Mollie Tibbetts

I run every day. Sometimes in the dark. Often alone. Of course we are taught as girls/women from the start to be afraid. It is why we cross the street when approached by a stranger and the hairs on the back of our necks stand up. It is why my daughter called me while she was walking home from work over a bridge in Seattle because some creep was there too and she needed to make a human connection. It is why I call my husband when walking out of the hospital at night. Not that someone on the other end of an iPhone can intervene, but at least someone will know when the line goes dead to do something.

The other day I was running out on the Bottom. I was going to head on this back road I like because the traffic is light and it adds some miles but ahead of me were two guys and a loose big dog and it felt wrong so instead I took the highway shoulder home with cars whizzing by, thinking death by automobile was preferable.

I have had 3 or 4 close calls with creeps in my life, and most were in my teens and 20's, I suppose because I was a better target then in terms of my naivete and my looks. One advantage of growing older as a woman is the cat calls reduce, and the guys looking to hurt you are not as interested. So now I mainly worry about my daughters.

As I think about Mollie Tibetts, I think about her family. I think about her fear. I think about how pissed she must've been to have a nice solitary run destroyed, her young life taken, the confidence of women everywhere again shaken. I wonder how she would feel about becoming the justification for hate though?

Personally, I think what should outrage all of us is misogyny. And the fact that girls, women, mothers, wives, sisters face inequality in many realms, including safety from abuse and assault.

I wrote a poem about all this. It is a little angry, I admit. It comes from a place of heartbreak and fear and true concern for this country that I want to love. It comes from bewilderment that hate seems to elate rather than deflate our populace these days.

To the family of MT, peace and healing.

Mollie Tibbetts

When a white girl is killed by a Mexican
Boy who came here illegally
When a white girl is killed while out
For a run in Iowa
When a white girl is killed
My country shouts
"Ok now let's talk about separating families."
When a white girl is killed, statistically
There is better than half a chance
Her boyfriend or husband
Or father or brother did it
When a white girl is killed on a run
My country suggests all us girls carry guns
Soon running holsters will sell
In every color
When a white girl is killed in Iowa
By a Mexican boy
My country shouts about an overdue wall
She was just trying to run
She was young
And he was an illegal alien so
My country's collective mouth contorts
And spits rage
At bleeding hearts like mine who
Still think children in cages out of line
With who we ought to be
Like lynching and Japanese internment
Slavery and smallpox blankets
Wrapped around unsuspecting original American babies
A white girl is killed
The white house seems thrilled
She could have been my daughter!
Or my other daughter who is brown
From another place
Her adopted country would be up in arms
Should any white girl born here come to harm but
A brown immigrant girl killed
Probably asked for it
Bad luck
And anyway who gives a fuck

8/23/18

Mussels

The day I knew this would be home
I met Norm. He carried a cauldron
Walking a path to the beach
With purpose, dog at his side.
We landed on the Lost Coast
My children ran wild.
Son found a pelican skull,
We flew kites. Whacking rocks
To dislodge mussels brought as
An offering to Norm, cauldron aflame,
Reflected in eyes, blue skies
A gathering tribe welcoming
My orphan soul, twenty years ago.
The other day I sat with Norm
On the window seat with the dog
We ate Good-N-Plenty’s.
Fog engulfed the expansive view
Anyhow our backs to the window
Two doctors shoulder to shoulder
Discussing how it feels to breathe today.

8/14/18