tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26257179709363086462024-03-13T23:06:07.793-07:00Another Drop in the OceanMiss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-43427759970124294812019-05-15T00:24:00.004-07:002019-05-15T00:24:40.231-07:00The Fading Pulse of Women's Rights<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--6YntEWpRQ4/XNu8O3WoczI/AAAAAAAACJc/0V5rLsE-v7c0nRs6OjkykQCiJDazABu1gCLcBGAs/s1600/322b9bb4-2de2-4128-8d14-0deaf2e61d27-53_169089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="540" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--6YntEWpRQ4/XNu8O3WoczI/AAAAAAAACJc/0V5rLsE-v7c0nRs6OjkykQCiJDazABu1gCLcBGAs/s400/322b9bb4-2de2-4128-8d14-0deaf2e61d27-53_169089.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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A terrifying wave of archaic sexism has washed ashore in a
handful of states in the US recently, flooding the streets with baseless claims
of human rights and drowning decades of feminist progress. The Heartbeat Bills
and several other similar legislation making the rounds in state senates have
set back the hands of time in placing the rights of a mass of cells in a woman’s
uterus before the rights of the living, breathing, fully developed organism
that carries that mass of cells. The absurdity of it all is unrealized to the
pro-lifers that shout and protest miles above reason, rationality, and compassion.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was once one of those pro-lifers. As a young lass I was a
die hard Christian who wore Christian band shirts to school and joined the
Christians on Campus club. I doodled crosses on my notebooks and attended
church and youth group weekly, thirsty for the divine intervention that would
save my wretched, misguided soul. It was during these youth group gatherings
that we were introduced to pro-life propaganda. Small cases of tiny, fully
formed humans were passed around the room (at 13 I had no idea that embryos did
not look like this at 6 gestational weeks). Posters and photos of what appeared
to be charred remains of dismembered babies post-abortion were held up for our
God-fearing eyes to gaze upon. One youth leader shared a harrowing sinful tale
of her choice to abort a baby when she was a teen, bearing her scarlet letter
for us to gawk at in horror. I remember sharing this information with my peers
at school, recruiting pro-lifers with the same propaganda that swayed my young
and impressionable mind. I remember arguing with a friend that rape victims
could receive treatments of spermicide to prevent pregnancy and our focus
should be getting them help, not abortions. I even remember arguing that no
matter how a child was conceived, it was not the child’s fault and abortion
should not be an option.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I left the church about a year after this fateful lesson,
but it took years for the light bulb of enlightenment to go on over my head, and
I don’t quite recall exactly when it happened. I was a conservative. I voted
Republican. I was a pro-lifer. But contrary to these labels, I was also gay,
and I do remember how frustrated I felt as a gay woman to have people all over my
home state voting on my personal life and my right to marry because of their
personal beliefs. I remember realizing this was not much different from me
voting for abortion. Eventually education set in as well and I realized the definition
of life and the circumstances women face in pregnancy are not black and white, and
I became pro-choice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now a liberal, Democratic, Atheist, pro-choice, feminist
lesbian, I cannot handle the threats of the insanity knocking on all of our
doors with these senseless bills. Though there are more than 11 states with
such bills, most notably, Ohio, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, and Georgia have
recently introduced variations of the heartbeat bill. These bills indicate that
once a heartbeat is detected, an abortion can no longer occur, neglecting the difficulty women have at even confirming pregnancy at this stage. Some have
placed harsh restrictions on the circumstances under which abortions can occur, at times forcing women
to carry non-viable babies to term even though they will not survive long past
birth, so long as the mother’s life is not in danger. Some have repealed protective
exceptions based on a baby having severe disabilities, and pregnancies
resulting from rape and incest, even if they’re children. Some have
criminalized doctors who perform abortions as well as women who seek abortions
within or outside of their home states, and even opened the doors for investigations
of miscarriages to ensure they occurred naturally. Some have even taken it a
step further in Ohio, where they are proposing that any “<a href="https://www.truthorfiction.com/does-a-proposed-ohio-bill-make-the-pill-and-iuds-illegal/">drugs or devices that prevent the implantation of a fertilized ovum</a>” equate to an abortion as well.
That’s right, using birth control pills, shots, patches, IUDs, or the morning
after pill is considered an abortion in their eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The fight against pro-lifers has been waging for centuries.
Medically-induced abortions began legally in the early 1800s and were typically
allowed prior to a woman’s “quickening,” or the period where the woman first
felt the baby kick, typically between 20-24 weeks. These abortions were performed
by various practitioners, including midwives, apothecaries, and homeopaths, and
risks were high, as they were with any surgical procedures back in the day. Many
states made it illegal on moral grounds but it has been suggested that doctors
did not appreciate having these individuals who were not formally medically
trained traipsing on their professional stomping grounds. It was made illegal
in 1910 and many women were forced into back alley abortions, which at times
ended in their deaths. In 1973, abortion was re-legalized through the Supreme
Court decision of Roe vs. Wade, but this victory was short-lived as many states
worked through the loop-holes of the federal case to limit funding, access, and
time frames for women to receive abortions. In 1992, the Supreme Court decided
that restrictions can be placed on even first-trimester abortions, opening the
door for these heartbeat bills to come down the line years later.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The trouble with heartbeat bills is that it attempts to
define when a life begins. While some go so far as to say a fertilized ovum is
the beginning of life, others have argued implantation, detectable heartbeat,
or viability mark life’s commencement, and some have said at birth. The reality
is even scientists are at odds in defining this, as <a href="https://www.wired.com/story/heartbeat-bills-get-the-science-of-fetal-heartbeats-all-wrong/">Dr. Jennifer Kerns</a> notes
that heartbeats at 6 weeks are nothing more than electrical impulses of cells,
not a pulsating organ that is supporting a cardiovascular or neurological
system, as neither the cardiovascular nor the neurological system have developed
enough to sustain life in the organism. Simply because technology has advanced
enough to detect electric activity in cells does not mean that embryotic
development has advanced enough to warrant human rights at the same time. But
while science and reasoning sits on the table being blatantly ignored,
pro-lifers have continued to gain traction on the battle for women’s rights.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What has become dangerous with this sudden surge of
anti-abortion laws is that these lawmakers fully anticipate a fight. One state
senator expressed his hope that someone would come forward to challenge the
bills as it would eventually lead to a Supreme Court case. With the Supreme
Court leaning toward a conservative majority, it is entirely possible that a SC
case could overturn Roe v Wade, making the already complicated business of
abortions impossible.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The obstacles women have faced in seeking abortions even
after the landmark Roe v. Wade have placed such burdens on women that it would
seem pro-lifers have had the upper hand for quite some time. Many states have shut
down the majority of abortion clinics that once stood; some only have one
clinic operating state-wide. Many of these clinics have completely lost federal
funding, placing the responsibility of costs on the patients, and many
insurance companies do not cover abortion as it is considered an elective
procedure. Abortions cost anywhere from $350 to $1000 in the first trimester,
and even more in the second. Many states require waiting periods, forcing women
to meet with a physician and receive education on their potential baby, then
wait another 24-48 hours before they can proceed with the abortion, hoping to
guilt the mother into keeping the pregnancy. Some clinics have even forced
these women to listen to their baby’s heartbeat prior to the abortion, waging
psychological warfare on a decision that already bears so much emotion for the
patient. Women even struggle to trust their general practitioners with their
decision, as one Reddit user posted some time ago. She wrote that when she
informed her doctor of her decision to abort, the doctor promised to provide
information for an abortion clinic, but (illegally) provided her information to
a pro-life clinic where she was contacted and misled into scheduling an
appointment. Upon her arrival, she found herself being presented with
anti-abortion information and was told she would not be receiving an abortion
there. Delays in scheduling the appointment with the clinic almost resulted in
her exceeding the legally permitted time limit for abortion.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Finding legitimate clinics to receive an abortion has grown
even more challenging in recent years. With the Trump administration, it was
widely known that funding for Planned Parenthood was completely cut due to the
fact that its clinics performed abortions. It did not matter to him or any pro-life
supporters that only 3% of their services were abortions, and the remaining 97%
were services such as cancer screenings, pelvic exams, STI testing, sex
education and birth control provisions, infertility treatments, and even
adoption service referrals. They turned a blind eye to scientific evidence that
showed when birth control and contraceptives are unavailable or difficult to obtain,
unwanted pregnancies and thus abortion rates increase significantly. In
addition to cutting funding to prevent pregnancy, funding has been cut to
assist families who struggle to survive, including welfare programs WIC, and
food stamps. Likewise, in a private insurance world where medical insurance is
nothing more than big business, providing care for children with severe disabilities
places families in significant debt trying to keep up with their medical bills.
So essentially what the GOP is saying is we will not help you to avoid
pregnancy, we will not help you end your pregnancy even if you can’t afford
another child or your fetus is severely disabled, and we will not help you care
for the child we forced you to have. It’s almost as if they expect women to commit
themselves to a life of celibacy, which of course is entirely unrealistic,
especially if it means these manly lawmakers will not be getting laid. And let’s
not forget that when they do need to get laid and they <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2017/10/03/gop-rep-repeatedly-promoted-pro-life-stance-a-week-after-reportedly-telling-mistress-to-get-abortion/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.5a963018f95f">accidentally get their mistress pregnant</a>, they will briefly become pro-choice and suddenly abortions
are okay.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s not easy to challenge a lifetime of indoctrinated
beliefs. It’s not easy to overcome the strongest of confirmation biases and
open yourself up to another viewpoint and logical reasoning. In one post on
Reddit regarding these bills, a poster commented that people cannot and will
not change their stance on abortion no matter the circumstance. I’m proof that people can. But even if in
your heart you cannot bring yourself to agree with abortion, try to come to
terms with this: whatever decisions we make for ourselves, we do not have the
right to make those decisions for others, no matter what our personal beliefs may be.
