Processing

                               

                                       
I know racial bigotry.
My family used to love to retell the following story.  In Charlotte, my Daddy built a concrete wall between our house and a set of apartments next door, mostly because many of the tenants were black.  Well, they used to sit on that wall, and it would upset him.  One night we had our minister over for dinner, and while we were outside seeing him off, I said, in my three year old voice, "Look, Daddy!  There's a Spook on the wall."  Laughter would follow when it was told.

I know assault.
We moved to Florida shortly after, but after a couple of years there, my Daddy kidnapped us and took us to Ohio.  Picture me as the 6 year old in the photo I just posted on FB of my sister, Daddy, and me on Father's Day.  THAT me.  Age 6.  I had a teenage cousin molest me twice at that age.  Realizing it was wrong, I told my parents.  We never went back to my uncle's house, but nothing happened to my cousin.  He didn't have to apologize.  He didn't get a spanking.  He wasn't punished.

I know poverty.
Two years after "moving" to Ohio, my parents divorced.  Two years after their divorce, we moved to the West side of town from the East.  NOT a move up in life.  We didn't have a car for the first two years after that move.  My Daddy often told the story about picking us up for the weekend, and the only thing we had in the house to eat was a bag of popcorn in the cupboard.  I ate "government cheese" and had strangers bring boxes of food into our home at Christmas.  I was on a free lunch program which thankfully later included breakfast.  I didn't have new school clothes the first day of 6th grade because my Momma didn't get paid until the end of the week.  My sister and I were put in a clothes donation bin at night with a flashlight to pick out clothes to wear.

I know about a man asserting his power and status.
From the age of 14-19, I had the Chief of Staff in the ER make repeated advances on me.  In 9th grade after babysitting in MI with his family and him for two weeks, he kissed me goodbye- on the lips- at my doorstep after returning me home.  "He just thinks of you as a daughter" my Momma said.  It didn't settle right inside, but maybe he did.  I liked the money, so I kept babysitting, rushing out of the car as soon as it was in park when he'd take me home.  It happened twice again, but I'd learned how to have power- reaching to open a door to his office when a hug hello was held for way too long with hands lingering at my hips.

My first time voting at 18 was not a presidential election year.  I walked to the polling place with my Momma.  "Momma, how do I vote?  How do I know who to vote for?"  "You're a Republican, sweetheart.  Just vote Republican."  I was ignorant regarding politics.  I only took the BARE minimum required in HS for history, as I was totally not interested as a teenager.  I had no idea what each party stood for, and I don't want you to think I totally do now, either!  So, I voted Republican, straight ticket.  I was part of the Republicans on Campus in college at the rally with George Bush Sr. shouting, "Bush Quayle 92!"  I was in the military, and "Republicans support the military."  The first time I voted against the Republican Party was in '96 because- Bob Dole.  C'mon.  I stretched myself, but I felt like I'd voted for the best person.  Then, I just started doing THAT...voting for the right person.  I still do.

I'm registered Libertarian.  I don't align myself with either majority party, and I will admit I'm a little more left than right.  I love people who are gay, and I don't care that they are, who they marry, etc.  I am sick to my stomach by the racial hate in this country.  I am a strong woman and do not tolerate sexism, making light of assault, or the idea that a woman is less in any way as a person.  I LOVED the idea of having a female president.  I do not love Hillary.  I do not trust her.  I don't like Trump.  I do not trust him.  I've met men before who make my skin crawl, and I get skeeved, an overall creepy feeling, that tells me, "Stay away from him."  I've listened to it without fail all of my life.  I get that feeling with Trump.  That can't be good, right?  I honestly cannot look at his face.  I scroll past pictures of him on my news feed online and avert my eyes.  I could not watch the debates.  And when I hear his voice, I feel like throwing up.  No joke.  My stomach turns.  THIS is my trusted warning system, and as his character unfolded throughout this election, it reinforced my reaction to "stay away."

