This is not a typical post from me. It may be triggering for some. Read with caution.
I have pondered and prayed for days—what’s the right thing to do in the wake of the murder of George Floyd? Do I write about it or not? After all, it’s not benzo related. But my heart tells me that to be silent is to be part of the system that has marginalized our black brothers and sisters, seemingly, since time began. To speak my heart is the right thing to do. I may not get the words right, and for this, I apologize in advance. However, what is in my heart is right, for it is love. I love you, my black benzo buddies. I love you so much, and my heart is hurting for you. Hurting for the hate you’ve had to face, the fear you’ve experienced— the injustice of it all breaks my heart. But my heartache is nothing in comparison to the ache, the grief, the fear, the anger, that must fill your hearts, and has been in your hearts possibly all of your lives.
I’m not going to even attempt to say that I know what it feels like to be in your shoes. I don’t. I can’t. I’m a white woman of privilege. I can drive my car without worrying I’ll be pulled over by the police. I can jog in my neighborhood and no one calls the police. I can walk in the park and no one notices me. When shopping, security doesn’t trail me. I never taught my four children how to act if stopped by the police so that they wouldn’t get shot or killed. It never even crossed my mind to do that. Why would it? The color of their skin was their protection from police brutality. But you’ve had to do that. You’ve had to live with a different set of rules. You’ve lived in a different United States, than the one I’ve lived in. And I am so, so, sorry.
I don’t know exactly what to say or to do to make things right. All I know to do is to keep on loving. And to listen. Listen deeply to what you want me and the world to know. To listen until you feel heard. To listen until you feel loved. To listen until I’ve learned how to make you feel safe. To listen until I’ve learned how to best support you right now and in the future.
It’s all so ugly and destructive, this monster called racism. May we defeat it together— all of us— black, white, brown, red, yellow and all the colors in between.
I love you all, so very, very much. Please, stay safe, everyone.
Jenn
Jennifer, thank you for this. I’m one of those black benzo buddies; I’ve been following you for the last three and a half years. You have been a lifeline. The recent events have been beyond jarring and have forced me to block all news and social media. I can’t watch. The effect has been somewhat unexpected as it put me more in touch with my actual life minus external inputs. I have realized that in my rural, southern existence I have great privilege as opposed to those in more urban environments, but simultaneously it has left me sensitive to the subtle effects of predjudice I have experienced everyday, tiny injustices that were always ignored, accepted as cultural norms. It’s a little too much to deal with while simultaneously coping with benzo withdrawal, so I’m focusing on only the positives. That you would take the time to even attempt to address the topic is comforting.
I understand what you are saying.
It was a tragedy what happened to
George Floyd, however all the violence and rioting, the destruction and looting of businesses is not honoring his memory. I am beyond sure that he would not want this, especially in the midst of this pandemic. There is no excuse for burning of churches. The blatant theft
and destruction of small businesses
from which they will never recover.
It’s just very sad that it’s come to this.
I am a black benzo buddy that follows your blog which has been extremely helpful towards me coping while my nervous system heals. Thank you for kind words and speaking truth.