Rachel Jeantel On Trial

Rachel Jeantel, the 19 year old young woman questioned as a key prosecution witness in the Trayvon Martin trial, was/is put through a trial of her own in the court of public opinion.  Social media overall, but especially Twitter have newly pages, status updates, posts and hashtags which mock nearly everything about her.  One would almost think that Rachel Jeantel was the one on trial Wednesday and Thursday instead of George Zimmerman.

I’m not going to lie; I cringed as I watched/heard some of the proceedings.   I knew how she would appear to some people. She was virtually a walking stereotype: a poorly educated, fat, angry black teenage female with an attitude.  However, I also saw a young woman thrown into a situation none of us would ever want to be in, trying hard to keep her head up and do the best she can.

Her demeanor, especially on that first day was most described as “antagonistic and defensive”.  No shit Sherlock.  Is this truly a surprise?  She’s a 19 year old witness at a murder trial facing the lawyer for the defendant.  The person she knows whose job it is to discredit her and anything she may say in hopes of making her look bad and his client look good to the jury.  Nah, you’re not going to be on your guard and defensive about that at all.

The next day, she was calmer; there was noticeably less antagonism between her and the lawyer during questioning.  Enough so that it West himself commented on it, to which a good night’s sleep was Jeantel’s reply.    Was the discerning public happy?  Not quite, for now the was commentary over her multiple uses of “sir” to Don West in a subtle implication of “Uncle Toming“.  Classic damned if one does/damned if one does not.

Nearly every other tweet regarding her either induced facepalming or had me outright cringing in its vitriol. Posters questioned her education, mocked her looks and retweeted her less than inspiring tweets. Because we all know, that at nineteen years of age, every phrase that spouts from ones thoughts in 160 characters or less is going to be jaw-dropping brilliant.  Still I what simply cannot grasp is why so many blacks in particular on Twitter felt the need to mock and insult a teenaged girl clearly still grieving over the loss of a friend.

The way these detractors have posted “in jest” is so heartless it makes me sick. And almost none of it has anything to do with the trail itself, but exists solely to humiliate a young woman at what must be the most vulnerable time in her life thus far.  It begs to wonder how any of those finding such humorous sport in this would fare on a courtroom stand, under a tremendous amount of pressure, while being watched by the nation, all at 19 years of age.

Makes me wanna holler throw up both my hands.

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Breathe

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Not sure when it happened, horrifies me that it happened without my noticing, but suddenly I am terrified of reaching – truly reaching and risking – for the things I want.

A friend recently posted the above as her Facebook status.  The below is my response…

Breathe. You slipped into a moment of complacency. It happens to all of us. Perhaps you needed the break for a moment, but it’s lasted too long and now you’re aware. Rest is over hon, time to get your life in gear again.

Breathe. It is a little more terrifying than the first you put your faith in His hands, while taking your guts in yours and leaped, because then you didn’t think anything could slow your forward motion. Now you know things can if you’re not paying attention and be vigilant, so it does not go too far again. Moreover, you know you had the faith/guts to start this path before, you will and find it again.

Breathe. Stop worrying about the endgame for a moment. What is the very first step you need to accomplish to set you on your path again? Focus on that, complete it, reassess, and focus on that next.

Breathe. How can you ever fail as long you’re ever trying to move forward and so many of us have your back? I’ll let you guess what final word of my heartvice to you will be. You can begin with that…

For an admitted Snark Queen, every now and then, even I surprise myself…

…as the…

…As the anger coursing through my veins

As I look across this beach foreign to me
As my guns carve the limit of my restraint’s lack
As I seize the day for another’s sovereignty
As my brothers at arms fight at my sides and back

…As the hunger crawling over my sin

When I think of the shade of certain someone’s hair
When I think prose of its owner quite a distances flight
When I think once again how life’s a tutor of the unfair
When I try not to think of her smooth skin that night

…As the crier of my resolution’s wane

On this sand far from my home’s grassy hills
On this life bewildered by what’s come to past
On this soil dyed crimson with this war’s kills
On this day bullets destined to be my last

…As the last prayer given beneath my skin

For the medic who sighs at what he sees
For the home I go to, just not where I used to play
For the glass like calm that washes over me
For the final trip now only two closed eyes away

…White… as the anger coursing through my veins

White… as the hunger crawling over my sin

White… as the crier of my resolution’s wane

White… as the last prayer given beneath my skin

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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 100

What’s Yours?

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No I cannot forgive you yet
No I cannot forgive you yet
You leave us all in debt
I should have known…

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When the Foo Fighter’s song “I Should Have Known” came out, group lead Dave Grohl stated -and he does have a point- that anything he writes relating to loss or death, the public will generally read into it that it is in some fashion related to the suicide of his Nirvana band mate, Kurt Cobain. However, the song becomes especially more haunting and Cobain related for those of us that knew that Dave was joined by two other members of the now defunct Nirvana as guests musicians on this song.  And while Grohl certainly understands why the public instantly makes the connection to Cobain here, he has stated repeatedly that yes Kurt is in there, the song was not specifically about him.

And that I can understand…

For  just as much as I feel the impact of the loss Cobain in this song, as I also feel the loss of my late-husband…

I was home  -thank goodness- when I first heard the song. On that very first listen, by the end of the first stanza, I remember I stopped everything I was doing at the moment, sat down and just listened to the song on repeat. “I Should Have Known” immediately reminded me of some of the stages of grieving, I went through…

The guilt: I’m still standing here, You leave my heart in debt, caught me unawares

But especially the crescendo as Grohl refrains No I cannot forgive you yet.

