Dear Tradition,
You are a heavy thing.
Worn smooth by generations.
Passed down like an heirloom
or a haunting.
You arrive wrapped in ceremony.
Draped in sepia.
You smell like wood polish and warm bread.
And sometimes?
You feel like home.
Other times?
You feel like a lock we’ve forgotten how to open.
You say, “We’ve always done it this way”
But you never say why.
Or for whom.
Or what it cost.
You carry pride and poison in equal measure.
You gave us lullabies and lynchings.
You preserved wisdom and prejudice.
You built cathedrals and closets to hide in.
You gave us community.
And cages.
Nostalgia is your favorite costume.
You love to dress up in the “good old days.”
When men were men.
When children were quiet.
When roles were roles and lines were never crossed.
But here’s what you forget:
The “good old days” were only good for some.
The rest of us were cleaning up the mess,
biting our tongues,
or screaming where no one could hear.
You say “back then,”
but what you mean is “back in control.”
But you’re not all bad – we’ll give you that.
You’re also the reason we gather.
The reason we sing the same songs at funerals.
The reason we hold hands during storms.
You remind us that memory can be sacred.
That some things are worth carrying forward.
But only if we choose them –
not if they choose us.
So here’s the truth…
We’re not here to destroy you.
We’re here to discern you.
To pry open the rusted chest and sort the gold from the garbage.
We will preserve what nourishes.
We will burn what imprisons.
And we will build new traditions –
ones that don’t require erasure
to feel like belonging.
Love,
The Radical Left