Harambe Againbe

That was a terrible post title. In my defense, it’s late and I am all kinds of stressed about the week to come, plans to move, the state of my homestead, and a delayed shipment of fabric for Make.Do.’s July kits. Still, hack writing is hack writing, so sorry.

All that said, I have been thinking about that Harambe post in light of the responses I got on Facebook and Twitter–a 50/50 split between “yes, girl” and “you don’t know, girl”–  and the gloriously, ascerbically, insightful stuff that’s been going on via #blacktwitter. I mean. That thing about his grandma planning the home going ceremony was all kinds of wrong and every other kind of funny.

Sometimes when people get called out on their social media posts, they take them down. I think that’s silly. What I thought at the time was what I thought at the time. If I really want to be a participant citizen in — as opposed to just an observer of — the world, why not leave the hard stuff there as a benchmark from which I can mark my progress?

So, while I remain feeling some kind of way about what happened at the Cincinnati Zoo, I am moved to consider and appreciate the perspectives and experiences of people who are actually parents. Because I am not one. Like Ijeoma Oluo who wrote this piece that appeared in The Guardian. 

Or, this, from someone who has way more experience than most of us when it comes to gorilla behavior.

That’s all. Just leaving this here for now.

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