Pro-choice doesn’t mean being pro-abortion, it means being 100% minding your
own fucking business. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-14537106823674958332017-02-20T00:50:00.000-08:002017-02-20T00:50:54.034-08:00The Deportation of Dreams<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qt-MXSS8Uso/WKqqRbU0jhI/AAAAAAAAB7A/eIKF7DsSSM4LgC1uZyOHcEhh5Wt6A_TVgCEw/s1600/IMG_20170219_005230_047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qt-MXSS8Uso/WKqqRbU0jhI/AAAAAAAAB7A/eIKF7DsSSM4LgC1uZyOHcEhh5Wt6A_TVgCEw/s320/IMG_20170219_005230_047.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
On Saturday, I participated in my first official demonstration, which I guess technically qualifies me as an activist of some sort, right? After several years of arguing for refugee and Muslim rights on YouTube, Facebook, and Instagram, and in the past few years of working with predominantly undocumented individuals at work, I realized I needed to take a more active approach in the real world to support the cause. So I guess <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XVZBHvKp9bQ&list=FLN2TjlBsdsH0dcYqF--1RXA&index=11">Queen Rania</a> was right all along that online activism can lead to real world action and change, it just takes a few years more than I realized (check out my less than honorable mention at 3:03).<br />
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I am the daughter of an immigrant. My dad traveled to the United States from Mexico legally in the 1950s with my grandparents, aunt, and uncle. It was a gradual and difficult process as my grandfather scrimped and saved the money he earned from two full-time jobs in order to gather enough to secure green cards for his entire family. There was separation involved as my grandfather sent for the family members one by one to come to El Paso, Texas, Eventually they moved to Huntington Park, California, which was still a sprawling white only neighborhood back in the day, and, in the face of rampant racism, began the lengthy and expensive process of obtaining citizenship. My family worked hard to achieve this and they fervently believed in the importance of moving legally, following the rules, and beginning their new life in the US with a clean slate.<br />
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This is the environment I was raised in. Understand the sacrifice, appreciate the struggle, and observe the integrity that it took for our family to come here as documented immigrants, legal workers, and eventually legitimate Americans. My family looked down upon the undocumented immigrants who waded across the Rio Grande or high-tailed it through the desert with some shady coyote who may take advantage of their desperation or rape their women. Different sacrifices to make some feeble attempt of reaching the American Dream that so many hope for, but illegal sacrifices nonetheless. "If we came here legally, so should you!" I was fed many lies about illegal immigrants, the crime that they bring, the leeching off the system, the ineffectiveness of their existence in our economy.<br />
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For a long time I bought into this. I believed what my family would tell me because why would they lie? But as I've gotten older and wiser, as my critical thinking skills have kicked in and my brain decided to start working on its own for a change, I realized not everything is so black and white. I have come to understand the nearly impossible process involved in trying to come here legally from south of the border, and why so many break the laws to do so in any way they can. I have seen the hard work these people put in just to survive and feed their families. I have learned that while many of them are not legal residents, they have jobs that also pay taxes. I have seen them strive just to provide their children a small slice of what we all hope for growing up in this land of opportunities. I have seen them desperate to accomplish, to grow, to contribute to the country they love.<br />
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Now please do not mistake me, because I am not in support of illegal immigration. I believe that we must have an effective system in place to track and document any individuals coming into this country, whether it be our southern neighbors, our friends to the north, or any country from across the sea. These are difficult times with terrorism and violence, and we need to be aware of who enters our country, who is living in our neighborhoods. I think there is much to be done to improve the system that we already have, which clearly is not working if a terrorist can fly with his wife into California from Saudi Arabia and shoot up a regional center. But does that mean that deporting functional members of our society will solve our problems?<br />
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ICE raids have been rampant in the last few weeks, more so in Southern California where undoubtedly the Trump Administration has targeted undocumented immigrants because of the LA County Sheriff Department's refusal to help with deportation efforts and recent announcements that LA is looking to become a sanctuary city. Though the White House claims that these raids are targeting criminals, reports throughout SoCal indicate that anyone without papers is being picked up and deported. I admit I personally have no qualms with deporting undocumented individuals who have come to my country to commit crimes; if you can't respect the sanctity of our social laws, you must go! If you're here to mooch off the system, goodbye! But I can't comprehend the benefit of deporting mothers of small children who have been here for 14 years and have done nothing wrong. I can't understand why we would send a father packing for working in the fields of our agricultural divisions for 10 years and leaving his family without a provider. Why would we send parents away, leaving their American born children alone and susceptible in the US foster care system?<br />
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As I marched, I saw strength and unity in many groups of people: Muslims, Jews, Africans, Latinos. Some were refugees from war torn countries, others refugees from corrupt nations and politicians. All were marching for their right to not only exist, but to exist in a safe and secure environment, away from dropping bombs and gunfire, away from cartels and backwards police, away from poverty and disease. I also saw glimmers of fear and desperation as families pleaded to stay together, and children holding both American and Mexican flags who don't comprehend the dire situation they and their families are in with the risk of being separated forever. And I realized this is not my America.<br />
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A change must come. People who are already here must become documented and we must facilitate this process in order to help them do so, not provoke fear and intimidation in threats of being sent back to the murderous, corrupt hellhole from whence they came. Likewise, moving forward, people who plan to come here must follow the regulations set forth by our federal laws; we shouldn't make coming to America a difficult process, but it should be a required process either way to monitor for safety, security, and the economical issues of living in this country. Everyone should have the right to pursue the dream that we all strive for, no matter what the hypocritical immigrant in the white house has to say about it. Because let's not forget, FLOTUS is an immigrant who worked illegally in the US too, so if his wife deserves the opportunity, why doesn't everyone else?<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M-iPKo52B4w/WKqqRm4ORnI/AAAAAAAAB7E/dvlle2d08p8AzBzu5_0vX_zcaS9KVWFkgCLcB/s1600/20170219_005449.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M-iPKo52B4w/WKqqRm4ORnI/AAAAAAAAB7E/dvlle2d08p8AzBzu5_0vX_zcaS9KVWFkgCLcB/s320/20170219_005449.png" width="296" /></a></div>
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Inarguably the best poster at the march</div>
<br />Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-87103440987683652832017-01-29T11:12:00.000-08:002017-01-29T11:12:59.948-08:00Porte Fermèe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NYplDRWnRIo/WI2OeQPzMQI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/zqWYABkfOU0BjTrPZz_-d8vbixOnXJ-LgCLcB/s1600/shep.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NYplDRWnRIo/WI2OeQPzMQI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/zqWYABkfOU0BjTrPZz_-d8vbixOnXJ-LgCLcB/s320/shep.jpeg" width="239" /></a></div>
On November 13, 2015, members of the Middle Eastern terrorist group ISIL organized an attack on Paris, France. A triad of extremists descended upon the darkened city and began systematically detonating previously placed explosive devices around the city, namely in restaurants and cafes. One unsuccessfully tried to enter a sports stadium and detonated his bomb outside the area. One group of gunmen raided other eateries and began shooting several innocent patrons. Another group carried out a massacre in a local theater where the metal band Eagles of Death Metal were performing. Bodies and pools of blood filled the roads and sidewalks and screams filled the air. Innocent civilians were fleeing through the streets of the City of Lights as the country was enveloped in the darkness of senseless violence.<br />
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As first responders arrived on scene, authorities advised everyone to avoid travel, seek shelter, and stay off the streets. Then the Open Door Movement began. Parisians all over the city began publicly tweeting their addresses with the hashtag #porteouverte, translated to Open Door, indicating that their home was a safe house to anyone who could not get home that night, that shelter, food, and a place to sleep would be provided until the city was safe again. Parisians knew the dangers of allowing strangers into their homes. What if they were robbed? What if they were attacked? What if the person they were letting in was one of the terrorists themselves, seeking a gullible family to eliminate? But they didn't care, because the danger of helping a complete stranger was far less greater than the danger that lurked in the shadows on that fateful night.<br />
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There is a great danger lurking in the Middle East. Between the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the Syrian conflict, there are thousands of innocent civilians being brutally murdered with bombings, shootings, massacres, and even burnings. In Aleppo, men, women, and children caught in the middle of a civil war have been ruthlessly slaughtered, and make every attempt to flee the city if they have somewhere to go. Many don't.<br />
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Jordan, Lebanon, Kurdistan, Iraq, Turkey and Egypt have taken most of the load in the Middle East in terms of providing safe havens. Over the past four years, over 4.8 million refugees have sought asylum in their neighboring countries. Gradually they started shifting over to Europe, where countries including the UK, Germany, and Sweden begin accepting refugees and estimate to have housed 500,000 of them as they cross into EU borders. Some families become desperate, like Alan Kurdi's family, who drowned when attempting to cross the sea into Turkey. He became international news when his small body washed up on a Turkish beach, reminding everyone of the gravity of the dire situation in Syria.<br />
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In spite of their great intentions to help their fellow man, eventually the efforts of these countries fell far too short. The conditions of the camp deteriorate as funding dwindles and many of the countries can no longer manage the extra thousands and millions of mouths to feed, clothe, and house. In camps in Jordan, they live in sorry excuses for a tent, where they struggle to stay warm through the frigid winters without enough blankets, sweaters, heaters, and few doctors to treat them when they become sick. In other camps, many described the settings as degrading, some were housed in what they described as imprisonment. Some Syrian women resort to prostitution to feed their families. And though many countries provided asylum away from the bombings, the death, and the terror of war, the refugees were not always out of danger. In many camps, refugee women were being sexually assaulted. In one Turkish camp, a worker was discovered to be sexually abusing young Syrian boys, at times paying them 70 cents to $1.70 to have sex with him. He did not deny these allegations, but he reported multiple workers in the camp were doing the same.<br />
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The added pressures of taking on refugees and the economic strain that tightened around these nations was beginning to take its toll. Turkey began to turn from the humanitarian cause and began unofficially refusing entry into their country. Soldiers were found to be shooting and beating Syrian refugees at the borders, and a Turkish factory was discovered to have been making fake life jackets that were provided to migrants attempting to flee to Greece. This was found after 30 emigrants washed ashore Greece's beach, prompting a raid and investigation.<br />
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Distrust also began to grow in the EU as well. As a very select few of the emigrants committed criminal acts (like select individuals of every ethnicity, race, and nationality do), Europeans began to associate these acts with the culture and religion as a whole. If one migrant acts like an asshole, they all must be assholes. Likewise as terrorist attacks surged in Europe, more and more people began to believe that the open door policy they have maintained have made it easier for terrorists to enter their country (however, attacks like the one on Paris were carried out by French citizens). Intensifying dissent regarding the refugee policies grew, which largely contributed to the Brexit motion of the UK.<br />
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The US is not immune to such suspicions. After the attack on the Pentagon and the World Trade centers that killed 3,000 Americans, Islamophobia has been growing steadily, along with hostility. As refugees began filing into the states, more and more people began to turn against them. Though it seemed tensions eased a little under the comfort of Obama's presidency, with the anti-Muslim rhetoric that has been spewing from Trump's mouth since he began his campaign, hostilities are burning hotter than ever. Following the attacks on Paris, more people called for closing our borders, and Trump set out to do just that.<br />
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On January 27th, he signed a bill indefinitely restricting Syrian refugees from entering the country, along with temporary bans of other Muslims from various other nations including Iran, Iraq, Libya, Somalia, Sudan, Syria and Yemen. This includes refugees who have already been approved to come to America, students who went home to visit their families during the holidays and cannot re-enter, and immigrants with valid green cards, whom are set to be sent home. There was chaos at the airports as many incoming Middle Easterners, Muslims, and refugees were detained by customs and set to be deported. Some were handcuffed and interrogated. One New York judge stopped the deportations but has not motioned to allow them entry into the US. Protests are rampant, but <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2017/01/28/us/refugees-detained-at-us-airports-prompting-legal-challenges-to-trumps-immigration-order.html">Trump reports</a> that they were "well prepared" for the rollout and felt that it was "working out very nicely, you see it at the airports, you see it all over." Apparently he hasn't turned on a TV. His ban has already brought legal challenges from two refugees, and more are set to follow. In response, Iran is blocking US citizens from traveling to their country as well. The silver lining for refugees is that Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau is happy to accept them and perhaps they can be re-routed up north until we can get Trump fired.<br />
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Some have supported the ban citing these ongoing fears of terrorists getting into the country. Let me briefly touch on the 9-step process refugees must go through in order to be approved to come to America for those of you still concerned with national security:<br />
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<i>1. Basic identifying information is collected, applicants are interviewed on their need for relocation (<b><u>only 1%</u> of all applicants are approved to move on to step 2</b>).</i><br />
<i>2. They are relocated to a federally funded camp, formal identification documents are collected, biographical security checks begin</i><br />
<i>3. They are screened by the National Counter-Terrorism Center, the Department of Homeland Security, the FBI, and the Sate Department to ensure they are not a security risk, they are not connected to other security risks, and have no history of criminal activities</i><br />
<i>4. They are heavily interviewed by multiple agents from Homeland Security and they run fingerprints</i><br />
<i>5. Fingerprints are run through the FBI, the Homeland Security office, and the Department of Defense (any security concerns result in rejection of application)</i><br />
<i>6. Medical checks are run (any medical issues result in rejection of application)</i><br />
<i>7. Applicants take cultural orientation classes and have a location identified for them</i><br />
<i><b>During this time, ongoing security checks are run repeatedly to ensure no new information arises on their records before they are sent to their new country.</b></i><br />
<i>8. Travel, processing through customs and TSA regulations</i><br />
<i>9. Arrival in the US, immediately begin the lengthy process to obtain a green card, including more security and background checks. If they do not obtain one within one year, they are deported.</i><br />
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NOT ONE TERRORIST IN AMERICA HAS BEEN ADMITTED THROUGH THE REFUGEE STATUS PROGRAM</div>
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This entire process takes approximately one and a half to two years as applicants are excruciatingly, painstakingly screened. Knowing the extent of this process, knowing that their records will arise and not only will they be rejected but detained and prosecuted, I sincerely doubt that ISIS or ISIL was using the refugee status application as a means to get to the US. And closing the borders won't stop them either. Do you really think the rebels of ISIS are going to say "aw shucks guys, they closed the borders! Well, I guess we should give up and go back to being farmers!" All we are doing is condemning the innocent civilians of war torn countries to die in their homelands, be sexually assaulted or starve in their camps, or to be <a href="http://monarc143.blogspot.com/2015/11/refugee-to-terrorist-true-cost-of.html">recruited by ISIS</a>.<br />
