Yesterday, I met with a man in a Thai restaurant who told me about his mission to end violence against women in 100 years.
He doesn’t want to end violence against women in his town or his county, the State of Wisconsin or the U.S. He wants to end violence against women around the world.
I drank tea while he told me why. Two years ago, his 19-year old daughter was raped and murdered in his family’s house by a young man whom she had known for many years, a person she and her parents considered a friend. The story is summed up in this article about Buck Blodgett’s decision to choose love rather than hate as a response to his daughter Jessie’s murder.
I’m no stranger to wild plans. But even after hearing dozens of crazy pitches over the years, impossible, disjointed dreams with no prayer of becoming real, I’m no cynic. I’m also not easily impressed. Saying has never made it so for me.
But there was something about this man and his mission that made me feel in the presence of what could someday be a glorious avalanche. It seemed not impossible nor outlandish for him to envision organizing a movement that would end violence against women around the world in 100 years. It could start somewhere, right? It could start in this man’s hometown, in the house where his beloved daughter died.
I feel like I maybe saw a wave of the future and even though it most assuredly will be a long time coming, it was beautiful.