Opinion/By JEANNI RITCHIE
While Giselle was seeking to find true love answers in Enchanted, I found myself singing the lyrics with an entirely different meaning yesterday afternoon.
How do I know?
I decided not to attend the City Council meeting yesterday though I felt strongly about the systematic dismemberment of our heritage in Central Louisiana. Two historical pieces of our legacy were set to be demolished despite community pleas and decades-long plans for restoration.
I didn’t have a clear peace about going.
Never questioning my words in faith, the line becomes more blurred when it comes to my community-centered journalism.
After all, I’ve already ticked a lot of people off this week.
It was never my intent; I wanted to work together with city and business leaders to restore Cenla to the hometown of my youth. But what I poured into that proverbial offering plate was dumped in the trash.
So I started asking questions. Hard but fair questions always asked with kindness and courtesy.
Their silence spoke volumes.
Some suggested not upsetting those who have the authority to make change.
They’re right, I thought. After all, who wants to listen to a middle-aged white woman with privilege talk about social injustices in our community?
Others disagreed. “Who better? They aren’t going to listen to us.”
The sources flood my voicemail and messenger feeds daily. People are talking but no-one listens. From minimum wage earners contending with open sexual harassment by senior management to mistreatment of those who struggle with mental health issues, our citizens want to know that they matter.
The message the leadership in this town is sending is a resounding “no.”
Sit down and shut up is the directive.
Unfortunately, I have never been too good at following rules. Besides, I don’t even need sources for half the darkness I could bring into the light here. I AM the source.
I cannot stand being ignored. If they think silence will make me go away, they should understand that I often have the mentality of a toddler. If you tell me to be quiet, I get louder.
If you show me injustices, I’m going to advocate. I will speak for those who have no voice. I’ve been through too much in my life to be scared now.
I do wonder sometimes if my passion for positive change will be viewed as absurd activism. It gives me pause.
But I’m done with social conventions. I’m done with appearances. And I’m completely over the backroom politics in this city that separate citizens into different tiers based on income, skin color, and who you know.
Everyone matters. We are in a country founded on the premise that everyone has one voice and one vote. That we were all created equal.
I grew up learning that all people should be treated the same. I was taught to love everyone and show kindness. This isn’t just about my upbringing; it’s part of the founding of our nation. You can take the Pledge of Allegiance out of schools; you can omit One Nation Under God. But you will never be able to remove God from this country, this state, or this city. You won’t shut me up or dampen my fire either.
Besides, others left the trail well-marked with more than just the breadcrumbs Hansel and Gretl dropped through the forest.
Martin Luther King, Jr, Harriet Tubman, Susan B. Anthony, Erin Brockovich, Francesca Cabrini…
You might know her better as Saint Frances Cabrini, the namesake of my elementary alma mater in Alexandria.
She didn’t stop until she got what she wanted.
I won’t either.
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