If you know me then you are privy to the fact that I tend to ask a lot of questions.
Like a lot of questions.
Like a lot, a lot.
Like no matter the subject at hand, I have multiple questions.
I do try to take into account that the sheer volume of questions loaded in my internal que is too much for any one individual to handle so I usually try to spread them out amongst the masses. I think that may be yet another reason why I write on the internet. I can ask my questions to no one in particular and everyone in general.
I live in a perpetual state of “why?” My mind operates similarly to that of a three year old and everything must be explained to me like I’m five. I need you to dumb it down to its simplest form and make it make sense in order for me to digest it, process it, sit with it, think on it. Whatever it may be. I’ve been told that’s actually a trauma response. To have to know all the options in order to anticipate danger and protect oneself from it. And, I agree; but as of this moment I haven’t been able to find a work around to that one. And of this moment, I am still a work in therapy.
Over the years, I have come across a lot of online personalities that talk about carving out their “little space on the internet” A space where they have built community and comradery with any and all like minded folks. And if I were to try to carve out a specific space it would be one where we could all ask all of our questions and where no one would have an answer but everyone would have a thought. And where those thoughts would be met with compassion and curiosity and kindness and you guessed it… more questions.
A space where we peel back all the layers of any one topic until said topic is whittled down into its most pure and most elementary form. Where the root issue is brought to light and where we ultimately realize that almost all of us want the same things in this world: safety, justice, equality.
And lately, asking questions seems to come with a price. One where the right question asked in the wrong way leads the collective online space to question your humanity and when you don’t feel human, I think you feel hopeless and disconnected. And scared. And I think fear feeds cycles we’re over here desperately trying to break.
I mean, do you find that to be true? Do questions feel unwelcome or at the very least unsafe to ask? Does it feel like questions are an avenue to open up hostile rhetoric where neither individual keeps a spirit of curiosity and is fully prepared to unleash a war on words?
I know. I know. I can practically hear the montage of online activists screaming at me: “Oh, you poor middle aged, suburban, white, soccer mom. You don’t feel safe asking your questions. Boo hoo. Try not feeling safe to be alive.”
However, I would also say that my not feeling safe enough to ask questions is akin to not feeling safe to live.
Now, you don’t agree with that or you don’t like it? Perfect.
You want to remind me feelings are not facts? I get it.
Also, it doesn’t make it any less true in my nervous system.
While we work to reckon and cope with all of that we are simultaneously being told that people don’t have the capacity to answer questions. And to that I say: I don’t blame you.
So, then we’re being asked to do our own research. Got it. But then we’re told not to believe everything we read. And now with AI, not to believe everything we see.
Mmmmkay. I’m losing traction here and also direction.
We can’t talk to each other because we’re over it (and believe you me, I’m over it) and we can’t trust what we see, hear, or read with our own senses because…media…also overrrr it.
So- now what?
Sharon McMahon recently posted a story in response to a question she was asked: are we headed for civil war? Within her answer, she said she would argue that our country is in the midst of an ideological cold war and you know what, I think I agree with that.
If people or platforms don’t speak in the way we want them to then they’re inherently evil. If influencers stay in their lane, they’re privileged and if they join the protests, they are speaking out of turn or adding to the noise. And we forget that there are countless numbers of ideological camps and each one has their own idea of what that exact “right thing” looks like and how to express it correctly. I mean… whew.
Overall, I have found that people see the world through the lens of their lived experiences. We all have our own form of rose colored glasses and our own set of blind spots hidden by our very real beer goggles. We all have our biases. We all have risks we’re willing to take and lines we’re not willing to cross. I don’t think it is possible for one person to experience every atrocity in every walk of life. I don’t think it’s possible for a human being to take on all the issues and assume all of the risks and lead all the charges. And if it’s not possible to do it all, then we have to rely on one another to bridge those gaps. We have to be willing to listen with both ears turned on, mouths closed, and hearts wide open.
I don’t know about you, but I want to be able to keep asking my questions. I find myself suspicious of anyone who forcefully insinuates that we just gotta jump on their bandwagon, no questions asked.
I want to talk to you. I want to ask you about your experiences. I want to ask you your thoughts. I want to know how current events are impacting you physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. If you want to talk I want to listen. And I want you to know that because it impacts you, it impacts me. Like it or not, we are all in these unprecedented times trying to navigate the unrelenting ish and trying to make sense of the insensible together.
I don’t have any freaking answers. But I do have a lot of forking questions. And I don’t know what to do with those questions if I’m not asking them. I’m a big believer that change starts with communication.
Ultimately, I don’t think asking questions by itself will change the world, but I think it has the potential to change how we act when we are in the world.
And isn’t that worth something?
If you like what you’ve read, then you’ll like my book (I’m pretty sure). And if you don’t like what you’ve read, then leave a hateful comment or a 1-star review because I hear that means I made it.
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