Tag Archives: Opinion

Makes Me Want To Holler – Again

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zimmermanGeorge Zimmerman puts gun that killed Trayvon Martin up for auction

“I am honored and humbled to announce the sale of an American Firearm Icon,” Zimmerman wrote in his online description of the weapon.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

This man used that gun to take a child’s life. Clearly Zimmerman’s only remorse is the infamy the trial has awarded him because of it. And in case you miss my sarcasm, he has no remorse.

Every time I hear Zimmerman’s name I have to beg forgiveness for the thoughts that come into my mind.  The idea that someone will bid on it, will actually buy it – I cannot begin to express the rage that fills me anew right now.  I wonder what the jury that acquitted him must feel of their decision in light of this bullshit.

When people say Karma will get him, I generally nod in agreement. However, days like this, my faith in Karma and her twisted shenanigans wavers greatly and I doubt whether I will ever see that happen.  Should I be so lucky, I am not going to lie – schadenfreude will be on full force that day.

I also cannot help, but think that was Trayvon Martin a white teen, that Zimmerman would be seen as a Hispanic thug killing innocent kids in a family oriented community. Alas, a white man “defending himself” is how it goes down in the official records. Situations like this reinforce the idea of how little a black life is worth in some eyes, how Zimmerman’s auction devalues Martin’s life even further, to the point of blatant mockery.

What profit’s a man indeed.

The fact that Zimmerman is walking around a free man doing this. Yes, he’s an American. Yes, he is well within his rights to do this.

To the person who purchases it – if your intent is anything other than to destroy the gun so no one else will profit off Trayvon Martin’s life – you are par of the problem.

I wonder what the general mood would be if O.J. Simpson auctioned off the infamous glove.

 

Princely

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It’s after 11pm, the train pulls in at 34th Street and two men get on. They were young, no more than 25.  One has his iPhone connected to a Bluetooth speaker, loudly playing Prince’s Little Red Corvette.  As the doors close behind him, the one with the iPhone turns the volume down. As the train pulls out of the station, it was clear he could barely hear the music anymore. Addressing everyone and no one he asks: “Ladies and gentleman, I don’t want to be rude, but my headphones are broken and I can’t replace them until tomorrow. But I really need to hear me some Prince right now. Is it okay if I turn  this up and share it with you?”

This was Thursday night, hours after the news of the death of Prince has shocked the world. From the outpouring of positively to the young man’s question, one would have thought the pastor  just asked the church for an “Amen!” after a good sermon. I am guessing most of us on the train were still reeling from the news, I know I still was.  The reaction was about the same, so he turned it up just as the opening lines of Let’s Go Crazy was coming on.

“Dearly beloved
We are gathered here today
To get through this thing called life“

He wasn’t just listening to the music, but part quoting/singing along with it. Once it reached the part of “Go crazy”  a good portion of us on the train had joined in with him. It was an impromptu mini-concert/singalong for quite a few stops. It was continuously amusing as the unaware boarded the train and were thrust pell-mell into the ad hoc celebration. Luckily most joined the fun, or at the very least nodded agreeably with the contained madness.  And contained madness was exactly what it was until Purple Rain came on.

It seemed, as one, we all became quiet as the opening chords played. It was penance. It was salvation. It was redemption. It was church. It was a reverent moment of silence, just listening to him…

“I never meant to cause you any sorrow
I never meant to cause you any pain
I only wanted to one time to see you laughing
I only wanted to see you
Laughing in the purple rain“

And again, as one, we came out of that reverent trance to sing the chorus together. Some with heads down, but hands waving slowly in the air, feeling it. Yes, there were some people crying and it was alright. I could not help, but think Prince himself would have liked that. He would have enjoyed that moment of oneness among strangers over his songs.

“Thinking about how we mourn artists we’ve never met. We don’t cry because we knew them, we cry because they helped us know ourselves.”

— Juliette (Elusive J)

Policing the Uterus

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http://www.nbcnews.com/news/asian-america/indiana-has-now-charged-two-asian-american-women-feticide-n332761

I literally saw red as I examined the above article.  I felt my blood pressure spike at the thought of this. I mean are you fucking kidding me?!?!

