We live in a confused and easily offended world, where often do gooders push and instigate change in a way that is detrimental rather than effective.

I have recently read somewhere that the game of chess may be racist after all, because white moves first.

It was hard not to humor the ridiculousness of this unfortunate theory, and sad to see how distorted our wish to encourage equality and diversity has become.

In trying to change an obsolete status quo, we have gone to the extreme and are now often too quick to dismiss the obvious.

A couple of years ago I was attacked on the tube by a gang of youths during rush hour. They pushed me on the floor and poured an entire bottle of alcohol all over me, as they called me “a privileged white posh trash.”

None of the other fellow passengers came to my aid. Some people  filmed the commotion on their smart phones, while others moved away or simply remained seated while lowering their gaze.

I was alone. I knew the next stop was close enough and that someone had pressed the alarm button, but I was alone among many people.

The attack went long enough for me to realize two things:

  1. People chose to stay out of it because color and race were involved.

“Are you alright, love?”  a woman asked eventually, as she helped me off the floor and offered me her seat.

A couple of passengers around quickly stated that things always “get nasty” when it comes to color & race. It is best to keep out of it.

The bottom line was that I just sat on a carriage full of strangers who left another human being in harm’s way because they happened to be the wrong color. I was saddened and disappointed.

 2. I quickly became aware of a huge rage boiling up inside me.

It felt powerful enough to either do more harm or create something new. But I knew that my anger was not my own.  My rage, desperation, humiliation did not belong to me but were coming at me from the outside in.

I was tuning into something way bigger than myself, very dark & ancient.

The world and its old story.

I chose to stay still, while those kids kicked me and pulled my hair. 

The police finally arrived and complimented me on my nerve & composure. To their eyes I was a white woman who had survived an unprovoked racial attack with dignity.

To my eyes I simply refused to feel like a victim. There was no other color on that carriage that day. Only three very broken young people, who could not choose better in that moment. And a bunch of adults too overwhelmed to understand the gravity of what had just unfolded before their very eyes.

Reacting would have kept the old narrative alive, which turns us all into victims & perpetrators.

I came home that day realizing the absolute importance of speaking the things we see.

Call them for what they are, without fearing that our words might cause offence. When we suppress our own voice, we lose our ability to listen from the wisdom of our heart. In order to fit in, too often we sacrifice our ability to stand on our own and connect to our innate wisdom.

We act like proud paladins declaring war on injustice & discrimination and we turn into moral bullies instead, who terrorize and belittle  those different from us.

Our good intentions are slowly being swept away by righteousness and moral arrogance. Worst of all, in obstinately trying to erase the big story, we miss the smaller ones. Tales of how the ordinary becomes extraordinary when we are dignified enough to stand on our own two feet and shout “no more!”

Spiritual bypassing or do – goodism will not write a new story.

I have faith that those who have touched with their hands the sorrow and heartbreak of victim-hood, will.

They have come so close to the hatred and hopelessness stemming from feeling victimized, that they made it their path to move beyond this.

And show others a new way.

They are the ones writing a new narrative for us all, so we can stand tall within our story as we remember that the story of one is the story of all.

It is s only when we let go of it, that we can see through our color, race & culture.

Only then, we shall be able to see our humanness before the rest.

May you always have time for the heroes you meet along the way. May you welcome their little stories as a reminder of resilience and hope. And when the big story feels oppressing and too hard to change, may you quietly listen to your heart’s truth instead.

And so it is,

Antonia Lyons

Thank you for stopping by, it is a joy to have you here and welcome you into my world.
I am an author & an intuitive storyteller. I work with people who, like you, are ready to live more authentically & insightfully. Evoking Grace  is the “sacred space” where you become a Bigger You & tell a Bigger Story. Here you will hear your soul sing.
Come on in and help yourself to our welcoming gifts & join other inspiring Gracers.