Okay, I don’t think I yelled. I raised my voice in a passionate way.
The first was at the bank. My mother’s checking account had some overdraft fees. My father passed away on October 29th. His social security check deposited on November 1st. The government then received word of his passing and promptly withdrew that money out of the account on the 13th. Since bills were paid and there was no notice this money would be withdrawn, payments bounced. Oh and also, my mom lost online access to her account because my deceased father was the owner on the account. Anyway, I went to the bank to clear it up. I moved money around, spoke to the friendly teller, requested the overdraft fees be waived with all of the surrounding circumstances. The teller said they usually waive the first of several overdraft fees, but not more. I rationalized the situation with the employee and she said she would request her manager come out to speak to me. I said that would be great. When the manager said the same thing, no overdraft fees are waived after the first, I explained the situation. My mother had lost her husband and all of the details that surrounded that. Unmoved, the manager apologized - it was policy and their hands were tied.
And then something inside my abdomen lit up. I don’t know how else to put it. It was like I was eight years old on the playground and little Jimmy had just knocked my friend off the monkey bars. I let this manager know how I felt. It was not good business. There was no humanity in this ‘policy’ and that I would escalate this up as I handed my father’s death certificate to another employee for them to scan into their system. I think the manager knew this would get worse than just handling it in the moment, so they agreed and refunded our money. I apologized for raising my voice and thanked them. As I exited and got in my car to leave, I was grateful no other customers were in the lobby to witness me losing my temper.
Or was it not a lost temper? Was it instead a woman standing up for her mother? Insisting on justice? Standing in her power to make a difference? Not editing herself based on social constructs and asking for what is right?
When I was in the first grade, our kitchen window looked out at our school bus stop. My mother told me she would stand at the sink and watch my brother and I get off the bus at the end of our school day and run across the street to our home. One afternoon, all of the kids got off the bus but I was not in sight. The bus sat, lights blinking, until I did finally get off the bus, throw my backpack on the ground, and jump some neighbor kid who had exited the bus a minute before me. I began hitting him. The bus driver had to get off the bus and pull me off of him. I have zero recollection of this. But it tracks. I was a fairly easy-going kid, but grew up with:
a big brother with whom I would regularly fight,
neighborhood kickball games that usually had elementary school-aged kids yelling expletives at each other at some point in the game,
the general problem-solving skills of most kids in the 1980’s - let’s fight this out until the other one is bleeding more than the other.
As we grew, we learned what were appropriate ways to conduct ourselves in civil society, these hard-edged facets smoothed over like rocks in the bed of the Rio Grande. Just let anything that may bristle slide over you and off your back. Stand up for yourself, but not too much, especially if you’re female.
There have been times as an adult, I stayed silent when I should have spoken up. I did not get involved when I should have. I did not want to be the one drafting the flames of conflict. But now? I could say that now it’s a different world and I am a different woman. But that is not the truth. The truth is, that the world has always been full of conflict and injustice and that the little girl who fought playground bullies never left this body. She was just temporarily smoothed over only to be revived by the death of her father, a society getting bolder at their attempts to control women and those with no power or voice, and the witnessing of her own daughers turning into women themselves.
I am not condoning fighting, violence, yelling, or making demands that are not just.
I am saying let us not stay quiet or stand idly by when we, or others in our vision or orbit, are being treated unjustly. I am saying let us throw our backpacks on the ground and do what is necessary. Even if it feels uncomfortable. Discomfort is the first step to our liberation.
We are the ones who are coming to save us. Let us fan the inner flame of who we have always been and let it live through us so that we are brave enough to speak up and stand up for ourselves, and more importantly, each other.
“We are the ones who are coming to save us.” Yes. 💪 I’m proud of you. A little humanity can go a long way.