Committed to becoming Wonder Woman

The world is ending and all I have to wear is this chambray shirt.

Don't mean to sound apocalyptic, but stuff's getting real. Hurricanes. Fires. Rampant overt racism. Talk of corralling people and shipping them to whence they came. Even if not directly affected, you sense holes tearing through the fabric of society. You see adults, previously hidden within those holes, bullying others because they now feel empowered to do so.

Meanwhile, life goes on. I get my kids ready for school, don a happy face, and greet others kindly. They return the sentiment. Kindness goes a long way.

I return home to check my Twitter feed: Protest-tweets against the latest act of the Trump regime, Tweets documenting the newest unnatural disasters, mom-tweets about driving versus flying to Disneyland.

Perplexing.

So what do I, a middle-class white suburban mom, do? Pretend the erosion of common decency, the manifestations of climate change and the scarily backward time-lapse of America isn't bothering me? Put on my chambray shirt, post a picture online, ask people if they like it?

Or … do I try to close those holes? Do I try to block the way, standing strong, chest out, feet wide, hands-on-hips, like some middle-aged wannabe Wonder Woman?

It's risky, and embarrassing not to fit what I should be doing as a white suburban mom. But I'm choosing to be a middle-aged Wonder Woman. I'm putting my mom-self out there with my needlepoint skills and my Wonder Woman attitude. I'm sewing up as many holes as I can. The future my kids inherit is worth both the risk and the embarrassment.

I dressed as Wonder Woman for Halloween as a kid. Maybe I can find the mask and wear it with my chambray shirt.

Janette DeFelice

Glen Ellyn