Instead of carrying signs, let’s carry each other’s burdens.
Let’s rally not to be heard, but to do the hard, painstaking work of restoration of All. The. Broken. Things.
Let’s lay down our rights instead of proving we are right.
Let’s stop pointing and start listening to actual voices – not caricatures and anecdotes and statistics and tweets.
Let’s sit knee to knee and look into the eyes of our sisters and see their sorrows, see the rejection and pain that brought them, and us, to this place.
Let’s walk a mile, or maybe ten, in each other’s shoes before summing up difficult, impossible situations into clever slogans.
Let’s wrap our arms around the grieving, the lonely, the forgotten and the pissed off.
Let’s care more about understanding each other than defending our position, our race, our religion, our money, our comfort, our individualism, our politics, our country, our money, our comfort.
Yes I wrote that twice.
Instead of marching in separate rallies, let’s rally together to feed our hungry sisters and help them raise their babies and give them a soft place to land and a bowl of soup.
Let’s swing open our doors and invite each other to our couches and tables to sip tea and break bread and solve all of the world’s problems. Together. Because I know we can do it. And I think deep down you know we can too. But it takes time and sacrifice and 365 days of devotion, not a once a year event.
Let’s lay down our arms so we can hold each other up.
Let’s blow up the world with love.