Brag

I appreciate the onion.

I admire her bold, undeniable flavor—

how she can be sweet under the right conditions,

better known though or a certain sharpness—a bite.

I appreciate the tall chives springing from the ground,

waving—bragging to the world,

that there is more to be savored

beneath the surface,

lest she go unnoticed.

Humility is a virtue—one that (definitionally) reminds us that we are each from dirt (humus) and to dirt we shall return. We each have within us the capacity to understand and to foster our own lowliness, for the benefit of others who need unfaltering, unremarkable earth,

on which to stand,

from which to leap—

and to return.

But a virtue (at least according to Aristotle), is better understood as a scale than as a bludgeon. A virtue helps us to keep our minds, bodies, souls in balance. So, while a paucity of humility leaves one prone to prideful braggadocio, an excess of humility according to Charles Pope*, can lead to

·      Too much abjection of oneself wherein one disdains the gifts of God—which is not in service of the truth and dishonors the giver.

And/or

·      Too great an obsequiousness which may serve to pamper the pride in others or encourage “sins of tyranny”.

Growing up in predominantly white spaces so-called dignity and decorum was expected of all artists, athletes, and academics.

·      No self-congratulation

·      No “excessive celebration”

·      No feelings, please, no feelings.

I think some of these guidelines might work in a truly just society—one in which individuals and groups are getting noticed, acknowledged, and awarded equitably. But what about this planet— the one we actually inhabit—where so many accolades (which lead to opportunity) are based on who you know, and who you know is based on where you have been allowed to buy property,

and in fact, whether at one time, your people were considered property themselves.

I remember hearing about some well-meaning white professors who insisted that everyone drop titles (Doctor, Dean, etc) and just go by their first names in an attempt to avoid being "too braggy”. Black colleagues had to explain that they requested being addressed as “Doctor”—not as a brag, but as a leveler—to give students a reminder in their own mouths that the person at the front of the classroom is in charge, even if they had previously been led to believe that this kind of person was beneath them.

I remember in college being told that women should be quiet and gentle of spirit. I’d love to. If it meant I could do so and still expect fair pay, promotion, and pastoral authority in the places I have earned such things. But I have found that my being quiet and gentle of spirit often works out better for louder, rougher beings who would like credit for their work and mine too.

I’ve listened throughout my life to rappers and other poets claiming divinity in hopes that by the end of a verse they will at least be granted humanity and for me this effort is not a sign of lack of respect but rather of insistent respect to the ultimate creator as well as great care for those who otherwise find themselves dangerously inclined toward the sin of tyranny.

Don’t misunderstand. I am as annoyed by name-droppers and adulation addicts as the next person. Humility, I understand,  is a virtue.

We are from dirt

And to dirt we shall return

But, what if the story of your life is one of being buried underground, waiting to be noticed and nurtured. Doesn’t it make sense to try and get the word out, send something shooting forth from within, breaking through hard ground, finding a way—any way to be seen? Doesn’t it beat waiting around, relying on human curiosity and communal instincts that may or may not ever come? I think so.

And as my father taught me to say,

“I don’t know everything,

but I know so damn much.”

May we all confront concurrent truths that we are no better or worse than any other fruit of the garden. And for those of us who have been buried, beneath, belittled, may we

 be practiced at finding light from above and grabbing it for ourselves with sweetness, or bite, or wild green hair demanding the attention that we deserve,

just like sister onion.  

*I don’t know this man or what he’s been up to in the world, but I cannot pass up a text that uses the words obsequiousness and abjection.