When I was a little kid, my dad used to lock me in my room overnight sometimes so he could go drinking. My mom worked nights and I guess his logic was if I couldn’t leave my room I couldn’t hurt myself or get into trouble. My mom would never have to know, I would never have to know and it would be golden.
I *of course* always woke up the second the garage opened. I would try the lock, realize I was stuck, and panic. I’d ask him not to do it again. It would get better. Then worse. Alcoholic style, you know.
But I never tried to force the door open. I was so little and powerless and so confused at why someone I thought was my protector would do something like that to me. I also knew that my mother would be no help at all – her only solution to my dad’s problems was to weaponize me and I knew that consistently made everything worse.
The only system I knew for a time was being trapped.
But one night, I was maybe 5 or 6. So little – but I remember this like it was yesterday, not 25 years ago.
I pried the goddamn door open.
I was so tiny but I was SO MAD! You think I’m salty bish now you have no idea how mad I was that night. I RAGED and I figured out how to shimmy a toy golf club – it was yellow and plasticy and stupid – just far enough under the gap by the floor I could squeeze a coat hanger in the side and pop the door open.
I was freed. It wasn’t even that hard!
I ran next door and asked for help, and I don’t remember much of the process of being returned home and all the fallout fighting when my mom found out and whatnot. That part wasn’t unique so it doesn’t stand out in my mind I guess.
But I was never locked in my room again. Not once. That strategy didn’t work on me any more – because I learned that night that I have power, and I used it.
I learned two other things as well – Use whatever the fuck you happen to have on hand, and don’t be afraid to find other people outside the walls you’re told to stay in.
I’ve never publicly told this story before. I’ve kept it inside me, a weird little pilot light of sustainable rage that has kept me alive for 25+ years. But as I see the hopelessness descending on so many people tonight at what comes tomorrow, and whatever tf is happening on TikTok, and just all the other doom of the world right now, I wish I could channel every ounce of teeny tiny Morgan power from that night to scream into the void –
We are not trapped. We never have been. The tools have been here the whole time – they just aren’t exactly labeled as “These Are The Change The World Tools”, so we don’t always think to use them that way.
But once we decide we want to, we can pry open any goddamn door we want to and let ourselves the fuck out.
Find hope – and *real life* action – in whatever makes you angry enough to let yourself out of your door.
Context – the night before Trump was re-inaugurated, I found myself being overcome with the feelings of sadness, powerlessness and hopelessness from some of my friends. While I don’t begrudge anyone for feeling and sharing their feelings, I did share a story I’ve never told before in hopes that folks could find some level of grounding and control in the many opportunities we do still have. We always have the power to create sustainable change in our messy little worlds no matter how trapped we may feel right now. Learned helplessness is the default in our culture, and we *always* have the power to resist both toxic positivity and toxic negativity by grounding ourselves in what is within our control.