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In Paris, whatever dangers were present, on that night, the people were united. They opened their doors, they risked their own safety to provide safety to their fellow man from the evil of this world. They didn't ask for ID first, they didn't demand papers, they didn't ask about their religions. They simply said "come in, you will be safe here." Had I the opportunity, I would open my door to you, I would welcome you in and keep you safe. Sadly, there is no safe haven here for you for now my friends, no American dream, no opportunity or liberty, no pursuit of happiness. Our doors are portes fermèes; closed. But please believe that we will continue to fight for you. When Trump closes a door, we will break it down.Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-46100591545807046932017-01-23T22:34:00.000-08:002017-01-23T22:52:29.513-08:00Contraceptive Deceptions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On January 21st, one day after the inauguration of Donald Trump, millions of women, girls, and their male-counterpart allies worldwide took to the streets to march and protest for Women's Rights, along with the human rights issues of ethnic minorities and LGBTs piggy-backing on the movement. I couldn't make the march myself, but I kept a close eye on the videos and photos streaming through my Facebook news feed, and teared up at the overwhelming and impassioned global response. This was one of the most historic events I have ever had the privilege to witness, and hope and inspiration for our future flooded my heart.<br />
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Everyone marched for various reasons: some marched for educational rights for girls throughout the world; some marched for equal pay; some marched for pro-choice rights and contraception; some marched for pro-life; some marched against the rape culture. Others' reasons weren't directly related to women's rights, but they marched for climate change, for marriage equality, for Black Lives, and for refugees and Muslims. But the underlying motive for many on this day was the swearing in of who is probably one of the most blatantly misogynistic presidents the US has ever known. With derogatory and brutal ad hominems attacking any woman who challenged him, with locker room admissions of sexual harassment and assaults, with promises to defund organizations that work to ensure women's health, Trump became the biggest liability to the Women's Rights movement in the western world when he became the leader of the most powerful country on the planet.<br />
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I have seen many people from various countries comment on the election and the ensuing danger that Trump's inauguration would bring. Many trolls on the internet often told these people to shut up, mind their own business, and stop sticking their noses in our politics. What they don't understand is the monstrous influence our country has on the global community and how our international relations, our foreign policies, our social issues trickle down and impact other countries and our fellow (wo)man. This is why multiple protests took place around the world, not just in our backyards. But, as if to perfectly demonstrate this point, Trump's first Monday in office tackled women around the world to the ground as he flipped a giant middle finger to us all.<br />
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In spite of the sea of protesters that packed into the streets and subways to demand their protection, Trump moved forward with his first blow to Women's Rights when he signed the Mexico City policy, also known as the Global Gag Rule. The Global Gag Rule is an international law which cuts funding to family planning organizations all over the world that utilize, promote, or even discuss abortions as options for expectant mothers. Even if the organizations continue these practices with alternate funding, they will be disqualified from receiving any US funds. This was no secret plan and really no shock, as Trump and Pence had been fighting Planned Parenthood from the beginning and promised to demolish the agency, but, as with most of his misinformed platform, Trump jumped without looking, without thinking, and the effects are going to backfire on a global scale.<br />
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During the presidential campaign, in order to garner more support for shutting down Planned Parenthood, the GOP fed a colossal lie to the public when it alleged that 95% of services provided by PP were abortions. Pro-Lifers ate this up and immediately joined the cause to level the murderous bastards by any means necessary, which of course meant electing a giant narcissistic carrot. But when actual facts come into play, the story is drastically different, making this move with the Global Gag Rule that much more detrimental.<br />
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The irrefutable truth is that organizations like Planned Parenthood provide a wide array of services to lower income and uninsured families, including STI/STD testing and treatment, providing contraception and sterilization procedures, pregnancy tests and prenatal care, and various forms of cancer screenings. All of these bypass abortions significantly, as they account for roughly 97% of the services provided by PP, and the remaining 3% is pregnancy terminations.<br />
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So what does it really mean when you close a Planned Parenthood down? By stopping free pregnancy tests and prenatal care, you eliminate early pregnancy detection, critical prenatal care, and you significantly increase the risk for unsafe labors. By shutting down STI/STD testing, you accelerate the spread of of HIV/AIDS worldwide, and shave years off the lives of those who test positive, since they can no longer receive the medications that save their lives. By ending cancer screening, early detection is non-existent, therefore factors that extend their lifespan are too. By refusing to provide free contraception, you will dramatically increase unwanted pregnancies, which will in turn, increase abortions. Yup, just because you shut down a clinic that does abortions on occasion does not mean you will end abortion. In fact, abortions will grow exponentially. How do we know this? Because it's been done before.<br />
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Though there is a long standing law that the US cannot use taxpayer money to fund any form of abortions, various presidents have toyed with it and signed the Mexico City policy in and out of activity with every change in office. Originally enacted by Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton lifted the policy when he entered office. George W. Bush re-enacted it when he took over, and Obama lifted it once more when he moved into the big house. Now Trump has signed it back in just one day after the 44th anniversary of the passing of Roe vs Wade. According to the World Health Organization, when Bush signed the policy back in, abortions increased by <b><u>40%</u></b> worldwide. Imagine that, if you take away birth control pills, condoms, and IUDs, people get more kids they don't want and will do anything to get rid of them, including risking their own lives. During this same period, the majority of the abortions that took place were illegal and unsafe, which ended in several maternal deaths. If the past is any indication, estimates are reporting that abortions will likely rise by 2.2 million internationally, and maternal deaths are estimated to increase by 13%.<br />
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During the election, I was appalled by the 44% of female voters who elected Trump into office. Hadn't they been listening? Hadn't they been paying attention? They rationalized away his horrific statements as being "misquoted," "edited by liberal news outlets," or just denying anything was said at all. This made it so much easier for them to look past this impending danger and allow the vicious beast past the gates. Even during these marches, women continued to berate other women from the comfort of their own computer chairs, not comprehending the significance of this moment or the benefits they already reap from so many marches that took place before this to secure the rights they enjoy today.<br />
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So many Trump supporters urge us to unite, and too often the abyss is too wide for us to bridge the gap, but finally this is something we can work together on, because right now we're all losing. If you're appalled by maternal deaths and unsafe abortions, this should scare the shit out of you. If you are pro-life, you should be infuriated that the GOP lied to you and enacted a law that will cause abortion rates to explode across the globe. This is the beginning of a long road of lies and bullshit that you will have to fight right alongside us to stop this giant farting T.Rex from not only hurting us, but destroying women's lives all over the world. Stand with us.Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-33612447897512608682016-11-13T20:10:00.003-08:002016-11-13T20:40:06.715-08:00Bridging the Trump Gap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Inhale. Exhale. Disengage. Re-engage. Try to figure it all out. Just forget it and move on. Try to be positive. But I can't.<br />
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After Tuesday night's election, where Donald Trump was elected as the next President of the United States, I was thrust into a state of grief, hopelessness and devastation I haven't felt in awhile. I cried alone Tuesday night. I cried Wednesday with my colleagues and co-workers. And we cried not simply for the loss of Hillary, but for the loss of our faith in humanity. Eventually my depression subsided, but as I watched the surge in hate crimes around America, I became afraid. And now, as I see more and more people supporting Trump, glossing over the "fine details", and ignoring the impact that his election has had on the social climate around us is simply pissing me off. And to process these feelings, I must blog.<br />
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Now I recognize that there are varying degrees of support for Trump: some people (like the KKK) are blatant racists who identified with the candidate who systematically attacked every non-white ethnic group from Hispanics to Middle Easterners, from Blacks to Asians. Some people (like right wing Christians) are not at all racist, but they identified with the man who swore to abolish abortion and overturn the Supreme Court ruling of Marriage Equality because he aligned with their religious beliefs. Some people are none of those things, but they are still feeling the after effects of 9/11 and are facing the very real dangers of terrorism in an ISIS world.So they identified with a self-proclaimed leader who has promised to ban potentially dangerous Muslims and refugees because they are scared and need to feel safe somehow.<br />
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Others on the other hand are not at all racist, heterosexist (this is the more appropriate term beyond homophobic), or misogynistic, and they're not against refugees or Muslims. These are the people who simply agreed with Trump's actual campaign and platform about changing the welfare state, securing gun rights, creating more jobs, reforming socialized medical care, etc. Now I highly doubt that there has ever been a political candidate that anyone has agreed with 100%. There are always issues that we don't necessarily care for, there are usually topics which we find ourselves on the exact opposite side of the debate, and often times there are presented solutions that are not as powerful or effective as we would like them to be. But we prioritize the issues that are most important to us, and use this as our guiding compass to determine which candidate will help the country become the home we want it to be.<br />
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Unfortunately many people don't seem to prioritize racism, sexism, heterosexism, and sexual assault as bigger issues. As one person said when I was debating over the precarious Trump campaign on Facebook, "we need to agree to disagree on the fine details and recognize that we agree on the major points." The fine details. So suddenly these extremely perilous social illnesses are minute details in the greater scheme of the race to become the most powerful leader in the world. For those who glossed over the fine details and voted for Trump, what they don't understand is whether or not they agreed with the racism, the sexism, the heterosexism, and the sexual assault, they voted for a man who represented these things.<br />
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Now he's president. It's a catastrophe that...ahem...trumps the debacle of Brexit in the UK and our future is dreary and uncertain. But the difference between us and Brexit is the morning after their vote, most Brits realized they made a mistake. Most people, steeped in regret, begged for another chance to vote. And they now cling to hope that as Parliament reviews the decision, the vote will not be honored. Here, many people have cheered, many people have celebrated, no one has uttered a single "my god what have we done?" Trump supporters are arguing, justifying, and ignoring in the worst case of confirmation bias I have ever seen. Many refuse to discuss the hate-filled rants that made Trump notorious throughout the world. Others acknowledge their existence only to refute it, blaming the media for making Trump look bad with doctored videos, edited sound bites, and fabricated quotes, even though the evidence is there in front of them. Some people have pleaded with us to "find the good in him" and give him a chance. While he may have had a few positive moments worth highlighting during his campaign, Trump's escalating derogatory comments against minorities often eclipsed any good deeds, and this was no one's fault but his own. In the end, he made it very clear that today's colorful America was not the America he planned to maintain. And now our society is falling apart at the seams.<br />
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Hate crimes are rising. More and more reports are flowing in all over the nation of people attacking minorities and many of us do not feel safe walking down the streets. Adult men are grabbing Muslim women's hijabs off their heads, throwing them to the ground, telling other women they are going to grab them by the pussy, and actually trying to. White men are beating black men and gays. The KKK is throwing a celebratory march for Trump's victory, and came out in droves yesterday in Anaheim, California to battle the anti-Trump protests. Children are chanting "build that wall" in lunchrooms, driving Latino youth to tears. One high-schooler created homemade Deportation notices and handed them out to everyone in his school who looked even remotely Hispanic. Someone hanged a black baby doll in a college university. A friend of mine told me she witnessed a hate crime sitting outside a restaurant in Long Beach, where a white man told an Asian man to "pack [his] bags, because [his] time in this country is limited." Following Brexit, another vote saturated in xenophobia, hate crimes rose by 60% and are continuing in spite of the time that has passed. This is our future. With his demonizing, divisive speeches, our President-elect has created an atmosphere where people feel it is okay to perpetuate these acts of violence and hatred, and we're terrified of it. But Trump supporters refuse to acknowledge it. They don't mention it and won't denounce it. Trump finally did, in an <a href="http://people.com/politics/donald-trump-60-minutes-interview/">interview with 60 Minutes</a> he gave a very effective "stop it."<br />
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They also refuse to acknowledge the very real threats Trump/Pence poses to minorities with promises to <a href="http://mytroublesmelt.blogspot.com/2016/11/make-america-straight-again.html">overturn Marriage Equality</a> and stop any protective measures for LGBTs, promises to kick out refugees and refuse to provide them a safe haven from their war torn countries, promises to bring back torture tactics in the military, ending environment protection, and defund planned parenthood (which is mostly HIV treatments, contraception, and cancer screenings, far beyond the small percentage of abortions).<br />
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I can't count how many times I have heard that we are acting like babies, throwing tantrums, whining like children because we didn't win the game. Others maintain that we should respect other peoples' opinions, that we need to learn to agree to disagree. Many say that we are being uncooperative and we need to learn to unite and work together for our country. So how do we bridge the gap?<br />
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First of all, let me tell you, there is not and never will be an "Agree to Disagree" on racism, sexism, heterosexism, or sexual assault. There is no gray area, no common ground where we should compromise on these issues. But if we agree that not all of you who voted for Trump are racist, misogynistic, heterosexist, or rapists, you must acknowledge that Trump has made very racist, misogynistic, heterosexist comments that are not okay, and you cannot pretend that he did not admit to sexually assaulting women. Secondly if we agree that not all of you are going to attack us or rob us of our rights, you cannot disregard or dismiss that we minorities are being threatened and attacked by other Trump supporters and by Trump's own promises to degrade and devalue us as human beings. You cannot mock us for feeling unsafe just because the violence and future laws don't impact you. Thirdly, if you think we are overreacting or panicking needlessly, you can laugh skeptically and assure us that nothing bad is going to happen, but you must promise to stand with us if we are being attacked in the community or if our basic rights are going to be threatened by some law or Supreme Court ruling in the future.<br />
