Readers, please bear with me as I take a break from my regular blog format where I have conversations with friends and family about love, living, joy, and being human. I love this blog and those delightful conversations, but sometimes I find myself…waiting. Picture me, sitting by the side of the pond with a few fishing lines out (stay with me here), waiting for folks to nibble and then bite. That’s me right now, except I’m waiting for people to… write? I don’t know how else to describe it.
It’s good timing, though, because I have something to talk about. This topic is something that has been weighing on me, sort of like my cat is weighing on my arm right now as I type. It’s heavy. I’m sorry. He’s not. HAHA.
What’s it about, Emily? Welp, it’s about the thin blue line flag, aka the blue lives matter flag.
Story time! This past weekend, we, the MeadoKotter six pack (2 adults, 4 kids) went to Chelan, Washington for a weekend getaway. We were fortunate to be able to use Brett’s parents’ house, which is nestled in a nice neighborhood on the east side of the lake.
Chelan is a resort town, where the big, glacier-fed lake draws the crowds of Seattle to the east of the Cascade mountains to water ski and frolic. Some wise soul started growing grapes, and soon multiple wineries popped up in the area… making it an even more alluring location. It is very desirable; it has just about everything you could hope for in a destination, including a Starbucks.
Brett (my partner) spent the summers from his youth until now at Lake Chelan, and it is his happy place. He would like nothing more than for me to declare it my happy place too, so we could both get the same joy from our time spent there. But there’s a problem, which is where I’m going with this whole thing. GOOD GOD GET TO THE POINT, EMILY.
Back to that fucking flag; Chelan is *full* of those blue lives matter flags. I see the thin blue line as a symbol that is similar to the swastika. There, I said it. Fight me on it. But before you fight me, please try to see it from my perspective. The flag came to being in response to (opposition to) the Black lives matter movement. And it has become similar to or equal to a Trump flag in this country.
Here’s the thing. When I walk around neighborhoods filled with blue lives matter flags, as my Black self and with my Black kids? I find myself confronted over and over with this symbol of hate. Now, if you asked the flag fliers if they specifically feel hate towards me, Emily, I’m sure they would say no. But the flag, the huge and plentiful flags flown on so many houses east of the Cascade mountains, say otherwise.
I often get a pass. Hell, WE (the kids and I) get a pass, because we always walk with Brett and many other white family members. So we’re a crew of white and brown, which I would guess causes people to pause and question their suspicion.
What suspicion? I imagine they are thinking … why are these brown folk in our neighborhood? Why is this brown woman in front of my house with her dogs? <Emily note: MY CUTE AS HELL DOGS.> Is she legit? Is she trying to case my house so she can break in later? Should I keep an eye on her? Does she live here? Is she allowed to be here?
Yep, this is what I imagine they are thinking, and am I wrong? There aren’t a lot of brown people in Chelan so we stand out.
What makes me even more freaked (yes, freaked) is that my kids see the blue lives matter flag as a symbol of hate too. They, too, feel unwelcome. Am I crazy? Should I *not* worry if Finley, my brown 13 year old boy, went out walking in a neighborhood full of blue lives matter flags at night and then ran into a white neighbor with a gun?
It has happened before in this country, and it will happen again. And it fills me with abject terror.
So when Brett hopes that Chelan can be my happy place, he is disappointed when I shake my head sadly. My answer is ‘not right now.’ I am very grateful that we get to spend time with his (nay, *our*) lovely family there and that we too get to frolic and drink wine and spit cherry pits off the side of the boat into the lake. I love that part of Chelan. And I would imagine that over time, Chelan could (and probably will) evolve to be more racially and politically diverse. I am ever the optimist. XOXO – E
Thank you for saying this! It’s how I feel about my next door neighbor’s blue lives matter flag – swastika is not too radical to say. I’m lily white and get a pass in my trump loving neck of the woods, but my brown kiddo who spends weekends with us and is rapidly outgrowing “cute little kid” and growing into a “sexualized threat”? She sees that flag. And I feel the worry about her being in my neighborhood and confronted by people who don’t want her there.
You are bang on the mark.