I BURNT MY BRA
In the sixties. Well, I’m not even sure whether I burnt it.
Maybe, as a sign of being a liberated woman (with the wisdom of my seventeen-year old self), I donated it to freshmen guys as a lark.
I do know that one morning it was fluttering around the head of the Cecil John Rhodes statue on campus at Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa.
Then again, maybe that was another bra.
This was the era of free speech, free love and free thought. We were “The World,” we thought.
But Freedom is never free.
Free speech could lead to hate-filled rhetoric.
Free love could lead to disease or a pregnancy.
Free thought. Well there’s a tricky one.
First it’s a fleeting thought.
Second, the thought comes back and lingers.
Third, someone out there organizes a rally and it vaguely represents what you thought of some time ago.
And thought becomes action. You hammer together a few placards and go marching. And find yourself in a clash with “different” thinkers. Bottles and bricks fly. Someone pulls out a gun.
That someone could be your brother/sister/best friend ……….fill in the blank.
That someone could be you.
No, freedom isn’t free. Neither is free speech or free thought. It always has a price.
The price is called Responsibility.
But that fleeting thought could also be –
I wonder when I last went to church;
I think I’ll go to church this Sunday (or whatever day!);
Wow! What a great service. And I met the coolest group of people at coffee hour afterwards. We’re going camping/kayaking/fishing……………fill in the blank.
Now let me think. I believe I burnt my bra?
Cyber Hugs and Blessings All!