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This is the beginning of this compromise. Refusal to acknowledge these basic truths is a refusal to begin the conversation. If we listen to you, you must listen to us, support us, and stand with us. Then and only then can we converse, problem-solve, and unite.Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-47921070053408618212016-11-02T00:12:00.000-07:002016-11-02T00:48:01.515-07:00Darkness Beyond The Donald<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was sitting with my supervisor in the lunchroom at work today, and of course the conversation inevitably steered towards the upcoming election, as I'm sure it has for so many others 'round the water cooler for the past year since Donald Trump announced he was running for President. We sighed in utter exhaustion over the psychological battering we've endured from the media, especially in the past few months as the race has heated up and the scandals have forged a colossal blaze that would put the bowels of Hell to shame. We set our weary eyes to the rapidly approaching finale to this nightmare, November 8th, election day. Like so many others, we can't wait for this circus to be over. But as I settled back into my office alone, I realized that it is not that simple, that win or lose, this nightmare will not end once the final ballot is cast and counted. The presence of Trump has changed the face of America, and this election has propelled us into a darkness we cannot easily rebound from, because Trump was never the problem to begin with.<br />
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When Trump first announced his intention to run for president, I rolled my eyes as I'm sure many did, expecting this to be a publicity stunt for his TV programs, an upcoming project, or just a desperate attempt to stay relevant. As the election carried on and Trump gained momentum, I continued to cling to hope that he would announce his resignation from the run and we would all have a good laugh at the absurdity of this self-righteous silk-stocking seeking any position in our governmental system. But the announcement never came. Instead, we were pummeled with rage-filled tirades promoting violence toward the opposition, eliciting riots and assaults. This quickly escalated to sexist and racist rants, leaving no demographic untouched and none of us were safe from his degradation unless you were a rich, straight, white, Christian male. As the Donald became more and more of a loose cannon and the GOP slowly realized they were losing control, the Republican party began to back away from their elected candidate. Many withdrew their support, some even demanded that runner-up Ted Cruz be passed the torch for the election. But the catalyst came when a tape from Trump's past was exhumed and the GOP world collapsed.<br />
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Just before a scheduled television debate with Hillary Clinton, a 2005 audio interview with TV personality Billy Bush hit the internet. In the midst of what Trump would soon write off as locker room talk, the boys bantered about women, and Trump gave horrifying details of how he slayed the ladies, including forcibly kissing them and grabbing their genitals. Following the release of these tapes, tens of women came forward to give their own account of assault and harassment they have endured from Trump. Like drowning rats trying to escape a sinking ship, the GOP exploded, but it was too late. They had missed the deadline to recant their nominee; the ballots had been printed and sent out, and some absentee votes had already been cast. They were stuck with him, and thus, so are we.<br />
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With his radicalized spouting, his comments supporting the Japanese internment camps, the vows to "make America great again" that were followed by the abolition of several cultural and religious groups, it was all too easy for people to draw parallels between Trump and dictator Adolf Hitler. After rising to power in the 1930s, Hitler was eventually responsible for the deaths of millions of innocents, including Jews, blacks, Indians, Muslims and other non-Christians, homosexuals, and psychologically and physically disabled Europeans. Many have fired off warnings about the potential for historic repetition if Trump is elected, fearful of whatever ethnic cleansing would follow. But as I look back at the past year and the campaign trail Trump has traveled, he is not the one we should be afraid of, he's not the one that frightens me.<br />
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It's true that Trump bought his way into the running. The billionaire's net worth circles around $3.7 and with that kind of cold cash sitting in the bank (or is it in a tower like Scrooge McDuck's?), it's not hard to finance your own campaign. He had more rich friends who secured his first few months on the trail and helped his popularity for a time, but as Trump became angrier, as he spoke louder, as he lied, denied, and repeated his slogan without any substantial statements or clear plans to make anything great, he appealed to the masses. Granted, many of the masses were inbred rednecks with a 6th grade education, but there are a hell of a lot of them in America. The others are people who are scared or angry and horribly misinformed. Feeding off the fears and suspicion that the right-wing media has fueled through the years, Americans were led to believe that the problems they face were the fault of dangerous minorities. If you're scared, it's because of the terrorist Muslims and the criminals who migrate illegally across the border. If you're poor, blame the mooching minorities on welfare. If you're suffering in any way, blame the sins of free-loving homosexuals, bleeding emotional aborting women, and overzealous comb-overs (did you think you'd get through a Trump blog without a hair joke?). Trump latched on to these stereotypes and swore to exorcise America of these foul demons that plague our society. With these fears comfortably stoked, Trump was able to use this ace in the hole to strengthen his popularity and carry him through to the GOP nomination. And in spite of the outrageous statements, the sexual assault, the lies, the tax evasion, the support has continued to grow for him in greater America. This is what terrifies me.<br />
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When Hitler first composed Mein Kampf and began to gain support, he too fed off this Us vs. Them mentality. Wounded and weakened from the loss of World War I, the pride of the country suffered, and so did its people as many were struggling: destitute, hopeless, and hungry. Seeking a scapegoat, Hitler set his eyes on the Jews, though to this day, I'm not sure why he initially chose them. Drawing from beliefs that had been ingrained in European thought for years, Hitler told the Germans that their desolate plight was because of this dark-haired studious population. He continued to circulate rumors that the Jews had sabotaged the military efforts and contributed to the fall of the German government, that they were richer than others because they stole and embezzled money, and that they were weakening the country from within like a parasite because they didn't share the patriotic views of the Aryan race (sound familiar?). Eventually he expanded his hatred to every culture that didn't fit the bill of tall, blonde, blue-eyed, heterosexual Christians. The people ate this rhetoric up, and the rest is history.<br />
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The one similarity that rings all too true in these two stories is that these men did not deserve to succeed, they did not earn their success, and they did not succeed on their own. They only succeeded because they were allowed to. A dangerous man is only as powerful as the people who follow him. Hitler only rose to power because enough people bought into his bullshit. Trump has only come this far because people agree with his nonsensical ranting and his sniveling grade school retorts. With all his racism, sexism, and incoherence, he has garnered 42% of America's support. Forty two percent of Americans agree with this carrot-hued ape because he feeds off of and fuels the fear and anger Americans already had, and the reality is, Trump is and would be nothing without them. Americans have created a social and political climate in which ideas like his can thrive; America has made Trump great. I see their defenses on Facebook, I see their protests and their tailgating rallies on TV (presumably recorded before they begin crushing beer cans on their heads and head off to Wally World for another 24 pack), and I can't wrap my head around it all. But as one so eloquently put it, never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups, and these stupid people are the substance of my nightmares, my deepest fears for the future of America.<br />
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The dark side of America has re-emerged, the animosity has saturated the land. While Trump may have awoken this sleeping giant, the racism and sexism we hoped was dissipating has been lingering in the shadows so quietly, like the glowing embers of a dying fire that was never quite extinguished. Though Donald has fanned the flames back to life, the hatred and ignorance has burned within the hearts of his supporters long before he hit the campaign trail, and win or lose, they will be there long after November 8th. With America so deeply divided, how can we bridge the gap when the dust settles and the anger subsides? Will it subside? Like that horribly awkward moment when a friend accidentally lets a racist or homophobic comment slip and you realize the friendship is over, how can we learn to function with the 42% who were ready to elect this genetic defect as our Commander in Chief?<br />
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I used to find comfort in my belief that Trump will lose next week and he will fade away, hopefully never to be heard from again, but I now realize that the darkness that consumes his supporters, the darkness that fueled his success over the past year, is alive and well, and the brush fire that has begun is showing no sign of receding. Darker days are coming, my fellow Americans, and this is not Trump's America, this was our America all along.Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-13042384057517378572016-10-24T21:37:00.000-07:002016-10-24T21:37:17.037-07:00A Lump Named Lucille<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I sat in the chilly examination room, my legs dangling from the padded table with nothing to shield me from the germ-annihilating cold but a thin cloth gown, opening in the front. My heart was racing, which prompted a warning of concern about blood pressure from the nurse, but I stopped short of arguing. How do I point out that my heart is racing because I'm terrified of doctors' offices, that I dread being poked and prodded, and that I'm here because I found a large lump in my breast?<div>
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In reality, I found the lump over a year earlier. The small, marble-sized bump in my left breast was easily discernible, but my doctor wasn't concerned. She noted that I was young and that there was no history of breast cancer in my family, writing off the lump as a simple anomaly. She advised me to monitor it nonetheless and sent me home. She wasn't worried, I felt foolish for overreacting, and I went on about my life.</div>
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Over the months, I continued with blase breast exams, grazing my hands haphazardly over my chest once in awhile, checking to make sure the little marble hadn't grown, and finding virtually no change. I began to experience a distinct ache in my chest and beneath my left shoulder blade, but chalked it up to stress and a poor sleeping position. It wasn't until March of this year that I noticed changes in my breast I had never seen before. Distinct dimples had developed over the side, creating a field of pock-marks in my skin. A bulge had begun to distend slightly a few inches from my marble. In a panic, I began aggressively examining my breast, digging my fingers deep into my skin until my chest ached. As I dug deeper, I found that my little marble was not so little anymore. </div>
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I have a large chest, sporting a DD bra, and one of the pitfalls of having such a large chest (besides the adverse effects of gravity) is that detecting changes in your breasts can be extremely complicated. While the little marble felt small on the surface of my breast, what I didn't know was that the lump was extending deeper into the center of my chest, where I could barely detect it. Coupled with half-assed breast exams, anything could grow, any change could happen without my knowledge. I began to panic but tried to reason with myself and rationalize the anxiety away: this lump has been here for over a year, surely if it was cancer some other signs would have been obvious, right? There's no family history of breast cancer. I'm young, it's rare for women my age to develop breast cancer! But the negative thoughts flowed in and overpowered my feeble attempts to set myself at ease: the lump has grown. I have dimples and a bulge, which I learned could be a sign of breast cancer. There's still a family history of cancer in general, and young women can develop breast cancer just as easily as older women.</div>
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Initially, I tried to avoid overreacting, fearful I would look like a hypochondriac rushing into the doctor's office again. I noted I was due for a physical, and figured I would schedule one, then mention the change when I saw my doctor. The problem with scheduling a physical is because it's considered a routine examination, the appointment is not given priority, and I wasn't scheduled to see the doctor for another month. I tried to keep myself busy and distracted, but it seemed stories of cancer and diagnoses were everywhere I went, and I couldn't bear the wait any longer. I called the doctor's office to request an earlier appointment and I was in the examination room two days later. </div>
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The doctor, a per diem physician I had never met before, examined me, and like me, had difficulty locating the lump at first. After detection, she considered conducting a biopsy then and there, but noted that the lump was too deep to draw a good sample from. Noting again that I am young and there's no family history, she eventually advised I get an ultrasound and a biopsy done and provided the number. If I have one complaint about Kaiser, it is the extreme difficulty in scheduling these critical tests. I was instructed to call a number, and was informed by the individual who had answered that she would leave a voicemail for the specialist and they would contact me in 2-3 business days. Of course, I was calling on a Friday, so I had to wait the weekend in addition to the business days. My weekend was spent in angst, my stomach in knots. By Wednesday the following week, they still hadn't called. Frustrated, I called again, and was met with the same response: she would leave them another voicemail and hope I get a response. Finally the following day I received a call, and my ultrasound and biopsy were scheduled for the following week.</div>
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Another week to wait. Sadly, I've never been one of those chicks who lose their appetite when they're nervous or stressed, and I began to eat my way to an unattainable comfort, gaining a fair amount of weight. I lost sleep, and my hair began to fall out as well. I made the mistake of not telling anyone about my circumstances, which only added to my burden. Though I wanted to reach out to my mom, like me, she tends to jump to the worst conclusions and instantly panic. Given that my mom had just lost her mother a few months earlier, I didn't want her faced with the prospect that her daughter may be ill as well. So I kept it to myself. Eventually I told my best friend, but it did little to relax me. Humor is usually the best medicine, and the only way I could cope was trying to lighten the mood in the dark cloud around me. Having a propensity for naming the lumps and bumps on my body (I have a bunion named Bertha), I found it only fitting that I should name the lump in my breast as well, and the pestilent mass became known as Lucille. I personified her, talked shit to her and about her, and vowed to mercilessly shank her ass if she turned out to be cancer. I could laugh about this at times, and other times, I just cried and hated Lucille with a passion.</div>
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When the time for the appointment came, I drove myself to the hospital and checked myself in to Radiology. The technician was friendly, and attempted gentle conversation with me while taking pictures of Lucille (she too had trouble locating Lucille, this bitch is like Carmen San Diego running around the globe that is my boob). She rose and stated she needed to consult with the doctor, which surged my anxiety. Did she find something? Was something wrong? Is it worse than we thought? I lay on the table freezing in yet another paper thin gown with a horrible pattern scattered across it (who designs this shit?) with my heart racing again. Finally she returned, and with a smile on her face, she informed me that I was clear. There was no need for a biopsy as the scan had come back clear. She stood in wait as I attempted to process this information, then cracked a smile and breathed a sigh of relief. I think she expected me to jump up and scream and shout, but after a month and a half of anxiety and stress, I couldn't switch my mood up that fast. I thanked her, she hugged me and guided me back to the lobby. As I walked to the car, I teared up and allowed the emotions to wash over me as I broke down crying. I called my mom that night and shared the news, finally disclosing what I had been struggling with for the past 6 weeks. She chided me for not telling her sooner and I cried on the phone with her for awhile. For the first night in weeks I slept soundly, and the weight had been lifted from my shoulders.</div>
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This moment of bliss was to be short lived, as a few days later I got another call from the doctor's office. I sat in my car listening to the voicemail as the doctor informed me that they wanted to run more tests and wanted me to get a full mammogram. Lucille was ruining my life. I yelled and cursed in my car as I was thrust into another episode of panic and distress. I called my mom crying, and this time I had her shoulder to lean on. I went through the disastrous process of scheduling another appointment, again waiting the weekend and the 2-3 business days for a call back, then was scheduled for a mammogram a week and a half later. Another week and a half of waiting on this bitch Lucille. I had my mom accompany me to the hospital this time, and put on the all too familiar, poorly designed gown in preparation for my pancake boob tests. The technician was not as friendly as the ultrasound one. She stuck little metal stickers on my nipples (likely used as a point of reference for the x-ray), and she stretched and pulled my boob like it was a lump of bread dough with absolutely no sense of feeling. She flattened me between two slabs of plastic and demanded I hold my breath and hold still. One photo-shoot for each side and I was sent to another waiting room. The consensus came back and I was told again that Lucille was nothing but an obnoxious presence in my chest, not a deadly one. My ultimate relief was almost overshadowed by trying to pull those super-glued stickers off my nipples (a pain rivaled only by childbirth), but I went home with a sense of peace I hadn't known in two months.</div>
