The time is now.
I keep waiting to write so I’ll know the right thing to say to galvanize our community.
The truth is there’s nothing perfect to say. Nothing will make everyone feel something.
Tonight, in Windsor, Ontario, I’m taking my three daughters to a candlelight vigil downtown at City Hall Square north. We’re going to stand in the cold because we have the freedom and the ability and the invitation to do so. We’re going to stand beside our neighbours of all races, religions, sexes, creeds and nationalities, and we are going to say to the people of Quebec, to our Muslim Canadian friends and to anyone who wishes any of us harm: we are all Canadian.
No maybe the girls won’t ‘get’ it because they’re too young. But I want them to reflect back on many times where I advocated active community involvement, even when they were too young to get it. Where I showed up, where I spoke up even when my voice shook with fear, where I listened, where I empathized, where I wrote about struggle and pain and confusion and fear and what we can do even when we feel that way.
And this is for me too. So I can feel connected, so I can remind myself that when I feel that fear, it’s ok to walk through it. And to remind myself that sometimes doing the right thing looks different from moment to moment and person to person, but that I’m doing my best. And to remind myself that I am not the only one around here with fear. And anger. And confusion and sadness. And where the opportunity presents itself to come together, I will meet you there. With all my baggage and all my discomfort, I will still meet you there.