Tag Archive | hate

To my friends who voted for Trump

To my friends who voted for Trump for any reason you can rationalize:

It doesn’t matter why you voted for him to me

To me what matters is that you voted to hate me personally.

You voted that way and you knew I was gay and that people I love are gay

And you voted for the guy who believes you can electrocute gay people to change them

You voted knowing I was pagan and that I love other pagan people

And yet you voted for the alleged Christian candidate

Who wouldn’t know Jesus if he stood before him

You voted knowing I need access to healthcare

You voted to deny it to me

You voted knowing I’m a woman

A woman who has been molested as a child

by an adult

And you voted for someone who is accused of child rape and the guy with him was already convicted

You voted knowing all women have been street harassed

Harassed at school or on the job

And you voted for the guy who bragged about how he can do it with no penalty

I know you know people of colour or who have people of colour that we all love

And you voted for a white supremacist

You voted for the politics of hate

And you are making me hate you

And I never thought I would

 

 

 

 

This should not happen but it is

I never wanted to have to write this and maybe I have no right because I’m white, whiter than white, Glow in the dark white but people I love are of colour and people I love have kids that are biracial and I love them  or have spouses of colour that I love but I will because sometimes you have to say something even when you feel powerless against the machine.

I know I’m pretty safe and privileged by nature and the luck of the skin I was born into. But I live in fear every time I hear of a shooting of a POC that was just living their every day life when a police officer decided they needed killing.

I hope it’s not D’s kids or Miss M’s husband or kids. I hope it’s not someone from Temple of Isis. I hope it’s not someone from work or someone I ride the bus with and chat with.

But it’s someone else’s loved one. Someone is at home hurting because some stupid macho cop decided they were imaginarily frightened of someone sitting in a car or just standing talking to friends and decided shooting someone was a good idea.

I know cops, some are friends and every single one of them gets “cop attitude”male or female. Every one is out to get them so they have to act first. Guess what you don’t. Some times you might want to be observant. Some time you might actually want to talk to someone first?

People are not naturally guilty because of their skin colour. That is wrong and it will always be wrong.

We shouldn’t have had to be terrified when Mark decided to drive all night through most of California to Oregon to be with Mary, his Super Mom before she died. But we were, we didn’t say it much but all of us were ready to threaten his lifetime for doing and overwhelmingly glad when he arrived safely.

We shouldn’t have to worry when other people’s kids go out to have a good time, will they come home?

I know how it got this way and it was wrong and I know it isn’t going to go away any time soon.

But it needs to stop. It needs to stop now. And I feel powerless to stop it except that I vow never to vote for any one even slightly racist and to stand up to people who say hateful things online and in person, like I already do.

Several of my ancestors were abolitionists and it cost them. If they could fight for what’s right I can too even if there is a cost.

Sometimes the dream of living in a world that loves each other seems impossible and ridiculous but that is my dream.

Feeling powerless

I feel impotent because I can’t stop the killing of my sisters and brothers. I’m tired of fighting to be accepted for who I am. I didn’t get up one morning in 1979 and decide to make life difficult for myself. I decided it was more important to be honest than to hide. I decided that love was more important than lying and I became a whole person.

I didn’t decide to have people hate me at my church because some mistranslated book told them I was now evil when I wasn’t evil the day before or on my job by someone who also wanted to thump that book or someone who sees me on the street because I had short hair or wore a rainbow shirt or because my friends looked like lesbians or my brother looked like a “faggot”.

I can’t change people’s minds when they don’t know me. I can’t make a Republican senator see that hate isn’t anything but evil and that taking money from the NRA isn’t more valuable than saving thousands of people’s lives. They’ve been bought and paid for with blood. They have blood on their hands and heads but it just isn’t that important to them to have free souls.

I can’t change a hateful pastor’s mind who has forgotten that his Jesus said he was about love and not hate. He is a Pharisee not one of Jesus’s disciples and gave up his soul for hate and money, he will have to explain to his god how that happened.

I can’t change the person’s fear who’s hiding in the closet. I can’t pull them into the sunshine. They may have too much to lose, a job, their children, their life.

I can only live my life in the love I believe is all around us every day if we only look at each other and at the world around each. I can live so that all people are sisters and brothers as is every animal, tree and bird.

I can only live as if my brain, heart and hands are enough even if it feels like I’m too small to feel like I’ve made a difference. Maybe if enough of us live that way there will be change but may be not.

My heart is broken

Yesterday at Faire, I was reading my stories to everyone and this was the next one I had picked to read and standing there I just couldn’t read it. Now I wonder if I should have. So here it is,  and it’s dedicated to my gay brothers and sisters who died because of someone’s hate celebrating their pride and love.

The Littlest Druid finds the good in the bad.

Aisling looked around at what was left of the tiny village, everywhere around her the building’s roofs smoked. Household goods were strewn over the landscape. People lay where they had been slain. The marks of the weapons clear to be seen. There was nothing here for a healer to do.