It’s raw, it’s pounding, you can all but see the fury and anguish pouring out. For those of us who have walked the grieving path, especially for the loss of someone who left us unexpectedly, we know this. We know it too well.

When my husband passed away, I recall being in that anger stage for a very long time.

A. Very. Long. Time…

And this song took me right back there to that very first year of grieving.  It hit me so hard, that when I was finally able to turn the song off an hour later, I was hurt and wanted to scream all over again.  This song is  such a brilliant mood changer for me, even now.  Here I am -some seven years after my husband’s passing and two years after the song’s debut- that the moment I heard those first opening chords of the strings through my iPod, it still gave me a moment’s pause, that I stopped reading my book and just listened.

Enough of a pause that, hours later, I still had to acknowledge it and write this blog.

Everyone has a song that gives them pause… what’s yours?

Friday 55: What You Ask For…

Again, I awaken breathless.  Again, remembering nothing of the dreams that could cause such a state.  Last night I told myself -don’t think in the morning; say the first thing that comes to mind aloud, and I will remember.

So I did, and I did; but now I wish I hadn’t…

I dreamt of you.

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Trying my hand at Flash Fiction, also called sudden fiction, micro fiction or nanofiction via Friday 55.
Write a story in exactly 55 words, then tell the G-Man!

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Doctor’s Order

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries – aka the shit that come out of my mouth:

A friend has had stomach problems for nearly a week. Well, nearly a week in which he has admitted it. Knowing him, it was going on for much longer. And why doesn’t he go to the doctor, you (and I) ask?

Quote– I know… I need to see the Dr.. but I am afraid — unquote

Of course me, being the caring, compassionate, being that I am (*cough/wheeze/choke/hack* – dang I can’t even say that in a blog with a straight face- responds as follows:

“Go right ahead and keep on procrastinating seeing the doctor. I declare if I have to come visit you in a hospital because you let something minor turn into something major, all because you were afraid, I am going to redefine the word harangue so badly as to make a filibuster seem a like mere quip!”

Want to take three guesses on who made an appointment -in my presence- to see the doctor on Friday?

Touch Of Faith

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They’ve always said the answers will come for all I’ve pled
They’ve always said that all I’ve hungered for will be fed
That all I have to do is reach out and believe
But I laughed them off feeling greatly misled

They’ve always said I’d never be alone, faith would be my homestead
They’ve always said I would feel alive after years of feeling dead
So I opened my heart and touched a sleeve
Now I believe the things they’ve always said

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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight :  Week 98

A Dream Remembered

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With one hand on the hexagram and one hand on the girl
I balance on a wishing well that all men call the world.
We are so small between the stars, so large against the sky,
and lost among the subway crowds I try to catch your eye.
‘Stories of the Street” – Leonard Cohen / Songs of Leonard Cohen

I stand here on this dirty stoop and watch the world go by
A sense of the familiar comes, but I can’t figure why
These walls of my horizon cannot touch the clear blue sky
Of the home of my childhood, with its vistas wide and green
The thought to even compare such, to me is just obscene
Yet the feeling weighs upon me, a slow careful unfurl
Like this star that’s drawn among all the writing on the wall
How it matches the pendant of this sweet thing I recall
The thoughts weave through my muddled mind, as timelines start to swirl
With one hand on the hexagram and one hand on the girl

In the middle of this day, I’m taken back to that night
Though it’s a sweet, sweet memory, I know it’s not quite right
The strong sense of euphoria, of happiness, of light
It wraps itself around me, a feeling I can’t shake yet
Like that lingering dampness after being cold and wet
I wait for it to come, a new wisdom to be pearled
With the magic of the city from a secret wand thrown
I blend into the dankness, one of the many unknown
Just another cast off penny, with a final wish hurled
I balance on a wishing well that all men call the world

You pass me as I stand here, suddenly it all makes sense
All the odd and wild sensations that held me in suspense.
Memories of homeland, pummel me with force intense
You don’t say a single word, but I feel it in my core
I somehow know you’re now my home, and yet you’re so much more
This sprawling festering city seems small with an ally
You’re a dream remembered; details forgotten start to gel
I watch you sink from view, as you descend to subway hell
Where a man’s dream of the world comes in such a small supply
We are so small between the stars, so large against the sky

But this dream was meant to be, once I gazed upon your face
A gentle whiff of homeland, in this god-forsaken place
The familiar in the unknown – what you bring to my space
But first I have to woo you, let you know, we’re meant to be
An oasis for just two, in the midst of this city
Still not knowing how I’ll do it, just knowing I must try
I quickly follow my instincts into this moving mass
Surrounded by so many, yet I only see you lass
I stand alone among the din, this massive human sigh
And lost among the subway crowds, I try to catch your eye.

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Yes, me and my old friend the Glosa join forces with Cohen again.

dVerse  Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight : Week 97

His Eye Is On The Sparrow

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His words…

I may have just gotten in a lot of trouble for disassembling a good portion of the steel siding around the front entrance door to the shop…. so I could grab a baby sparrow that fell down into the metal channel with mom and dad freakin’ out….

Worth it.

Definitely worth it.

Yet one more of the many reasons I am proud to call this guy my friend.