Last month, my friend started some shit on the internet. Unfortunate. But not unexpected. Ever since the nomination, he has embraced fire and brimstone as brothers and set about the obliteration of all racism. I respect his fervor. I respect his fire.
He engaged like a guerrilla. In the dead of night, while the world was occupied with cleaner things. And he took no time, and no prisoners. But there is no dust to settle. Those wars are endless. Detonations of facts and fears and hates and it only stops when someone quits. The fires are still burning today.
I wonder if this is how I should fight too. Bloody. Without warning. Should I beat them into submission? If a fortress of ignorance is impregnable, should I burn it down with them screaming inside?
People are fragile and rigid things. They do not bend. They break. And when they do it is a flash so spectacular. And painful.
I watched my friend do battle. Neither side gave ground. Neither side listened. And in a pointless expenditure of energy, they both screamed that the other was blind, deaf, and dumb. They were both right.
I would rather not fight like that.
Another friend, a boxer, once asked me who the most important person in the ring was. I said me. “Wrong.” he said. “The most important person in the ring is the one across from you. You’re not fighting yourself, you’re fighting him. Watch what he does, watch how he moves, learn him. This isn’t about the coach, this isn’t about the crowd, this about him. This is not about you.”