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It turned out that Lucille was a mass of hardened breast tissue that had gained considerable density over the year. This contributed to the pain in my shoulder and chest as well, as my breast has become heavier and my body is struggling to adapt to the added weight. But this process has been an important one, and in spite of having a clean bill of health, there are many things to be noted here during this Breast Cancer Awareness month. First off, age doesn't mean shit. I have had many friends, one as young as 16, who were diagnosed with breast cancer, and while it is not as common as it is in older women, it is not impossible for a woman my age to get cancer. Second, while family history is a good predictor for breast cancer risk, it is not the only indicator; clearly you can get cancer even if your family has never had it. Third, breast exams are crucial, and you might as well start them now to get into the habit. <a href="http://www.nationalbreastcancer.org/breast-self-exam">Check here</a> for information on how to correctly check yourself, and ladies, if you have big breasts, remember to dig deep! And last, in spite of being afraid of overreacting, don't let your doctor make you feel foolish or crazy, you know your body better than anyone else. Taking time to go to the doctor only to find out nothing is wrong is far better than avoiding the doctor only to find out it's too late when you finally get the nerve to go.</div>
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I was fortunate that my journey stopped here. Given the emotional toll the diagnostic process took, I can't imagine the anxiety, the stress, the overwhelming feelings that come with a true cancer diagnosis, and I give all my admiration and respect to women everywhere who have fought and are fighting this terrible disease. The sad reality that I found is the reason Kaiser takes so long to schedule these appointments is because there are so many women getting the exact same tests, some routine, some out of concern, and we should haven't to go through this any longer. Though we edge closer to a cure in the future, self-exams, early detection, and good health care make all the difference today. And if you are fighting, give that lump a name and beat the hell out of that bitch with everything you've got.</div>
Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-15322030421925194362016-10-01T01:05:00.000-07:002016-10-01T01:12:29.362-07:00Driving Out the Darkness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our world is drowning in violence. Terrorism, rape, homicide, police brutality, and the aggressive responses such attacks foster in a social existence that is tired of the blood bath we've been wading in. Anger is of course the natural reflex that surges when we see our families, friends, and countrymen harmed by a perceived outsider, and even more so when they're hurt by the very system intended to protect us. But what dangers could this fury unleash when left unbridled in the hands of a nation scorned? What could we possibly accomplish with the draconian eye for an eye mentality that leaves us blind beyond the pupils of our enemy? There are many battles to fight, but there are many paths to victory, and the descending spiral of violence is not one of them.<br />
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Many arguments in the history of the world have been settled by war in one respect or another, but while they led to ceasefires and peace agreements, they rarely led to harmony and tranquility. More recently, the wars waged across the geographical lines of international borders have raged on without any possibility of resolution in sight. The war on ISIS and Al Qaeda, the Boko Haram Insurgency, the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict have been battling on for years and even decades, with millions dead and more dying every year. Even here in the US, internal combats have spattered our streets with blood thanks to gang wars, drug wars, gun violence, racism, homophobia, and yes, even police brutality.</div>
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In a country where law enforcement has been given the ultimate power to protect the innocent civilians of the US, it seems the long arm of the law too often sees color beyond Justice's blindfold, and reaches for the firearm on its hip too quickly. As a result, several innocent black lives have been lost. Violations of the law that include being in the wrong place at the wrong time, following directions, lying motionless on the ground, placing your hands in the air are all things that can get you killed when you are the wrong color in this country. Especially if you are confronted with the misfortune of having a police officer who is quicker to reach for more lethal means beyond a taser or pepper spray.<br />
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Of course every time, and far too often, when these stories splash across my computer screen, when they haunt the water cooler at work, the anger rises in my chest, bitter as bile. While I admit I have never faced the onslaught of violence and aggression the boys and girls in blue deal with on a daily basis, I have worked in high intensity environments, where individuals were unstable and as such became violent and aggressive towards themselves, towards others, and towards staff, including me. We were taught (minimally) how to address these attacks, usually involving a quick ProACT restraint, tackling the client to the ground, holding them in place as they writhed and struggled beneath our grips. We fielded globs of spit as they flew in the general direction of our faces, we shifted our hands so they were just out of the reach of their gnashing teeth, we fought to gain and regain control of their flailing arms and legs as we were punched, kicked in the the face and the chest. Sometimes we had to wrestle potential weapons from them, including broken shards of glass, broken bottles, and rocks. Our safety and well being was endangered. Many staff ended up in the emergency room with cuts, abrasions, bleeding bite marks, and concussions. But at the end of the day, we understood this was the job.<br />
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We worked with psychologically disturbed clients. Granted the facility was not well run and the clients were out of control, but still we did our best to keep the peace with the little training we had. We were not afforded tasers, pepper spray, batons, or cuffs and certainly not granted guns. We had many opportunities to lose our cool in the heat of the moment and lash out at our attackers, we had every reason to panic in the many crises that flooded our hallways. I even developed mild PTSD after being strangled at work. But this was the job. This is what we signed up for. And this is what police officers sign up for every day when they put on the badge. Now of course I am not asking them to risk their lives, and if the gun is genuinely necessary, they must do what they have to do. But with the extensive training they have to de-escalate and manage crises and the multiple tools in their belt they can work with, what excuse do they have for impulse, for panic, for repeated deadly force?<br />
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I can't wrap my head around it. I never could. But as angry as I get, I understand that violence is not the answer. Fighting brutality with brutality brings no calm to the tumultuous sea of our society, but adds to the confusion, the irrationality, and the impulsive decisions that can completely destroy the remaining scaffolding of our crumbling world. In spite of the overwhelming desire to bash in the heads of the guilty parties across the nation, I understand that killing innocent officers during a protest is not a solution. Assaults and arrests are not the solution. Rioting and looting is not the solution. Much like the result of police brutality, violence breeds nothing more than distrust, suspicion, and fear. There are thousands of peaceful demonstrators in the Black Lives Matter movement, but the more aggressive members seek to garner attention, notoriety, progress and respect, these intimidation tactics only breed deep-seated trepidation which will eventually turn to animosity and onward toward hostility. Blame will be placed, distrust will grow, the Us vs. Them mentality will thrive, and violence will build in an ever-growing cycle until it becomes an unstoppable force; before the nation is swallowed in a bloody tidal wave.<br />
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Violence begets violence. Martin Luther King, one of the more prominent leaders of the Civil Rights Movement built his legacy on non-violent approaches to challenging the constructs of social injustice in the 1960s. There were several other leaders in the movement who made their own contributions, but aside from Malcolm X, they have not been as prominent, and unlike Malcolm X, MLK made his lasting mark in history without the "any means necessary" tactics. There were sit-ins, there were boycotts, there were peaceful marches that garnered the attention and the notoriety the movement deserved in order to facilitate change. Many people have turned to his teachings and cited his speeches in their tireless arguments for peaceful battles, not because they're trying to change history or "whitewash" the violence out of it, but simply out of desire to follow the path that he cleared through the decades. Because it was the better path of the two laid out before us.<br />
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Now in the midst of these desperate pleas for peaceful strategies, I was called complacent, accused of indifference because I wasn't angry enough to be aggressive. I was even told that my opinion on the ineffectiveness of violence was invalid and unwarranted because I'm not black, and I don't have the right to criticize the way black people address their own issues. I don't need to be black to know that violence is not the answer; I don't need to be violent to prove that I care. I can be and will be a peaceful warrior in fostering change in the world, because this is my tactic: to avoid adding a deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.<br />
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Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7v5pNkaxC-s" width="560"></iframe>Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-48605115679809907502016-06-15T22:43:00.001-07:002016-06-15T22:58:42.656-07:00Busting the Senate<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In this very moment as I type, in Washington DC the country stands on the precipice of making history. In this moment, Democratic Senators, specifically the Senator of Connecticut, home of the Newtown school massacre, have taken the US Congress hostage in what is currently clocked at a 12+ hour filibuster, a dramatic and divisive effort to move the hands of the nation's lawmakers to draw more stringent gun control laws. For those unaware, Congress opens sessions each morning and closes them each evening, but these sessions cannot be closed if a senator is holding the floor and actively addressing the Senate. No one can force the senator holding the floor to give it up, and if the senator continues to talk, the session cannot close. The other senators cannot leave, Congress cannot close for the evening, and they can continue long into the night and into the next day if they choose. These filibusters are effective tactics to motivate action in the Senate. Following the devastating massacre that took place Sunday morning at the gay nightclub Pulse in Orlando, as the country and the world heaved another exasperated sigh at another mass shooting in the US, people have demanded a change. For once, our representatives have heard us.<br />
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Gun control laws have been lax as gun proponents and powerful NRA members have blocked multiple attempts to create stricter laws and policies in regards to gun purchasing and possession, and limitations on types of firearms permitted. Falling victim to the slippery slope mentality, fear of losing their guns completely eliminated any possibility of negotiation on this forefront. Now the NRA has not always been the picture of tact and grace when dealing with their adversaries and victims of gun violence. In spite of the multiple shootings that had taken place, the NRA has even at times been callous in their swift response to secure gun support. Following the Columbine shootings, the NRA had a scheduled gun show in Denver that they refused to cancel, in case gun support waned in the face of innocent children being shot to death. Then just months after Columbine, when a six year old child took a gun to school in Flint, Michigan and shot another six year old, the NRA was there too, ready to represent as the community mourned another senseless act of violence.</div>
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But in this discussion, senators are finally breaching above the obstacle in this conversation and clarifying once and for all that guns will remain protected for the responsible, for the mentally healthy, for the upstanding citizens and residents of this country who are trying to live a decent and safe life above and beyond terror. However, we will not allow guns to fall into the hands of those who will do grave harm to innocent people around them. We will not stand for another mass shooting in this country.</div>
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I don't particularly expect drastic changes in this single filibuster. As a nation we work in baby steps before we can nudge the opposition in the direction we wish to fall. And what is becoming evident in these ongoing discussions is that the senators are presenting taking on the safer issues and tip-toeing around the more significant and sensitive ones. The broader suggestion that has currently taken the floor is the prohibition of "individuals of concern" or people on the FBI's watch list from purchasing weapons, and prohibiting any form of gun sales without background checks. While this is a good start to achieving change, it is certainly not enough; the senators are grazing on issues that have almost unanimously been decided and supported by the American people, therefore evade any significant risk in standing up in Congress and voicing their concerns. In the hours they've been on the air, not one senator that I have seen has mentioned the ban of assault rifles or high capacity magazines because this a more delicate subject, one that would spark those slippery slope concerns from gun proponents "well if you're going to take this type of gun how do I know you won't take my other guns?" While I commend the senators for taking action, they are also taking credit for a debate that is likely already won amongst the people and the other senators in the building. <i>Edit: Senator of Connecticut finally acknowledged these issues in the 14th hour but wishes to focus on the safe issues mentioned above to start the movement.</i></div>
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As we move forward it will take more time and more initiatives to accomplish what we truly need to make this nation safe again. The senate has discussed but has not proposed changes to policies regarding individuals with mental health issues, which, as I cited in my <a href="http://mytroublesmelt.blogspot.com/2016/06/from-darkness-we-will-rise.html">LGBT blog</a>, needs significant revisions in order to prevent guns from falling into the hands of the mentally ill; a five year waiting period for a released psychiatric patient does not imply sudden mental stability. Some senators have argued that individual states are making their own laws to handle gun control and this should be sufficient, but it is not. The state legislative process involved and the opposition from the NRA and gun proponents is too long and too strong for many states to achieve this level of protection on their own. They need the power of the federal government behind them to expedite and enforce this movement, and the country deserves the umbrella of federal protection in the face of nation-wide and constant tragedies. But, we cannot deny that this is one giant leap in the right direction.</div>
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As the discussions go on and we enter our 13th hour, more and more senators are fueling the filibuster with heart-wrenching stories of the realities we have faced in the last few decades regarding gun violence. The woman above, though I did not catch which state she represented, recounting the mass shootings that have occurred since 2007 and listed the locations, number of fatalities, and numbers of the wounded. My heart ached and I shook my head in disbelief at all the recorded massacres that have been buried in the shadows of the past, buried beneath the headlines of the latest shootings, only the bloodiest worthy of remembrance. So many lives, so many cut short in tragedies, which, for many, could have been prevented with stricter gun laws.</div>
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What I do love about this discussion is a point easily recognized around the world and in some places in America, but one in danger of being glossed over: this was not just an act of terrorism. Yes, he claimed affiliation with ISIS, but as more information comes out, this was an act of hate and aggression towards a particular group of people: the LGBTQ community. And it happened specifically during our own month of celebration, our anniversary of the Stonewall Riots. This was not just terrorism, this was a terrorist act embedded in a hate crime, the first of its kind in our sad, sordid history of human violence. And some amazing senators will not let you forget it. They have worked tirelessly in their speeches to remind us that this was a hate crime, an attack on people who loved whom they chose, who wanted to be who they are, and live life as they were made to. Hundreds and thousands of demonstrators around the world held vigil for those who passed, but they did it waving the rainbow flag, not the American flag. This was not just an attack on American soil, on American freedom and lives, this was an attack on the gay community. After everything we have endured, after the hate, the discrimination, the struggles we have absorbed, we must find room in our lives to comprehend one more tragedy and one more devastating fact: that we are not yet safe in this world before us.</div>
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But in watching the international response, I find hope. The world I grew up in rallied against any type of gay rights; they shamed us, they beat us, they even murdered us, as some from my generation will recall the brutal deaths of Matthew Shepard and Brandon Teena. I am still shocked and overwhelmed when I see thousands standing in the streets of London, praying outside vigils in India, holding their own pride parades with their mothers in Asia, and waving their rainbow flags in solidarity. I was still stunned when I saw the hundreds of straight allies who answered the call for blood donations when gay men could not donate. In spite of the message this one man attempted to send, I can see that we have the love and support of millions more, and we can survive and thrive through these final dark hours before the rainbow shines through this storm. But we can't do it alone.</div>
