Melissa Goodnight

I’ve been struggling the last week, toggling between news outlets and Instagram posts, reading of bombs and cultures and lives I don’t fully understand, but can’t look away from. Trying to make sense of this feeling that I need to do something, say something, but who I am to do so? Anything I do or say, comes from a place of freedom, of privilege, and of distance.

Then last night, I was fortunate enough to meet Roxane Gay. She was in conversation with Josie Duffy Rice, writer, political commentator, and host of the podcast “Justice in America,” an exploration of reformative justice in our country.

They talked about Gay’s new collection “Opinions,” a decade’s worth of her arguments, criticism, and overall “minding other people’s business.”

Aside from the comfort of being with folks from the literary community, packed tightly together under the glow of soft lights while an Atlanta storm raged outside, I took comfort in Gay’s gentle reminder to keep writing, keep speaking, even when you feel like you’ve written or spoken about something so much, that you have nothing left to say. Say a little more, because someone is listening. Someone needs to read it, hear it, roll it around in their mind and in their heart.

When it came time for me to have my booked signed, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her. What is left to say to those who feel and see and know that the world we are living in isn’t the world we imagine it could be? She’s talked to a million people about these things and more importantly, she’s sat with the thoughts and the questions inside herself.

Instead, I let myself fall into the calm of the evening and I silently watched her sign, hoping she could just feel my appreciation and admiration. I decided to say nothing, save for hello and goodbye, but then she accidentally ripped the title page of my book, her book, and she yelled, “Oh no! I’ve ripped my own work! Go get another one, tell them I’m buying it.” I laughed, she laughed, then I thanked her for the reminder that there is work left to do. She told me then not to forget about all that’s already been done.

I said something at that moment that made her pull her hands to her face to cover a smile. I’ve already forgotten what it was, but that’s the moment my husband snapped a picture, and that’s also the moment I thought of empathy, not devastation. I thought of love, not bigotry and hate. I thought about how everyday it seems as if we are living in a world, a time, a space, that is as precious as it is volitile, and probably that is just life, especially for people like me, and maybe instead of desperately trying to fix it all, instead of running our hearts ragged, we hold space for own sort of reckoning?

Roxane Gay is reminding us that our opinions matter. She reminded me that it’s okay to live in a complicated world, with a broken heart, as long as I am willing to continue my attempts at mending.

To those who see and feel and walk through this world the same as me, please keep writing. Continue your work. Keep reading. Looking at art, listening to music, giving freely. Keep talking about the things you feel sick of talking about because it matters to someone else too. But also, mind your heart. Take breaks. Stay hydrated. Jam out in your car with the windows down and your puppy or your kid or your partner looking at you like you’re crazy.

Whatever it is, just keep on.

M.