Here is a great tool to check your own biases... Find out what you really think...
https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/demo/selectatest.html
Thursday, June 23, 2005
41 Years to Justice
Almost the totality of my lifetime thus far
41 years…
41 Bullets…
There is some magic to the number 41 when it comes to doing right and doing wrong with People of Color in these United States.
(And by the way, I happen to love my country!)
1964 brought many things… among them the hurricane force winds of change. Civil rights for those who have been repressed, oppressed and depressed through a systematic governmental doctrine of inhumanity.
A particular 3 men, two Jewish and one African American joined the Freedom Riders to make a difference. To effect a change. That opportunity was snatched as each of these young men was brutally and purposefully murdered in cold rigid blood. On the whim of men who thought they had the right to take another human beings life. Men who did so and walked away to live out the rest of their days content and satisfied to have eliminated what they considered to be human vermin. The families of those young boys have been left a lifetime of suffering and loss.
I am somewhat amazed that during the first trial, in 1967, an all white jury was hung 11-1 in favor of conviction. That “1” could not convict a preacher. Obviously a reverence no longer held for those who inhabit the Preacher/Priest roles in our society today. My mother had a saying about that, “The devil always has a front row seat in church on Sunday”. It is a great disguise. But I digress…
Today this unrepentant Klansman of 80 years was sentenced to 60 years in jail -20 years for each life. Although the judge who imposed the sentence “took no pleasure” in it, I must say that I do. I am glad that he will live out his remaining bitter and painful days in a prison of his own making. Much like the graves he and his friends dug for the men they planned to kill. Finally. I recognize that these words are written with an unforgiving heart… I am just not that enlightened yet.
Chaney Schwerner Goodman
I hope this is not viewed as a closure. Ending a painful chapter of American history. This is just the beginning. My hope is that all of those who participated in the lynchings, mutilations, burnings, public humiliations, taking body parts of the Men, Women and Children they tortured and murdered, be made accountable for their crimes. Is that too much to ask in the land of the free? Forget my 40 acres and a mule (which they did), give me justice.
41 years…
41 Bullets…
There is some magic to the number 41 when it comes to doing right and doing wrong with People of Color in these United States.
(And by the way, I happen to love my country!)
1964 brought many things… among them the hurricane force winds of change. Civil rights for those who have been repressed, oppressed and depressed through a systematic governmental doctrine of inhumanity.
A particular 3 men, two Jewish and one African American joined the Freedom Riders to make a difference. To effect a change. That opportunity was snatched as each of these young men was brutally and purposefully murdered in cold rigid blood. On the whim of men who thought they had the right to take another human beings life. Men who did so and walked away to live out the rest of their days content and satisfied to have eliminated what they considered to be human vermin. The families of those young boys have been left a lifetime of suffering and loss.
I am somewhat amazed that during the first trial, in 1967, an all white jury was hung 11-1 in favor of conviction. That “1” could not convict a preacher. Obviously a reverence no longer held for those who inhabit the Preacher/Priest roles in our society today. My mother had a saying about that, “The devil always has a front row seat in church on Sunday”. It is a great disguise. But I digress…
Today this unrepentant Klansman of 80 years was sentenced to 60 years in jail -20 years for each life. Although the judge who imposed the sentence “took no pleasure” in it, I must say that I do. I am glad that he will live out his remaining bitter and painful days in a prison of his own making. Much like the graves he and his friends dug for the men they planned to kill. Finally. I recognize that these words are written with an unforgiving heart… I am just not that enlightened yet.
Chaney Schwerner Goodman
I hope this is not viewed as a closure. Ending a painful chapter of American history. This is just the beginning. My hope is that all of those who participated in the lynchings, mutilations, burnings, public humiliations, taking body parts of the Men, Women and Children they tortured and murdered, be made accountable for their crimes. Is that too much to ask in the land of the free? Forget my 40 acres and a mule (which they did), give me justice.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Empty Nest
Single in the City means a lot of things. It means that you are truly free to come and go as you like. But you are probably so busy with work and family that you end up in as much of a routine as married soccer Moms may find themselves. Granted, if this happens you do have the option to run away and do your thing without having to get permission or find a good babysitter.
If you have not guessed, I am single. And I have found myself in a bit of a routine between work and home that is making me feel the need to shake it up…. A lot! But there has been a part of my routine that is now changed forever. Usually getting into work before 7am and home after6, I hop in my car and tool home, ready to relax. As I climb the stairs from the underground parking lot, mumbling to myself about the highlights or lowlights of the day, I begin to hear the cacophony of children at play. Laughing, screaming, and running around. At the top of stairs I turn the corner, headed to my apartment, I enter the fray.
