In Solidarity with Suffering

In 2004-2005, when my son was undergoing chemotherapy and radiation, I had friends, nurses and oncologists shave their heads as a sign of solidarity with their child patients/friends. I’m sure you’ve heard of St. Baldrick’s Foundation, where money is raised by the adventurous entertainment of having a head shaved in public. Back then, I thought about participating, but just couldn’t work up the courage.

It felt too overwhelming.

In 2012, one of my daughters shaved her head for Locks of Love, just one month before my oldest daughter’s wedding. Her hair had hung to her waist. It was a shock to my senses, when she suddenly texted me her picture with the words “Look what I did!” pasted below. Thoughts of cancer and concentration camps assaulted me. However; by the time the wedding happened, her hair was growing and we were used to her ‘new look’. It’s only hair, afterall.

In 2019, another daughter shaved her dreadlocked head as a ritual-ceremony marking her transition into the Peace Corps. This was a meaningful moment for her. Both daughters carry the proud sense of their natural beauty without makeup, long hair or other cultural ideologies of what a beautiful woman should look like.

I often say, my children are my teachers. I am proud of them.

And now I’ve done it!

On the night of the Super Pink Moon and during Holy Week, my daughter shaved my head. I was attended to by three of my children.

It felt holy and sacred.

I’ve been thinking about how to show solidarity with all those who are suffering on this planet right now due to Covid 19. Most days I accept this slowing down, this staying home for the benefit of all. It feels as if I’ve fallen into a rhythm where each day is a repeat of the one before. I read, eat, study, pray, write and take lots of walks. I venture out in the rain or sun sharing the suburb sidewalks and green space trails with my neighbors, who up until now were strangers.

“How are you doing? Need anything?” we call out as we pass by each other six feet apart.

And I worry I might become complacent or apathetic. Afterall, my needs are being met. I ask myself, “What can I do?”

In some ways, this pandemic reminds me of the childhood cancer suffering I ventured through with my son and family. Back then, though, I felt alone. Not one of my friends could really know what it meant to be submerged in a world of hospital stays, chemotherapy vomiting, the fear of scans, the agony of watching your child waste away morphing into a pale, bald, lethargic, and skinny boy.

The only ones who really understood in their very bones, like I did, were the other moms of a child with cancer.

It was as if there were two different Earths. One Earth that kept spinning with laughter and creativity, seasonal changes and the rising and setting of the sun. While our Earth was filled with uncertainty and horror.

The truth was, though, that suffering is not a respecter of persons, nor is this virus. That tragic year, also brought the Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunami in Indonesia. 227,898 people died. That area of the planet was suffering and the whole world watched on their TV screens. I could not stand to take in the news, highlighting more death and tragedy, because I was immersed in my own. Yet my individual suffering connected me with theirs.

This pandemic is teaching us we are all connected. Every human living and dying on this beautiful Earth is impacted by it in some way. Borders do not matter. Building walls makes no difference. There is no escaping its power. And even as this is true, some of us are suffering more than others.

I think of those with loved ones in the ICU or who have already lost someone dear to them. There are no memorials or gatherings to grieve together. Some of us may be struggling to get enough food, to pay our bills, or rent. Some of us are worried about our loved ones who are healthcare professionals entering into high-risk spaces daily. I think of the faceless children or women, who may be stuck in an abusive home. Who is there to sound the alarm? Children are not allowed to play with their friends. What impact is this having on their psyche? Physical hugging is being depleted from our body reserves and I feel it. Some of us, who live on the streets are now even at more risk. I read that black americans are dying from Covid 19 than white americans. And some of us, like myself, find ourselves simply living in the movie Groundhog Day, forever on repeat.

Complacency and apathy are only an option for those of us who are privileged. So I stand in solidarity with all of us who are hurting and are scared. I stand in solidarity with those whose already difficult lives have become even more difficult.

I know it doesn’t seem like much, but the shaving of my head is an outward gesture of what is in my heart.

The simple, naked truth of cracking me open into Reality. My call to Prayer.

I am a human being created in Love, being held by Love and standing in solidarity with all of you in Love.