where the words equality, equity, and inclusion are our love language
by Austin Channing Brown
Footnotes
A Weary World
Photo of a single candle by Laura Hope via Unsplash
My friend Tassima read a stunning poem to me last night. In between the lines that boil down truth to its essence, the way only poems can do, she asks the question, "when exactly will a weary world be rejoicing?"
I feel this so deeply. Because I am weary. And though just recently we were talking about the importance of celebration, that very much feels like a blip in an otherwise tough year.
We have gone to battle this year. We battled in Home Depot parking lots trying to protect people. We battled to plan rallies and go door knocking and make phone calls. We battled to feed our community. We battled against book bans. We battled against a political reality that seems hellbent on destruction and fear. Many of us faced our own personal battles, too. We battled grief, or illness, or pain or loneliness. And we are weary... waiting for the rejoicing.
Though I am a Christian (an ordained minister, in fact), I do not often look to the Bible for easy answers. For me, the Bible is a troubling and troublesome document, filled with complexities and nuances that too many "teachers" are unwilling to engage. I read my Bible from the underside, and have little patience for those wanting it to reinforce the status quo of power and privilege. And.
I long for a weary world to rejoice.
As I continue to turn Tassima's poem over and over in my heart, I am struck by one tiny profound truth buried in the story of a Messiah... When the angels cracked open the sky and announced to a group of shepherds that they could now rejoice, Hope was but a newborn.
Hope was still covered in goo, laying in a trough, wailing into the night. Hope could not yet feed itself, care for itself, or make decisions. Hope was not walking or talking or doing any kind of saving. Hope was just a baby.
And I wonder if there is something in this for us to hold onto. That hope need not be realized for the rejoicing to commence. Maybe a weary world can rejoice because we participated in hope, before all was made well.
We battled in Home Depot parking lots because we hope for a safer world, and maybe in this we can rejoice. We battled to plan rallies, go door knocking, and made phone calls, but we didn't do it alone. We discovered that there were others who believed that the impossible could be done- and maybe in this we can rejoice. We battled to feed our communities, joining whatever vittles or money we had with others, and perhaps in this we can rejoice. We faced the battle. And we didnt do it alone. Our hope is still just in its infancy, but it's here. We are here, now, doing our part to create a world in which every body can live free.
Perhaps in this, there is reason to rejoice already, no matter how small.
*PLEASE BE AWARE, THIS NEWSLETTER CONTAINS AFFILIATE LINKS TO BOOKSHOP.ORG, WHICH MEANS I RECEIVE A SMALL COMMISSION IF YOU CHOOSE TO MAKE A PURCHASE USING THE BOOK LINKS. I WILL BE USING SAID COMMISSION TO FEED MY BOOK ADDICTION, OFFER YOU MORE REVIEWS, AND AROUND AND AROUND WE GO. THE COMMISSION DOES NOT COST YOU ANYTHING, AND I WILL ALWAYS LET YOU KNOW IF I RECEIVED ANY OF THE BOOKS FOR FREE99.
Coming Up Next
Next week I am going to send you my 2025 Gift Guide. This year the guide will be filled with crowdsourced suggestions of companies that hold to their values. And it will also include a fun announcement!
Next week's Banned post will be the final one for 2025. I am going to give my own weary heart a break this holiday season. But I'll be back in January as we begin another year together.
I also want to take a moment to say thank you. So many of you have been rocking with me for a long time. I am grateful for the number of ways you all support my writing- subscribing here, purchasing my books, coming to say hi when Im in town. I cannot express how grateful I am to have this community of folks who care deeply about justice and the welfare of humanity. Thank you for always making me feel less alone.
Joy & Justice,
Austin
TIP JAR
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Austin Channing Brown is the author of NYT Bestseller and Reese Book Club pick, Im Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness. Her newest book, Full of Myself is already a USA Today bestseller but she's waiting to be placed on your bookshelf.
