Revolution by Dee

Every morning, from the warmth and comfort of my bed, I tell myself that today is the day. Today is the day I rise up and cast off the shackles I have allowed to be put on my soul. Today is the day I will make up for the moments of my silence, which I’ve let build up, until they smothered my voice completely. Today is the day I say no, I am not who you have decided for me to be: I am different, I am my own person, I share nothing with you, I reject your hatred, your misogyny, your fear, your bigotry. Today is the day I tell them that they’re the ones who are wrong. 

Every morning, but only from the warmth and comfort of my bed.

Then of course comes the worst thing, the destroyer of hopes and dreams and fantasies. Then comes reality. Then comes that moment of opportunity, that chance to speak my mind.

That’s when I show my true colors. Mostly they’re just different shades of yellow. Because you see that’s when my good friend The Status Quo shows up. It winds its arms around me, puts a restraining hand on my conscience and takes a firm grip on my tongue. And then it starts making its insidious little comments.

“Wait a second now,” it whispers lovingly into my ear, “Don’t you think we’re being a little rash? I mean yes, things could definitely be better. Maybe you speak, and you stand your ground and refuse to let them grind you down and things will be better. But. They could also be so much worse. Isn’t it better not to take that risk? Just stay quiet, keep your head down, and eke out a quiet existence in the shadows. Isn’t that what you do best in any case?”

And its words make so much sense. Why want what you can’t have when what you do have, though it is in no way good, might just be good enough. I mean people are always talking about the greener grass but it seems that everyone forgets about the troll under that bridge you have to cross, and I’m no billy goat. I’m not nearly as hardy.

So I keep my mouth shut, and move on with my day, wait for the next morning and the warmth and comfort of my bed. After all, the only bloodless revolutions are the ones you have nowhere but in the safety of your own head.

Leave a Reply