Dear President Business:[ii]
When we first met, I was in awe. It was the spell you cast on your followers— the way they’d stay up to all hours of the night waiting to get one moment of your time. Such power could only come from light, I thought.
It’s been said you are brilliant. I, too, was impressed by your ability to hold steadfast to a vision. A wise man in your midst once told me you were like the Wizard of Oz! If truth be told, I wanted to believe in your magic, especially at a time when my beloved field of education is in need of magic.
I told myself there’s nothing wrong with power and control if it can lead to good. What can be wrong with working for a man who has the power to get me back home?
I put on a Monkey Suit for you, President Business. I did it willingly because I was sure it was the best I could do. I told myself I was President Obama, working with the men on the other side of the aisle.
But, people are afraid of those who know themselves. An enlightened woman cannot be enslaved.[iii]
The more I believed in myself, the less time I spent at the alter of deference.
The more I spoke up for love, the less time I spent at the alter of workaholism.
The more I participated in conscientious engagement, the less time I spent at the alter of illusion.
Still, I was a willing soldier until the end. Not sure if the fight was right, but I believed I was fighting for what is mine.
Dear President Business:
The time has come to retire the monkey suit.
Perhaps one day you will realize you deserve freedom too.
“Simply with complete conviction, I accept my freedom.” Ernest Holmes
Dreaming is God’s gift to me. Without dreams, how does one survive? At night, pay attention to your dreams. Dreams are the language of God.[i]
Last night I dreamed I was visiting a company.
I arrive late but people are waiting for me in a circle. Amongst them, is my step-father, the man who taught me that conservative action has the most merit. Taking my seat, I pass a full length mirror. I’m wearing a dress with many colors and I’m carrying a carpet bag shaped like a kidney bean. My hair’s disheveled and my eyes are bright and exciting. I’m a cross between Mary Poppins and Willy Wonka.
“You look unique,” my step father said inspecting my outfit.
I take my place in the circle. I feel confident that what I hold in my bag will astound them, but as the dream progresses, I realize I had forgotten my folder. It was the folder that held all my important papers, education designs and the research I had accumulated over the years.
At first I get anxious, but when I look around, I see the people in the circle are dressed equally inventive just like me. Each one has on a different color, each one distinctive. One fellow, for example, wears purple glasses and a tie over a t-shirt. Realizing my audience, I ask, “What exactly do you guys do here?”
One woman sits at the edge of her seat, listening. I talk to her about my last project and she says “We’re doing that already.” I realize I don’t need my briefcase filled with papers. All the contents are old and useless. I get the sense she’s looking for something that doesn’t fit in a folder.
She is looking at me, anticipating.
“What do you guys do here, exactly?” I repeated.