Granted laws make exceptions for when a woman has a miscarriage–but only if there is no human intervention involved. Had it not been for the shame of pregnancy, Ms. Patel did not receive professional medical attention until after the miscarriage occurred, and her situation grew dire, she likely would not be facing jail time.  The shame of the pregnancy kept her silent, that silence meant when she realized she was in the midst of a miscarriage, she tried to hide it. Her trying to hide it snowballed in this craziness here.

Because the Uterine Police, not just the law, also investigates miscarriages, and whether in a hospital or without medical assistance, it must be reported and a fetal death certificate issued. If the cause of death is unknown, it must be investigated.  If the woman can’t, or won’t, tell how it happened, then the Uterine Police can ask family members and friends how.

Even if a woman has made a decision to abort, but miscarries before she can act on that decision, experiences some heartbreak.  There is no best of circumstances for a miscarriage, it rends. Now imagine going through that physical trauma and then having the Uterine Police interrogating your family, your friends and maybe even your colleagues trying to dig up dirt to punish you for it. Because in this increasing culture of “Better the mother dead, than the fetus” not all states will recognize a woman choosing to save her own life when the fetus she is carrying can very likely kill her, such as the case with some ectopic pregnancies, as valid.

The Uterine Police will search your computer, your internet history, your online purchases to use it against you if it can.  Just ask Ms. Patel.

It is not a coincidence that this has happened to two Asian-american women. Their conservative culture making them easy prey for those in the Uterine Police, who could not care less about their right to their own bodies, let alone their right to privacy. They needed scapegoats to make examples out of and these two women fit the bill. And let’s call a spade, a spade here. This likely would never have happened to a white female.  Yet even that is rendered near irrelevant in this.

Because once again, this is mostly men, (ab)using the law, using their personal ideologies to control every woman’s uterus.

Every session someone tries to introduce a bill that would outright make abortion a criminal act.

This bullshit here is one step closer to it.

I Ain’t ‘Fraid of No Stereotype – I’m Pissed

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So the official trailer for the remake of Ghostbusters has hit the internet.

And I am pissed-off.

I fully understand this is a reboot of the original Ghostbusters and the new characters somewhat mirror their male counterparts from 1984, but in the original, when Ernie Hudson’s character Winston joins the group he comes in -more or less- as an equal partner to the three scientists. So what happened to Leslie Jones’ character Patty in this remake? As depicted in this trailer, I don’t see it. It’s looks more like they, the three white scientists, are the brains and she is the loud mouth brawn.

It is 2016 and the trope of the smart white guys and their “street-wise” black partner is just plain OLD. Gender swapping does not make it less noticeable. The –you three got all your degrees, but I got a Cadillac, I know NYC and I will slap the ghost out of you! – scenes of Patty, as shown in the trailer, play so heavily on the Loud/Streetwise Black Woman stereotypes that it is a neck roll and three finger snap in a Z formation away from looking racist.

It is bad enough that women of color are under represented in movies as is. When we do appear it is often as some stereotype. And after so many years of movie going it is so frustrating to see again and again and yet again. Would it really have been so far out of the movie going mindset that Leslie Jones portray one of the scientists and let’s say Kate McKinnon portray the streetwise one?

Maybe Patty will come off more as an equal in the overall arc of the movie, I really hope so, because the trailer clearly missed the mark in portraying such.

At least this iteration of Ghostbusters will pass the Bechdel Test.

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Let’s see how other are slicing it up this Saturday…

sol

Slice of Life Story Challenge – Day 5 | Two Writing Teachers

Time Keeps On Slippin’

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It’s interesting/funny/weird what thoughts can pop into one’s head at any given moment.

Friends and I were conversing about our various upcoming vacations planned for the year. As is the wont is such cases several of us were “I can’t wait to go to…”. What struck me was when one friend ended her vacation itinerary with “Dammit! I wish it were May already!” It’s a common enough desire, especially when looking forward to pleasurable pursuits, but for some reason it struck me as wrong today.

“Don’t do that!” I stopped her.
“Do what?”
“Wish your life away.”

