I feel like my hands are tied. Regarding the speech to the FCC I can't drive this bus because I don't like where it's heading. I got that from a friend I called tonight. I very rarely have concerns about public speaking. So rarely that I don't remember the last time I did have a real concern. I mean, there is always the "Lord, don't let me fart or trip on the way to the stage" prayer I always pray, but I don't think I've ever blogged about a preparation. So why now?
I called Pastor Callahan way in Philly and she broke it down. I knew she would. I told her that I knew I wasn't supposed to "offend the white men who would be there." "You can't drive the bus 'cause you don't like where it's headed." She was right. I'm writing this like a history teacher and that's not who they hired. If they wanted one, they could have found one. They hired a storyteller. A poet. A good one. A good one in the sense that I know myself to be a very caring person. "A very humane person" is what Pastor called me. I accept that. They don't know that they can trust that my intention is not to get up there and crush white balls. They don't know that. But I do. I trust me. I forgot to trust me. I am letting their fears get all over me and between the lot of us, I am the only one that knows me.
"Tell your story and then revise it. But tell YOUR story." Wise words from a wise woman.