"...as much as I try to unsnarl my identity entwined with my daughter’s, it shows up". I wonder, sometimes, if the need to insist upon and clearly express one's separateness from another is a North American--or perhaps more accurate--a cultural phenomenon of so-called Western civilization. "Who are you, really?" is kind of a crazy concept, one embedded in stone, not life. Who I am is a participant in the swirl of events large and small that envelop me, a point of view of the Universe at any given moment. When I had my Sophie, we were often as One moving like a dance where the dancers become one with the music, and, as such, are greater than the sum of their parts. That was ME, and HER and US and ONE. And it's beautiful and perfect and no apologies needed.
I'm sure the person who commented about your posts meant it as constructive criticism, but if they don't see you in your writing I'm not sure they're paying attention!
I have been following you since your Sophie and my Boy were much, much younger. My Boy is 34 now. I've said to you before that you say FOR me all the things. And you say them so much more eloquently than I ever could. I know in my head that I am a whole and separate person from my Son. I mean, I really KNOW it. But, when I talk about myself I tend to use words like "I used to be" or "when I was younger" even for things that are still true about myself. What I FEEL is that I am Andrew's Mom. Sometimes that is enough. But, I so miss ME so much sometimes.
I wish I could be more militant. I wish I could do more with my rage at the horrible things going on in our country. I "used to be" an Army soldier. I "used to be" a helicopter pilot and a warrior. Now, I feel so impotent. My life revolves around being a caregiver and a warrior for My Boy. I'll be 65 soon and there's just no more fight left in me for anything else.
Please know that your writing and your advocacy means so much to so many. You have made me feel not so alone at least for the last decade, maybe longer. Usually I am a lurker. I take your words and wisdom to help myself. But, today I want you to know that everything you do and everything you write matters to so many of us that need to know we are not alone.
I've loved you and Sophie from afar for years, Dear Elizabeth. I feel YOU in every word I've ever read that you have written. If that woman doesn't, she hasn't been paying attention. So fuck her. Fuck all the horrible shit going on around us. And rest in peace and power Renee Nicole Good.
I think that only mothers of disabled children understand how intertwined we are with our children, how we cannot separate ourselves from them because they live in our hearts. At least, that's what I've found. A young nurse told me, you do you. Elizabeth, you do you and don't let anyone tell you different. Sending hugs.
Amen. This is the time to really tap into our rage and feel it and shout it. Your writing is a brilliant and electric. Fuck the naysayers and fuck that stupid woman. I love you dearly and I depend on your writing to breathe.
Wow! Who can read your posts and NOT see you, hear you, know you. I appreciate every self-revealing post, which is all of them. Sophie is as much a part of you as being a lesbian is who I am. Elizabeth, some people are just blind and deaf to what they are not willing to see, or--I suggest--what they are not willing to see about themselves. You touch lives. You express that deep "anguish, despair and anger" that we all have in us, that we don't have the words for--but you do. I say "that we all have in us"--if we're paying attention. You call attention to things and events that are hard to look at--BUT WE MUST LOOK! I thank you for every single post and your daily courage. With love . . .
I can only repeat everyone else here saying, "Amen to this." Though also what a weird thing to say to somebody. And especially weird for anyone who actually reads your writing.
Renee Nicole Good cannot be silenced even in death. She lives, fully within all of us that know what we saw. No matter how many angles, truth cannot be extinguished, it lives onward and cannot be suffocated, even with the passing of time.
The most despicable act is the travesty of knowing this regime will cease to acknowledge her. She is sentenced and buried before the dark of night appears.
…
I had not seen a post of yours in sometime, I went searching this week. I no longer do Instagram and Facebook never drew me in to its bosom. It’s nice to read your post this evening.
Sophie and you are a team. I think your writer friend forgot that, hopefully, briefly.
Your bravery and perseverance and intelligence are completely visible in your writing; you encourage me to keep on keeping on in spite of the anguish, despair and anger that threaten to overcome all of us who know it is possible for our species to be better than this. Please let your anger fuel you and don't stop inspiring us to keep up the good fight.
So a “person I hadn’t seen in probably years who said to me that they never saw me in my social media, in my writing, in my online presence but rather only Sophie and they wanted to see more of me”
That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard. I don’t know that person, and I don’t know what their relation is to you, so forgive me if I offend them in this comment, but what they said to you was utter bullshit. Every single thing you write declares your beautiful mind and your beautiful soul. Your words, your rage, your humor, everything.
And yes, Renee Good was murdered by the state. I say it with you. She was shot in the head by an ICE agent who heard her say, her last words, with a smile, “I’m not mad at you.” The grief and rage are real.
It always comes down to this for me- of course I like it if people enjoy what I write but if they don't, it's really none of my business. I do it for me. I have to. And sometimes it doesn't even please me that much but neither does my life. Or this life.
This now-life where I am not sure there is justice to be had for anyone in any way.
"...as much as I try to unsnarl my identity entwined with my daughter’s, it shows up". I wonder, sometimes, if the need to insist upon and clearly express one's separateness from another is a North American--or perhaps more accurate--a cultural phenomenon of so-called Western civilization. "Who are you, really?" is kind of a crazy concept, one embedded in stone, not life. Who I am is a participant in the swirl of events large and small that envelop me, a point of view of the Universe at any given moment. When I had my Sophie, we were often as One moving like a dance where the dancers become one with the music, and, as such, are greater than the sum of their parts. That was ME, and HER and US and ONE. And it's beautiful and perfect and no apologies needed.
