Monthly Archives: February 2011

Meh

Standard

So I began today in foggy spirits. My boyfriend’s uncle has a friend. This guy on various occasions has been alright. But on two separate occasions I’ve heard him use the n-word. I didn’t say anything the time before.
This time I made it known I was in earshot.
How the hell should I go about this now? I honestly just want to leave.

Advertisements

A really long rant on race and the american christian church

Standard

I was just thinking to myself today about the glaring hypocrisies that plague the american christian church. Apparently I was thinking a little TOO much because I got a bit of bile in my throat and a nauseated stomach. I’m thinking most of that stems from the fact that I was in the thick of it.

The first problem is the most obvious: the race problem in american christian culture. If you ask a black believer and a white believer if they are christian, they would say yes. BUT, if you ask them why do they go to segregated churches you will hear the number of excuses as thus:

-white people just don’t have any soul. we clap on the 2/4 while they clap on the 1/3.

-our services are too different.

-It’s the way that it has always been, why change it?

And it is a bit more disgusting when you get to churches that claim a multi-ethnic mix. Why do I say disgusting? Because just like in grade and high school, the races segregate themselves. Sure, there are those “radicals” that friended everyone, but they were rare. Very rare. And you bring that up, and you’ll have some very angry believers:

-I didn’t say blacks were bad, I said that they scared me(I have heard that at the christian college I went to)

-I have black friends! Why are you calling me a bigot because I hang out with a mostly white crowd?

-I can go to church with them, but I don’t have to talk to them.

-How dare you judge me!The bible said I was to LOVE them. I didn’t have to LIKE them.

Delve deeper and the issue of marriage comes up. I remember when I was a teen, the pastor at the church I attended stated he was against interracial marriage. During a sermon.
The fucked up thing about it is that most of his congregants were from interracial marriages/relationships. And yet they did not leave, because of the fact he said he wasn’t a fan for it when it came to his kids.

I fortunately wasn’t there for that service, but sadly my mother was. And it made her pretty angry, yet she stayed because she thought I needed a church that was more…colorful(as she put it).

On various occasions people did say really bigoted things either around me or my mother. My favorite was when a minister named Jeannie told my mother that she could be her maid. That pissed off my mother(rightfully so). She was a black female doctor being told by a white female minister that basically all she’s good for is cleaning up behind her. To which my mom said “I suggest you get one of your own. I have one.”

In youth group I got rejected alot by the black teens because I was “white acting”. That always confused me. White acting. I was myself basically. I didn’t listen to hip hop(unless christian and that was RARE) I didn’t listen to rap(unless it was christian..also very rare). I listened to Rebecca St. James, Jaci Valesquez and five iron frenzy. And when I did listen to secular music it was country. Which got the white teens going “you’re so..white”. And yes, a large amount of them were friends with me, or so I thought. I was the “safe” black person. I spoke proper english, desired to better myself, but was pretty serious most times.

The youth pastors wife denied me a role in a play because she stated I was an oreo. Just not black enough. Her husband tore her a new one, I can say.

When I became a youth leader there, I was informed by a white youth leader that I was more white than most white people(because a long time ago I wanted to go into country music as an artist).

My mom didn’t know I had my own problems I guess.

But her feelings while there echoed a lot of upper middle class and upper class christians. The sentiment was that the church was too “rural” and not “urban” enough. That wasn’t a slip. She honestly hated going to church being surrounded by “rednecks”. I will give her this. She gave the appropriate term for urban being the city and rural the country. Her problem was she didn’t want to be surrounded by so many bigoted poor people.

I guess what I am saying is this: if the Christian Family is so interconnected, why don’t they act that way? I mean, they read the same damn book. They may believe different(very minute) things but..please. It is not that different when you get to the brass tacks of it.

I’m serious. A black pastor I knew personally actually PAID white people to come to his church, so he wouldn’t look like a bigot.

I have heard on various occasions how interracial marriage was an unequal yoke. *facepalms*

The golden boy of the youth church I attended told me personally that blacks were extremely different. Medical books and his mother said so. Blacks muscles are like coils while whites are like ropes.

