From a Place of Privilege

So today we are in our 2nd week of social distancing due to the Coronavirus. I haven't begun to give my mind the space to really think about the devastation this virus has already had on the world and the fact that it has probably just begun. I'd like to say I'm simply too busy homeschooling Olivia, figuring out how to someday open a bookshop even though the timing has drastically changed, working to keep peace and harmony in our home of lonely, bored, restless, worried family members. But the truth is, it is simply too scary for me to contemplate fully. Like many issues in our world, I am fortunate to look from a place of privilege. Meaning I am not forced to contemplate the ravages of injustice the majority of the world face on a daily basis. I recognize this. I am trying to use my privilege for change, even in small ways.

Yesterday I read a post on social media that came from a place of hope, love, good intention and optimism. It was a post talking about how the children of the class of 2030 will look back on 2020 and not remember how terrible it all was. They won't remember the economic downfall, the sickness and death, the anxiety and worry. Instead they will remember family dinners, playing outside, being homeschooled and surrounded by creativity, fresh air and loving family. It was made to be a feel-good post in the midst of great turmoil. Words of hope. And while I 100% believe it came from the biggest heart and purest intention, it gave me immediate pause.

Because the kids that graduate in 2030 with those memories of 2020 will have come from the same place of privilege I sit in now. Yes, this virus is ravaging everyone. We are in this together.And yet. Those with a situation like mine are truly lucky. My 8 year old has a mama who already stayed home much of the time planning activities, helping with school, taking her on outings, playing with her, encouraging her to read and draw and create and move her body. She has a daddy who already plays with her every day, cooks her amazing meals every night, snuggles with her at bedtime, has summers off to spend quality time at home and on a myriad of outings around our gorgeous state. She already has grandparents who are healthy and able to call and check in and send messages of love. She lives in a position of great privilege.

My guess is that those 2030 graduates who look back on 2020 with memories that don't include anxiety and fear ALREADY have the kind of life and family pictured in the social media post. BUT LET US NOT FORGET. Not every child, in fact I would wager a guess that MOST children, are not experiencing this time in the same way. Let us not forget those children who live in food-insecure homes. Whose parents relied on school meals twice a day to feed their children. Let us not forget the children whose parents already work 2 jobs or late nights or inconsistent schedules to try to make ends meet, whose parents already struggle to find childcare when their kids are sick, who already worry about missing a day or two of work when they are sick. Let us not forget the kids in big cities who don't have yards or parks to play in, let alone parents who can take the time to get them outside. Let us not forget the kids in rural areas who are isolated even more now. Let us not forget the kids who don't have extended families to call or video chat with. Let us not forget the kids whose parents are SCARED for a multitude of valid reasons by what this virus is doing. Parents who are scared of contracting the virus because of all the misinformation out there. Who are scared of being unable to pay bills or buy groceries. Parents who are scared their kids will become lonely or sick or fall behind in school. Let us not forget kids who live with their grandparents, who are now scared to go out because they are vulnerable. Let us not forget the kids who are now stuck at home with caregivers who are addicts or abusers. Let us not forget the kids who can feel the fear in their parents voices who talk openly about the coronavirus. Let us not forget the kids who received extra help for behavioral or learning difficulties from teachers at school, who are now unable to get the specialized care they need.

I would love nothing more than to look back at this chaotic time and have it be filled with positive memories. I would love that to be true for all the kids in the world. But that is a dream for the privileged. So what do I do? What do we do to help? I'm going to start by trying to be grateful each day. By thanking the school and teachers who are spending an incredible amount of time and energy to create a way for students to continue to learn, eat, play and have some structure. By checking in on neighbors, family and friends. By keeping my eyes and heart open to see those around me who might be hurting, who might need help. By dropping off a roll of toilet paper on a porch. By sending a card or letter to a classmate. By donating to hospitals or food pantry's or shelters. By allowing myself to feel my own fears and anxieties and remember that each day is new. Each minute is new. By approaching each person, place and situation with compassion.

People have rallied together in the most beautiful and creative ways to help one another. It has been inspiring to see. Let those of us who hold privilege consider how to be there for those who don't. 

We are all in this together.