I hate bullies.
Honestly hate people who use fear and intimidation to try to control people, to try to elevate themselves in their thirst for power.
Schools have them, homes have them, businesses have them, governments have them.
They disrupt people's lives, all are destructive and kill the spirit.
Senator Elizabeth Warren is standing up to the white male elected bullies who try to intimidate, manipulate, and control.
Writers across the country are speaking out against Justice Scallia, a white male bully in his statement that voting rights are "racial entitlements."
White female managers can sometimes be the worse bully as we have seen with Marissa Mayer, CEO of Yahoo.
What is it with them?
Girls - even the grown up ones - use gossip, exclusion, and things like rolling their eyes and dismissive tones to bully other girls.
Boys use physical aggression - even the grown up ones.
Economic and emotional are the worse because they are often hidden and most targeted to someone's livelihood, whether it is a spouse taking away resources or an employer making a slave of an hourly employee, it is all detrimental.
I hate bullies.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Imperfect Tuesday
I am not perfect, far from it.
I have my flaws. I am stubborn, I am passionate, I am selfish. I am human.
I know my imperfections sometimes flow up to the surface and make me hard to live with, so says my husband and probably silently says my children.
For example, I can not stand clutter. It make me physically ill. And I am married to a man who is less than organized and even when I have washed, folded, and put his clothes in a place where he can get them, he still throws his suits on the chair, leaves dirty socks all around, and has more papers than there are trees. My beautiful daughters are the messiest creatures I have ever met in life, my little fashionista leaves a mountain of clothes and I can rant and rave, and they are still there. I turn into a mean momma at those moments.
In my imperfections, I also am passionate about the people in my life, about being authentic, and living a full life. I learned in over 16 years with my husband that I have to just accept a bit of clutter, my home is not a showpiece, and no amount of buying storage bins or doing his laundry is going to change him. He is not as bad as the horders (to a point!) and is a good provider and father, so I have to give him a pass. I am trying to raise my girls, as I did my boys, to not be slovenly, that no one ever wants to live with anyone who does not know how to clean their own bathroom, clean their kitchen, and take care of their laundry - the basics.
I have to get away from things, at times, to gain a different perspective. Living with people takes sacrifice and sometimes more grace than the mornings coffee will allow.
I am not perfect, I am human, and I have flaws. I am also caring, compassionate, and concerned about a lot of things in the world.
I have my flaws. I am stubborn, I am passionate, I am selfish. I am human.
I know my imperfections sometimes flow up to the surface and make me hard to live with, so says my husband and probably silently says my children.
For example, I can not stand clutter. It make me physically ill. And I am married to a man who is less than organized and even when I have washed, folded, and put his clothes in a place where he can get them, he still throws his suits on the chair, leaves dirty socks all around, and has more papers than there are trees. My beautiful daughters are the messiest creatures I have ever met in life, my little fashionista leaves a mountain of clothes and I can rant and rave, and they are still there. I turn into a mean momma at those moments.
In my imperfections, I also am passionate about the people in my life, about being authentic, and living a full life. I learned in over 16 years with my husband that I have to just accept a bit of clutter, my home is not a showpiece, and no amount of buying storage bins or doing his laundry is going to change him. He is not as bad as the horders (to a point!) and is a good provider and father, so I have to give him a pass. I am trying to raise my girls, as I did my boys, to not be slovenly, that no one ever wants to live with anyone who does not know how to clean their own bathroom, clean their kitchen, and take care of their laundry - the basics.
I have to get away from things, at times, to gain a different perspective. Living with people takes sacrifice and sometimes more grace than the mornings coffee will allow.
I am not perfect, I am human, and I have flaws. I am also caring, compassionate, and concerned about a lot of things in the world.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
What Is Wrong With This Generation?
My father's words ring true in my hears, he is turning over in his grave, and the hard work of an entire generation is being dismantled one-by-one.
What happened to the Gen Xers and Boomer IIs/Jones Generation (born after 1960) that they (the ones of the Caucasian persuasion) are so uncaring, unfeeling, and unknowing of the history that has plagued this country?
