Old-Fashioned Fruitcake
I have learned my lesson: before and after makeovers are much more impressive if you have a picture of Before.
I took the sleeves off my favourite dress last summer – despite the seams being both sewn and overlocked they were still coming adrift in places – and happily drafted a post about it. Only to find that I had no pictures of the dress from the four plus years I wore it avec sleeves. Despite wearing it probably twice a week, year round, all through that time.
As many of you know, I live in New Zealand, which is one of the countries doing pretty well pandemic-wise. But we are nonetheless encouraged to have masks on hand (actually, on face) when at close quarters with strangers at Level 2 or above, just as we are encouraged to have emergency supplies stashed about the place in case a big earthquake takes out all our infrastructure.
Now, there are, it turns out, some people who get huffy when asked to wear a mask. I am not one of them. I am always happy to don a mask and slip anonymously through the streets of the city. (Or at least, what would be anonymously if there was anyone else round here who dressed like me.) I mean, come on! This is your chance to let your inner superhero out for an airing at last, without people casting doubt on your adulthood. Masks are awesome.
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With the exception of some members of the “vast crowd, too great to count, from every nation and tribe and people and language” in the book of Revelation, there are no people in the Bible who a white supremacist would recognize as white.
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Unless you count Miriam (the sister of Moses and Aaron), who was struck white with leprosy for criticizing Moses’ choice of a dark-skinned wife. It’s like God said “you think being light-skinned is so great? Try being white as a dead fish belly and see how superior you feel then.”
Racism: God’s Against It.