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It is currently 2 am in Washington now, and they are still fighting. Filibuster on...14 hours and counting.</div>
Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-18132460503110654062016-05-26T23:36:00.001-07:002016-05-26T23:40:40.852-07:00The Desolation of Cultural Appropriation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As the internet grows ever sensitive to...well...everything, political correctness has taken an ugly turn into a mob of screaming whining children who seem to have nothing better to do than stir up shit storms on social media. Lately the discussion has turned to the copyright holders of various ethic groups and their cries of violations. From dreadlocks to head dresses, from song lines to clothing, the term cultural appropriation has certainly gotten worn out over the past few months. Laying claim to various elements of their own cultures, when an individual of a different culture adopts or uses one of these elements, the group as a whole denounces the use as crossing boundaries. But why do we create these boundaries to begin with and why are we so protective of the cultures we're so proud of?<br />
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We all have rich cultures with several wonderful layers and aspects that make our cultures what they are. Exquisite cuisines, hairstyles, clothing, accessories, music, dance, art, architecture, history are the colorful pieces that create the mosaic of our homelands and roots. I'm half Mexican; we have amazing things like tamales and enchiladas, ponchos and china poblanas, charros, mariachis, Frida Kahlo, and the Alamo. And tequila. Tequila es muy importante. I'm also half Irish. And we have beer...and beer...and corned beef and cabbage...and beer. No seriously, there's some Celtic stuff and River Dancing, and Bono, he's pretty important. Okay so my Irish family is probably 5th or 6th generation American and I'm not as incredibly aware of Irish culture like I am of my Hispanic culture from my more recently immigrated Mexican family members, but there's some great shite going on in Ireland.</div>
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Anyways I am proud of my cultures, I'm proud of these amazing factors and details that set us apart from other cultures and make us unique, and I want to share these things with people. I want to shout out "hey look how great we are! Listen to U2 and Selena, try our pan dulce (skip the boiled potatoes), check out our museums and kick ass Irish castles, buy this intricately handmade serape, drink tequila, stop at a pub, drink tequila in a pub!" I want the world to experience my history, my home countries, the things that make my life my life.</div>
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But it would seem lately some people have gotten a little stingy with their own cultures. Like five year olds who don't want anyone else to play with their toys, the whining babes of the internet are screaming "don't touch! That's MY culture! You can't have my culture! Go away poopy face!" Though the conversation of appropriation has been going on for years, it gained momentum more recently when some little twerp white singer decided to get dreadlocks in his Bieberiffic hair. Now don't get me wrong, I don't like the dude, I never did, and frankly I don't know any white people who have effectively pulled off the dreadlocks look, but I didn't see anything wrong with the move. However, hundreds of people immediately took to the internet to voice their discontent with the hijacking of a hairstyle that is often mis-attributed to the black culture (it originated in the Egyptian culture). Shortly after that in a similar situation of a young light lad and his knotted mane, a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pY4ff6Z3_Dc">black woman became aggressive</a> with him on a college campus because he had adopted the hairstyle as well, and stated he couldn't have the hairstyle "because it's [her] culture."<br />
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A few years ago, Pharrell appeared on the <a href="https://timedotcom.files.wordpress.com/2014/06/pharrell-headdress-elle-uk-001.jpg?quality=75&strip=color&w=615">cover of <i>Elle</i></a> magazine in a beautiful Native American headdress, and the NAs were up in arms screaming appropriation and demanding an apology from the musician for his offensive depiction of their culture. There was no war paint, no stereotypical warrior on a horse. Just a beautiful headdress on a beautiful black man. When I Googled the image, I came across the Native American magazine <i>Native Peoples</i>, featuring a NA man wearing a headdress with a boasting comment below stating "our headdresses were featured in NP Magazine!" Even though there was no difference between the beautifully photographed models of either magazine aside from their ethnicity, one was crucified while the other placed on an artistic pedestal.</div>
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More recently Blake Lively found herself in hot water as well when she posted a photo of herself on the red carpet with a beautiful front side and a well endowed back side. The caption read "LA face with an Oakland booty" to quote Sir Mix-a-Lot's famous song <i>Baby Got Back</i>. Some claimed the fact that a white woman was quoting a black song indicated her caption was "racially charged"and inappropriate. One person stated she was using WOC's bodies as punchlines and another person wrote "you can never trust the whites." She was just proud of her large ass and quoted a large ass song. Did it matter that the singer of said large ass song was black? Sir Mix-a-Lot recently came to her defense noting women of all colors have curves and should be proud of them, but why did he have to defend her to begin with?</div>
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Not one person in all these examples was trying to make a mockery of any particular culture. No one was dancing around making black (Egyptian) jokes in dreadlocks, no one was riding off to war with cowboys in some offensive depiction of violent Indians, no one was claiming superiority or putting down black women's rear ends just because white women can have rear ends too (I don't have one, but some are more fortunate than I in the large ass department). These people only utilized the elements of these cultures because they admired them, because they enjoyed them, because they appreciated them as much as everyone else does. And that, my friends, is what strengthens our unity as a global community. Taking part in someone else's culture gives us the opportunity to learn more about that culture and appreciate the history of those people. It helps us understand that while we have our differences, they make us unique and beautiful and we can learn so much from one another. If we shut that down, if we demand that our cultures remain untainted by the hands of outsiders, we only build up barriers that create racial and cultural divides. Those divides create a lack of understanding, suspicion, and the increasingly detrimental Us versus Them mentality that has become so damaging to our society today.</div>
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And remember, each and every one of you that has claimed appropriation has probably eaten a burrito at some point, if you don't want to share your culture, we don't have to share ours. So kiss your chile verde adios bebes...</div>
Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-21604092862859188362016-01-30T00:18:00.002-08:002016-03-16T22:47:24.164-07:00The Responsibility of Rape<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Someone I know was raped last week. It was of course devastating for her, as we would expect nothing less after falling victim to such a heinous crime. Unfortunately, the World Health Organization estimates that one in three women will become the victims of sexual assault in their lifetime, a number incomprehensible when you consider how many women that comes out to in our global population of 7 billion (that's roughly 1,139,353,126 rape victims worldwide). Historically, however, judgment has always fallen on the victim: fingers were always pointed as meticulous investigations sought out every detail of what they felt the victim did wrong. In turn, they cast their eyes away from the perpetrator, often but not always male, who could not be held responsible for his carnal instincts. Now the world has lashed out in warranted outrage in response and demanded a change. A movement has begun to battle victim blaming, to turn the focus away from what the victim was wearing, saying, doing, drinking and simply acknowledging that the victim said no. I wholeheartedly agree that no matter what the circumstances, no means no, and that should end all progressions. But is the movement against victim blaming reaching an unsafe extreme? Is perpetuating the fantasy of an idyllic society that has yet to be created minimizing the need for self-protection and risk reduction? Living in a world of shoulds does not guarantee your hopes and expectations; it may just end them.<br />
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Victim blaming is, at its core, a societal problem. Of course, some perpetrators are victims of catastrophic childhoods wherein they themselves may have been victims of abuse, and now, as adults, they seek to regain the control and power they lost by dominating and stripping others of their own control and power. Some male perpetrators, however, are taught from an early age that women are inferior and therefore property to be controlled and dominated by a heavy hand. The latter became clear when I was watching the documentary <i>India's Daughter</i>, the story of Jyoti Singh, an Indian woman who was brutally gang-raped by six men in a bus in Delhi. Jyoti had gone against traditional cultural norms and went to a movie with a male friend at night to celebrate the end of her school term. On the way home, she and her friend jumped on the city bus. It was here that her friend was assaulted, and the six men took turns brutally raping her and penetrating her with an iron rod that left her disemboweled. After 13 days and multiple surgeries, Jyoti succumbed to her injuries and died on December 29, 2012.<br />
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The men who were convicted of this crime gave plenty of excuses and justifications for their actions. Mukesh, one of the rapists, told the documentary "a decent girl won't roam around at 9 o'clock at night. A girl is far more responsible for rape than a boy." But while this comment will undoubtedly raise the wrath of hell in any morally sound mind, Jyoti supporters in the documentary take full responsibility for the inhuman spawns of their own society. In a culture where men are revered and women are inferior, how can these men grow to respect them? In these homes, the male child is placed on a pedestal; he will carry the family name, he will be the ultimate representative of his lineage and upbringing, and he sees the benefits of his gender from the beginning. He is first to eat, he gets the largest portion of the meal and the most precious milk, as his sister is left to eat the remaining morsels, the smallest amount of milk, and to eat only when all the men in the home have been served. He goes out to play and study, she stays home and cleans, taking care of her brothers and father. He is the king, she is the servant, there to satisfy his needs. Growing up in such an inequitable environment, why wouldn't they think that these needs extend to sexual in addition to domestic? Even Mukesh could not fully understand the problem with the mentality that he had been indoctrinated with since a small child; he genuinely could not comprehend what he had done wrong. She was, after all, just a girl.<br />
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The refusal to hear the word no, to respect the limitations and boundaries set by your partner, is a sense of entitlement that has been deeply ingrained in the minds of these perpetrators by their own environments. While the west may not be as extreme as some eastern cultures in their gendered favoritism, there is still underlying messages about the value of a woman versus a man that have yet to be rectified. As such, even in our progressive society, there is still a savage need to dominate over one another that some people simply cannot suppress, which leads to the most important component of the anti-victim blaming movement: teaching a man to take no for an answer. Teaching respect for any partner you may be engaging with, accepting that sex won't happen tonight and moving on. Of course, this is only the tip of the iceberg in addressing the multi-faceted gender gap problems of this country, from wage gaps, exclusions, double standards, etc, we've definitely got our work cut out for us to rectify this imbalance. But change starts at home with our own sons and brothers, teaching them the true value of their female counterparts.<br />
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<i>Note from the author: I want to clarify at this point that in these examples provided, I am not negating that women cannot and have not been perpetrators, or that homosexual assaults occur as well; however there are limited studies in female rapists and same-sex sexual assaults, and the underlying causes of such likely stem from differing factors. Therefore most supporting points made in this blog focus on the imbalance of power between men and women in heterosexual assaults. </i><br />
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Of course, tipping the scales of the world and leveling the gender difference is a social movement, which by definition, progresses and evolves over the course of decades and at times even centuries. Being the realist-borderline pessimist that I am, I don't expect significant results in my lifetime, and thus I know that we as women need to be proactive in our own risk reduction. This is where the anti-victim blaming movement gets a little deluded. Granted, there is a fine line between blaming and taking responsibility for our own safety, and more zealous feminists will send up the battle cry for anyone who remotely suggests that we should be cautious, because that indicates that a lack of caution amounts to fault. This became blindingly clear when Nia Sanchez, crowned Miss USA in 2014, was asked a question involving sexual assaults on college-aged women. In response, the Tae-Kwon-Do black belt stated that she believed women should know how to defend themselves. Following this outrageously sane answer, the torches were lit and the pitchforks were thrust overhead as many screamed "victim blamer" at the pageant winner. "Women should not have to defend themselves, men should learn to take no for an answer!" Well that's half-true. But in my career and in life we have learned about the importance of risk reduction, in spite of life's Shoulds.<br />
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Risk reduction is simply taking responsibility for preventive measures, to ensure our well-being to the best of our ability and using our common sense and instinct. For example, I often engage in risk reduction by avoiding walking down the street by myself in the middle of the night in case someone may approach me and attack me. If I go to a club or a bar, I do not leave my drink unsupervised, and I never accept a drink from a stranger in case someone might drug me. If I am at said bar or club, I don't leave the establishment with some random person I just met. If I am online dating, I refuse to meet anywhere but in public places and I never go back to their place or take them to mine until I have gotten to know them and feel comfortable with them. It is ridiculous that such steps must be taken; I should be able to walk where I want when I want. I should be able to set down my drink without worrying because I can't dance and hold my drink without spilling it. I should be able to spend time getting to know someone new without keeping a free hand on the pepper spray in my purse, just in case. I should be able to wear what I want without someone thinking it's an irrevocable invitation into my pants. But I don't live in a world of Shoulds. No matter how society <i>should</i> treat me, life simply isn't this way. As Nia Sanchez said, "it would be great to live in a world without crime and without rape or murder. But that's not reality."<br />
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I must admit, in being human, as I sat with this young woman who had so recently been attacked, I had to check and re-check myself as victim-blaming thoughts crept into the back of my mind. <i>Didn't we talk about risk reduction just a few weeks ago? Why would you go anywhere with a man you just met? If you had gotten to know him before you went with him, you might have learned he was a registered sex offender!</i> But these thoughts had been swirling in her mind in the countless hours following her attack, most likely during the attack, and she didn't need to hear them from me. So I jammed those thoughts out of my head and reminded her that no matter what choices she made, he was nothing more than a sick, twisted fuck who took advantage of her, and it wasn't her fault.<br />
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I see more and more articles and videos of people in protest of victim blaming, and while most of the arguments are entirely justified and unfathomably legitimate, the pendulum is swinging towards the extremist idealist perspective that may end in someone getting raped simply because the Shoulds they had lived by all their lives could not protect them in that crucial moment. We shouldn't have to deal with an issue like rape at all, but in this less-than-utopian world we live in, it is all-encompassing, and since we cannot rely upon the people around us to make the right decision, until society changes, we have to take care of ourselves the best that we can. The choices we make may mean the difference between safety and assault. Of course, risk reduction is not risk elimination, we may take all the necessary steps to protect ourselves and it still may not be enough. Either way, whatever happens, in the end it is never our faults: no still means no, and whomever you're with bears the full brunt of the responsibility for whatever ensues. But if they can't take no for an answer, a karate chop to the throat and a knee to the crotch may just get the message across.Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-29919571600955166022016-01-20T22:50:00.001-08:002016-01-20T23:06:46.025-08:00#OscarsSoWhite<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So this conversation is awkward. It's not an easy conversation to have with the impending fear of being labeled a racist for speaking out against anything that doesn't immediately elevate People of Color in the world. But I'm going to have this conversation because I've been reading the articles and the ensuing comments that followed for the past few days, and I even touched on this issue many, many years ago on <a href="http://www.monarc143.blogspot.com/2010/03/so-past-oscar-nights-have-definitely.html">this blog</a>: the unforgiving world of Oscar nominations.<br />