State-after-state tried to disenfranchise millions of primarily black and latino Americans from the hard won right to vote. 1965 was the passing of the Voting Rights Act. One lifetime, someone not yet 50 was born when this law was passed. The 14th and 15th Amendment, Section 5 and the Voting Rights Act, Section 5 is up for argument in everywhere from Shelby County, Alabama to the Supreme court. The very place where the newly elected Governor declared, "segregation now, segregation, segregation forever."
Indiana and other states are invading, literally, the bodies of women in efforts to dismantle Roe v. Wade. They are legislating and sanctioning rape - while not with a body part, but a probe - anything that is forced into a woman's vagina without her consent or will is rape, plain and simple.
The Heritage Foundation and other far right-wing groups have been up-in-arms about early childhood education and the Common Core Standards as well as their quest to inject their super-conservative interpretation of the Christian scriptures into the public school room. There have been state legislation to demand Creationism is taught and not real science. Texas comes to mind.
It makes me wonder, on this Sunday morning, while watching Dr. Melissa Harris-Perry, what in the world happened to these still-young,primarily-white people to make them so evil-spirited?
Tim Wise, the prolific speaker, writer, and essayist on all matters of White Privilege has been trying for years to wake up his generation to the fact that this country is inherently racist and discriminatory in practices from hiring, housing, education, and voting. He writes in all his books to remind them that the election (and re-election) of President Barack Obama does NOT make us colorblind and that white liberals do not get a pass on their ingrained white privilege that they get to ignore the mass incarceration of black and latino men, the intentional redistricting of congressional districts to further disenfranchise people of color, the unequal funding of public schools, etc. are all part of white privilege that is still very prevalent.
The topics are uncomfortable and most would want to just push it under a rug, but just as my father, in the mid-1970s, made us watch The Holocaust and Roots so we could learn history and understand it, we must do the same. What our limited, 150 character world has reduced us to, we must go back, old school, and read the tomes of history and remember what happened so we do not repeat it.
I challenge you, us, to not let our daughters and sons live the darkest days of our nation again. We are better than that. We have to be, we must want the best for everyone. Paying our fair share of taxes is the price we pay for this democracy, that those of us who are in a higher income bracket have a greater responsibility (I am hearing the remnants of scripture ringing in my ears here) and we do have to work together to make this world work. We have to also acknowledge the collect sin of the country and not try to tell black (and increasingly, latino) peoples to "get over it" about racism any more than we should tell women to get over it regarding sexism.
My husband once told me that I am pretty vocal and strong in my opinions. He is correct. I realize that at this midpoint in my life, I have to use this platform to speak out on those things that are visibly wrong. I may only affect one person, but if that one affects another, just as I told my Bridges Across Racial Polarization group and my CFUH bookclub that they have the power in their hands to make some changes. I once said and still believe, I don't want your pity or your apology, I want your contacts, I want you to hire me or one who looks like me (incidentally, black women are the most discriminated against in the country) and pay me equally for the expertise I bring to the table. I told them to speak out against their white friends and family who make disparaging remarks, just as my daughters speak out to me when the pain of history sometimes cause me to say "all white people" instead of "those white people" or "that white person" who did or said something wrong. Growth happens in a lifetime.
I was born during Freedom Summer. In my lifetime I sat in classrooms that were mixed race and we all learned together. I swam in pools that opened up membership to my father and the six kids i grew up with. I want my daughters to have the world available to them according to their abilities.
There is something in our history that is painful that they want to just push it in one month to be taught. This can not be. But in that it is, we can not go back.
What happened to the Gen Xers and Boomer IIs/Jones Generation (born after 1960) that they (the ones of the Caucasian persuasion) are so uncaring, unfeeling, and unknowing of the history that has plagued this country?
State-after-state tried to disenfranchise millions of primarily black and latino Americans from the hard won right to vote. 1965 was the passing of the Voting Rights Act. One lifetime, someone not yet 50 was born when this law was passed. The 14th and 15th Amendment, Section 5 and the Voting Rights Act, Section 5 is up for argument in everywhere from Shelby County, Alabama to the Supreme court. The very place where the newly elected Governor declared, "segregation now, segregation, segregation forever."
Indiana and other states are invading, literally, the bodies of women in efforts to dismantle Roe v. Wade. They are legislating and sanctioning rape - while not with a body part, but a probe - anything that is forced into a woman's vagina without her consent or will is rape, plain and simple.