I wanted to vomit right there. And don’t get me started with the Christian romeos who wanted to feel me up but not date me/marry me because I was the wrong race.

It was literally enough to make my head spin. And I rarely talked about it, like say the words “angry” or “pissed”. Because in the non-denomination sect I was in, I was to be this perfect cookie cutter christian female. Which sadly included “there should not be any trace of ethnicity on you”. They wanted us to dress alike, talk the same, hell…even have sex the same way. And I do admit that my low self esteem about being the big three which are implicitly talked about in church(dark, fat, and not even marginally pretty) made my desire to shove myself into that mold even stronger. I finally saw that the premium(aka best) in the american christian church was the thin, white, blonde female who can sing enough to appease the darkies.

The years of just..crap shoved down my throat finally caught up with me.

We shall all be like stars

Standard

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with my mother which was made worse from my lack of a father. The father figure I did have(stepgrandfather) would physically harm my grandmother. So, I dunno.

My childhood was, in that case, a series of her entries and exits. She’d come, and I’d be so happy. But then she’d leave and I’d feel so abandoned.

And I knew that she was trying to better herself through the military, college, and med school. I knew these things, but she was my mom, and well..I missed her.

When I became 13 or so, I moved in with her near the base where she worked. I was so happy! I thought she would be happy also. But, to be honest,my being there seemed a bit of an annoyance to her. I cried a lot(heck I still do), I didn’t like school(I liked to learn, but I just hated school), and I just wasn’t HER.

The one bonding factor in our relationship was our faith. And I naturally assumed(I was a kid here) that if I became a more intense believer that it would help in my relationship with her.

It did not. If anything, it made things worse. Throw in an undiagnosed mental illness on my part, and it gets “fun”.

I was shown “acceptance” at my church, and well, the seduction was there. Everyone was so kind. They listened to my fears, my worries, my doubts. They reminded me over and over how much God loved me. I was treated as if I was normal.

From that, I began to idealize things there, and made the emotional motions to pull away from my mom. The church was my family now, with my youth pastor and his wife my parents.

I honestly felt like they loved me more than any family member I had. The fact that at home, I wasn’t celebrated, I wasn’t told “atta girl” when I attempted to master something. It was always expected, so no, there wasn’t any “I’m so proud of you” moments. I got that at church. So, yes, my being so fervent in my faith was directly attached somehow to the idea, the possible delusion that there were people who loved me more than my mother ever has.

And let me tell you, it didn’t make it any better when mom would fly off the handle at church. It only happened once, and I to this day, I don’t know what happened. But at that time, that moment….I knew that quite a few folks(because of my mom) did not like her. They saw her as too stern(they were right). Too cruel at moments(oh heck yes).  They never said anything to me, but it was obvious what happened when I showed up(smiles and waves) and when my mom showed up(same smile, same wave…but with a tinge of fear).

Despite this, I still wanted her acceptance. Because even though I was fully invested in the church to the point of mania, I still wanted to hear the words “You’re alright” and not in the context of “You’re alright, stop crying.”

When I became older(like late teens), I resigned myself to the fact that my mom would never truly love me or accept me. I was her mistake. But God loved me. And the believers at the church we attended did(or so I thought).

When I was getting close to college age, the associate pastor, while praying over me because of the issues I have, told me I shouldn’t go to college. So naturally I told my mother who then said “O RLY?!”. Don’t know if she confronted them, but informed me that no matter how I dragged my feet, I was going to college.

And well, I accepted her word as law. Because I was to obey and honor her. I didn’t know rightly how to do they honor thing, but I did my best at the obeying thing. Yeah, it was a little out of fear, but she got what she wanted right?

I guess so. My college years were a disappointment. I felt like an outsider way too much to really “work”. I did great at Centenary. I think it was because I had no place to run(lol). But as soon as I went to LSU, my gpa(and my mind) deteriorated quickly.

I felt shame for not finishing what I started, but I pushed it out of my mind.

As for church, my mother informed me that we were going to ________. I told her no, that I wanted to go to a Methodist church. She informed me that since I lived with her, it had to be by her rules. So, it began again.

