I am a woman obsessed with hope.
My hope is a violent and powerful thing rooted in the story of my family.
A tale that goes something like this.
Photos: Getty Images and courtesy Marisa Lee
Their intent plainly was to beat him into submission and force him to stay and work for them.
My grandfather met them at his front door, shotgun in hand.
The men left, and the next day my grandparents, uncles, and aunt left Georgia.
The author’s grandmother and grandfather.
He readily accepted the offer and began preparations to move his family to New York.
The defense and safety of his family was left to him alone.
I am here thanks to the violence of hope.
The author’s grandparents at her wedding.
whofeltthere was something better for him and his family elsewhere.
He wanted to reach for something more, even if he didnt even know what it was.
They did not know what was waiting for them on the other side of that journey.
They left behind family, property, legacy, and everything that was familiar to them.
Something so light and translucent, it cannot be touched or even fully understood.
Hope is rarely a thing for grownups with real world problems to address.
To me this is simply not true.
Hope gave us theCivil RightsAct.
Hope gave usmarriage equality.
Hope gave me my life.
Hope, plus hard work, is what we need right now.
Hope is not light or cheerful; it is a disciplined practice and one we need today.
Hope requires imagination and dreams.
It asks you to choose something better, even when you dont really know what it looks like.
We are clearly at a moment when we must reach for hope.
No, you will not continue to destroy a planet that is alreadyon fire.
No, you will not deny the humanity of me, my family, or my friends.
This is a call to arm yourself with hope and support your hope with action.
How will you use your time and your talents to save others?
The moral arc of the universe does not bend toward justice on its own.
Tomorrow, grab your own version of a shotgun and get to work.
