I'm in a state of disarray. The aunt I told you about has died and the family is coming together to celebrate her life and legacy. I've been asked to sing at the funeral, which will probably be attended by the siblings I don't know and others in our community who didn't know of my biological connection with her.
As I sit and reflect, I realize that I really don't have a definition for my feelings right now. My heart is sore from so many things...the missed opportunity to have a regular family, for one, and the lack of consistent love. (Actually, that's not quite true. My mom and my brother love me in all of my inadequacy.)
But this ache is little deeper than I can define and it's coming from a place I can't identify.
I've been watching the coverage of the demise of Cesar Chavez's legacy. Several women have come forward saying that he forced them to have sex during his time of fighting for the rights of farm workers. Several entities have said that they won't be celebrating him on his birthday later this month.
While I certainly applaud the bravery of the women coming forward -- I'm torn. Is his legacy tarnished? Absolutely. Is Chavez the first man to sleep around? Probably not. The age of the women and the consent piece are a little harder to reconcile, though. But here's what I wonder -- do his misdeeds erase the good he's done? The farmworkers who now have rights are probably breathing a sigh of relief that this information wasn't disclosed at the time.
Please understand...I'm not trying to justify Chavez in any way. He was dead wrong for what he did. I just know that one chapter does not a book make. His good works have made it possible for millions to get what they deserved. Period.
After further reflection -- and a day or two to really think about it -- I think I'm just tired. Tired of people not being what they're supposed to be or what they've presented themselves to be. Tired of having to navigate a world that's ever changing -- and not necessarily in a good way. And tired of wanting what I can't have. Ugh.
Comments