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Since the nominations were announced earlier this year, there has been an outcry among the people for the lack of color in the nomination pool. Blacks and whites were screaming racism, some actors have vowed to boycott the show, and people have flung accusations of white privilege to anyone who questioned their stance. The opposition, however (also blacks and whites), has surged in rebuttal, demanding acknowledgement for achievement alone rather than skin color, retorting that the majority of films that included PoC cast and crew were not Oscar worthy, others were not Oscar eligible, and they accused the general public of requesting a sort of affirmative action for the film industry's biggest night.<br />
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The reality of the situation is that there is an issue of color when it comes to the Academy. The majority of members are older and white, and arguably this can skew what films they're drawn to, what films they're willing to watch, and how they are exposed to different films. This inevitably drives an unfair disadvantage to PoC when the nods are handed out. Undoubtedly there needs to be a change in the racial make-up of these award shows' voters. According to Academy president Cheryl Boon Isaacs, years ago, in the 60s and 70s, the academy began recruitment for younger members in order to "freshen up" the ranks. This was intended to give a more balanced approach to the film industry in acknowledging different works, and she plans for the same to be done in the coming year in order to balance the scales for next year's award show. Isaacs stated she was "heartbroken and frustrated" over the white washed Oscar Class of 2016.<br />
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But the Academy is not taking too kindly to being called racists for their film preferences. Penelope Ann Miller, an Academy member, shared with <a href="http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/race/oscarssowhite-academy-members-defend-oscar-857416">The Hollywood Reporter </a>that many of the older members probably didn't see <i>Straight Outta Compton. </i>She also argued the majority of members probably weren't exposed to <i>Beasts of No Nation </i>because it was premiered on the internet streaming service Netflix and they can't figure out how to use computers, hell they're still getting used to the Talkies! She felt it was "extremely offensive" to be called racist or lumped into a class of white privilege, given that she had voted for multiple PoC cast and crew members this year. Jeremy Larner felt <i>Straight Outta Compton</i> was a good film but wasn't worthy of the nomination to begin with due to issues with "structure and substance." I was able to view <i>Beasts of No Nation</i>, and to be honest, I felt it was one of the best films I had seen in awhile, but there was a total lack of exposure. I happened to stumble across it accidentally without knowing that this small, internet streaming production was nominated for SAGs and a Golden Globe. This $6 million only grossed $51K in its opening weekend, and most people never knew it existed. There have been other arguments for <i>Tangerine, Creed</i>, and <i>Concussion</i>, but again, most claim these were not note-worthy performances.<br />
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The issue of PoC films rises and falls like the waves of the ocean when films and actors are denied or granted the coveted statuette, and it's hard to discern when we're up or when we're down. Many, many times in the history of this awards show have incredible films been ignored and passed over, other times they got their nods but never took home the gold, and once in a great while, they get a winner. Upsets have included films like <i>Malcolm X, Hotel Rwanda, Ali, </i>and<i> Boyz N the Hood</i>, but there was probably no upset larger than <i>The Color Purple</i> in 1985, nominated for 11 Oscars and taking home none. Some winners have been films and actors such as <i>Training Day</i> with Denzel, <i>Ray</i> with Jamie Foxx, <i>Dreamgirls</i> with Jennifer Hudson, <i>Precious </i>with Mo'Nique, and <i>The Last King of Scotland</i>, with the fabulous Forest Whitaker.<br />
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But a new issue arises when there is such a backlash against the academy and its members, and the fear of being politically incorrect drives the affirmative action of Hollywood. No one could have outlined this issue better than Ellen Degeneres when she opened for the Academy Awards in 2014. "There are two options for Best Picture tonight, Option 1: <i>12 Years a Slave</i> wins, Option 2: You're all racists." It came as a minimal shock that some of the Academy members later admitted to voting for the Best Picture Winner without actually having seen the film, presumably because it seemed the non-racist thing to do. I'm uncomfortable in admitting that I did not care for <i>12 Years a Slave</i>, because this is what existing in a overtly politically correct society has done to me, but I will say it did not live up to the hype. I'm uncomfortable stating that Lupita N'yongo, albeit a talented actress, did not deserve the Oscar she won for the three bits of dialog she blurted out and the brutal abuse scenes she portrayed. This was the result of the pity Oscar, which I described in the post linked above, when the award members realize they've been too white for too long and they throw a few statues at a few black actors and film makers and call the score settled. Whoopi Goldberg did not get the Oscar for her incomparable performance as Celie Johnson in the adaptation of Alice Walker's <i>The Color Purple</i>, which everyone knew was invariably fucked up. So they gave her the pity Oscar for playing a sassy mouthpiece to a dead white guy and got a few good jokes in the dialog. Sorry, <i>Ghost</i> should not have been her winner. The Academy had never graced an African American actress with the Best Actress statue, though many had been dealt out for Supporting Actresses. Whoopi should have been the first. But she was shoved back to Supporting Actress, and after some bumping and grinding with a racist and a minor dramatic meltdown, Halle Berry got the honor with <i>Monster's Ball</i>. Again, in my opinion, undeserved. Oprah also got passed over for her portrayal of Sofia, another big miss by the show. I never saw <i>Training Day</i>, I don't know if Denzel deserved the Oscar for it or if it was his pity Oscar for losing the Best Actor for <i>Malcolm X, </i>but I saw that one and he totally should have gotten it. Sidney Poitier got an honorary Oscar that same night that Denzel and Halle won for all of his work, because the Academy suddenly realized "Fuck, we were supposed to be giving them to him all along!"<br />
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Changes must be made, that is is undeniable. A committee that equally represents all People of Color and varying demographics of gender, sexual orientation, and cultures to ensure a more accurate reflection of the faces we see here in America everyday is desperately needed. But change does not mean slapping a band-aid on the problem by awarding some unworthy actor or writer with a pity Oscar either, giving accolades to the films that are sub-par in order to compensate for the Academy's past failures of truly amazing artistic PoC productions and performances. And as Penelope Miller states, the Academy is not entirely to blame: "There were an incredible number of films in 2015 that were primarily about white people. Talk to the studios about changing that, not the Academy. There's only so much we can do." One commentator on an article I read estimated that only 10% of actors in the film industry are black. It's hard to stand out in that glaring sea of white faces, but neither should the first darker face we see get the gold for simply showing up to the party.Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-84026152817794230482015-11-17T23:14:00.000-08:002015-11-17T23:23:56.673-08:00Refugee to Terrorist: The True Cost of Islamophobia<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Magnus Wennman: Where Do Syrian Children Sleep?</td></tr>
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The attacks in Paris left the world awestruck, downcast, and angry. Three teams claiming to be members of the terrorist organization ISIL/ISIS launched a massive attack of suicide bombings, mass shootings, and hostage stand-offs throughout the capital of France on November 13, 2015. Nearly 150 innocent civilians lost their lives in restaurant shootings, suicide and car bombings, and a massacre at a local concert hall where a California band was playing. Quick to claim responsibility, quick to cheer and celebrate, the Islamic State had plotted for much more than a one night attack.<br />
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As with any terrorist attack in the west, what followed the tragedy of 11/13/15 was a tidal wave of Islamophobia: perpetual fear of the predominant religion the IS claims to represent. Citizens and politicians began calling for the deportation of middle easterners, many demanded that borders be closed to the refugees fleeing from Syria and the IS that have taken over their land. Muslims throughout Europe and America were physically attacked and beaten. One woman in Canada was assaulted while picking her children up from school; another Uber driver was hit by a passenger who assumed he was Muslim. Racist slurs were spray-painted on the walls of mosques, many threats have been called in, and some mosques have been burned down. Social media has circulated doctored videos claiming to show Muslims celebrating the attacks (they were celebrating a soccer match). Right wing news stations have been running rampant as well, asking why we continue to tolerate such a violent religion in our land, overgeneralizing the acts of a few crazed extremists to an entire religion of mostly peace loving families. Of course the typical "facts" of Islam come out as well: they beat their women, they engage in female genital mutilation, they want to take over the world, they want their 72 virgins so they blow themselves up, and they do it because it's Allah's will. It's almost as if it's 2001, 2002, 2003 playing on repeat, as if we learned nothing from the last 14 years.<br />
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Years ago I was part of Queen Rania's YouTube channel, created 7 years after the brutal attacks on the World Trade Centers and the Pentagon in America. Islamophobia was still surging in most of the westernized world and QR (along with her hate fighting minions) worked tirelessly to bring an education, to bring compassion, to bring understanding between the east and west, between Muslims and Christians, Jews, Buddhists, Hindus, and Atheists. We battled it out, we discussed and debated, we fought and argued, and we created videos hoping to spread the word, the truth about Islam, about the east, and stop the senseless attacks on the victims of these terrorist organizations, both us and them. I felt it was successful in some respects, and a useless battle in others; some listened, some learned, and some stuck their heads in the sand and refused to even acknowledge the points made, maintaining that there was no passage, no statistics, no facts, no infallible logic that could convince them that Islam was a peaceful religion. Eventually I realized these were the morons that we had to simply give up on and expend our energy elsewhere. As Islamophobia calmed somewhat in America over the years, it seemed the tide might have been shifting. Perhaps cooler, more educated heads would prevail. Perhaps they already were prevailing, and this may be why ISIL attacked Paris.<br />
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ISIL was doing their best to conquer the Middle East, battling in Libya and staking footholds in Afghanistan, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, and Nigeria. But the biggest war front right now is the showdown in Syria. In a civil war that has left 250,000 dead, this 4.5 year battle has raged on, and the majority of civilians have fled the country in a desperate attempt to save their own lives, to save their families. Many have escaped to Jordan, Lebanon, and Turkey, but the countries have struggled to keep afloat with the influx of refugees that have scrambled to the safety of their borders. Though the world was vaguely aware of the struggle, the reality of this humanitarian crisis slapped us in the face with the death of Alan Kurdi. Alan was a young Syrian refugee who drowned after his family's boat capsized crossing the Mediterranean sea, seeking a safe haven in Turkey. Once the tragedy made front page news, countries throughout Europe were opening their borders to accept the refugees.<br />
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Undoubtedly, this was counterproductive to the IS's plan. In their plan, there were only two options for civilians: either join IS and their war against the west, or die. Many refugees had lost their homes and their families, many were weakened, angered, and hopeless with nothing to lose, which is the perfect recipe for an extremist. But hundreds of thousands refused to join, and they refused to die. They escaped. Perhaps this was exactly what ISIL feared: unity in the face of the adversity they bore, support for the Muslim community in the west, the western countries disproving the propaganda IS had fed their supporters for years, propaganda that painted us as soulless, immoral, intolerant capitalistic pigs. In helping these refugees, we were no longer the monster they claimed us to be, and this became a threat to their enlistment process. We provided the refugees hope.<br />
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Since they had tried and failed to destroy these refugees themselves, the IS realized the next step would be to destroy the west's trust in them and their trust in the west, to force them to turn back to their desolate, war-torn motherland; to death, or to surrender. This was their plan, and we played beautifully into it. With borders closing, with fear and suspicion filling the hearts of westerners, and with abuse and harassment, shame and humiliation, we are sending these refugees back to the IS in utter rejection, and we are sending them back hurt and angry. The mythical beast of the west has reared its ugly head, we have realized the image ISIL/ISIS has created of us. These poor wretches have lost their homes, have lost their families and friends, have witnessed horrific crimes against humanity, have been traumatized and shaken, and have bounced back and forth between countries and borders, sleeping in forests and gutters, starving and freezing. They are in that perfect, fragile state of mind to join the ranks of other scorned, rage-filled, gun toting, west-hating extremists. If we continue this abuse and suspicion, if we send them packing, we ourselves are helping build a new generation of terrorists and we will only have ourselves to blame.<br />
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The ignorance continues to flourish, the morons I met on YouTube back in 2008 have bred, and their little brainless seeds have spawned onto Facebook and Twitter; others made their way into politics. One Facebook user noted that he was Mexican and since Mexicans immigrated to the US and "took over" the country, we should be leery of Syrian refugees because when they come they too will take over, so we need to close the borders (perhaps we should've closed them about the time you came over). Sounds like he and and the Tennessee GOP are good buddies. Others have warned of terrorists bound to blow us all up. Some (Jeb Bush) have maintained we should allow refugees in, but only if they're Christian. Obama called them all a bunch of wusses scared of three year old orphans. He too acknowledged that these anti-refugee sentiments will only be recruitment tools for ISIL that we have forged and handed to them ourselves.<br />
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There is never a guarantee of safety; we don't know who is coming in with the refugees, or if anyone dangerous is coming in at all (so far a number of the Paris terrorists were shown to be citizens of the country), but what we do know is that if the world shuts its doors and turns its back on them, they will die, or they will join the ranks of our enemies. Not because they're inherently bad, but simply because in a world as cruel as that, what else have you got to lose? Terrorism is a real threat, there is no argument of that, but this will only provide a false sense of security and condemn thousands of innocent people to die. Closed borders or not, they will find a way in if they truly want one. The question is can you live with yourself if another three year old washes ashore on your beach?Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-83452246828203048692015-09-15T00:24:00.003-07:002015-09-15T00:57:28.402-07:00The Right to Die: Kevorkian Revised<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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California is on the brink of something big. A monumental
decision in human rights, tail-gating the epic Supreme Court ruling on gay
marriage, but unlike the law of marriage, where one’s life is just beginning,
this law meets us at the end of it. The Right to Die Bill, better known as the
Death with Dignity Act, Physician Assisted Suicide, or even “Kevorkian Revised,”
is nestled on the desk of California governor Jerry Brown, awaiting his inscribed
approval. But will he give it or will he condemn thousands of suffering
Californians to a painful, embarrassing death?<o:p></o:p></div>
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For years, a handful of states in the US have been proposing
and passing bills and laws allowing one to make their own decision on when they
prefer to die. Some people have likened this process to Dr. Jack Kevorkian’s
practices of the 1990s, where he assisted in ending the lives of 130 patients,
all of whom he claimed were terminally ill, though this has been disputed. It is alleged that often times he didn't even verify that the patients were ill, and ended up assisting a few who simply suffered from severe depression. But in spite of his misguided practices, Kevorkian may have been on the right track. In
the midst of his own failings, ones that would eventually land him in prison
for second-degree murder in Michigan, Oregon passed a state law that would
allow individuals who were terminally ill to choose to end their own lives.
