This one goes out to my brothas and sistas.
It’s possible, at times, to see and feel nothing but the cruelty of the world. It’s possible to feel alone and vulnerable. It’s possible to feel cornered. It’s possible to feel like there is no way out.
The worst one is feeling like there is no one to turn to, no one who will understand, and no one who can help.
The best solution to this sort of problem is friends you didn’t even know you had swooping in over stale coffee at 2 a.m. to say, “I’m here. Whatever you need, I’m down. Period.”
I know people who have gone through one, or a series, of bad experiences that would tend to bias a person against some category of people: women, men, some culture, etc. I suppose that it’s tempting to write off the category altogether. I hate men. I hate women. I will never have a _____ mother-in-law. All _____ people want is ______, so I won’t talk to them.
I’ve never fallen that far into my distrust. If anything, if I find that the experiences that cause me to feel vulnerable only endear good people to me more. What would it mean to have good people, if there weren’t any bad ones from whom we needed refuge? Sometimes the best thing a person can do is step up when they’re needed. And the need would never arise without an offending party.
Still, it’s horrific to say: I need you. We really like to feel independent. Perhaps it’s a post-feminism thing. Maybe it’s just my personality. I’ve never thought of myself as reserved, but I recently gave someone the impression that I was – and maybe this is where that comes from. I’m always willing to express a thought, but I’m far more reluctant to say something that might lead to my disappointment. And what could be more devastating than someone refusing to help when you really need it? We’re not sure who is trustworthy – but in a moment of crisis, the line is drawn between friends and acquaintances. You’re hoping the person in front of you will say, “Yes, of course I’ll do thus-and-such.” But you’re fearing that you’ll hear, “Sorry, I’m just not sure I can help.” There are some people with whom these requests are not problematic: family, best friends. But if none of those people can help – if they want to, but are unable – if they can’t understand – it’s really harrowing to have to go to someone new and untried with a need that must be met. Some things can be weathered. Some things are tough. And some things need to be fixed, and they need to be fixed now.
And that’s where beauty and mercy come in. And how wonderful it is when they do.
It is amazing to me that we fashion these little interdependent communities with each other, and are able to be there for one another, in affection, in mercy, for the sake of God. Because so many of us live far away from our families. So many of us are new in town. So many of us have so many different wants and needs, and for so many of us, it comes down to trusting in God. Sometimes faith in humanity is not enough. Sometimes we lose that – but we are able to turn to God and beg for His mercy, even when we have nothing else, even when we see nothing on the horizon. And He sends these people to us, these brothers and sisters, who can fulfill our needs and fill us with boundless gratitude and wonder at the mercy of people, and their capacity to love and be just – when we were lately so despondent, so distrusting.
Muslims call each other brother and sister. It’s taken on new meaning to me now – and that’s not thanks enough – it never will be – but I hope that for tonight, it will suffice.