“My” kids are an international group of 4-5 depending on the day. Korean, Indian and European American. They always stop and surround me as I make my way to my front door. Sometimes they would chase me up the stairs and I would have to tickle each of them, leaving them in piles of laughter as I ran to the door and closed it before they collected enough strength for another onslaught. The closing of my front door usually ended the game until the next day. But not always. Sometimes it continued with knocking and running away when I opened the door, or pushing their way in only to be chased back out again.
When they weren’t chasing me, or trying to tickle me, or hanging onto my bags as I ascended the stairs, they would stop and ask me questions. My main interrogator was 5 year old Charlie. He was very curious and not at all shy about getting the information he felt he needed. He would ask: Where did you go today? What do you do at work? How long are there? Are you going tomorrow? How about on Saturday? What is in your bags? Do you live alone? Why? How come you are not married? How old are you? Where is your Mom and Dad? Are you a baby? The list goes on…and on. I think Charlie is going to be a journalist or writer someday. He patiently waited for an answer to each of his questions and he thoughtfully took aim for the next.
Two weeks ago Charlie told me he is moving home. I asked him where. He said home to Korea. I looked at my little friend and told him that I was going to miss him very much. He smiled and said okay. About 20 minutes later, there was a knock on my door. I looked through the peephole and saw nothing. The knocking continued. I opened the door and it was Charlie. He said he would miss me too and gave me a hand written note that explained it all. I was his friend. I gave him a big hug and thanked him. 10 minutes later, there was another knock on my door. It was my little Charlie. This time he gave me a picture he’d drawn of me and him.
Early on a Saturday morning, I was awakened from sleep by people making quite a lot of noise for 5:30am on a weekend. I peered out of my window and saw that it was Charlie and his family moving out. I watched for a minute then got up to make some coffee.
Now when I come home after work, there are no children playing. No one chasing me up the stairs hoping I will tickle them, no one asking 20 questions about my day and my life. And I miss them. Especially Charlie.
If you have not guessed, I am single. And I have found myself in a bit of a routine between work and home that is making me feel the need to shake it up…. A lot! But there has been a part of my routine that is now changed forever. Usually getting into work before 7am and home after6, I hop in my car and tool home, ready to relax. As I climb the stairs from the underground parking lot, mumbling to myself about the highlights or lowlights of the day, I begin to hear the cacophony of children at play. Laughing, screaming, and running around. At the top of stairs I turn the corner, headed to my apartment, I enter the fray.
“My” kids are an international group of 4-5 depending on the day. Korean, Indian and European American. They always stop and surround me as I make my way to my front door. Sometimes they would chase me up the stairs and I would have to tickle each of them, leaving them in piles of laughter as I ran to the door and closed it before they collected enough strength for another onslaught. The closing of my front door usually ended the game until the next day. But not always. Sometimes it continued with knocking and running away when I opened the door, or pushing their way in only to be chased back out again.
When they weren’t chasing me, or trying to tickle me, or hanging onto my bags as I ascended the stairs, they would stop and ask me questions. My main interrogator was 5 year old Charlie. He was very curious and not at all shy about getting the information he felt he needed. He would ask: Where did you go today? What do you do at work? How long are there? Are you going tomorrow? How about on Saturday? What is in your bags? Do you live alone? Why? How come you are not married? How old are you? Where is your Mom and Dad? Are you a baby? The list goes on…and on. I think Charlie is going to be a journalist or writer someday. He patiently waited for an answer to each of his questions and he thoughtfully took aim for the next.
Two weeks ago Charlie told me he is moving home. I asked him where. He said home to Korea. I looked at my little friend and told him that I was going to miss him very much. He smiled and said okay. About 20 minutes later, there was a knock on my door. I looked through the peephole and saw nothing. The knocking continued. I opened the door and it was Charlie. He said he would miss me too and gave me a hand written note that explained it all. I was his friend. I gave him a big hug and thanked him. 10 minutes later, there was another knock on my door. It was my little Charlie. This time he gave me a picture he’d drawn of me and him.
Early on a Saturday morning, I was awakened from sleep by people making quite a lot of noise for 5:30am on a weekend. I peered out of my window and saw that it was Charlie and his family moving out. I watched for a minute then got up to make some coffee.
Now when I come home after work, there are no children playing. No one chasing me up the stairs hoping I will tickle them, no one asking 20 questions about my day and my life. And I miss them. Especially Charlie.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
The M Word
Isn’t funny, this feeling inside….?
