Passionless or Apathetic? You're not the only one.

Gas prices soared again this week, averaging $2.91 per gallon across the country. Will this madness ever stop? Not while the United States is at war.

Does that even mean anything to anyone anymore? Not the gas prices, I’m mean the part about the war. A few years ago, my stomach would have dropped and creeping chills would have warned of memories coming from 9/11, chills like those from the first drop of rain on the nape of my neck warning of a coming thunderstorm.

But there’s no such feeling now. There’s some anger at the name Bush, but no lightning bolt connection with those memories. There’s no passion, no bravery. There’s no call to change, to revolution, to protest.

Is it possible to be passionless, to be completely apathetic about all that is?

What creates passion and apathy? I felt no passion this week. Usually topics of racism and sexism set me off, along with other things I see wrong every day in the way society functions. But this week there was nothing.

Can I create passion out of nothingness? Or does something have to happen? Do I have to have a loved one die in Iraq before I care about what the United States is doing there?

That’s like asking, do I have to be pregnant to take a stance on abortion? For that I can truly answer no. But I can’t count the number of people I’ve talked to who don’t have a position on the issue. How can they not, I wonder. Abortion is about life and death. It’s a situation that everyone’s been part of — everyone was in the womb once. And generally, eventually, everyone gets involved in the other end of it — or at least in the replication of procreation. Not having a stance on abortion isn’t being neutral. It’s saying it doesn’t matter.

It’s the same with racism.

And sexism.

And tobacco companies.

And liberalism, democracy, and capitalism. And the war. It’s saying, “Hey, y’all, I DON’T CARE.”

Being apathetic is not caring about who I am or what I stand for. It’s saying I’ll never have to make a critical decision in my entire life. It’s choosing not to have conflict or controversy — it’s not having passion.

I’m guilty of such thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, I really just don’t care. I know I should, and I can’t understand why I don’t. The United States is at war. What do I think about it? I don’t know.

And there’s not just war.

There is poverty and homelessness in this country.

There is racism and discrimination.

There is violence and abuse.

There is desperation and hopelessness.

Maybe I’m just tired. I’m tired of desperation and violence and racism and poverty. But if I’m tired, who’s going to say what needs to be said? Who’s going to flame in passion about abortion, about sexism, capitalism, poverty, homelessness, hunger, disease, crime, scandal, corruption and evil? Whose going to be the flame the sparks fly from, because if it isn’t me, if I’m tired, why can’t you just be tired too? If I’m tired, how does the rest of the world feel? How do the homeless and the hungry feel? What about the oppressed and the desperate?

What about the elderly? If I’m tired, they’re exhausted. Famished. Stretched, beaten, and broken. And they’ve got to be parched. They’ve got to be thirsty for hope.

Passivity is a way of supporting the status quo. And if the status quo is hurtful, if I say I’m going to remain neutral, then I’m not really neutral. My neutrality itself supports the status quo.

I have a colleague who says, “If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention.”

Let’s start a revolution. A revolution for what you ask? For change. For human rights. For a new system. For peace. Then, and only then, can we afford to be passionless. Then we can own passivity. But then, we won’t be so tired.

The thing that stirred me most during my state of apathy of the past few days was the spike in gas prices over the weekend.

And I didn’t think I could come up with 700 words about that.