When to Stop and When to Go
By Amy Lane
I’m not sure exactly when in my adulthood I decided not to be silent about things that mattered—but it didn’t happen all at once. I can recall a lot of moments when I sat silently while somebody said something mean and unjust, and I just prayed for that person to shut up because he or she was making me uncomfortable. I’ve had fewer and fewer of those moments—especially in the last five years. Losing my job, I think, made me realize that I got hurt while playing by the rules (as much as I could) so if I was going to get hurt, I might as well be solidly in the fight.
But today, in the pool, I got into it with an elderly woman who was complaining about San Francisco Pride, and how “They just shoved my friends off the sidewalk like they owned it.”
I said, “Well, that was probably just a couple of people with no sense of space—I don’t think you can blame all gay people for that one incident.”
And it was on—she talked about how the judges shouldn’t be responsible for declaring what was constitutional and I talked about how that was their jobs, and she mentioned the bible and I did too and I was in the middle of the whole story of the Centurion and his erastes pais when my oldest daughter said, “We’re playing red light green light now!”
And I went.
I dropped the debate and swam to the other side of the pool and played with my children.
Because I had made my point, several times, and I was done. No, I don’t think marriage equality or no more Confederate flag is the end of the fight. I think we’re going to have to deal with a whole lot of people who are confused and think that they’re not bigots just because they don’t haul ass down the street chasing gay people or people of color with torches or pitchforks. I think explaining white privilege to some white people is going to be like explaining why it’s rude to fart in a wading pool to someone who thought that’s how hot tubs worked (But everyone likes bubbles, right? Then shouldn’t they like my bubbles? Aren’t my bubbles the best bubbles? Then why don’t I get to make bubbles for everyone!)
But my point had been made. And I was done. There comes a time when continuing the debate is not only useless—this woman’s mind was never going to be changed—but destructive. I had a perfectly beautiful opportunity to play with my daughters. Squish is growing up—fast—and Chicken is going back to San Diego to live, and how often does the perfect game of red-light-green-light come around? This woman and her closed mind were not worth missing out red-light-green-light, and I wasn’t going to sacrifice my perfect summer day for her.
Because there are some moments when it’s okay to put down the flag and take a breather.
And this applies to other things as well.
This year I’ve released Black John, “The Fenestra Penetration”, Food for Thought, Immortal, Deep of the Sound, and, coming up, Bitter Taffy.
Black John, Immortal, and Deep of the Sound are “fighting” books. On my new color code, they’re orange (Angsty Contemporary) and purple (Angsty Alternative Universe). They’re painful and dark and angsty and sad. Immortal has been described as “harrowing”. Some people found John “depressing.” But I stand by those books and their darkness and the edge of blood and sadness in all of them—they’re my meaty books, difficult to write, a commitment to read, something that I’m proud of.
But that being said, I’m also proud that I’m learning when to set down my flag, and learning when to play during a beautiful summer’s day.
And that’s Bitter Taffy, which is the sequel to Candy Man. It’s code yellow (Amy Lane Lite) and it’s sweet and joyous and generally playful. Yes, there was some sad, but it’s mostly off page, and what’s on page is optimistic and romantic.
And yes—I know. There are some people who never lay down their flags—or their darkness—and they have a solid body of work to prove it. But I can’t do that. I need to shore up my strength. The next three things I’ll have coming out—Bitter Taffy, Winter Ball, and (working) Lollipop, which is the sequel to Bitter Taffy—are all yellow. Because I spent a long time in the dark place writing last year, and I needed to spend some time in the light.
Just like this afternoon, when leaving the narrow minded little old lady alone and playing with my daughters made me a better mother, I think it makes me a better writer when I do the same thing with my work.
I hope you all agree—because I have to say, it was an epic game of red-light-green-light.
Love this!