Save Me

As I was stressing over my news feed the other day, my husband reminded me of something my brother (also a writer) said in 2016. It was a joke, sort of. Sometime after Trump was elected he muttered, “Oh no, now we have to write about politics!” Well, it was a joke. It was also true! Our job shifted in that moment. Lately, I’ve been avoiding writing a little bit. I rewrite or work on things. But I’m intimidated by my Timeline. Whatever I write, it has to live alongside the things that have happened and are happening.

I would really like to figure out how to do that. But it isn’t coming quickly or easily to me. It’s taking time.

For me, personally, part of the problem is that I’m a Christian. That is a problem! You might say, and I don’t blame you. I work at an evangelical church. Long ago I decided to do a really weird thing: to neither reject the church nor the world. Weird, at least, to my endless scrolling habit, which tends to flatten nuance and force you to check one box or another. In real life, I have many friends who live in a kind of squishy middle when it comes to spirituality; I’m just one of them. Although I’ve taken great issue with the church over the years, steady has remained my belief that there is a God, and that they are interactive and good. That God is talkable to. That God despises every star and stripe of oppression and, if I ask, will help me turn my heart towards loving every single person I interact with. And they are all worthy of love, the people I meet, all of them. Believing that brings me to a place I can write from.

I have a lot of privileges in the church world, which is why I can stay in it quietly: I’m white and cisgender; I have a nuclear family and came from one; I was raised in the tradition. My politics have never been conservative and I never pretended they were. Most people at my church would know what they don’t want to argue with me about, because they like me, and don’t perceive me as a threat, despite my ideas. Truthfully it doesn’t come up much. Mostly we talk about God. That, and the wonderful scones I sometimes bake for Sundays. I do make very good scones.

As the nation and my people– the evangelicals– become increasingly unhinged, that love I spoke of earlier gets harder and harder to access. For me, to give to them. And as a writer, I feel so weak in this cultural moment. Did it have to come when I was already so tired? What on earth could I contribute? I started and stopped this post six times this week, sure I had nothing of value to put into the world. Look, I’m gonna write the post, but I’m still not sure I have anything useful to say.

Can I write what I want when the world is so unsteady? Wait, you haven’t even heard what I want to write yet: I have this story about soup and another about Bloody Mary. Are those… enough? To make up for the fact that my paycheck comes from people who sort of belong to an organization that is collectively voluntarily losing their marbles in a cruel, hateful, public way that I can’t explain or defend? Even though the church I go to is small, odd, diverse, and charming? At least they don’t pay me all that much!

I don’t think I’m alone in this feeling, though my circumstances are surely not relatable to everybody. So much of what I consume daily wants me to come out with a bottom line– I want to think about it. And I need to have that love in my heart to write anything decently. It’s harder to write when there’s anger or fear or defensiveness underlining everything.

I have no answers! Obviously! But I do have a very good scone recipe. If you dm me I will send it to you, and you can make my scones for whatever community you’re a part of– the more dubious its value the better! I wish I had something more useful to offer. But I’m afraid for now this is it.

Perhaps if I keep writing, I’ll stumble on something as I go. It actually kind of worked for me as I wrote this post!

Reading:

Me and My Baby View The Eclipse by Lee Smith - Okay, I found this book of short stories blind from a stack, ya know? I liked the title, I was at a used bookstore on vacation, and I went in with zero expectations. And then I loved it! These stories were like bread to me. Tasty, good, hungry no more.

Martyr! By Kaveh Akbar - I’m halfway through this and already I’ve compared it to so many things I love. I can’t wait to find out how it finishes up.

The Dry Heart by Natalia Ginsberg - Oh my gosh, I read this through in one day and it was devastating. Read this on a day you want to be devastated in the best way.

Moshi Moshi by Banana Yoshimoto - This one I’m just digging into and so far it’s so lovely. I read Kitchen by the same author, and I feel like I just really love her sense of drama, and the way she undersells it and then brings it back around full price. Like, it’s so good.

I hope as you move through the world, that you feel up to this cultural moment. And if you don’t, know that you’re not alone! We’ll learn what we gotta learn and work up to it together. <3