Once upon a time…
“OMG, who are all these people? And what are they wearing? Why are they wearing cheap DayGlo hoodies?” Gregory pursed his lips as his nostrils flared in disgust.
“Our fellow conference attendees are wearing Safe Hoodies,” Ava explained. “They are available in a variety of aura-lifting colours and body-acceptance sizes. Wearing Safe Hoodies shows our unity. We, as Woke-Warriors, are in a safe space to be ourselves.”
“We’re in a safe space alright.. the only crime in 15 15-kilometre radius is that woman’s pantsuit,” Gregory replied, looking down his nose, atop oversized glasses. “Her choice of apparel is a criminal offence in at least half a dozen states.”
“Stop it,” Ava warned her snarky friend. “That woman was influenced by her own mother’s fashion choices, which were undoubtedly perpetrated by thousands of years of toxic masculinity. Her pantsuit is a by-product of systematic oppression.”
“Her polyester pantsuit is a by-product of microfibre madness.”
“Oh Gregory, you are so programmed. Let’s find our seats. The keynote speaker is amazing!”
“She better be, she’s twenty minutes late,” he grumbled. “Wasn’t this supposed to start at 9:00 AM?”
“Twenty minutes of personal reflection time is a gift we afford ourselves,” Ava said. “Daily, we need to identify how much society and our families have let us down. That’s the theme of this year’s conference: They’ve all let us down. Don’t let it go.”
“Why on Earth would you want to keep it?” Gregory stage-whispered loud enough for three rows in all directions to hear.
“Shhh,” a young woman with a severe bob haircut hissed at them.
Gregory pantomimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. “Severe Bob” glared at him, pointed her nose in the air, and turned back around in a huff.
They all watched as a tall elegant woman in her late 30’s took to the podium, wearing a gently patronising smile across her flawless face. That face was displayed in Wizard of Oz-sized proportions behind her on a giant screen.
Gregory began to applaud when Ava quickly grabbed his hands before he could clap. He gaped. “Are you holding my hand? Sorry, I don’t like you that way.”
“We do NOT clap,” Ava aggressively whispered. “Don’t embarrass me.”
“We don’t? What’s wrong with clapping?”
“Clapping derives from the most egregious form of Western hegemony: Ancient Rome. The playwright Plautus wrote plaudits at the end of each of his plays-”
“Meaning his plays were over and this is where people express their appreciation?”
“It was a directive for the audience to applaud. So classist. Elitist. Marxist even. Shhh. Listen to the keynote speaker…”
“Welcome, my fellow Wokateers! I’m Doctor Wendy Wibblestone, and I officially greet you not as others, but as fellow Woke-Warriors to the annual Don’t Let It Go!”
“She’s a doctor?” Gregory asked incredulously.
“I think she’s a chiropractor,” Ava replied.
“I paid $79.99 to hear from a chiropractor? What is she going to do – manipulate our collective spines to rid us of the trauma of bedwetting?”
“Gregory!” she whispered almost violently. “You said you’d come along to better understand.”
Gregory rolled his eyes, mumbling: “I understand I’m down by eighty bucks.”
“It’s been a great year to thoroughly examine the role childhood anxiety plays in all of our adult lives,” Dr. Wibblestone continued. “And since most of you are living with your parents, I’m sure you’ve taken your morning reflection time to deconstruct the extent of the damage your primary gender role models have caused you.”
She paused dramatically and the audience nodded and murmured with approval.
“Let me just say I hear you,” Dr. Wibblestone continued. “I hear you because of my active listening skills, as discussed in my latest book, available at the back of the auditorium. It’s the perfect time to make an investment in yourself. You deserve it!”
She paused as lights lit up a table in the back next to a cash register.
“So eighty bucks was just the first installment?” Gregory smirked. Ava fired back a death stare.
“I validate the schema of where you were, and I rejoice in the projection of the who that is who you really are. By the end of this conference, your psychogenic mind-body connection will be better as we don’t let it go.” At this point, the speaker reached out her arms, as if wanting to give a healing hug to the entire audience, mostly women in their 20’s and 30’s, who now wiped away freely flowing tears from their faces.
Gregory muttered out of the side of his mouth to Ava, “I only understood about 35% of what she just said. Do I get a partial refund?”
“Shhh!” Severe Bob firmly expressed her displeasure again.
“You can just stop shushing me right now. I’m feeling attacked,” Gregory said loudly, placing his hand on his chest. Severe Bob looked momentarily shamed.
