Omelas Is Here: On Kyle Rittenhouse, White Supremacy, and Us

“It was not then a question of crime, but rather one of color, that settled a man’s conviction on almost any charge.” — W. E. B. Dubois

There is no escape from heartbreak. There is no running away from our problems. The small problems, we can change. The large problems are made by interlocking systems that churn on and on and on. They are fueled by human industry, the blood and sweat of working people held under the thumb of oligarchs and plutocrats.

But, as Mario Savio enjoined us, we can put our bodies on the gears of this machine. And we must. 

We must be sand in the gears of the systems that are killing us and choking the planet.

And meanwhile, we must help each other, as often as we can.

***

The judge ruled that the AK-15 Kyle Rittenhouse killed three people with was not a deadly weapon. Rittenhouse loves police. He admires Proud Boys and other white nationalists. He traveled across state lines with this not-a-deadly-weapon, driven there by his mother.

Black men are killed for just existing.

Black women are killed for just existing.

Black children are killed for just existing.

White men? They are considered good for just existing.

Kyle Rittenhouse, a young white man, was acquitted by Judge Bruce Schroeder and coddled by the system that says protestors deserve to be shot and run down in the streets, and that Black, Latine, Asian, and Indigenous lives don’t matter at all, except as cannon fodder or minds, and hands, and backs that churn out gold and entertainment for the rich.

When a system that kills judges a killer not guilty, what does that say about the society that built it?

***

A Black man wandered through a building under construction.

White men wandered through a building under construction.

White women wandered through a building under construction.

White children wandered through a building under construction, taking plywood to build a skateboard ramp.

Only one of these people is dead. His name was Ahmaud Arbery. He was chased and killed by three white men. There are eleven white people on the twelve person jury. The prosecutor asked that Black pastors supporting Arbery’s family be removed from the courtroom.

There is to be no succor for the grieving and oppressed.

***

White supremacy runs rampant through the United States, as in many parts of the globe.

White nationalists crowd school board meetings, intimidating children and parents, screaming—spittle flying from unmasked faces—about sheep.

White nationalists burn torches while shouting “Jews will not replace us!”

White nationalists hunt down Black men and those who support Black liberation. They spray paint synagogues. They drive through crowds. They carry guns. Bear mace. Fists.

White men murder Black trans women.

White women call police on Black men out looking at birds. At Black women who dare to contradict them in public places.

***

Black, Latine, and Indigenous children end up dead simply for playing, or sleeping, or being.

Tamir Rice was playing in a park.

Andy Lopez was playing in an empty lot.

Aiyana Stanley-Jones was sleeping in her home.

***

“Who will protect us if we are robbed, or raped, or murdered?”

Dealing with violent crime is only 4% of police activity in most cities.1 Mostly, police harass people that wealthy or middle class white people deem unacceptable. Rich white people close their hearts and their gates.

The systems they uphold close human beings into cages.

***

Indigenous children are still stolen from their homes.

Black children are still stolen from their homes.

Asian grandparents are beaten on the streets.

Indigenous women go missing every day.

People are terrorized in jails, awaiting trial, because they cannot afford bail.

Black people are stopped and fingerprinted because—by going about their lives—they are considered “suspicious.”

***

“If the child were brought up into the sunlight out of that vile place, if it were cleaned and fed and comforted, that would be a good thing indeed; but if it were done, in that day and hour all the prosperity and beauty and delight of Omelas would wither and be destroyed. Those are the terms. To exchange all the goodness and grace of every life in Omelas for that single, small improvement: to throw away the happiness of thousands for the chance of the happiness of one: that would be to let guilt within the walls indeed.”

— Ursula K. Le Guin2

***

White people:

If you do not insist that Black, brown, Asian, and Indigenous lives matter…

If you do not speak out against injustice…

If you do not actively root out racism within yourself and your communities…

If you do not give up your seat at the table when you figure out the only other people sitting there are white like you…

If you do not make noise. Refuse to move. Throw sand on the gears of this brutal machine…

You may as well pull the trigger yourself next time.

Because none of this is about one “bad” person. Or one “bad” institution. This is about all of us. About every white person breathing right now. About our ancestors and who profited, in large ways or small. This is about the whole filthy system and every stinking, interlocking, rotting piece.

***

Every dead body was a living person once. Someone loved them. Someone mourns them.

Eleanor Bumpurs. Emmet Till. Stonefield Chiefstick. George Stinney Jr. Loreal Tsingine. Sandra Bland. Bobby Hutton. Kayla Moore.

The 12 million indigenous people killed in the US between 1492 and 1900. The thousands more killed or gone missing since.

The 35 million Africans enslaved.

The more than 4000 Chinese workers killed while building railroads.

Their spirits call out for justice. For freedom. For the right to simply live.

***

What are you doing to help bring about change?

Are you fighting for history to be taught in schools?

Are you working with unhoused people toward solutions around food, sanitation, and housing?

Are you speaking out against injustice?

Are you monkey wrenching?

Are you organizing workers?

Are you sharing food and resources?

