Last night, I dreamed that this horrible hairy sharp-toothed animal with a brain just as smart as a human was attacking me and another person. It was terrifying. The animal couldn’t be outsmarted, and all I had was a club to deal with it, and it was attacking the other person, so when do you bash without hitting the person you are trying to protect?
Good question, when do you bash without hurting the person you are trying to protect? Same problem with bullets. When do you fire away, and hit the target, rather than the other poor human in the same predicament? The two are too close. Too enmeshed for a sure shot on the mark.
Reminds me of my son. Speaking up is like striking or bashing. Keeping quiet is complicity.
Martha gave me the most wonderful book about headstrong sons that we love and fear for. The Stardust Lounge by Deborah Digges.
The other choice, it seems, is to understand that these angry young men learned everything from their moms. Digges navigated the muddied waters of her son’s teenage years pretty much the same as I, with terror and trepidation.
Then she turned a corner. Allowed him the strength of his convictions – the space gave him the opportunity to figure out the ramifications of his actions, and to really choose his course. It worked. Thanks, Deborah, for you insight…
Bitch Rag 