So, though I voted for Johnson, I counted on the country to vote "Against" Trump.  I could not imagine a grown man, who is a racial bigot, who openly discussed how easy it was to sexually assault women, whose personal wealth has shielded him from suffering yet caused it, who has repeatedly asserted his position of power over women and others, who makes fun of disabled people, who makes fun of anyone, who acts like the bully we try to convince kids to never be, and who stirs to pot of hatred and fear, could possibly lead our great country.  No one could ever elect him as the head of this country, as the role model for our children.  To me, that is condoning his behavior.  That is telling our children that it is OK to body shame women, to think of them as less, to keep them "in control," to continue to racially profile, to fear those who are different, to think less of those that can't.  It is mind boggling to me.  This link says it all... in TRUMP's words. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/politics/donald-trump-sexism-tracker-every-offensive-comment-in-one-place/
How can one dismiss this?  How can This man be in charge of decision making?  How could I trust his mouth to not cause war but to lay a path of peace?  How could someone whose ego is so overinflated possibly be thought to be a mouthpiece for a group of people?  I have cried so many times today, I lost count.  My heart just hurts.  This election not only sent a message to the Capitol, it sent a message to all of the young hearts and minds out there.  Unfortunately, they are watching and taking it all in- learning what is valued in our country, what is condoned, and what is elevated.

So, I think I hurt for many reasons.  As you can see, my personal experience shapes my perception.  To me, that's OK.  To me, what I've experienced and learned so far in life has made me who I am, and I love myself.  My experience, I hope, makes me more tolerant and more thoughtful of another's journey.  I don't see life in black and white anymore, and I haven't for a while.  There is SO much gray.  I can understand why one side can believe so passionately the opposite of another based on their own experience, beliefs, feelings, life truths, etc.  Sometimes it's difficult to put a stake in the ground and say "I believe ___."  Someone could always show me more information and more stories against to make me pause and think.  Or, I may believe it for me, but I do not think all should believe it for themselves.  I don't think Trump sees any gray.  I thinks he sees white male only.

Strong Women

     Today is International Women's Day, and I am reminded of strong women in my life.  My childhood didn't look at all like my boys' do, and for that I am thankful.  However, I am also appreciative to have had my life- all the years of it.  I know that it is through trials, mistakes, and tough times that you learn how strong you are.  When you don't have to struggle, you don't know how much you can take.

     My Momma has struggled, been knocked down, and worked hard for much of her life.  She is STRONG.  If a stranger asked, she'd respond that her life has been wonderful.  That's my Momma.  She wouldn't say that in a way meant to keep someone out of her business (She's never had a problem sharing anything about herself.), but I believe it's because she recognizes that even when things were dim, at least there was still a light!  She has an appreciation for how she's come out of those times and been made into a better person.  She's thankful for each day, each wake up, each SMALL thing in life.  She is aware that a good life is made of lots of little things.

     My sister, Sharmane, is STRONG.  She has been selfless since the age of 12- even when really didn't want to be.  Her heart has an abnormal capacity for love, and she loves like a waterfall.  She is fiercely protective of family and framily, and she balances being open and gracious with being cautious and pragmatic like a pro.  Her life has also had its fill of drama, pain, heartache, and conflict, but she, too, claims those with respect.  She knows that she is the amazing woman today because of them.  12 year old Shar paved the way for the one in her 40's.  The strength I've seen from her all of my life has left me in awe.

     The kind of strong I feel immediately when I think of my best friend, Amy, is in FAITH.  My goodness, she has taught me so much in the last 10 years.  She taught me how to be a better friend.  She is ALWAYS thinking of others, how to help, how to come alongside, how to alleviate a need, and how to listen or give her time.  She helped me to get out of a self focus with my family and look around to the world outside my home.  It helped me change my thinking from "I don't have time for that" to "I'll make time for that."  She is the kind of woman who makes you feel stronger just being in her presence.

     My sister, Tracy, has untapped her strength in the past few years, and the change in her is astounding.  She is confident.  Her faith is on firm footing, and that kind of strength will transform your thoughts and beliefs about yourself and the world.  She balances life, work, self and family like a boss.  She is strong and getting stronger every day!

     My friend, Amy, got me a shirt, "Strong is the new Skinny," to match hers.  :)  Strong is the new skinny, the new helpless, the new damsel in distress, the new frail, and the new airhead.  I have so many other women in my life who I admire, respect and learn from, and that is an enormous blessing.  I am not held to my house all day.  My thoughts and opinions are heard and not punished.  In America, women have choices.  Today, I feel gratitude that I can be the woman I choose to be each day, and I'm confused and sad that around the world so many women cannot.... STILL.... in 2016.  So, ladies, be your awesome selves for all of those who cannot.  For the women caught in fighting, in poverty, labelled outcasts, treated like property, abused, muted, shamed, judged less than another, and feeling brown when they are glittering rainbows inside.