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Several moves ago, we found this house that had been flipped. It was great. Good price per SF. It was a lovely home. It met the needs for our family. Until one day, I noticed a drip at the corner of a window. Just barely noticeable. 1/
Clearly, it could just be painted over and ignored, But. When we dug. Oh, Lord. The damage. Now that we could see there was a massive problem, we had to find someone to come along side us. I’ll be honest, this was a sickening process. 2/
My stomach churned listening to the contractor tell us exactly what was happening and what we would need to do to repair. It couldn’t be patched. The individual boards couldn’t be repaired. It all had to be torn down and rebuilt. 3/
Load-bearing walls of our home had to be supported w/ additional beams not part of the original construction. We couldn’t make do with the existing structures. We had to rebuild that part of the house that was rotted, diseased, and would make us sick if we didn’t deal with it. 4/
This wall had looked fine! It worked for us. There was literally no need to do anything unless we met the problem head on, dug deep into the issue, and listened to the expert. I’ll never forget how calm and measured he was. Such a contrast to the dread and nausea I felt. 5/
But, you know what? We did what we needed to do, as advised by someone who came along side us and helped us to see that there was something underneath, that left unattended, could have disastrous consequences. And, as I think about this, I remember, too, 6/
that someone, at some point, must have known about this issue in the structure of this particular wall. But, they ignored it because it had no effect on them personally. Was it costly? Yes. Was it inconvenient? Yes. And what did we gain? 7/
The work that went into this project resulted in a stronger, safer home not only for our family, but for the family that would reside there when our time in that dwelling came to an end. 8/
We have a choice. We can ignore racism and become sicker, And it’s our own doing. We can suffer the symptoms of the disease we chose to ignore. The disease that wasn’t a deal breaker for us. 9/
*Inspired to tell this story as I read, “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents” by Isabel Wilkerson. The house metaphor is not my original idea. But, in reading hers, I realized I had a real-life situation that helped me to understand her meaning on an even deeper level. End.