Naturally this generated some very curious looks from the others in the conversation.

We adults, and I definitely include my self in this, constantly say “I wish it were Friday already!” first thing Monday mornings. Oh but, what would we miss if we could just snap our fingers, bypass Tuesday through Thursday and land square at 12:01 am Friday?  Because we focus on the humdrum of an average day, and we all want to be more than average, that we’re mentally, emotionally rushing to get to the next big joy that we’re skipping over the day-to-day of simply living through the small ones.

On my first day of business school I had wished, I was done and graduated because I was not looking forward to the eighteen months of school work ahead of me. Had that wish come true I may have never met the man who would become my husband and missed out on what are now some very fond memories of our time there.

In the words of Stevie Wonder: I wish those days could come back once more…

Take into consideration that when we wish our lives away we’re taking the world with us because El Sol and La Luna do not turn in tune  just one to individual’s desire and leave the rest of our time alone. We don’t just rush our own lives, but the lives of every one else.  You know the saying time flies when you’re having fun? Imagine your moments of joy literally being shortened by someone who is wishing their own horrible moment, hour, day, week, month, year, life away.

An uncle of mine once said to take your age and double it, and then think about chances of your reaching that age. I believe was all of twelve at the time, and in the selfish immortality of my youth, living to see twenty-four was a given so who cares? I’m a long way from twelve, and for that matter twenty-four, while I may have decent odds of doubling may fifty-two years on this earth, the reality is sobering when one considers the inevitable.

Because no matter how long we are alive, it’s never going to be as long as we are dead. After all…

All we are is dust in the wind…

Do we really want to randomly wish moments, minutes, days, weeks, months, and/or years of it away because we can’t be so bothered to actually live it?

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Let’s see how others are slicing up their day…

Slice of Life Challenge: Two Writing Teachers

sol

What The World Needs Now

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So, I was privately asked by a surprising number of people why I had not temporarily changed my Facebook profile picture in a show of support for Paris. I who am usually up on the latest Facebook fads to have not done so was surprising to them. They have a point, but this Facebook Paris profile thing is just one I could not do.

I’ve been to Paris, but even if I had never step foot in the city I still would wholeheartedly feel for what Paris is going through.  Just as I felt the outrage for London when they were bombed in 2005, often referred to as 7/7 – the date of the occurrence, just as I know both countries grieved with us here in the United States when 9/11 happened.  There is this overwhelming sense of helplessness when one is reading of such a tragedy from afar. After all what can the average Jane and Joe from so far away do right?  Granted, most of the world did not have social media, let alone the ability to easily change our profile pics on FB in 2001 or 2005, but today if we can’t really do anything else, the very least we can do, and it really is the very least, is change our profile picture to show our support for Paris right? Right.

When I noticed the changing profile pictures my very first thought was that’s nice.  Our hearts are in the right places, I do not make light of it.

I get it.

I really do.

Still, I could not help but ask myself the following – where were these near instantaneous profile pics apps of solidarity for

Where are the profile pic apps for any all of them?

A couple of months or so ago, here in the US, Facebookers were able to be “StraightOutta___” whatever they chose to be straight out of in honor/celebration of the release of the movie “Straight Outta Compton”.

A movie.

A simple movie about a rap group from the 80’s was worthy of being on our profile pictures, yet today is the 580th day since 273 Nigerian school girls were kidnapped by Boko Haram terrorists in Nigeria. 57 escaped and 219 are still missing.

Where’s their profile pic overlay app?

Some have tried to say that most of the above didn’t count because the countries have been in some form of contentious states for years, even decades now. But just because Paris is relatively brand new to this and is considered a safe place, are they more worthy than the Israeli and Palestinian who live with the threat of a bombing as a daily fact of life? Uh. no.  And please let it begin and end right here with why tragedies to brown faces get less news coverage and hold our attentions far shorter than tragedies to white faces.  I just can’t/won’t go there with that today for we are all hurting.