But this time, the relationship was on even more rocky ground. I got really really really really involved in the youth church there, to the point where when I was told my cell leader was my father I did not even BLINK. I was told, as an adult, that my cell leader has more authority to speak into my life than my parents.

The hierarchy went as this: cell leader, everyone else, your parents, then you. I took that yoke upon myself. But it felt that my cell leader was even worse than my mother when it came to being “there”. And because I was so involved, my relationship with my cell leader was literally that of a parent and their child.

Well, if the parent was emotionally distant, always held you to an impossible standard, and accused you of the worst things. He turned me out of his cell group, citing I was rebellious. I told him he didn’t want to take responsibility for his actions, so he’s penning it on me. You can guess how that went.

Yup, another cell leader. And yes, the same pattern except add the accusation of having a spirit of Jezebel.

At this time, I was cracking, I didn’t know it, but I was using church and my relationship with God as a type of band aid, to deal with the wounds that were there.

When I started self harming, my mother told me that I was an awful person, and that if I wanted to commit suicide, I’d not be only taking myself to hell, but her too.

By this time, I felt nothing for her. I felt so burned already that I didn’t dare hope she felt any family loyalty to me.

So when she told me over and over that I was not depressed, but only feeling sorry for myself and demanded that I repent for it, I began to heavily resent her.

So much, that by the time I was kicked out of cell group a second time(I was asking hard questions) and I cracked completely from the aftermath of that, I loathed her.

I loathed her so much, that when I was hospitalized for attempting suicide(I tried to hang myself), that I barely was civil towards her.

The dichotomy of that statement repulsed me. That I would hate and resent my own mother yet want her acceptance.

It made no damn sense.

After my second hospitalization(she told me I was just trying to get attention), I thought of ways to get the hell away from her.

And now, I’m writing about it because if I do not, the words alone will choke me. I never really talked about my mother in depth because I always felt, at my core, like that little kid abandoned.

In the past year, she has done and said things to me that have chilled my blood. She has told me that my step grandfather lashing out at me was partly my fault.

She has told me that I need to “get over” my past abuse and how I felt about my stepgrandfather.

She had told me, on my birthday, that I was a horrible person and that when I was arrested for pot(the  charges were dropped btw) she was angry at me because I was ruining her reputation and because I was arrested she thought of disowning me.

That, she told me during my birthday lunch. She negated any feelings I had and scoffed when I cried. Profusely.

It still feels raw, because I believed she was ALWAYS disappointed in me. And I was her only kid. So it really hurt even more.

But because of that, I began making her take responsiblity for what she says to me. Which is helpful because she accused me of being manipulative like my grandmother. So I made her give me an example. She could not give any, and admitted she was just angry because I would call and ask what was for supper.

I told her that I do apologize for that, but you need to mind what you say to people. Words hurt.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have a good relationship with her because I feel that she does not see me as a human as times.  But I can try to heal from the scars left by her and my father.

And hopefully, not fuck up so much.

Welcome back, welcome back welcome baaaack

Standard

Sorry everyone.

I’ve been so busy lately with relationship/family/depression drama that I forgot to talk on here. And let me tell you, this is where I can come and let my hair down, so it’s a blessing.

And I shouldn’t have forgotten.

But I’ve been doing so well lately in my studies that I actually can carve out time to write. I feel good.

So I guess I should update folks.

Well, I’m planning to write more(that’s one).

I’m planning to move to Texas sometime soon(that’s two).

I’ve had a birthday and am looking at turning 30 this year(that’s three and oh dear god I’m going to be thirty!!)

I’m in the developing stages of a series of children’s books .(that’s four)

I came up with really funny t-shirt slogans…

I still don’t know how to draw though 😦

Planned Parenthood,Abortion, and Me

Standard

I’ll begin my note this way, I’m pro-choice. Usually when I say that, I hear the whispers of “she’s pro-abortion” or that I want little kids dead. People who supposedly have known me for years naturally assume this, because I am not staunchly on the side of pro-life.

