What do reputation
and accountability mean
today?

A tally
of crushed flowers
Liters of jet fuel
to world police

and Who
needs convincing
when we only seek
to invalidate our opponents
Dominion, played out
recursively

When there’s blood in the water
we reach
for new streams

Swiping, for new narratives
shuffling screens

What is power, when it is given?
What is life, taken away?

Who’s lies
are we washing?
Does our fabric fade?

Look in my eyes, I’m exhausted
trying to hold the reins

With hands tied, They try
to complicate it
Make it seem like there’s a lot to say…

If only we could find
the reasons why
Open
a new light, inside
We’d stay up all night, asking questions like
“Are You Afraid of the Dark?”
“Have you ever cried?”
and “How far would you go
to protect yourself, really?”

Well, I wish
I could kiss it all better for you
but, I’m not your guide
my shift ended at five
and you’ve got a lot left
to discover

Back of the Page

There’s an episode of the Simpsons called “My Sister, My Sitter”, where Lisa gets the idea to become a Babysitter. Marge tells her she’s too young to do it, but eventually she gets clients, proves herself, and ends up babysitting Bart and Maggie. Bart takes this opportunity to really put up a fight - he doesn’t want to be condescended by Lisa, taking an “I know what’s best for you” bedtime-enforcer attitude, filling in the shoes of Mom and Dad while they’re away.

Shit hits the fan after an accident as Bart is resisting the projected authority of his younger sibling, of course, and after he’s injured, they’re off to the doctor. In one of the best scenes of the episode, Dr. Hibbert dramatically turns, spotlight shining in Lisa’s eyes, and delivers “My Diagnosis: Bad Babysitting.”

Chief Wiggum then goes on to reconstruct an alleged narrative, where “The Boy was studying quietly, when The Girl, drunk on her own sense of power, beat him silly with a block of frozen lima beans.”

For some reason, this scene hit me like a ton of bricks today, as I wondered, am I being condescending? Do I think I know what’s best, and what’s right? Am I…attempting to convince people or project authority? I could go on and on about how I think my views are right, because they are my views.

I watch clips where talking heads debate each other, trading shots - as if the first person to prove the other wrong or catch them in some logical fallacy is going to score a magical point, and suddenly, their counterpart is going to light up from the inside, eyes glowing, as a deep realization forms on their face. “Thank you, that’s it…You’ve -You’ve saved me.”

The truth is, the information is already out there, if people are ready to find it. There’s a live-streamed genocide happening right now, with Bisan (one of the only surviving journalists in a country where foreign press is not allowed) winning Emmy awards for reporting through it. The fact that people want to silence this or ignore this information says enough. They are not ready to be convinced, and I am not their babysitter. It is sad, and frustrating. But I don’t want to play the dominion game, by trying to catch people out, force the topic, or convince them of anything. I will speak up for what I think is right, but there is no way to find the right “reason” that will change someone’s opinion. I realized that when a friend was calling into question my “news sources” and justifying hospitals being bombed back in 2023. There will always be a reason people do not want to, and are not ready, to see. I can’t force my way through that.

The Lisa Babysitting metaphor is a bit of a weird one, if I’m honest. I’m not sure why it resonated so much with me - maybe it was how quick everyone turned on someone just trying to hold things together. Or how easy it is to go from good intentions to being perceived as condescending and “drunk on your own power.”

In any case, it’s exhausting living with the silence - the unspoken social buffer blanketing discussion of this topic. I’ve been very vocal about the subject, and yet feel like I have almost no meaningful discussions about the topic. Maybe it’s because I’m giving Lisa-Babysitter energy, or maybe it’s because people aren’t ready (or don’t know what to say). Frankly, I find it difficult to maintain curiosity in dialogue if I’m being gaslit, and I have no interest in watching Talking Heads debate, or score points at Press Briefings, for show.

Maybe we all have a lot to discover, and there will be a new approach to take that resonates where we both learn something. I end the poem remembering sleepovers, as a kid. In the weary moments, late-at-night, when it was completely dark. It felt safe to ask the deeper questions, like “are we alone in the universe?” and “are you okay?”

I miss those dark, safe spaces. I just hope we can figure this out, together.

🕊️