We cannot look at the events of Paris and not share in their grief. Nor should we ignore the horrors of one tragedy in order to acknowledge the horrors of another.  I have no qualms for the many Facebookers who have temporarily changed their profile pictures in solidarity of Paris. Again, because I understand it, I really do. I have changed my Facebook cover to better reflect the suffering seemingly everywhere, for I have no solutions or resolutions either.

It’s a jacked-up world we’re living in and the events in Paris and in Lebanon and in Nigeria… and… and… are already fading into the happier glow of the coming holidays, because it’s all we can do to hold to what little happiness can be found out here for us.

Let’s find it and try to hold on to it long past the times that go by with auld lang syne.

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Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Yourself First

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I was conversing with a friend a few months back, stating while things were far from ideal in my life right now, I am happy with my life in general and with myself  as a person. I was completely taken aback when she said she didn’t think she has ever been truly happy with herself, ever.  I understand it is human to have times when we may not necessarily like ourselves, but to not have been happy – ever? That is deep.  It also explained a lot about her, which was kind of why I was having the conversation in the first place, but that’s her story.

Since that conversation, the subject of personal happiness has come up several times since. Again, I’m continually surprised by how many of my friends are secretly, or not so secretly in some cases, unhappy, with their lives, with themselves. Many don’t, refuse to or simply can’t see the self loathing that is the basis of much of their unhappiness.

Whether you realize or not, It is very hard to love life when you don’t love yourself.

I spent years not being miserable, unable to get along with people, until I finally realized my difficulties with other people were really my difficulties with myself.  I’ve carried my (un)fair share of self shame, unwarranted guilt, inferiority, rejection, etc., internalized it all into a lack of self-love and acceptance. The infamous They say fake it until you make it. Well, I faked the funk well with those who didn’t know, or didn’t care, enough to look deeper. And then self-flagellated as to why didn’t they care enough to look deeper? Because I wasn’t worth it? Charming little cycle of viciousness ain’t it?

There’s a boat load of things I likely would have handled much better when I was younger, had I asked for help at an earlier stage. I told myself I was being strong, I’ve got it handled. Bullshit. I was too weak to ask for help because I did not feel I was worthy of receiving it. If the first step of solving any dilemma is admitting to yourself you’re in one, then the second step most certainly is voicing your need help and the third is accepting that help and actually helping yourself.  It’s a long road, often a tough one, but it is a worthy one. Sometimes you have to put yourself first to get there, and that may mean, reminding others that you are worthy of personal happiness not because of what they allow you to have only after their me. me. me-s, but because YOU give yourself permission to be happy.  There’s a difference between selfish and taking time to take care of yourself. And part of taking care of yourself is making sure you’re doing enough to love yourself for yourself. Not when you reach some arbitrary goal, or if something happens to you – love who you are, as you are right this moment.

Only you can do that for you.

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As I recently posted on Facebook…

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Because goodness, and every one else for that matter, knows I love me some me now!

It’s really an old adage, but to paraphrase Rupaul who has made it popular in all her blunt glorious sass,  “If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love anybody or anything else?”

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Let’s see how others are slicing through life…

Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

No Photos Please!

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A friend of mine was posting in a group on Facebook and apparently “Funeral Selfies” is a thing now.

Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like, taking photos of oneself at a wake or funeral and then posting it to social media for the world can see. Really. And I hate to think this, but in this land of you know you want to know what’s happening with me right this minute! instant information, it so feels so much like something some in the “millennial” generation would do and I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how anyone could be so incredibly narcissistic, at a funeral nonetheless, and think it is okay.

At the wake for my late-husband, Del, a cousin I had not seen in nearly a decade at that point, showed up in bright pink rollers and a scarf that was a joke of an attempt at covering them, so she was already pissing me off. I mean, who shows up at a wake in rollers? As I’m speaking with Reese, my late-husband’s cousin and best friend, I hear the familiar click of a camera behind me. I spin around and call out “No.” waving my index finger. It is Del taking a picture of a couple of friends/family near of the back of the room.

