Strength in Fragility

In the next few days, I plan to attend the Day of Truth and Freedom march. The dissonance of strength and fragility that I feel leave me at a loss and I know I’m not alone with that. Our community’s resilience is being watched on a global scale and for that, I’m immensely proud to call Minnesota my home. However, sometimes it feels as though our strength is overshadowing our fragility - so I’d like to take a moment to touch on both in an effort to showcase the importance of not only our strength, but also our fragility. 

There is an unimaginable heaviness in my chest from sun up to sun down that not even sleep can offer respite from. Every moment of every day is filled with flashes of scared neighbors and loved ones. Not a single interaction is had without it taking precedent. Like a movie where the character has traumatic flashbacks - only these are not memories. They’re a collection of hypothetical pondering and real images I’ve seen from community members. However, unlike one would assume, the hypotheticals are somehow not living up to the horror of the real images I’ve seen. There’s a constantly queued fyp in my head of real masked men hurting real members of my community. It plays on loop and I can’t log off. I spend my days torn between waiting for the numbness to set in and being grateful that I’m still connected to my humanity. Forever doomed to teeter-totter the line of staying informed yet not all consumed to the point of no return. 

Contrary to one’s belief, this fragility is incredibly unifying. I’m tired but I’m still showing up. I’m tired but I’m not going down quietly. You know why? Because I’m watching my community do the same. They are just as tired as I am, yet here we all are. Showing up day after day to exemplify that we won’t be beat. We won’t let violence and hate infiltrate us without opposition.

So, Minneapolis, embrace your fragility. Because after all, plenty of valuable items have a fragile nature to them. I won’t let the idea of fragility cause this community to feel any less value. If you feel fragile in these moments, sit with it. Sit with it and thank it for reminding you that they haven’t won. You’re still here, you’re not numb, and you’re not alone.