"Religious Trauma"

I can see you in the distance
I can hear you, from afar
Should I offer some assistance?
Should it matter who you are?

I don't have much baggage about religion -- the religion I practiced, as child, and as a young man, was pretty direct. I'd say I focused more on service to God than worship, and that seemed to suit us both just fine from my perspective.

But damn, do I have some baggage about church ladies.

We all get hurt by love
We all have our cross to bear
but in the name of understanding
your problem should be shared
Confide In Me
Confide In . . .

If you've never lived in the deep south, maybe you've had the luxury of missing out on the peculiar experience of having someone look you in the eye and tell you something warm, and kind, and thoughtful. . .

"That was a beautiful performance."
"You're one of us. You belong here."
"Any space I’m in is one that is explicitly welcome to you."
"I've always loved the way you see things."

. . . and then realizing that they would never, ever say that same thing in a context where anyone else could hear them. And perhaps, in fact, in the context of social pressure to say something else, they'd say the opposite.

"He's got a long way to go."
"Anybody should feel welcome here. I don't think we should have to change for her."
"publicly inviting you to something wouldn't feel authentic to me."
"He's just so cruel and combative."

Let's just say that it's a world that elevated going-along-to-get-along to an art form.

I can keep a secret
and throw away the key
it's sometimes hard with these things
but do you
feel safe
with me

My mother was an army brat, who took more after her infantry-officer father than after her artist mother, and put everything she owned in a van and drove out of the South as soon as the ink on her high school diploma was dry.

She kicked around the West (Colorado) and the North (Minnesota, Michigan) for years. Got married. Had a daughter. Hated the cold but loved the culture. The directness of it. The honesty of it. Clear and crisp and cold and true.

She came back to the South just before she had me. But she hated it.

We all get hurt by love
We all have our cross to bear
but in the name of understanding
your problem should be shared
Confide In Me
Confide In Me
Confide In Me. . .
Confide In Me. . .

She spent my youth trying to figure out how to move North again. Struggling with her position as a brilliant, cunning, and opinionated woman in a place where Women Did Not Speak Their Minds.

She was a rebel with 9 causes and no fear and she ran afoul of . . . well, everybody.

Skip or twist
the choice is yours
hit or miss
what's mine is yours
Skip or twice
the choice is yours
hit or miss
what's mine is yours

She taught me to be wary of any statement you only hear in private.

If a person won't say it in front of someone else. . . you can damn sure believe that it's less about whether or not they really believe it, and more that they want the benefit of you thinking it's how they feel.

We all get hurt by love
We all have our cross to bear
but in the name of understanding
your problem should be shared
Confide In Me
Confide In Me
Confide In Me. . .
Confide In Me. . .

So today, when somebody tells me they think I'm valuable to their community . . .

Well, let's just say that sometimes, I have a hard time believing it, and an easy way of testing it.

"I love that you feel that way. Would you mind saying it in front of a crowd of your friends?"

Lyrics: Ben Lee - Confide in Me (2002)