Mourn The Time But Stand With Resolve
I saw this post on Facebook this morning. It resonated with me, and I wanted to respond to the sentiment.
I wear black because I’m mourning.
Mourning the loss of hope, unity, and the opportunity to show ourselves and the world that we could be better humans and better citizens. Mourning the fact that instead of embracing that opportunity, we have now shown the world and our children that we were not ready or willing to grow as a nation. We prefer to embrace old hate, outdated ways, and historic divisions.
I mourn because the damage that is to come will not end in four years but will remain a stain on our country long after this has passed. The lives that will be impacted and forever changed will not be repaired; the examples shown to our children cannot be unseen.
I mourn because my heart breaks for what our country could have been and what it will now be.
In Support and Understanding of the Sentiment:
Wear your mourning as a badge of determination, not defeat. Mourn what was lost, but fight for what can be. The future is not yet written, and there is power in our collective resolve to shape it.
Your acknowledgment of the lasting impact—on our children, our society, and the world—reflects a heart attuned to the consequences of our choices. The symbolism of wearing black is not just a sign of grief but a silent call to attention, a reminder that our actions carry weight far beyond our lifetimes. It is a shared sorrow for what might have been and a lament for the road we are walking instead. Your mourning is valid, and your heartbreak is shared by those who long for something better.
A More Hopeful Perspective:
While mourning is an essential step in processing this moment, hope must remain a companion, even in the darkest times. The very act of recognizing what is broken is the first step toward healing. True change is born not in moments of triumph but in times of despair, where the cracks in our foundation are laid bare, demanding a reckoning and a rebuilding.
Yes, we have fallen short, but history shows us that nations, like people, are not static. Growth is messy and nonlinear. The divisions and outdated ways you describe are real, but they are not immutable. Every movement for justice, every leap toward equality, and every stride toward unity has been forged in the crucible of similar moments. We are capable of learning, growing, and rebuilding when enough of us refuse to accept the status quo as permanent.
To foster hope, we must remember the countless individuals working tirelessly for justice, unity, and compassion. These voices may seem drowned out by anger and division, but they are there—teaching our children better ways, forging connections across divides, and laying the groundwork for the future we long for. Change starts small, often unnoticed, but it accumulates and eventually becomes unstoppable.
Addressing the bleak future you foresee requires more than hope—it demands action. Start with small, tangible steps: conversations that challenge hate, community projects that model unity, and votes that reflect our highest ideals. Amplify voices that inspire and organize efforts that uplift. We must show the next generation that while mistakes have been made, the story is not over.
Wear your mourning as a badge of determination, not defeat. Mourn what was lost, but fight for what can be. The future is not yet written, and there is power in our collective resolve to shape it. I read an unattributed quote recently that seems very appropriate for this time: “I can’t do all the good the world needs, but the world needs all the good I can do.”