“So my lovely Wokateers, we have an embarrassment of riches in our session this afternoon. After your box lunch selection of either a free-range cheese sandwich or faux-tuna sushi, you will have a choice of breakout ‘Thinking Pods’ to select from. For childhood trauma over birth order, the oldest children will meet in the elegant corporate lounge with a very detailed, structured curriculum, while the youngest children – the babies of the family – will have complete autonomy in the hotel’s fitness centre. The meeting for middle children has been canceled due to unforeseen circumstances.”
“But of course,” Gregory mused. Ava sharply elbowed him.
“Stay present as I go over a few more details. I realise your parents did significant damage to your inner child, so additional classes are being offered for a nominal extra fee. You can register for Healing Intensives to deal with:
- Having to move during your K-12 school years,
- Losing your best friend in 8th grade,
- Not getting what you really wanted for Christmas, and
- Being served foods that tasted “icky” but were allegedly good for you.
- A very special Healing Intensive will be available to cover trauma related to O-foods, such as olives, onions, okra, and oysters.”
At this Gregory stood to leave.
“Ava, thanks for thinking of me, darling, but this has been a colossal waste of time and money.”
“Gregory, I’m sorry-”
“I know you are, hon. But I love okra. And even though my childhood wasn’t perfect, I don’t need imaginary things to get over. Imaginary friends, maybe. Imaginary things? Not so much.”
“Are you really leaving?”
“I am, Baby Doll,” he said, kissing her on both cheeks. “I hope you find what you are looking for, but just a little advice from me: DayGlo hasn’t looked good on anyone since the 90’s.”
“When someone else seeks to control what I see or hear, I have to assume they think they’re superior and I’m too stupid to make up my own mind.”
―
Moral of the Story:
Most of us have foolish ideas about who we are and many rigid rules about how life ought to be lived. Blame is one of the surest ways to stay stuck in a problem. As soon as you blame anyone for anything, you give away your power. Confidence is knowing who you are and not changing it one bit because someone’s version of reality is different. Whenever we blame someone else (including our parents no matter what they did to us) we are not taking responsibility for ourselves. We are here to learn lessons and one of the main ones is the lesson of forgiveness. If people stopped looking for things that offended them and started looking for things that inspired them, what a wonderful world this could be. Wokeness is a complete farce. It is the result of a snowflake culture of molly-coddled people who choose to be offended by everything. It only enables bad behaviour. Do we want a humourless society that is rife with condemnation, hostility, and contempt? At its heart, wokeness is divisive, exclusionary, and hateful. It basically gives mean people a shield to be mean and cruel, armoured in false virtue.
The woke do not want diversity – they want conformity. As soon as someone has a different opinion, their supposed tolerance and kindness evaporate. The result is a vicious, Orwellian movement. Once a rallying cry for systemic racism and injustice, “wokeness” has been twisted to now mean “political correctness.” It is interesting that corporate giants are supporting a “woke utopia” where everyone (else) is taxed at 99%, eats nothing but bugs, rents everything from BlackRock, and drives electric vehicles powered by lithium/cobalt dust to drop off kindergartners for drag queen story hour. Wokeness is a disease. The woke mind virus means a world without humour. Demands for safe spaces to stop people and ideas from entering is infantilising. This is the opposite of rebellion and it has no intellectual weight. The fact is that censorship always defeats its own purpose because, in the end, it creates the kind of society that is incapable of exercising any real discretion. In the long run, it will create a generation incapable of appreciating the difference between independence of thought and complete subservience.
“If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.”
―
Affirmation: I accept the great responsibility of true freedom.
I am free to choose my own beliefs and free to think my own thoughts. I acknowledge and accept that I am the creative power in my world. I now choose to enjoy my life. I release the need to be right. I am at peace. I love and approve of myself exactly as I am right now. I am free to feel what I feel and I am free to find my own truth. My understanding is clear and I am willing to change with the times. I am free of all labels others place on me and I am safe. I see with eyes of love. There is a harmonious solution and I accept it now. I am free to imagine a better world and to explore my creative potential. I am noticed and appreciated in the most positive of ways. I am free to live my life on my terms and I express my emotions in joyous and positive ways. I am free of the doubts of others and I move forward, free from the past. I am safe. I am free.
“I may not agree with you, but I will defend to the death your right to make an ass of yourself.”
―
