“Do it for gram and not for the ‘gram,” I told my husband.
“Like a grandma,” I explained when he met me with a questioning gaze. “Like you should wear a mask to protect grandmas and not because you want to look responsible on the internet.” The joke was dead, with no hope of being resuscitated.
I had hoped he’d chuckle at my wordsmithery and tell me how I was the funniest person he’s ever met (which I believe to be objectively true). Alas, this apparently was not proof enough. But this note isn’t about how inarguably hilarious I am—it’s about why this came to my mind in the first place.
It’s just a weak addition to a long line of marketing slogans, trying to make the pandemic palatable. Phrases that mask wearers share with other mask wearers, trying to out-mask wear one another. Phrases that you’ll soon see on coffee mugs and cross stitches, a commodification of conscience.
But the people who really need to buy into the message are impervious to cutesy sayings. They’ve doused themselves in decision and wallpapered their homes in the same chintz their parents used. They can’t hear it, and they won’t.
Because what’s harder than changing your mind? Having to explain why you changed it.
So my question: At what point will someone abandon everything they’ve ever known to walk into community with those they thought they despised? What roadmap can reveal safety in the prospect of a new direction? What housewarming gift can we offer to those who leave the neighborhoods they’ve lived in all their lives?
If you have a way with words, lend some to a person who might be ready for them. Because the road is uncertain.
And the changing is painful.
Next Steps: Drink a glass of water, give yourself the gift of a little grace, and reflect on your beliefs—how can you challenge them, grow them, nurture them?