I am fascinated by the thoughts and ideas of those around me..Particularly on the topic of Love and Marriage. For many women I know they really don’t go together like a horse and carriage. .
Western society has its traditions and mores that most of us unconsciously conform to without much question. A marriage is between a man and a woman. This concept is now being challenged and we are bristling under what we think are moral issues, when in fact they are simply the pains of evolution. Moving to a higher level of understanding. We will move to a place where marriage is the union of two people in love. Between men, women, black, white, brown and yellow. Remember when “miscegenation” was illegal? Technically it probably still is on the books in some states as an act against the system. Thankfully our system is dynamic and growing as we grow.
But what about the union itself? I am having more frequent discussions with people about the whole idea of marriage. R. who married late in life at age 44 thinks the institution is archaic. Granted, she is still married to her “first husband”, a man she has known for most of her life. And she is happy. I think. But she does opine on what would be better alternatives. As we sit in our little bar that we congregate in after work on Fridays, I listen to her thoughts.
For her an ideal union is no union at all, at least not on paper. If she were Queen, people would have serial relationships that involve no paperwork, no legal commitment. One could have a partner, and if one happens to meet someone else interesting one could spend time with them as well. There is no requirement to live together or for the symbolic jewelry. You would have the freedom to design your own relationship(s) as if best for you.
Intriguing. However, I do know that I am not evolved enough to participate in this society. For very long.
Another Queen-Dom would have it so that you would find your mate, marry, produce offspring and really be able to keep that spark of love alive for a lifetime.
Now this is more in line with my own Hollywood brainwashed fantasies. And if you marry late enough in life, but not too late, you may be able to pull it off.
My ideas, however, are bit more tame. Probably somewhere in between the extremes of finding a guy you can do whatever you want with (or without) and the "Untrue" Hollywood story. Just marry the man I think I want to spend my life with. Create a life together that we enjoy. Be sure to have a space in my house that can serve as a personal sanctuary. My getaway. Laugh. Fight. Make up. Make Love. Travel.
I admit that I do not want to live alone forever. I have been on my own my entire adult life. The thought of change is frightening and exciting….but it can also be good. With one caveat:
Never love anyone more than you love yourself.
My mother’s advice… I follow it..
What is your ideal?
I am fascinated by the thoughts and ideas of those around me..Particularly on the topic of Love and Marriage. For many women I know they really don’t go together like a horse and carriage. .
Western society has its traditions and mores that most of us unconsciously conform to without much question. A marriage is between a man and a woman. This concept is now being challenged and we are bristling under what we think are moral issues, when in fact they are simply the pains of evolution. Moving to a higher level of understanding. We will move to a place where marriage is the union of two people in love. Between men, women, black, white, brown and yellow. Remember when “miscegenation” was illegal? Technically it probably still is on the books in some states as an act against the system. Thankfully our system is dynamic and growing as we grow.
But what about the union itself? I am having more frequent discussions with people about the whole idea of marriage. R. who married late in life at age 44 thinks the institution is archaic. Granted, she is still married to her “first husband”, a man she has known for most of her life. And she is happy. I think. But she does opine on what would be better alternatives. As we sit in our little bar that we congregate in after work on Fridays, I listen to her thoughts.
For her an ideal union is no union at all, at least not on paper. If she were Queen, people would have serial relationships that involve no paperwork, no legal commitment. One could have a partner, and if one happens to meet someone else interesting one could spend time with them as well. There is no requirement to live together or for the symbolic jewelry. You would have the freedom to design your own relationship(s) as if best for you.
Intriguing. However, I do know that I am not evolved enough to participate in this society. For very long.
Another Queen-Dom would have it so that you would find your mate, marry, produce offspring and really be able to keep that spark of love alive for a lifetime.
Now this is more in line with my own Hollywood brainwashed fantasies. And if you marry late enough in life, but not too late, you may be able to pull it off.
My ideas, however, are bit more tame. Probably somewhere in between the extremes of finding a guy you can do whatever you want with (or without) and the "Untrue" Hollywood story. Just marry the man I think I want to spend my life with. Create a life together that we enjoy. Be sure to have a space in my house that can serve as a personal sanctuary. My getaway. Laugh. Fight. Make up. Make Love. Travel.
I admit that I do not want to live alone forever. I have been on my own my entire adult life. The thought of change is frightening and exciting….but it can also be good. With one caveat:
Never love anyone more than you love yourself.
My mother’s advice… I follow it..
What is your ideal?
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