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| Joshua Tree in a Dress, California, 2016 |
Truth always rests with the minority, and the minority is always stronger than the majority, because the minority is generally formed by those who really have an opinion, while the strength of a majority is illusory, formed by the gangs who have no opinion — and who, therefore, in the next instant (when it is evident that the minority is the stronger) assume its opinion… while truth again reverts to a new minority.
Soren Kierkegaard
The vaccination posts keep popping up again, faster than I can delete or hide them. Children sent home from school for not being fully vaccinated, cheers! it's about time! the gloat, the confidence. Erasure. When minority voices are made quiet, darkness prevails.
I'm not going there, the old familiar sickening quickening.
(a re-working of an old post)
We're tribal people, and many moons ago I read a signature piece for the parents of the disabled called Welcome to Holland that I keened toward for about one moon back in the darker days of the last millennium when things were passed mouth to ear, a paper from hand to hand, and then crumpled up as I crumpled, lit it with a match, burned a few animal gods in sacrifice and threw it to the wolves. My tribe left Holland behind and ranges loosely at the borders, howling at every moon whether full and shining or slivered, letting in only cracks. Sophie's summer school teacher sent home a progress report one year, something I'd normally only glance at in scorn because, really, what's the point? Our tribe resists the denial, doesn't welcome false blessings, looks for grace in contrast. Somehow, this small report of A: Produces markedly superior work and E: Excellent citizenship meant something. Under Teacher Comments: A pleasure to have in class!, the exclamation point seemed merciful. I fell back from the tribe for a moment, long-shadowed, the moon's pull, the tide washed over me, outlier.
