Hope and Fear

I am sitting here in Kaldi Social House, a little Ethiopian coffee shop/ bar in a corner of Silver Spring. I am not reading or  playing on my phone or listening to music on my headphones. I am watching and listening.

I see people of all races sitting together, exchanging ideas, telling stories, laughing, playing, debating, working, and relaxing. Some are alone reading newspapers or paperback books. Some are lazer focused on their screens. Others are staring off in the distance listening to things we can't hear.

The boards are covered in community flyers from Tai Chi classes to support groups for Black illegal immigrants.  The chatter and clinks of the glasses and rustling of papers are underscored by sad and hopeful acoustic music.

In the midst of this, I pick up my phone and am stabbed in the heart yet again by news of an act of hate: racist graffiti on the sign of a Maryland church with a Spanish language mass.

I sit and ponder how easy we can slide back into the most terrifying eras of our history.  Fear can trickle into our institutions. Libraries are asked not to carry certain books because the bosses are afraid of offending or inflaming. Teachers are asked not to teach certain things. Employers give jobs to cis whites because they don't want the controversy.  Theaters don't wish to offend their audiences so they stick to safe material.

I pictured beautiful gathering places like this being closed down due to hateful acts.

It will happen gradually, as it has before. We must stand firm with our values and be brave, especially for the things that seem small.

As I sit here, I vacillate between hope and fear and hope and fear.