I found myself swearing angrily at a safety pin. I’m not against kind gestures, and I do understand that some people need to start with baby steps. But I’m afraid that that damn pin is going to make it too easy on the rest of us. Too easy! The safety pin is not a marginalized item. It is not something that anyone (except apparently me) ever cusses out. We’re not wearing the yellow star. We’re not wearing the hijab.
“Maybe I should wear a hijab for a month or something?” That was my next, less profane, thought. Two minutes later, I stared true profanity in the face: “But what if some a–hole thinks I’m really a Muslim, not just showing solidarity? And what if they attack me? And what if I’m with my kids?”
I’m very liberal. But this may be the first time I truly confronted what it must be like every day to be a Muslim woman in this country, to walk in her shoes. That is how you know you’re standing in solidarity with a minority person in danger: when their enemies start shooting at you.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wearing a safety pin. And I don’t know that I have the courage to cover my head. But my morning musing has brought home to me the meaninglessness — no, the sin and hypocrisy — of the empty gesture that’s not backed up with action. With all of our feel-good pictures of ourselves in punk metal, let’s please not forget to act. And let’s please have the hard conversations about what action is necessary.
Amy Hoffman Parakkat
Change management
consultant
Oak Park