“It’s okay, he’s not in the picture”. She explained at my reaction. “He” being my late husband, aka the deceased that was laying at the front of the same room, and the reason why we were all there at that moment. I continued shaking my head and waving my finger in the negative, but Del lifted the camera preparing to take another picture. I remember thinking “Oh, you’re going to argue with me, the widow at her own husband’s wake?” instead what came out of my mouth was “NO!” at a volume that stopped everyone in the room. I had not even realized that I had taken the physical steps to beat her with her camera until I felt Reese restrain me. Whatever was on my face, Del and those she wanted pictures of were quickly going outside. Luckily, selfies as we know and use them now did not exist then. Because I know if she were truly taking a picture of herself at the moment Reese could not have held me back.

I find even taking photos outside of a funeral parlor or at a church where it’s obviously a funeral is gauche. A wake/funeral is not about you. If you yourself are not in deep mourning, you are there for the deceased and/o for those who are in mourning. That’s why it’s called paying your last respects. How are taking photos of yourself showing that respect? At the very least have the manners to wait until the repast for such.

If you don’t have pictures of friends/family members at happier events whose fault is that? Show up at a party, a BBQ, a wedding or family reunion. Or better yet host one to have people over so you can happy photos.

I think taking pictures at a wake/funeral/interment of the living or dead is so disrespectful enough. Turning around and then posting such on social media is a level of gracelessness I simply cannot comprehend.

“You look lovely, that dress is so cute! Where was this?”

“Oh thanks! I got it at the boutique. That was at Nana’s funeral last month.”

My immediate family knows “NO PHOTOS”. God help anyone taking pictures at my funeral. Just for spite, I am showing up in every photo as the creepy shadowy figure that doesn’t go away no matter how they try to crop or Photoshop me out.

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Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life Writing Challenge | Two Writing Teachers

Hello Sunshine

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It comes with the territory of winters in New York City. From early December until late February I have few chances to walk in the sun during the work week. The way my work hours run, I head to the train station in the mornings in the dark, and same thing when I head to the train in the evenings for home. Depending upon the weather I may bask in a piece of sunshine from the train to the office in the am, or perhaps a moment or so during lunch. But for the most part, once the holidays are over I am plunged into a dark gray, dank world for several weeks. I get a little tiny bit happy each year come late January when my trains ascends from the bowels of the earth and I spy a few minutes of sun before it sets. It is my first harbinger of the days getting longer, even if only for a few minutes and I’ll take it.

It’s only in late February that I start to get the same treat again in the mornings as I head to work. Last Friday, I caught myself squinting on the elevated platform as the sun rose was just over the roof line of the platform on the opposite track to blind me. I was so happy, I did something I had not done since November. I pulled out my sunglasses, put them on and simply basked in the glow for the scant minutes until the train arrived.

Then daylight savings time kicked in. I did not notice it on Sunday as it was the weekend and by the time I arose the sun was already out, but I sure noticed going to work in the morning.

The weather said sunny and 40 degrees. After the freezing temperatures and snow of last week, this was almost sultry. I walked out of my front door this morning prepared to don sunglasses again only to find myself plunged back into darkness. I mentally grated my teeth in frustration. I had momentarily forgotten about this nasty little side effect of the time change for the next couple of weeks. Boooooo!

Yes, I know by the end of the month the early morning sun will be cresting over the jagged horizon of the cityscape in time for me to catch it in the mornings once more, but for right now the sudden darkness again is jarring. As I do twice each year when the time changes, I wished we were like Arizona where most of the state does not observe daylight savings time and is not bothered by such trite annoyances. But as my buddy Elaine was nice enough to point out to me, this means more sun in my afternoons now and that’s a huge plus.

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Let’s see how this Day 10 is shining on the rest of the slicers:

8th-annualc2a0slice-of-life-story-challenge-invite

A Moment

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Can we just chill for a moment please?

Let go of our burdens big, our troubles tall
Close our eyes for a moment
Before the moment’s gone.

Just chill for a moment please.

Take the load off our shoulders
Take a deep breath to breathe
Feel the good air slide in
And your worries exhale out

Chill for a moment please.

To put our worries down
And our feet up

For a moment please.

And remember that
Life is less about what we have to lift
And more about what we find uplifting

A moment.

Please.

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It’ was one interesting day that started nor ended as expected. A moment was needed.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight : Week 146