Please, don’t talk to me about fairness. FAIR is a four-letter word and it is profane, so – I beg of you – stop using it around my children, or any children for that matter. They don’t need to believe in this dangerous fallacy that’s often sold as a 2-for-1 deal alongside Happily Ever After.

If you tell me that something isn’t fair as a grown-ass adult, I will direct you to tell the black mother who worries about her family’s safety every day that your child didn’t get his turn in a timely manner. I will then ask you, politely, to tell the transgender barista living and working unprotected by any laws about how you believe organic food to be too expensive. I will ask you to think about what you’re really saying as you complain to me. Because I have one rogue nipple and she’s still – a year later – wondering what happened to her comrade.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mad at you or anyone else. I’m more upset that you were sold a bag of goods and you still haven’t looked in the bag to see that it’s empty. But that’s the painful beauty in going through a crisis that blindsides you, knocking you down. In your desperation to get back up, you look at everything you have to support you and realize that believing in fairness was never a helpful tool. It was only ever a waste of time and energy that left you feeling impotent and defeated.

It seems to me that believing in fairness is a blatant first world problem, a problem of the privileged. The only reason we believe our crises are unfair is that we have walked up to the sample counter our entire lives and have always been met with a smile and a taste. This has left us utterly unprepared to deal with inconvenience let alone real discomfort.

So when my girls don’t get their faces painted at the market and tell me it isn’t fair, I’ll offer to pull out the markers at home and draw whatever they want on their cute little faces. I’ll probably laugh my ass off when they go to school the next day still looking like kitties. They’ll be so proud because all the other kids had to wash their paint off the night before. (Who’s crying about fairness now?!) And maybe, just maybe, they’ll still love being kitties a week later because Mommy used Sharpies instead of washable markers. Isn’t life more fun that way? Being creative in the face of unfairness and laughing your ass off?! I’ll take it, and save my real efforts for the injustices that leave people truly suffering.

So, please, dear friend or perfect stranger, if you want to talk about fairness pick someone else because I’m desperately trying to leave that church and I don’t need to be lured back in by false promises. I’ve been fighting the foundation of my charmed life for years now, so instead of perpetuating a concept that doesn’t actually exist, I’m looking for ideas that really blow my hair back, like laughing in the face of fear, defiantly breaking the rules, calling out lies when it’s terribly unpopular, and maybe even standing up for causes that don’t affect me personally. Because shouldn’t they all affect us personally??

– Diane


3 replies on “F@!R

  1. Well damn… Yes yes and yes. These issues do affect all of us. I think of something my husband asked me years before having children (or even considering it), “has anyone tried raising children with the truth, no lies about what life is really like… I wonder what that would be like?” Everyone is affected by lying on even the smallest level, but it’s so engrained it takes a real act of courage to not only find our truth,but then to act from that place again and again. I wish I could say that was my life… But I’m just doin’ my best in a hodgepodge of truths and lies yet uncovered.

    Thanks for speaking the truth Diane


    1. “Protection” just leaves our children ill-equipped. I was so worried about them being scared of me dying, but I was truly set free when I came to terms with my own mortality so wouldn’t the same be true for them?? I truly believe our open dialogue has brought us all closer. Ignoring something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.


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