and fetid which Mr. Werner offers by his words and behavior.

As I said in the screenshots you will see, if you endorse Mr. Werner, then this place is not for you. Period.

If Mr. Werner has a community that espouses the values and ethos he has shown us, that might be a place for you to check out.

Because, yes, the ‘cult leader’ (that’s me) does indeed feel that this is a binary choice.

Who are you going to be? How are you going to walk? And–crucially, towards what ultimate goal?

I am not dreadfully concerned with whether you walk with me; if what I offer you does not resonate, this is indeed an opt-in opt-out space.

I *do* care that you keep walking in grace and authenticity and intention, with high aim steering and a sharp focus on your ‘why’.

If you feel that is with Mr. Werner & Co, I cannot stop you.

Think about last year. Despite all the claptrap about ‘cult leader’, I have painfully little power or influence.

Holly had more influence on a sizable number of you in three hours than I had in fully three years. Really process that. Let that marinate.

It’s my greatest sadness in all of this. How little was internalized for some of you. It’s a deep lesson, on so many levels. Of everything, it’s this that stings my eyes and brings me to my knees. Every day. Every day.

But then I am back in the Cafe.

I can offer you my cooking, but I cannot compel you to partake.

But a year later, I am firm in my conviction. I need people who are ready and willing to be balms and not bombs.

If you want lessons in the Molotov, look no further than to our friend, Mr. Werner and his colleagues. That is, and will never be, on offer here.

But.

If you want ploughshares to work in the garden and to enjoy the soil and the roots and the trees and the calluses and the sweat of the crucible–keep walking.

This has not been an easy year. And, as we have seen, it is not over. It will never be; again, in their way, they are every bit as relentless as I exhort you to be–for different purposes, yes, absolutely. Like Superfund sites, they exist, and are stubborn in their ubiquity and in their resistance to cleanup and repair.

But we need to see them, and know them, and smell them, but never shy away, and never be surprised by them.

Forewarned is forearmed. And so we will employ every tool in our belts to confront and to dismantle and to mitigate. Without weaponry, but with skill and savvy.

We will not spew. We will not slosh.

We will continue to bare our necks. We will continue to show our cards. We will continue to offer our eyes and hands and hearts.

We will continue to offer the fruit from our trees, on our best platters, even to those who would crush our offerings underneath their heels and gleefully smash our heirlooms.

Damn, I must be the worst cult leader *evah*!

Our trees will bear more fruit, and throw off still more seeds. That’s the promise, y’all.

Because the only way to meet the Werners of the world is to unflinchingly experience them and then to live out and to model a better way, swathed all the while in the fragrance of Hesed.

See you in the orchard.

And now the cult leader will quietly and methodically make another cup of tea.

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