The Courage to Go Your Own Way by Caryn MacGrandle

My eleven-year-old daughter is regularly called a lesbian in the conservative Southern town that we live.  Not because she has identified her gender, but because she does not dress the same as all of the other girls or wear any makeup.  She wears linen baggy pants with casual t-shirts.  And it is not as if the other girls are dressed more formally than her, but there is a ‘prescribed’ casual look that involves Lululemon and expensive sports casual clothing bought at stores like Dick’s Sporting Goods.

My daughter doodles a skeleton on her hand, and the girl next to her calls her ‘emo’ akin to pariah in the culture.  The boy on the other side says, ‘why don’t you just go kiss a girl already.  Faggot.’      

My heart breaks when I hear her tell me these things.

‘Keep carving your own way.  Fly,’ I silently entreat her.

Peer pressure is steel.  It moves mountains.  It is horrifying.  I have seen this with my other three children.

She is friends with this girl in her father’s neighborhood who like many other people in the military-industrial-complex-fed town we live in have an excess of money:  both parents work well-paying jobs making missiles or otherwise contributing to the war machine.

At eleven, my daughter’s friend is a sexpot bursting out at the seams.  My daughter had a murder mystery party last year, and this girl had more makeup on than I have ever worn, and a dress to kill.  She posed in the picture, a 10 year old Marilyn Monroe.

Her friend has made comments to my daughter about her acne and her clothes.  She stops talking mid-sentence, and tells my daughter, ‘You know, it’s okay if you are gay.  Really.’

When my daughter went to her friend’s birthday party, the goody bag was more expensive than the gift my daughter brought.

I have this silent conversation with my daughter’s friend in my head to where I bend down to her now 11-year-old level: she is very short bursting all over like spring but not yet sprung.

‘There are things more important than money.  Everything I have done has been a choice.  It has led me here to a home on the outskirts of town, clothes from Goodwill and no retirement, but the things I have gained.’

‘Over the past ten years, I have met Witches, Priestesses and other powerful women.  Women who will change the world you and I live in.’

They will change the world we live in.

My app is doing better than ever before, but still from a business point of view, not sound.  I am increasing the expenses to reach more people.   Not because I believe I can change people, but because I know they are already out there.  Women like me.  And my job is to promote their work.  As I owe more and more on my 0% American Express cards, I wonder if I am doing the right thing.

Perhaps I should scrap it and just focus on my new remote job.

Before going to bed, I read about China’s government implementing social credit where each person is ranked on their financial trustworthiness, and rewards and punishments accordingly.  Parts of Australia are doing this, too. We already have it.  I understand all too well as once you are on the wrong side of the power curve, the avalanche of bills and expenses grows.

My close friend without insurance cannot afford the $1100 a month blood thinner medicine he needs after surgery.  There is a free month trial but only for those who have insurance.  The pharmaceutical companies milk every penny they can get before generic drugs are approved.

We already have a social ranking system here.

I read about aid organizations stopping their aid to the now predominantly starving people in Gaza because the Israelis are targeting aid vehicles.   On March 23^rd, Biden signed a government funding bill that included $3.8 billion in military aid for Israel.

My daughter’s friend’s parents have job security.

The fear in the pit of my stomach grows. 

And I realize there is no choice to be made here.

I tell my partner about a gathering that I went to in Care Free Arizona years ago with Gather the Women.  54 women gathering over the weekend culminating in a Circle where we put our hand on the woman’s heart next to us while this song was playing.

In my mind, I see my mother’s face of derision saying, “Caryn’s everybody loves everybody bubble.  Where has that gotten you?”

But I know where that has gotten me.

In my mind, I am transported back to that moment and how I felt.

My mother believes we are living in end times. 

Yes, I believe that, too.  These are end times.

What comes next is up to you and I.

I already know the choice that I have made.