Well, it's four o'clock in the morning and that to me says “time to write!” To the rest of you it might say “go to bed” but hey, since when do I care what the voices in my head tell you?

I wonder sometimes if I'm turning into a crotchety old feminist. If I am, in fact, losing my ability to enjoy comedy because I am too horrified by the truth behind the joke to find said joke funny. The other problem is that in my horror, I want nothing more than to explain to others why they should be horrified with me—I want to spread my knowledge...like the plague. Is that acceptable?

I remember once during my undergraduate years when a man stood on the sidewalk and preached at all who walked by. He called out to the young women in revealing clothing labeling them “whores” and “Jezebels” and preached the word against homosexuality, abortion, and premarital sex. I was so incensed by him and my brother said that I shouldn't be. That if this man truly believed all of us were going to hell wasn't it honorable that he was doing his best to keep us from going there? He wasn't attacking anyone physically, only verbally. He wasn't limiting anyone's choices, just trying to elucidate why their choices were wrong. It was unwanted opinion and he was spewing it at the top of his lungs.

I am now the spewer of the unwanted and I have to question if that is acceptable or not. Of course I believe that what I know to be true is true—or, the best version of true. But so did this preacher. And, as much as I could argue why he was wrong and I am right, if the world he believes in is the truer world than all my arguments fail. Of course I wouldn't see things the way he sees them because I haven't seen the light. Naturally his arguments seem silly to me because I haven't accepted God into my heart. This conveniently shifts the playing field of the debate from the mundane to the spiritual thereby making it impossible for me to prove my point or disprove his. So, knowing that I can't disprove what he had to say I have only the unswerving belief that I am right—it is that same unswerving belief that keeps him warm at night. Does that make me a fanatic? Does that make me a zealot? Am I at liberty to express my opinions regardless of who wants to listen at will?

I would say no, but I would acknowledge that I can be zealous at times. I shut down sometimes when someone says something I don't want to hear and stop listening to what it is they are trying to say, instead focusing entirely on what they are saying literally. This isn't the way to handle any situation, especially not one where opinions are flying. But it is so difficult, perhaps the most difficult, thing I've ever had to do—this listening to what others are trying to tell me, regardless of my emotional response to their words. And, by choosing to listen to their side and not continually fight for my own I have to accept that they might not see what I see; they might not agree with me in the end. That's actually the hard part. Giving up the fight because this knowledge that I am so sure is correct and so sure would improve their thoughts and lives if they had it isn't, in the end, for them. Whether because they aren't ready to hear it, can't hear it or choose not to hear it is inconsequential. The fact of the matter is that it is like poison to them.

Sometimes a joke is just a joke, regardless of the history or the horror behind it, and you have to let people laugh. Even if you know deep down it isn't very funny it doesn't matter because on some level, some level even they don't fully understand or acknowledge, they know it isn't funny too. They know it's horrible. But laughing at it, knowingly or unknowingly, takes some of the power of that horror away. It is important to laugh at things that are tragic to the marrow of their bones I think, but I hope very, very strongly, that all will eventually learn to laugh while knowing why it isn't funny. Because in the end, so I believe, until you know the full history and meaning behind something your laughter isn't removing the power from the horror but merely hiding it. Until a thing is completely understood and, I would go so far as to say felt, the joke is still doing more harm than good.

I suppose I have to start trying something new. I suppose I will have to learn to say things quietly and when I feel they should or must be said only. I hope that isn't giving up the fight. I hope that is learning to fight more wisely. I suppose we shall see.