“Why should I be afraid of the pestilence that crawleth by night?” Tony Rebel.

Because I am the youngest in my family and the last to leave home, I spent my last four years in high school as an only child.  That wasn’t exactly true, since we always had ‘boarders’, friends from high school who would live with us Monday through Friday, rather than tackling the daily commute.  For one of my friends this saved her having to leave home at four in the morning to catch a series of vehicles to get to school.  For the other two sisters, it saved them from having to walk over four miles each way.  In rural, hilly Jamaica this was not unusual and perhaps partially explains Jamaica’s status in the field of athletics.

Dinner time in our household was a time for lively discussions on a wide range of subjects, and my father (the only male at the table) would contribute thoughtfully, sometimes throwing in a comic statement in a serious way that would confuse us, until we realized he was ‘pulling our leg’.  My mother, the literal pragmatist, would sometimes have difficulty keeping up with our satirical discourse and opt out.  She would solve everything with one of her after-dinner treats: soft oatmeal cookies, or a slice of her so-called non-descript cake.  Her recipes deviated widely from her well-worn cookbook, and relied on random items found in her cupboards.  She became even more innovative when imported items became scarce, and she had to find local substitutions, for example honey instead of sugar.

In school I was a member of the Debating Society, an activity that fostered open discussions on touchy subjects.  We once debated whether abortions should be legal in Jamaica.  Since your team would be assigned the side (whether for or against the topic), you had to research both sides in order to argue persuasively on your side, and rebut the opposing teams propositions.  I was fortunate in that our team captain was a skilled debater, in fact she went on to become a lawyer and a politician. At the end of one debate, when everyone had to vote on the topic we had argued in favor of, she was the only one who voted against it! She convinced the room, yet had not convinced herself!

Discussion, discourse, debate, the open airing of opinions different from your own, these are healthy for a society that wishes to move forward, to grow. It is not always comfortable to listen to such ideas, especially if you are the one leading the dialogue.  If you are lucky, as an adult you have been encouraged to verbalize your concerns or ideas, aware that consensus building is invaluable in any institution.

When I was a young nurse in this country, I was working full time (on weekends and nights), blending my responsibilities as the mother of four with a work life.  As you may imagine, those were the shifts that were hardest to staff.  We had a new Director of Nursing who had come in with a new philosophy.  She would eliminate the use of temporary (agency) staff in order to save money.  Staff would be ‘floated’ from their home units in order to cover any needs in other areas.  She asked for our comments, making sure that we felt consulted, a part of her team.  In my outspoken way I said I hoped that any money they were saving was being put towards any future lawsuits that might arise.  I felt this was a fair comment, since nurses who float may not have the needed skills, especially if they were floated to a more ‘high-tech’ area with more complex patient needs.

I forget how the DON responded.  What I do remember is my Charge Nurse pulling me aside afterwards, her eyes large, her face full of concern.  ‘Never let them know your name!’ she scolded me. Apparently, after the meeting the DON had asked her who I was.  ‘You have kids to feed, never speak out in meetings! Agree with everything!’  I was taken aback.  What had I done wrong? Perhaps it was because my Charge Nurse had fled Nicaragua when the Sandinistas took power that made her a little paranoid!  In fact, that same DON tapped me for a management position the next year, so perhaps it was good that she knew my name!

This year has brought about a lot of changes in norms.  We are seeing legal residents of this country being detained allegedly because of attending demonstrations or contributing to an ‘Op Ed’ in a university newspaper.  We have heard of returning international travelers having their phones perused, social media accounts reviewed.  Along with all the other disruptions to government services, these actions are chilling.  I have had to wonder whether my own online presence could be used against me.  We already know how intrusive our smart phones are, quickly posting ads related to a topic we were just discussing, or offering us ‘things to do’ close to our location.  Nothing is private any more.  Should I be concerned? Especially since I hope to do more international travel this year.

I recently reread the First Amendment to the Constitution.  It clearly states: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”  If we are governed by fear, instead of by the law and the constitution, we risk giving up our power.  I recently read a nursing article, in which the author Lemberger cited Barrett’s nursing theory: “Power as Knowing Participation in Change”.  Barrett notes four qualities necessary for power: awareness, choices, the freedom to act intentionally, and involvement in creating change.  Although the theory pertained to nursing situations, I could see how this applies to any people seeking to be empowered.  In our present climate, we may be aware, we may still have choices, but are we giving up our freedom to act intentionally, are we avoiding involvement for fear of attracting attention?

The poem of Martin Niemoller, written as the Nazi regime was wielding more and more power, seems so appropriate right now: ‘First they came for the Communists, and I did not speak out, because I was not a Communist’.  After listing all the other groups they came for, that he did not speak out for, the poem ends ‘Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out for me.’  Although it is tempting to keep your head down, to avoid them knowing your name, it is only when we give up our power that we risk losing everything.

This Friday morning, I hope you feel your power, the power to create the change we want to see in the world.  I hope you feel free to speak out on whatever you believe in.  I hope you feel free to disagree with me and offer your opinion, so that we may see things from more than one point of view.  I hope that we may all continue to lift each other up, to show kindness and compassion for those who need it.

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.