The Heritage Foundation and other far right-wing groups have been up-in-arms about early childhood education and the Common Core Standards as well as their quest to inject their super-conservative interpretation of the Christian scriptures into the public school room. There have been state legislation to demand Creationism is taught and not real science. Texas comes to mind.
It makes me wonder, on this Sunday morning, while watching Dr. Melissa Harris-Perry, what in the world happened to these still-young,primarily-white people to make them so evil-spirited?
Tim Wise, the prolific speaker, writer, and essayist on all matters of White Privilege has been trying for years to wake up his generation to the fact that this country is inherently racist and discriminatory in practices from hiring, housing, education, and voting. He writes in all his books to remind them that the election (and re-election) of President Barack Obama does NOT make us colorblind and that white liberals do not get a pass on their ingrained white privilege that they get to ignore the mass incarceration of black and latino men, the intentional redistricting of congressional districts to further disenfranchise people of color, the unequal funding of public schools, etc. are all part of white privilege that is still very prevalent.
The topics are uncomfortable and most would want to just push it under a rug, but just as my father, in the mid-1970s, made us watch The Holocaust and Roots so we could learn history and understand it, we must do the same. What our limited, 150 character world has reduced us to, we must go back, old school, and read the tomes of history and remember what happened so we do not repeat it.
I challenge you, us, to not let our daughters and sons live the darkest days of our nation again. We are better than that. We have to be, we must want the best for everyone. Paying our fair share of taxes is the price we pay for this democracy, that those of us who are in a higher income bracket have a greater responsibility (I am hearing the remnants of scripture ringing in my ears here) and we do have to work together to make this world work. We have to also acknowledge the collect sin of the country and not try to tell black (and increasingly, latino) peoples to "get over it" about racism any more than we should tell women to get over it regarding sexism.
My husband once told me that I am pretty vocal and strong in my opinions. He is correct. I realize that at this midpoint in my life, I have to use this platform to speak out on those things that are visibly wrong. I may only affect one person, but if that one affects another, just as I told my Bridges Across Racial Polarization group and my CFUH bookclub that they have the power in their hands to make some changes. I once said and still believe, I don't want your pity or your apology, I want your contacts, I want you to hire me or one who looks like me (incidentally, black women are the most discriminated against in the country) and pay me equally for the expertise I bring to the table. I told them to speak out against their white friends and family who make disparaging remarks, just as my daughters speak out to me when the pain of history sometimes cause me to say "all white people" instead of "those white people" or "that white person" who did or said something wrong. Growth happens in a lifetime.
I was born during Freedom Summer. In my lifetime I sat in classrooms that were mixed race and we all learned together. I swam in pools that opened up membership to my father and the six kids i grew up with. I want my daughters to have the world available to them according to their abilities.
There is something in our history that is painful that they want to just push it in one month to be taught. This can not be. But in that it is, we can not go back.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Pining For Warmer Days
To say that it is cold outside is an understatement.
To say that the big snow and freeze coming to Missouri is going to be epic is also an understatement.
To say that I wish I was back on the Gulf Coast is an enormous understatement.
I wanted to remember the warmth so I wrote a post this morning on my local Patch. It is full of photos and yearning for a week ago when I was walking on the white sand beaches and taking in the sights that these tired-of-winter midwestern eyes had a hard time describing that particular shade of blue.
We can look up and count the days, let February go out in all her freezing glory, and pine for warmer days. It will be the heat of July soon enough, in the mean time, enjoy some Gulf Coast Memories.
To say that the big snow and freeze coming to Missouri is going to be epic is also an understatement.
To say that I wish I was back on the Gulf Coast is an enormous understatement.
I wanted to remember the warmth so I wrote a post this morning on my local Patch. It is full of photos and yearning for a week ago when I was walking on the white sand beaches and taking in the sights that these tired-of-winter midwestern eyes had a hard time describing that particular shade of blue.
We can look up and count the days, let February go out in all her freezing glory, and pine for warmer days. It will be the heat of July soon enough, in the mean time, enjoy some Gulf Coast Memories.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Gulf Coast Musings
I had the pleasure of spending five days down on the Gulf Coast during Mardi Gras.
