Ava Hingson 1/12/16
Feelings Against Oppression

When I witness oppression, a part of me breaks inside.
My fragile conception of the world around me shatters.
I lose sight of the fantasy world I think I spend my life in.
A world in which everyone is equal.
A world in which there is no police brutality.
A world in which women are viewed as people capable of great things, rather than mere objects capable of unpredictable mood swings.
A world in which oppression doesn’t exist. 
With time, harsh truths fade away again.
I no longer have to look back over my shoulder in fear of what horrible events could unfold around me.
I can go back to the naive and innocent version of myself.
I can pretend that I never heard a friend of color say, “I’m scared of having kids because I don’t want them to go through the same things that I did.” 
Or, another friend says “I better not have a girl… I definitely do not want a girl to live in this sick world.”
But...no one should have to fear the creation of their next generation.
I’ve realized that the way I feel cannot even begin to compare to the devastation felt by people who are directly oppressed every day of their lives over things they cannot control.
And that thought terrifies me.