I have been thinking a lot about power lately. Aware that I’m terrified of mine.
A deep sense of injustice nestles into my gut at an early age. I can’t shake it, can’t escape it. It’s alive and grows. A part of me.
Genocide looms over my existence. It always has. As a kid, learning about my history, hearing that word – feels like extinction. Hitler is winning, still. Yes, I am here, flesh and blood. But, two survivors create three offspring that make their own choices. The last whisper of an entire family tree – falls on me.
And I can’t. Do anything about it.
Extinction is slow. Generations-long. Life finds a way, for now. But every last root will die its own reluctant death. Not totally unaware. Vaguely awake to: things should have been different, could have been different.
Things don’t “go extinct” on their own accord – they are cornered, denied. On our planet, we are committing mass genocide. Bees. Coral reefs. Polar bears. We watch the last surviving vestiges as they face our collective extinction.
And that’s why Mother is Sick. Because nobody knows what to do. I cannot sit idly by while this echo chamber of death surrounds us all.
Yes, we will all die. Yes, in the vastness of spacetime, nothing matters. We will be swallowed by a black hole or burnt to a crisp by an uncaring sun. But what matters to me is how. We will all die, yes, but not like this.
And of power: I have none and I have all. To know myself, to be myself, to notice things – that is where my power lies.
Proof of concept teaser, coming soon.
Donate to proof of concept post-production costs here, if you can.