Even if we are born into poverty and shame,
we can still grow up to become saints.
Even if we are born into wealth and privilege,
we can still grow up to become thieves.
Even if we are born into a work-a-day world,
we can still grow up to become monsters.
If we are not bound by our birth, why
would we not take a chance to prove ourselves?
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Dear Ayn Rand
Knowing that where you were born didn’t matter in the New World, rugged capitalists rode roughshod over whoever got in their way. Railroads and skyscrapers thrived when those at the helm were egomaniacs full of themselves and ruthless in acquiring and administering power. If you weren’t strong enough to beat down the opposition, why were you sill alive?
Self-reliance worships self at the expense of community. Why is it raining so much here in Arkansas? Why are the streets flooded? What can the rice farmers do now that the crop has been ruined? Coal furnaces spew smoke into the air, clouding over and darkening the atmosphere.
Believe in superheroes then. Let windmills be uprooted by freak tornadoes. Enjoy the dimming hum as the powergrid goes down. I command you because I am still in command of the capital I. Now that my mother is dead, no bleeding womb confines me to where I was born. Without guilt, without shame, I have no responsibility to any one not as strong as I am. The weak deserve to perish where they were born -- in the bottom of the well.
Ayn, you are the mirror image of Anne Frank, who, insecure about herself, growing up a Jewish fifteen-year-old under Nazi persecution, kept a diary that revealed the innermost feelings of the weakest among us about to be wiped off the face of the earth for being born where she had been. Ayn/Anne, sometimes people are not strong enough to defeat those circumstances of their birth and become whatever they want to be. Even if all they want is to be alive.
Sincerely
Dr. Mike
[Disposable Prose November 1, 2009]
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