I woke up this morning to images of brown bodies piled beside earthquake debris in Haiti. My throat hurt and my stomach ached all morning long before I realized those images were behind my discomfort. Images that hurt my feelings. Images that remind me all too much of other brown bodies, floating after Katrina's devastation. Images that I need to do something about because I can't bear to live with them.
I poked around and found a local organization that is solely focused on collecting feminine products and stuff for babies. Because the least a woman should have after she loses everything is the dignity of clean necessities for herself and her children. And the least I can do is send one little box and a heaping helping of prayers to a woman who is brown like me.
Help, I said to my friends, this is bothering me. And a lot of them said, okay.
My little box is gonna be packed and my feelings are hurt just a little bit less because I found something I could do. Writing this is making my throat hurt again a little bit, but it's a different kind of ache. A full spirit kind of ache. And that is something I can live with.
