I’m quite sure today was going to be a post about caffeine, about autumn, or about service people. But I want to hold all of those for a moment. Today is a day that really doesn’t mean altogether much to my generation, but I think it should. That may be in part, to the fact that it is a very British day, but I think the point is very universal.
Today is Guy Fawkes Day. And because of that, I am thankful for rebellion. (Look into this day. Really, look past the movie which I have included a picture of. It’s fascinating.)
Now, why is it that a young woman, such as myself, living in the midwest portion of the United States of America be thankful for REBELLION?
It is what my country was founded on. An open act of rebellion caused my country ot be formed. And it has continued to do so for many countries since. But I cadnnot say I am a fan of ALL rebellion, for that rwould be too broad a statement. So let me tell you about some of the rebellions that I am actively participating in and how they make me thankful.
First though, let me define rebellion. For this post, the definition of rebellion I am using is: the open refusal of acceptance of an ideal or action.
I rebel against inequality, against poverty, uneducation, and greed. I rebel against body shaming, stereotypes and hatred. I rebel against boring and unpassionate art. I rebel against anything that says I cannot be everything I dream of being, no matter how “crazy” it may seem. I rebel against oppression and those who would seek to exploit others.
And the thing is, the more you list things, like I did, the more you realize that life doesn’t have to be all about going with the flow. It can be about changing society, changing the world. That’s a pretty great reason to rebel, if you ask me.
And so, in honor of this day, here’s the poem about Guy Fawkes.
The Fifth of November
The fifth of November,
The Gunpowder treason and plot;
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!
Guy Fawkes and his companions
Did the scheme contrive,
To blow the King and Parliament
All up alive.
Threescore barrels, laid below,
To prove old England’s overthrow.
But, by God’s providence, him they catch,
With a dark lantern, lighting a match!
A stick and a stake
For King James’s sake!
If you won’t give me one,
I’ll take two,
The better for me,
And the worse for you.
A rope, a rope, to hang the Pope,
A penn’orth of cheese to choke him,
A pint of beer to wash it down,
And a jolly good fire to burn him.
Holloa, boys! holloa, boys! make the bells ring!
Holloa, boys! holloa boys! God save the King!
Hip, hip, hooor-r-r-ray!