 

To be honest, I think both pro-life and pro-choice are misnomers, as is the term pro-abortion. No one I have met is actually “pro abortion”. Who is for the removal of a potential life? Who actually sits there and says “I think now is the perfect time to kill a growing baby.” ?.

 

Well, if you were to believe the hype, all feminists(feminazis they call us, HA!), nonbelievers, and folks who use birth control are pro dead baby.

 

And honestly, it’s frustrating to me. Because when I say “I am pro choice” I’m really saying “I’m pro-responsibility”. And when I say pro responsibility, I mean I am for doing what should have been done in the first place: use of birth control and condoms. But yet, a vocal minority says “You shouldn’t use that anyway, you should keep your legs closed until marriage.” Well, I have something to tell you vocal minority: The person who you’re currently telling to keep their legs closed? They are not you. And to tell someone what they “Should” do, in an unsoliciated comment, is akin to walking into a woman’s room and calling her a whore to her face.

 

Yes, I said that. When you sit there and tsk tsk someone for being sexually active AND using protection, you are telling this person “I know what is better for you because obviously you are too stupid to know.” And if you are even saying it in a “loving” fashion(I have YET to see this), it still comes off that way. Pushing your beliefs on someone, no matter how good your intentions are, is still manipulation. Why did I use the term manipulation? Because it is attempting to change someone with guilt, veiled comments and threats, and open contempt for something that is honestly no one’s business but the person who is doing the action, the person who they are doing said action with, and whatever deity that person believes in.

 

Not you. Not me. Not even my penguin Pablo. Because unless they offer you a seat in their boudoir, you shouldn’t be trying to refuse the sex they are having. What I mean is this: unless this person is married to you, underaged and related to you by either blood or work, or mentally deficient….leave them alone. Because no matter how you try to justify your actions, you are only pushing them away.

 

You aren’t “fighting the wicked system of debachery”, you’re being nosey. You are not” railing against sin”, you are telling people what to do when they did not even ask your permission. And when they rebuff your comment, as they will, do not sit there and call it persecution, throwing pearls before swine, or even knowing how Job in the bible felt.

 

It’s not persecution, they just didn’t like what you had to say. If it was persecution they would have either stoned you to death(not the fun kind) , thrown you to the lions, or nailed you to a cross. They would have went out of their way to make your life hell. Them ignoring your phone calls is not cause for alarm. They very well might be thinking on what you said. OR eating a sundae.

 

It’s not throwing pearls at swine because the person may honestly have their own belief set. Just because what you believe does not render them to tears does not mean they are brutish pigs. And let’s be honest, pigs are pretty awesome. You feed them an apple and they make bacon(the best food in the world). If you feed me an apple, all you are going to get is a roomful of gas.

 

You are not knowing how Job felt. Your piddly problem(someone disagreeing wiht you) is not even 1/10th of what he went through. What you are feeling is an emotion I’d like to call “wah-wah”. Daniel says it this way “You got your fweelwings hurt”. Your ego got bruised a bit, especially since they may have told you to sod off. Or told you in a nicer way reducing their relationship to a sex act is the most insulting thing you have ever done in their natural born life. And you HAVE done some pretty insulting things. I’d wish I could say they were wrong, but to be honest…i’d be lying. And we all know where lying gets you. In a room with some ugly chick in a blue dress.

 

This sentiment is even more so when it comes to the icky terrain of abortion. I myself would like to keep the abortions that I have to the number I currently have them. which is ZERO.

 

That being said, if something horrible happens to me(rape or I am informed my child has no brain stem) I want to be able to have that choice. Because I should not be forced, as a victim of rape, to carry a child to term. It would be unfair to me and both the child. I say unfair to me because whenever I look at that child, I would be reminded of how that kid was concieved. And to be honest, I don’t need ANY MORE REMINDERS. And I say unfair to the child, because let’s be very honest: the child would be black. And black children, sadly enough, have a lesser chance of being adopted or put into loving homes. They usually age out. Heck, any child in the system who is adopted into a loving home is literally a success story.

And each year that child spends in the system, the smaller their chances are.

That’s not fair or right to anyone.