The sun was shining and the water, from afar, was quite blue and peaceful. It was a refreshing change of pace from the buttoned up, cold, and frenzied pace I've been running for the past few weeks.
We walked along the beach, peaked into quaint shops, and simply slowed down, something that is commonplace in that part of Alabama.
Orange Beach, Point Clear, and Fair Hope are the three places we spent the majority of our time and the two of the three places I would definitely consider as writing havens. I learned that a lot of the people in Fair Hope simply did not leave, just stayed there and kept writing, drawing, and creating because the community was so welcoming to creative types.
When we returned to Missouri and hit the ground running, barely unpacking, my mind kept taking me back to the beach and the calm appreciation of the world we experienced. I thought about what we could do to bottle the experience and bring it back here.
We collected sea shells and forgot to bottle sand, took loads of pictures, and tried to breath in as much as we could. It was idyllic.
The return to Missouri brought with it some of the reminders of why time away is so refreshing to the soul.
We only have this one life, these few moments between our life dash, and all of it should not be stressed away because one political party wants to destroy the middle class and bring back a slave state. Our life dash should not be compromised because greed supersedes need and there are some who can never spend all they take from those who have so little. The space of months and years should not be stressed away through dogma.
I walked along the pier and looked out over the waters and determined that since I am probably right in the middle of my life, I have an opportunity to make the rest of it what I want it to be, that the expanse of the universe will open up and make room on the page for the words that tumble out of my soul.
When I decided that, I accidentally on purpose met a publicist on the FloraBama border on one of the last days down there. She and I chatted and exchanged business cards.
There may not be a market for poetry, as the owner of the Page and Palette told me, but there is a market for a story written for women like me who know there is so much more to us than the exploitative literature currently being passed off.
The people I met were friendly and accommodating, the feeling of Mardi Gras infused me with love for my culture, and the time away renewed my soul.
I want for everyone to be their fullest and authentic self and for the vitirol and hatred over the other that has plagued our news for years will go away, remove the fear, in the end, we are all have a right to life, liberty,and pursuit of happiness.
The Gulf Coast was where my soul found her place.
The sun was shining and the water, from afar, was quite blue and peaceful. It was a refreshing change of pace from the buttoned up, cold, and frenzied pace I've been running for the past few weeks.
We walked along the beach, peaked into quaint shops, and simply slowed down, something that is commonplace in that part of Alabama.
Orange Beach, Point Clear, and Fair Hope are the three places we spent the majority of our time and the two of the three places I would definitely consider as writing havens. I learned that a lot of the people in Fair Hope simply did not leave, just stayed there and kept writing, drawing, and creating because the community was so welcoming to creative types.
When we returned to Missouri and hit the ground running, barely unpacking, my mind kept taking me back to the beach and the calm appreciation of the world we experienced. I thought about what we could do to bottle the experience and bring it back here.
We collected sea shells and forgot to bottle sand, took loads of pictures, and tried to breath in as much as we could. It was idyllic.
The return to Missouri brought with it some of the reminders of why time away is so refreshing to the soul.
We only have this one life, these few moments between our life dash, and all of it should not be stressed away because one political party wants to destroy the middle class and bring back a slave state. Our life dash should not be compromised because greed supersedes need and there are some who can never spend all they take from those who have so little. The space of months and years should not be stressed away through dogma.
I walked along the pier and looked out over the waters and determined that since I am probably right in the middle of my life, I have an opportunity to make the rest of it what I want it to be, that the expanse of the universe will open up and make room on the page for the words that tumble out of my soul.
When I decided that, I accidentally on purpose met a publicist on the FloraBama border on one of the last days down there. She and I chatted and exchanged business cards.
There may not be a market for poetry, as the owner of the Page and Palette told me, but there is a market for a story written for women like me who know there is so much more to us than the exploitative literature currently being passed off.
The people I met were friendly and accommodating, the feeling of Mardi Gras infused me with love for my culture, and the time away renewed my soul.
I want for everyone to be their fullest and authentic self and for the vitirol and hatred over the other that has plagued our news for years will go away, remove the fear, in the end, we are all have a right to life, liberty,and pursuit of happiness.
The Gulf Coast was where my soul found her place.
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