The Coronacation Diaries, Episode 79

The Privilege of Not Having to Listen

On Dad's floor at the hospital, there is a guy who sings. Often. Randomly, all day long, singing guy starts humming loudly, wordless and out of tune. The lady next door chimes in. "Help me!" she wails. "Help! Help!" Every 3 minutes, for hours on end. "Help!" She sound pitiful, terrified. But she's fine. She just doesn't like the wall she is facing. She wants to look the other way. She doesn't like the view. Her cup of water is warm. She wants to go home. "Help me! Now!" she calls. "N. O. W. Now! Get me out of here now!"

It's hard to not feel uncomfortable at her insistence. She seems miserable. She seems so sad, so pitiful. But the nurses are there for her, constantly. They can only do so much. They can't change the color of her walls. They can't release her to go home. All they can do is ignore her. And in the end, we helplessly giggle at her insistence. At her spelling. At her senseless, relentless demands.

Finally, we shut Dad's door. Singing guy and wailing lady are muffled, calling out in the distance. Inside his room, we have some reprieve. We don't have to listen to their demands any longer.

Photo by Megan Markham on Unsplash

I haven't checked CNN or Fox News since we've been down here. My news is being filtered by Facebook, a steady stream of riots and unrest and police violence and asshole moves by our poser president. At any time, I can close that tab and turn it all off. I can shut the door and get some reprieve.

I asked my Dad if he knew what was going on in our country. He didn't. We talked about it for a bit. He wasn't surprised. He has no love for Trump, for the hatred he spews and the harm that he causes. He has no love for a militarized police force. But he's been in the hospital for a week now, away from social media, away from the news. Inadvertently, he shut the door. He got some reprieve.

It's amazing how easy it is for us to block it all out. We can turn off the violence against people of color as easily as we can muffle the sounds of the lady in the next room. We don't have to live in it, day after day. We can take a break whenever we want. All we have to do is close the tab. Shut the door.

We are not in the communities that cannot escape it. We are not fearing for our lives because of the color of our skin. We are not afraid to be pulled over; we're just annoyed because we don't want those points on our license. But we are never in danger. We can probably talk our way out of it.

It's so easy to forget how privileged we are. We can just turn it all off whenever we want to. We are sheltered from the senseless violence. We can choose to go out in it. We can choose to protest. Or we can choose to change the channel. We can just "like' that social media post and then feel good about ourselves. We can share a particularly well-written post, a clever meme, and then believe we have somehow made a difference. We can even write "THIS!" in all caps as we share a post. That's taking a stand. We can turn our profile picture to black.

And then we can get some reprieve. Close the tab. Shut the door.

Because we don't have to live in it, day after day after day. We don't have to fear for our lives.

We don't even have to listen.