I wrote a blog post this morning that I am not going to share. At least not yet. I’ve sent it to the cooler to contemplate itself. As I do that, I am aware that in doing so I am practicing personal self-censorship.
To some extent self-censorship is fine. My personal policy is that I don’t talk about politics here and I’m good with that. Electoral politics is both transient and unnecessarily divisive. I’m glad to have that rule to guide me.
But every question has a political dimension. Since writing and literature wade into deeply human territory, they are necessarily political in the small, intimate sense. We make political choices each day.
Who we are friends with, who we love, how we practice our religion or express our values is political, even if we never enter the political arena. Do we keep it secret? Do we go out into the world to convert others? Do we advocate laws privileging one version over another? How do we deal with apostates? Only advocating a change in laws is technically political. But every choice has a political dimension and can inflame passionate dissent.
This is my weakness in writing. I fear causing offense. It stops me from finishing some stories. It stops me from sending out other stories. And today it stopped me from pressing Publish on a perfectly fine blog post.
I hope that you are stronger than I am today. I hope you walk your own truth and live with compassion toward others.
Be well, friends!