If my child is going to die as soon as I have them, it would be a mercy to just abort now. I’ll give a real life example. I had a family member who was pregnant. As it is, according to a relative, the baby was going to be born without a brain. They did the scan and everything. Those family members in the medical profession said “you need to abort. The child is already dead.”

A cousin told her to keep the child, because God could have the child’s brain grow where there isn’t one.

The child was born. Head was sunken in from having no brain. I don’t know how my cousin felt, as that I was far away, but the story was relayed to me. I felt angry. Angry that my cousin sat there and said those words to my relative. Angry the brain did not grow. Angry at the fact that my relative was told to do sometihng in direct disreguard for the truth. After I moved past the anger,I was able to figure out what I wanted to do.

 

And what I wanted to do was be there from then on for women who are going through events that are like that or worse. And letting them know it’s okay to cry, it’s okay to be angry, etc etc. Another thing that occured that day is that I realized pushing my beliefs on someone(I was very pro life) would have that very same effect on someone in a similar situation. So from that I became pro choice. Not because I wanted little children to die. I honestly think that if someone has the financial ability, the wits, and the emotional(and mental) capacity should parent.But if they do not want a child or do not want to ever have one, they should make the motions to make sure pregnancy doesn’t occur in the first place. That responsibility lies soley with them.  But if they don’t, whatever they do is ultimately their descsion. And who am I to tell them that they are a murderer? Cause according to how a baby is concieved, they aren’t. If anything, they commited what some call a moral faux pas. I could get into the science of it and everything, but we’re all adults and we all know how to read.

 

That being said, this whole planned parenthood debacle is deplorable. I have friends who are very christian thinking of it as a victory and friends who are christian yet are a bit further on the left as a bad thing(the defunding).

 

And I agree. It is bad. Because, as I sadly have to inform you, planned parenthood is not a den of abortionists. It’s a group, that has real doctors nurses and the like. They even have counselors.

 

They are located in cities for the most part, and do a pretty good service. They campaign for cheaper, better birth control options for women. They give advice on abuse and rape. They give pap smears, at a better rate than most doctors. Some PP’s do abortions, but the one in my state just points you to where they are, if you want one. If I had to put their belief statement in a sentence it would be “You are the only person who is in charge of your sexual behavior. Take responsiblity. Get tested, get pap smears, or abstain.”

 

Yeah, I said it. They even promote abstainence. Not as the end all be all, but as something that should be done when sex crosses into the risky sectors(abusive lovers, cheating lovers, not sure about your relationship, etc). Sex, according to them, is something beautiful. It should be done safely and in the confines of a mutually respectful relationship. They aren’t given classes on how to be prostitutes. I should know. I’ve had to visit a PP in my lifetime.

 

I and a friend were both lapsed in our healthcare(we aged out of our parents) so we went to look for a cheaper place to get a pap smear. There was a city clinic, but it gave me a really really bad vibe. So we went to PP. I and my friend both got the info we needed, and went on our way. The price they offered wasn’t too bad. And the fact that they screened for STD’s was a bonus as that I could tell people I knew where to go. Not because I was running around with an STD at the time, but I knew people who were. And they were broke. So PP was the logical choice.

 

And now PP might be defunded, the one in Baton Rouge might close. And let me tell you, Baton Rouge needs all the help it can get. It’s number one in the nation for new HIV cases. Where are the new cases going to go? There are some groups in BR that help, but may prove too far. Or they might be filled to capacity. It goes on and on. Removing the funding is akin to telling poor people and folks with HIV/AIDS “You know what? I do not care about your situation. Tell someone else who cares.” It’s going to negatively affect us all, and that scares me. I don’t think I’m going to be raped anytime soon, but I do get worried on the pricing of birth control when I do move. I have PCOS, and let me tell you, the birth control is the best thing that has happened to me. So yeah, I might have a bit of a stake in this.

 

And yes, I know about PP’s beginnings. Yes the woman believed in eugenics. But you know who also did? Oh, a good freaking bit of the nation at the time so it shouldn’t come as a shock. That’s like being surprised there was slavery up north.