Are holding billionaires’ feet to the fire?

Are you listening?

Are you….

***

I’ve written these words one hundred times over the past decades. Ideas for engagement. Words calling for us to show up for each other.

So today, I want to hear your ideas.

We can’t run away. We can’t bury our problems. We can’t turn away from suffering.

We cannot escape this. We cannot walk away from Omelas, not while Omelas still stands. Not while one child is still tethered in a dark basement, being tortured.

And these days? Any life of relative comfort is built on torture.

What are we doing about it?

***

“I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.”

— Angela Y. Davis

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T. Thorn Coyle

Portland, Oregon, November 2021

1: I’ve seen this sourced in many places, but here is an NYT article on the percentage.

2: The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas

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This essay was made possible by the generosity of my Patreon supporters.

Decisive Details:

on communicating what matters

Photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson once wrote:

“What the eye does is to find and focus on the particular subject within the mass of reality; what the camera does is simply to register upon film the decision made by the eye.”

This thing he speaks of is often called “the decisive moment.” It’s the snapshot of the particular which reflects the energy of the larger whole.

There’s a corollary in writing that author Kristine Kathryn Rusch calls the “telling detail.” The telling detail is one, small, thing sticks in a person’s mind, and brings a scene to life. One example she gives is a metal ashtray mounted to a wall between two hospital elevators. Imagining that ashtray, we immediately know so much about that world and slice of time. We understand some small thing about the people living there.

And so, the story comes to life.

These moments and details are used by effective artists all the time. Organizers, parents, teachers, and many others of us use just these sorts of details to connect someone who doesn’t know—or doesn’t have the same relationship—with the things we are connected to.

So, how do we communicate about the cause that is important to us? The relationship things that matter? Our hopes, our fears, our dreams?

We communicate the telling detail or decisive moment that unlocks our experience and passion.

It’s a taste. A feel. A sound. A color. A scent on the wind.

It’s the crisp, papery sound of dried leaves crunching beneath sturdy boots.

It’s the feel of ocean wind on the skin, and the hint of salt on lips.

It’s the shine in a proud parent’s eyes.

It’s the sneaker-tearing tumble of rubble from a destroyed building.

It’s acrid smoke, invading lungs, and darkening the sun to a bloody orb, hanging in brown sky.

***

What are you passionate about? What is the telling detail that will help connect others to your passion?

What is the decisive moment? How do we communicate what is important? How do we convey the kernel of truth embedded in all experience?

How do we share our lives and reach beyond ourselves?

We do so by capturing a thread of imagination, tugging on it, and weaving it into the tapestry we know so well, bringing other people along: into texture, into emotion, into a sense of place and time.

We evoke emotion by saying: “This is what is important to me, and here is why.”

It’s the scent of fried potatoes in winter.

It’s the sound of iron slamming against iron, and the sense of space closing in.

It’s the burning ache in lower back and thighs, married with the sweet smell of strawberries.

It’s the slump of exhaustion.

It’s the blue and white lights, flashing through the choking fog of chemical gas.

It’s the crinkle of paper as the gift slowly reveals itself.

It’s a squeal of joy.

It’s a puppy’s kiss.

It’s the warm, savory taste of lentil soup made by a friend.

***

Passion: a strong feeling or emotion. As much as humans connect through thought, we connect more deeply through shared experience. Why? Shared experience means shared emotion. Even if you and I have different responses to an event, whatever emotions are evoked change our relationship to each other.

Sometimes the difference in emotional response drives a wedge between us. Other times, it creates a deeper bond.

So what happens when we can’t directly share an experience? We tell stories. We make music. We paint a picture. We take a photograph. We find a way to convey what is important to us about the moment, about the idea, about how we feel.

We do our best to find a way to share our passion. And we sow the seeds of empathy.

It’s the anguished cry of a parent who has lost a child.

It’s the sound and scent and taste when we bite into the first apple of autumn.

It’s the feeling of soft fur beneath our fingertips.

It’s the sweat running down our backs on a hot summer’s day.

It’s the echo of a trumpet, ringing against glass shop windows at night.

It’s the warmth of hot chocolate, or freshly made tortillas, or a soft blanket wrapped around our shoulders.

It’s all of our hopes, our fears, our grief, our love, our joy, and our rage.

When we share our passions, the world becomes richer. A greater variety of stories are told, and experiences are shared.

When we find the telling detail, or share a decisive moment, we unlock the things that connect us.

We find ways to share something deeper. Something that feels more true.

Our senses are opened.

And so are our hearts and minds.

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This is reader-funded writing. I give thanks to my Patreon supporters that make these essays, poems, meditations, and short stories possible. They are all people like you.

#communication #creativity

The Long Haul

on life in a rolling disaster

Writing mentor and friend Kristine Kathryn Rusch wrote a recent Patreon blog about the need for creative people to give ourselves some space right now.*

Breathing room is important. I’ve been watching people around me struggle. I’ve been watching violence erupting in the streets as anti-vaxxers and white supremacists rally, prepared for violence against anyone who disagrees. I’ve been watching people facing eviction. Hurricanes smashing city infrastructures. Floods. Fires. Wars. Mass displacement. Rising temperatures and water levels. Melting ice, dead salmon, shrinking habitats. Billionaires getting richer. Orange skies.

