Journey to Freedom

Going on a much-needed vacation excited her. The job had been stressing her but so had her relationship. So when he suggested that they go for a week to Tahiti, where she had never been, her heart could not help but race with anticipation.She hoped that he would not cancel at the last minute, as he had done before. The trip to London, canceled because she had not answered his phone messages in a timely enough fashion and he was having doubt. Then there was the trip to Arizona for a sport vacation… canceled because he was upset with her fondness over the new President of the United States. So many disappointments, yet she still had hope that this would go through and that it would be good time spent together.

About two weeks before their departure date, he called to tell her that there had been a change in plans and he hoped that she would not be upset. Here it was, she thought. The cancel call. He did not call to cancel, but to tell her that he invited two of his family members to travel with them. Relieved, she said “No problem!”At the airport, everyone was excited and ready to board the plane for the 9-hour trip. Boarding the plane after their traditional bloody Mary for her, and chardonnay for him, in the airport bar, all was good.

When they landed it was hot and gorgeous, and though fatigued from plane ride, she and his relatives were ready to hit the beach. He was ready to hit the bed for a nap. And so they did, and he did not rise until the next day. The plan was to do some sightseeing, have a nice lunch together and figure out some things to do during their visit. Beach time, museums on land and under water, waterfalls and nature preserves. At dinner on the second evening, the two of them were alone. He was quiet, so she started some conversation in which he reluctantly and sarcastically participated. Not new, she thought, but maybe she could break him out of it. Turning toward other diners, he gave a small scowl at a young woman and man with extensive tattoos. “That is so stupid and disgusting”, he said. “What is?” she replied as she was unsure of what he was referencing. “People with tattoos like that are stupid”. She responded that she thought it was quite intriguing and not stupid at all. Particularly in this part of the world where tattoos are intensely cultural and connected to spirituality. He looked at her with some disdain and told her that he could not even continue a conversation with her. That she was obviously so silly and stupid herself as to even think that. They finished their dinner in silence. And for the next few days, he did not speak to her unless absolutely necessary.

Since there was no conversation, there certainly was no sex between them or any other expressions of love and/or affection. Then one evening he called her into the bathroom. When she came in wondering what this could be about, he walked over and put his arm around her shoulder. He then walked her over to the toilet and opened it. Still not understanding what he wanted, he pointed to something inside the toilet. Literally a piece of shit is what his finger pointed towards as he asked her what it was and why it was there. When she said it looks like something that should be in the toilet and that she did not know where it came from. He told her it did not come from him, which he was quite sure about, so it must have come from her. He recommended that she clean it up, as it was quite disgusting for him. She did not clean it up and took her rest to the couch where she spent the rest of the trip in a beautiful place in a horrible situation.

Ghetto not so Fabulous....

You know, I hate stereotypes.
I used to very reluctant to tell people where I grew up out of fear that they would label, judge and dismiss me. As I have grown older, the exact opposite view has occupied my consciousness. I now want people to know that I was raised in Compton, so that they have a different paradigm in which to operate. Not all people from a so called "ghetto" are stupid, drug addicted, gang members.

But in my most recent visit home... The following images are what greeted me. I thought to myself
"What the hell is going on here. This cannot be real" A grown woman chasing young boys down the street in her underwear. Cursing them. Beating them. In her front yard for the whole neighborhood to witness.

I was saddened because she blew the stereotype out of the window. Shattered it to pieces and rebuilt it in a worse way. Here I am ... doing exactly what I feared other people would do to me..
judge. Dismiss. Label.

So what do I do as another woman who lives on the street imaged here? I can't help her. Intervene and make her life better. I simply must do the best that I can to set a different example so people know that 1 person can never represent a whole group...

One day to the next...

One day you are fine.
Worrying about your lists of things to do. Frustrated with the state of affairs locally and globally.
Maybe grateful for some things that go your way... Planning your future..

I just learned this evening that a friend and colleague of mine was diagnosed with breast cancer last week and will undergo surgery next week. In a flash it all changes. Those things that were once so important are now nothing. Now things that you wish you never wasted your time and energy on. But you did. We all do.

We can change that.

Be grateful for each and every moment that you have your health, your family..your friends.

Now I am thinking of the ways in which I can be a good friend to someone who needs me... who needs all of those around her... to push her toward healing. And reminds each of us of what is truly important in this life.

People

Love

Compassion

Peace

Crime in the City

They did get all of my music..which is indeed a temporary loss. But completely replaceable...One can only hope they do not choose this line of work for a long term career.