The promise of palm trees, and the naive temptations of being a “hollywood star,” swept me up with the winds and left me stranded alone out in the driest deserts under the hottest Christian sun.
Parched. I was begging for water.
Dumb. I went for the oceans.
Rescued. I found knowledge and drowned in its waves.
Screaming for justice,
and choking on my anonymity:
I found myself in the arms of queer feminist activism.
Who knows what real good I am doing?
I will never again be fooled into thinking that I’m a “good person.”
I’m far from good.
In fact, I am gorged with selfishness.
And I’m coming to terms with this tragic realization every day.
It’s every wo/man for themselves and the sooner we admit it
the closer we step towards freedom.
Surrounded by individualism,
and tacky white girl fashionistas,
I cried until there were no more tears.
(And I learned that tears don’t save the world.)
Lost in a sea of ugly,
people, I shook hands with loneliness and uncoiled my hopes.
Above all this beautiful bullshit,
I finally found some gems,
glistening on the sidewalks
as they cat-walked into my life;
looking me in the eye and bristling
with authentic empathy.—
—It really is excruciating,
extracting my foundations
and rebuilding them with wet clay and uncertainty:
I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in grace.
I don’t believe in soul mates or eternity or even
Friendships fray by degree and I know now that I’m not stupid.
A few years make a difference. They are all it takes to rip apart sanity and shred your soul in two.
Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God
Posting this not only because it is written so beautifully but also because I relate to it so well. I am in love with this novel for it’s beauty and depth that I was sure it would have. New favorite writer. I would say I wished I read this sooner, but then I may not have appreciated it the way I do now!