The toll is huge, in pain, loss, and in the emotional and psychic burden caused by simply caring about it all.

For some of us, it makes it hard to sleep.

For others, it makes it hard to get out of bed.

Others of us slow down or crash from anger or despair.

Some of us bury ourselves in work, hoping the problems will go away if we do something—anything—else hard enough.

Doom scrolling. Volunteering. Mutual aid. Raising funds. Helping friends and family. All of is happening right now as we scramble to figure out the shape of the world as it is.

And yeah, there is still fruit on the trees, flowers blooming, fledglings molting. There is still water to carry, and smiles to be had.

I’m grateful. Even in the midst of the pain.

And I’m once again reassessing, and cultivating ways to slow down inside.

***

Covid-19 and its variants and the consequences of the bungled response from governments and all the rest? Not going away.

Refugees? Not going away.

Climate disaster—which many of us have been shouting warnings about for decades? Not going away.

Greed and the consequently brutal poverty? Not going away.

We are living in the new normal, and we need to figure out how we can adjust to treating this as the long haul.

***

As an individual, I recently did a major reassessment, with the attitude that all this is not a temporary blip. These rolling crises are just the way life is.

This enabled me to add up my projected work projects, my health vagaries, the stress of current life, my physical, emotional, and spiritual needs, and the needs of folks around me, and folks experiencing crisis further away.

Then I reworked my business plan. I now have a flexible, adjustable plan that keeps me moving toward concrete goals, while including plenty of breathing room. Plenty of space to go for walks. To take photographs. To read. To watch a movie. To have the occasional outdoor dinner or writing date with vaccinated friends.                                           

I’ve always been ambitious, but ambition cannot rule out the need to plan for hardship. If we are always working full tilt toward our goals? Not only do we miss out on life and learning and beautiful moments, we also have no capacity to deal with crisis, short or long term.

So I’ve tailored my ambitions to a less stressful pace. That adjustment meant that just this week, I was able to add something to my plate. A project that will both help me learn some things about my craft, and meet some ancillary goals.

Didn’t that add stress? No. It has done the opposite. Flexibility, remember? Long term goals. By adding this project, I’m internally taking stress off all my other projects. Putting them into perspective. Making them not “important.”

Creating stories, running a publishing company, and connecting with my community? They’re just things that I do, like prayer and meditation, my daily walks, drinking tea, and talking with neighborhood cats.

I’m in this for the long haul, inside this new normal in what could be a pretty terrifying world.

***

Just as I reassessed my personal business plan, we can do this as communities.

Look around. Who is actually helping people, on the ground? Can you find ways to support them?

Look around. Are there people at work you can organize with?

Is there a free pantry in your neighborhood that needs regular stocking? Does your neighborhood need a free pantry?

Do friends need childcare?

Are there immigrants who need help navigating local systems? Children who need tutoring? Elders who need wood chopped or medicines delivered? Are there pipelines to stop? Oil companies to disrupt? Trans or queer youth who need support? Unhoused people who need back up, or clothing washed, or support interfacing with City Hall? Generic Plan B to be purchased, stockpiled, or gotten to groups helping folks in anti-abortion states?

As infrastructure crumbles and is washed or burned away, setting up systems of community mutual aid is necessary for this long haul. For as many of us to survive and have a chance to strive, we must help one another.

Take stock. What resources, skills, or talents do you have to share? What resources, skills, or talents do other community members have? How can you network with each other so resources and skills are shared, rather than hoarded or gone unused?

What do your neighbors need?

What do you have to offer?

***

Slow down. Take a deep breath in. Pause a moment. Then exhale, slowly.

If the world we live in now is indeed the new normal, how can you adjust?

How will you adjust?

What personal choices and plans must you reassess?

What community efforts are possible?

Where do you fit in?

We all have a beautiful life to live, right now.

We all have plans, goals, and things to offer. We all need rest, and beauty, and time.

What is one way you can offer yourself more space?

What is one way you can lower your stress levels, and allow body, heart, mind, and soul to breathe a bit more easily?

What can you gift yourself, today, that will support your longevity and resilience? Did you drink some water? Take your meds? Talk with a friend? Get some sleep? Exercise? Escape into a book, movie, or music for a bit? Experience nature?

And what can you offer the world? If not today, then this week. If not this week, this month.

Don’t know the answers to some of these questions?

I encourage you to take the time to ponder, brainstorm, write things down. Then talk to your friends and neighbors.

If we’re in this—together—for the long haul, we need a plan. 

September, 2021

*if you are a writer, I highly recommend Kris’s Patreon. It’s chock full of great insights. Kris also runs a weekly business blog on her website.

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This is reader-funded writing. I am so grateful to all of my Patreon supporters that make these essays possible. They’re the best.