Elizabeth, I read YOU and in my mind I see YOU when reading your writing, and especially when you write as Sophie's mother. There is no other way.
Right on, regarding Renee Nicole Good.
I'm sure the person who commented about your posts meant it as constructive criticism, but if they don't see you in your writing I'm not sure they're paying attention!
I have been following you since your Sophie and my Boy were much, much younger. My Boy is 34 now. I've said to you before that you say FOR me all the things. And you say them so much more eloquently than I ever could. I know in my head that I am a whole and separate person from my Son. I mean, I really KNOW it. But, when I talk about myself I tend to use words like "I used to be" or "when I was younger" even for things that are still true about myself. What I FEEL is that I am Andrew's Mom. Sometimes that is enough. But, I so miss ME so much sometimes.
I wish I could be more militant. I wish I could do more with my rage at the horrible things going on in our country. I "used to be" an Army soldier. I "used to be" a helicopter pilot and a warrior. Now, I feel so impotent. My life revolves around being a caregiver and a warrior for My Boy. I'll be 65 soon and there's just no more fight left in me for anything else.
Please know that your writing and your advocacy means so much to so many. You have made me feel not so alone at least for the last decade, maybe longer. Usually I am a lurker. I take your words and wisdom to help myself. But, today I want you to know that everything you do and everything you write matters to so many of us that need to know we are not alone.
I've loved you and Sophie from afar for years, Dear Elizabeth. I feel YOU in every word I've ever read that you have written. If that woman doesn't, she hasn't been paying attention. So fuck her. Fuck all the horrible shit going on around us. And rest in peace and power Renee Nicole Good.
I think that only mothers of disabled children understand how intertwined we are with our children, how we cannot separate ourselves from them because they live in our hearts. At least, that's what I've found. A young nurse told me, you do you. Elizabeth, you do you and don't let anyone tell you different. Sending hugs.
Amen. This is the time to really tap into our rage and feel it and shout it. Your writing is a brilliant and electric. Fuck the naysayers and fuck that stupid woman. I love you dearly and I depend on your writing to breathe.
I would like to add that the murderer’s name is Jonathan David Ross. A weak man who hid behind a mask. I feel that needs to be blasted out there also.
We are all thinking about Renée tonight and her child and her wife.
Wow! Who can read your posts and NOT see you, hear you, know you. I appreciate every self-revealing post, which is all of them. Sophie is as much a part of you as being a lesbian is who I am. Elizabeth, some people are just blind and deaf to what they are not willing to see, or--I suggest--what they are not willing to see about themselves. You touch lives. You express that deep "anguish, despair and anger" that we all have in us, that we don't have the words for--but you do. I say "that we all have in us"--if we're paying attention. You call attention to things and events that are hard to look at--BUT WE MUST LOOK! I thank you for every single post and your daily courage. With love . . .
You said this SO much better than I could!
over and over and over.
I can only repeat everyone else here saying, "Amen to this." Though also what a weird thing to say to somebody. And especially weird for anyone who actually reads your writing.
Renee Nicole Good cannot be silenced even in death. She lives, fully within all of us that know what we saw. No matter how many angles, truth cannot be extinguished, it lives onward and cannot be suffocated, even with the passing of time.
The most despicable act is the travesty of knowing this regime will cease to acknowledge her. She is sentenced and buried before the dark of night appears.
…
I had not seen a post of yours in sometime, I went searching this week. I no longer do Instagram and Facebook never drew me in to its bosom. It’s nice to read your post this evening.
Sophie and you are a team. I think your writer friend forgot that, hopefully, briefly.
Sending hugs and love.
Your bravery and perseverance and intelligence are completely visible in your writing; you encourage me to keep on keeping on in spite of the anguish, despair and anger that threaten to overcome all of us who know it is possible for our species to be better than this. Please let your anger fuel you and don't stop inspiring us to keep up the good fight.
So a “person I hadn’t seen in probably years who said to me that they never saw me in my social media, in my writing, in my online presence but rather only Sophie and they wanted to see more of me”
That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard. I don’t know that person, and I don’t know what their relation is to you, so forgive me if I offend them in this comment, but what they said to you was utter bullshit. Every single thing you write declares your beautiful mind and your beautiful soul. Your words, your rage, your humor, everything.
And yes, Renee Good was murdered by the state. I say it with you. She was shot in the head by an ICE agent who heard her say, her last words, with a smile, “I’m not mad at you.” The grief and rage are real.
It always comes down to this for me- of course I like it if people enjoy what I write but if they don't, it's really none of my business. I do it for me. I have to. And sometimes it doesn't even please me that much but neither does my life. Or this life.
This now-life where I am not sure there is justice to be had for anyone in any way.
Renee Nichol Good. Poet, mother, wife, witness, murdered.
What else is there to say?
Well, hell. Your voice permeates every syllable. Step right over that puddle.
agree fuck the naysayers. your voice is loud and clear, eloquent and essential.