Entitled
People, especially Americans, often confuse freedom with convenience. You see, it's not that it takes you only 5 minutes to get that Big Mac w/ cheese; it's that you're not afraid for your life when you step into line. Afraid that someone will send you to the back because of your skin color; afraid that someone will pull out a revolver and scream something less pulpy than "Everybody be cool, this is a robbery."
I walked into my building this morning and a line of security people stood at a white-clothed cafeteria table, hastily set up, beside a sign reading "Until further notice, all bags are subject to search." And they looked at my turkey sandwich, apple, assorted papers and strewn moneyed-bag and I said "thanks."
Because I had not lost any freedom: I am not a terrorist, an arsonist or a mad bomber: those are the only people who lose freedom from policing. I don't care if you know what's in my bag; that's like being embarrassed to show a gynecologist your vagina. And it was obvious they thought they were infringing on me, as just past the desk was an array of cookies, muffins and coffee as appeasement.
But to me, the feeling of safety is appeasement enough, and contrary to popular belief the men and women who look in my bag enhance my freedom. The freedom of my mind that doesn't have to trouble over the safety of my body; the freedom of my body that is now less likely to be violated; and the freedom of my voice that can now understand and express the difference between convenience and freedom.
I sit down at my desk and a memorandum informs me "If you have questions regarding issues of life safety, evacuation procedures, etc., please refer to the J____ Life Safety Manual." If only they had one of those on freedom.
fmagically posted by hilde~tilde at 7:30 PM
