Thursday, August 14, 2014


I usually wake up groggy---there's no amount of sleep that seems to shake the exhaustion of motherhood.  Other days I wake up hungry, heading straight from my unmade bed to the chocolate drawer.  But today, I was neither tired nor hungry.  I didn't linger under the sheets for a few extra moments or raid the refrigerator for last night's leftovers.  You see, today I was irate. 

I sometimes feel like I'm on the outside looking in.  I'm an American outside of America, and I can't help but see how the others see us.  So, yes, today I am irate.

I'm irate that the United States of America is so damn blessed and untroubled that we are rioting in the streets over a singular case we know next to nothing about.  I'm irate our media exploits racism in the name of equality and righteousness, yet perpetuates stereotypes and violence by encouraging disorderly demonstrations and looting stores.

I'm irate we have contrasting principles---that our American society is one brimming with contradictions.  We blame the police for not doing enough on our gang-riddled streets, yet we accuse them of brutality and murder when we don't like the outcome of their presence. 

I'm irate that our entitled, over-indulged citizens are chanting "kill the police" while there is a mountainside of children awaiting their own slaughter in Iraq. Really, America? Get your shit together.  Rather than criticize our police officers and military and law enforcement, let's be *gasp* grateful for a damn nanosecond that we have them protecting us in the first place.  Let's acknowledge we know nothing of true oppression or the unthinkable atrocities happening daily in other countries.  We are spoiled, overfed, and beyond fortunate, and I'm irate at how often we fail to remember this.

I'm irate our President has re-evaluated the Yazidi rescue mission and decided it's not as necessary as it once seemed; that the sanctity of human life upon that mountaintop is no longer worth our resources. 

I'm irate our government advised Israel to use "restraint" when rockets were raining down on them.  I'm irate we discouraged Israel from defending themselves from terror, and irate our country didn't reserve the "practice restraint" line for those rioting in the streets of Missouri. 

I'm irate; I'm ashamed; I'm disgusted; but above all, I'm American---and not for the briefest moment will I forget what that means:

I'm also incredibly blessed.