Fear can be paralyzing. Or it can spur people to action, though often that action is short-sighted and doesn't often help deal with the actual problems that need help.
It was with mixed emotions that I joined Dinah for her work conference in Arizona this week. As I'm sure everyone knows, Arizona has recently passed into law a controversial new statute that makes racial profiling very likely and, I would argue, almost expected. I applauded as Mayor Coleman of St. Paul protested by cancelling all scheduled trips by St. Paul officials to Arizona. But, her conference had already been scheduled and I really wanted to go with her. So, I guess I threw the politics aside, partially figuring that whatever small amount of money we spent here would not provide much solace for the other people who have stuck with their principles.
What I didn't count on was the oddness I would feel when I got here. I have been to Arizona once before, when I was ten. Ten was a tough year for me personally. It was during that year that I was being molested. And even though I am twenty-plus years and some counseling beyond that, I have to say the odd reminder of seeing the landscape and the memory it evokes in me has had a weird effect. It's not the same kind of re-living it or re-feeling the shame and resentment that I felt in the past. It's something else. Something more elusive and less direct. But somehow this has not made it a powerless, fleeting feeling.
I suspect a lot of its power comes from the fact that I didn't expect it. Usually, I know when an approaching situation could compromise the comfort I have built for myself with this situation. And while, yes, I knew I had been in this state while in the middle of the situation, but I could not and did not believe it would refresh everything this way. What I find encouraging, though, is that it I don't feel as helpless or paralyzed by it. It's there. It's bothersome. But it isn't ruling me. I'm still having a good time.
With that aside though, I have to say Arizona is weird. I know that my view of the state is tinted by those experiences and situations, but I think I would still find Arizona odd if I weren't thinking about those things. First of all, I cannot shake the feeling that people were not meant to live here. It's hot. Really hot. Why does anyone want to live in 90 plus degree weather for 8 months? It's nice for a weekend. It's tolerable for a month. But 8 months?
And then there's the wildlife. Coyotes and cougars are cool. Vultures are okay. But scorpions? No. And rattlesnakes? Uh-fucking-uh. I am afraid of snakes. Deathly afraid. So when Dinah and I were driving around the Apache Trail yesterday, getting out at intervals to look at the stunning landscape and such, I could not get over the fact that there are snakes around there. Like right around there. It would not have been out of the question for me to see one. I didn't. Which I am very thankful for. But it still stopped me from being able to walk out on paths that had too much plantlife nearby. I am stubborn enough that I tried to walk out on some of them, but it was with shallow breath, my arms bent, my shoulders high and tight, and my eyes scanning the path ahead of my for any movement or possible hiding spots. Which is to say I was definitely not in control of my feelings. At one point, I saw a hole and had to turn back to the car. To be fair, this was a snake hole, but there was no other sign and Dinah had just walked over it with no problem. And she had seen it as well. So. Yeah. Not good for me.
Still...I've been spending a nice amount of time beside the pool reading and struggling with keeping my paleness from burning. And that has been very nice.
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