She looked at the other druids around her. Some were in tears, some were in shock, some were angry. Aisling wasn’t sure how she felt, numb?

In the middle of the night a young boy had come yelling into the Druid village about the sea raiders that had come to his village up the coast to the north. The Chief Druid had quickly roused all the people old enough to help and they had come as fast as their ponies would go but it wasn’t in time. It looked like the boy was the last one left from his village.

Aisling looked at a loom in pieces on the ground and the half finished wool blanket in slashed hunks around it. She could see it would have been beautiful when it was finished with all the colours of sea and sky in brilliant hues. It made her sad. What made people think that they could come and harm a small village? Aisling’s heart hurt.

She could see an abandoned butter churn milk and butter left to curdle on its own. Ravens and crows gathered in the trees above some of the cottages as if waiting for a meal and she was glad her Raven was back home and not here. She couldn’t stand the thought of her being part of this.

The blacksmith must have run to his forge and laid about with his big hammer but it had done no good but she could see he had taken some of the raiders with him to the Summerland.

The older men went to build a pyre to burn the dead. The ravens and crows would get no meal here today. She wondered if the raiders had taken anything of value or if the reason the devastation was so bad was because the village was so poor. It made no sense at all to her and the tears ran down her face.

What made some people do this? No one in this village had done any harm. They had lived quiet lives. They sometimes sold their extra crops to the Druid village. The Chief Druid put his arm around Aisling and gave her a hug.

“Why? Why do people do this?” she asked him. The Chief Druid looked around and shook his head.

“I don’t understand it myself.” He said. “But it makes me cling to the good I can see. Some people want what others have. Some people think they have the only way. Some people just enjoy doing evil.”

“But what’s the good in this?” Aisling asked. She couldn’t see anything good at all.

“Hamish is alive, he’ll have a broken heart but he is alive. People came to help even though there was nothing they could do about the raiders. People will rebuild this village together and new people will help Hamish rebuild the village and his life. This village will be able to show its best hospitality again as is our way.”

People were now starting the clean up around them. Stacking timbers, collecting the things that were spread around the village. Someone was herding the sheep that had been on the hill above the village. One of the women was getting ready to milk the village’s last living cow. The cow was not happy, She should have been milked hours ago. The cow had blood on her horns and none of it was hers. The cow had obviously fought in the battle. Aisling wondered if it was one of Brighid’s cows since it was red and white.

Aisling went to start help collecting the goods left around the village. Maybe they could collect enough to put one household back together for Hamish. Someone had said his grandparents and an aunt and uncle had been sent a messenger. Would they want to settle here?

She looked towards the fields that appeared to be untouched. The oats were just starting to grow and the fields were aglow with the green of new growth. Would Hamish’s family tend them? It was strange to see such a strong symbol of life when she knew if she turned around she would see the blacks and grays of destruction.

Aisling collected a set of wooden bowls, some linens from where they had been dumped. She found someone’s prized bronze pin of a wild boar. It had a broken clasp but she thought it could be mended again and worn with pride. As the day went on the village started to look more like it would have life again.

Men were up on the thatched roofs pulling down the old straw and the burnt parts so they could be re-thatched. They had found the village thatcher’s store of straw and reed in an outside shed.

Some women from the next village were washing out the cottages and mixing white wash. Soon the cottages wouldn’t show any burn marks.

Aisling was near the back of one of the cottages when she heard a soft cry. She looked around to see where the noise was coming from. There was a pile of old abandoned clothes she guessed wasn’t good enough to steal and gently went over to sort through when she heard it again. This time she could hear that it was a mew. And she dug through the pile. Nestled under someone’s old tunic was a tiny black kitten. Its eyes were barely open. Aisling looked around quickly to see if there were any more but this one was alone.

Aisling cradled the kitten to her chest, it crawled up to her shoulder and nestled into one of her long red braids. So there was still life in the village, she thought. The kitten purred into her ear as she gently stroked its back and she wondered how long it had been since it ate. She headed over to where the woman was taking care of the cow, she had tied it to the outside of the pig sty.

Aisling had grabbed a napkin and fashioned into the shape of a nipple. Maire took one look at the kitten and grabbed the napkin. “I see someone needs to be fed here at least,” and dipped the napkin in the bucket of milk and handed it back to Aisling. “Are you ready to be a mathair?”

Aisling nodded and looked at the kitten as it greedily sucked on the napkin, at least one good thing had happened this day. She looked at the kitten. The Chief Druid was right, it had felt good to help even when she wished it hadn’t been necessary, but there is always some good with the horrid. It just can be hard to find.

“I’m naming ‘Nuadh Bheath’. ‘New life’ seems a good name, Beo for short? Do you like that?” Aisling looked down at the purring sleepy kitten and smiled for the first time that day.