This would help them avoid a long and drawn out death that would end in nothing
but extreme pain and humiliation. In 1994, the Death with Dignity Act was
signed into law. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But the law was not without its opposition. Like many bills,
misinformation had been spread thick, coating more gullible minds and
manipulating them into a stealth support system around the nation. Many warned
of the inevitable slippery slope: if we start killing terminally ill patients,
why not the mentally ill? Why not the mentally and physically disabled? Why not
kill people who don’t want to die but whose children are trying to get the inheritance,
or who don’t want to bother with the costly care of a sick parent? Why not kill
the Kardashians? (But seriously, why not the Kardashians?). A few claimed
prescribing a deadly medication was against the Hippocratic Oath. Others claim
suicide is the easy way out, that these people are weak, that they’ve simply
given up. One Archbishop claimed the law would provide insurance companies an
easy way out, denying patients appropriate care in favor of an easier and much
cheaper solution. Some cite religious factors, that if you end your own life,
you’re going to hell. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First off, multiple safeguards have been put in place to
ensure that we cannot go on a genocidal killing spree of the various “plagues”
of society, as Hitler may have done. Oregon state law and the California bill
specifically state that only individuals who have been diagnosed by two
separate physicians as terminally ill and expected to die within 6 months may
receive this medication. These individuals are also expected to undergo
intensive mental health examinations to ensure they are of sound mind and body
to make such a decision. Once provided the medication, no one can administer it
except the patient themselves. The medication is mixed into a drink; the
patient is required to drink it themselves without the assistance of any
physician, family member, or friend. If they cannot administer the medication
themselves, they cannot utilize it. In short, if you can’t hold your own glass
and swallow your own medicine, you will have to wait out the rest of your life
until you pass away naturally. There is virtually no chance of someone else
rubbing you out. Sadly one man had ordered his medicine but was waiting until the right time, and he ended up having a severe stroke, leaving him incapable of giving himself the medication. He suffered until his last day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some individuals have been concerned about providing doctors
the power to “do harm” in contrast with the Hippocratic Oath they swear upon
licensing. Doctors themselves have grappled with the decision in prescribing
deadly medications. This was briefly mentioned in the documentary, <i>How to Die
in Oregon</i>. One doctor finally came to realize when her patient Cody asked for
the script, she would be doing more harm in forcing her to suffer through the
pain of terminal cancer in her last months than to ease her into a quick and
gentle eternal slumber. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The easy way out. I can only imagine the reaction some of
the benefactors of this law would give when they hear that. All of these
individuals have fought. All of them have suffered. They have faced numerous
chemotherapy and radiation treatments,
they have stumbled through the side effects, the nausea, the weakness, the hair
loss and weight loss, and the surgeries and tests in hopes of battling their
diseases into remission. And sadly, they failed. Their efforts were not enough.
Their bodies could not muster the strength and the antibodies to silence the
invading cells once and for all. They rode into a war some of us will someday
fight ourselves, a war all of us will have witnessed with our loved ones. And
after all they have been through, they deserve that peaceful death, in their
own time, with their own choice, adorned with the dignity they have earned.
Cody tried her best to get through it on her own, to arrive at the moment where
she would naturally “float away” without the medicine. She had ordered the
medication and it sat in her cabinet for nearly a year as she outlived her life
expectancy. Initially she had planned the date to die, but decided against it,
because she was not suffering at that time. Suddenly, after months of extended
comfort, fluid began to build up around her lower abdomen, creating so much
pressure that her organs were displaced and her ribcage was shifting upwards,
compressing her chest cavity. Draining the fluids offered only temporary relief
and she was often hurting, struggling to keep foods down, incapable of keeping
most of her pain management pills down. Doctors informed her that in spite of
the cancer, her body was strong, and she could continue to live on in severe pain
for several more months. There would be no floating away. It was time to go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As for healthcare companies and the easy way out, in the
same documentary mentioned above, one man had been diagnosed as terminally ill
and was denied treatment for chemotherapy by his insurance. He was, however,
provided in his denial letter a solution. In being notified that he cannot
receive what he believed may be lifesaving treatment, he was also informed of
his option to request life-ending medications, which would be fully covered by
his insurance. This understandably angered him, but let’s get a few things
straight: he had no possible chance of survival and the treatments would have
been largely ineffective anyways (once he went public with his complaint, the
insurance company granted his treatment, and he died a few short weeks later).
But I will not deny that this could be a very real possibility given the
dastardly methods insurance companies have employed to save a buck over a life
day in and day out. However, why prevent some people from having the option to
avoid suffering because of a corrupt healthcare system? Address the system head
on! Where is healthcare reform? Where are the checks and balances? These people
shouldn’t have to suffer because billionaire insurance companies have lost
their sense of humanity.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Religion? Bottom line: your religion is not their religion
and you cannot use it to make laws for everyone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last year, Britney Maynard made headlines when she relocated
from California to Oregon to take advantage of their Death with Dignity Act.
Diagnosed with a terminal form of brain cancer, Britney had undergone multiple
operations and treatments to battle the disease before recognizing that she
would not win. Given that she had no right over her own life, she was left with
little option than to move, but became a significant advocate and a public
figurehead for getting similar laws passed in states that have not acquired
such legislation. Britney passed away at the age of 29 at home surrounded by
her loved ones.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I watched <i>How to Die in Oregon</i>, I bawled after each
patient took their medication and slipped into a calm and gentle darkness. I
was torn in half in the moment. I have never seen someone pass away, and I
couldn’t imagine standing there in a room watching someone I love take a
mixture that would rip them out of my life in a matter of minutes. I would never
be able to hug them enough, I would never be able to say enough to them before
I finally had to say goodbye. I would never get enough of the sound of their
voice or their smile before they slipped away from me. But, like many of you, I
have watched my family members and friends suffer and wither away from cancer,
from terminal diseases that render them helpless. I have seen my family, always
strong, always proud, try to mask their embarrassment as someone had to feed
them and clean the excess that dribbled down their chins, as someone had to
wash them in spite of their deep-seated modesty, or wipe them after using the
bathroom. They were lucky, I suppose, in that they never lived long enough to
be confined to diapers, sitting in their own urine and feces like helpless
infants until the nurse came ‘round again to change them. And they suffered.
They hurt. They couldn’t bear the pain, the nausea, the weakness, the
humiliation and embarrassment. As one family friend had put it, “I’m sick and
tired of being sick and tired.” But we had no solution for them. Just make them
comfortable. Pump them full of pain meds and wait for the inevitable, whenever
that may come. But like Cody, sometimes they can’t keep the pain meds in.
Sometimes, as they get closer to the end, the pain meds are rendered totally
ineffective, and they suffer in their final days. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cody died in the comfort of her own home. She was not
weakened to the point of being bed-ridden; she was not strewn limply across her
bed with tubes and needles feeding in and out of her. And because her fluids
had been recently drained, she was not suffering at the moment. Cody was
singing. She had gathered her family in her bedroom and her children and
parents sang songs to her, light-hearted children’s songs she no doubt sang to
her kids when they were young. They hugged and kissed, they said their
goodbyes, and she took her medicine and lay down. In a matter of minutes, she
breathed a sigh of relief, and slipped into a coma that would soon allow her to
finally float away as she had always wanted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This law must pass. We cannot condemn people to suffer in
their final days because we fear the loss, because we fear the choices they’re
making for themselves. I struggle to comprehend how we can be so humane as to
inject our beloved pets and animals with a painless medicine to end their own
suffering, but we refuse to allow it for human begins. We can’t treat each
other as well as we treat our dogs. We deserve so much more than that, and our
loved ones deserve more too. <o:p></o:p></div>
Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-89097405385209814692013-10-01T23:01:00.001-07:002013-10-01T23:16:50.511-07:00Out of Orange Juice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4qvvZpFf9Xs/UkuzV6c-ocI/AAAAAAAAAN0/iaVJ0JHHFLE/s1600/original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4qvvZpFf9Xs/UkuzV6c-ocI/AAAAAAAAAN0/iaVJ0JHHFLE/s320/original.jpg" width="278" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Possibly the most unnerving moment in a homosexual’s life,
the coming out party, has the potential to uplift you, to raise a harrowing
burden off your shoulders, to unmask the lies you’ve lived and send them
fluttering away like torn pieces of paper on the wind. Or it has the power to
level you, dissemble you bit by bit and leave you broken and dying in the
gutter. My party took form in the latter. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At 15, I had done little to hide my sexuality as for the
most part I hardly understood it myself. But my mother saw it, and had seen it
for years: the moment she caught me kissing my female next door neighbor as a
young child, my lack of boyfriends, the promiscuous photos of women I had
printed off the internet, and the not so subtle confrontation from my high school
teacher during conference night when she informed my mother the photos of women
in bikinis were unsuitable decor for the inside of my binder. Driving to the
store one afternoon, my mother finally asked that definitive question, and for
a moment the world froze. Unsure how to respond, all the while knowing she had
asked a question she already knew the answer to, my hesitation came from the
fear of what this confirmation would bring. I took a breath and nodded in the
affirmative, but added the qualifier that I was not gay, but bisexual, as if
the 50% of Normal that lingered somewhere in my gut might’ve softened the blow
and made me seem more human somehow. This did not sway my mother, and a lecture
ensued, littered with religious proclamations and damnations as I was beaten
down by God’s hatred for gays and my ultimate destination of a fiery afterlife.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wanted to die. I grappled with my own self-hatred. Raised
a Christian and incredibly devout through my childhood and preteens, I had
turned away from the church for several reasons, but my sexuality played a
larger role. My peers at school were beginning to catch on as well, and the
bullying that ensued pushed me to the edge. I watched movies and read books
about other homosexuals, hoping to identify with their stories. Instead I felt
anger and jealousy whenever I read of a situation where someone else’s family supported them and loved them through their coming out (above). Why couldn’t I have
that? Why don’t I deserve that? A failed suicide attempt left me with one dark
realization: without the love and support of my mother, I wouldn’t make it
through this world alive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I always sensed that my mother clung to the hope that the
50% of Normal in me would prevail and I would end up with a nice man, get
married, have a family. Even I hoped it, knowing the perilous road that I would
walk if the evil lesbian in me won. But as I progressed through my adolescence,
the dream of normalcy faded along with my deluded attraction to the opposite
sex. A date with a male companion finally made me realize that I was fully gay
and the hopes of a peaceful heterosexual life died. I would have to do what
many homosexuals have never faced: coming out a second time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was 21, following the date with the male friend, my
epiphany, and an eager inquiry about a second date from my mom, I sat down to
tell her that the Normal was gone. Shaken and traumatized from the first coming
out response, I immediately began sobbing and blubbering out that I didn’t like
men and never would. Noting my devastation and the utter fear in my eyes, my
mother took a softer stance than before, insisting that she still loved me and
she always would, I was her daughter, after all, but adding the point that no
matter what, she could never support my lifestyle or what I was doing. It was
against her religion and she couldn’t be made to see differently. Begging for
her acceptance, I was denied. It was unconditional love with an asterisk and a
footnote: “I love the You, I love my daughter. I can never love the Lesbian, I
will never accept the abnormal.” Leveled again, I retreated to my room in
solemn resignation. Accepting the loss, I began to tentatively live my new life
alone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dates came slowly and were enveloped in my mother’s
disapproval. Knowing I was going out, she would ask where. Once I revealed that
I was going on a date, her lips pursed shut and she spun on her heels, hastily vacating
the room. I often returned from my date to icy silence and tried to keep future
dates under wraps, lying that I was going out with friends or going shopping.
But gradually, very gradually, things began to change. A few years later, dates
began with my mother asking directly if I was going out with a girl. Then they
were capped in the end by the simple question: “Did you have a good time?” One
quick “yes” and the conversation was over as my mother retreated to the
kitchen, having done her duty by asking at all. It was understood that details
were not requested or required, but my mother was trying.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But it was not a steady ascent to acceptance and harmony.
Our progress was pock-marked with regressions and fallbacks. Like me explaining
to my mother why she couldn’t use the word “faggot,” or my mother
absent-mindedly lamenting her disgust for two women walking down the street
hand in hand, forgetting I was seated in the car beside her. I think, however,
that the biggest step back came in 2008, when my mother informed me she had
voted yes on Prop 8. Furious and confused, a ticker tape of memories ran
through my mind of all the progress we had made, all the changes we had gone
through, only to stop at such a critical crossroads. My mother explained that
she didn’t mind gays dating and living together, but felt it frivolous and
inappropriate to grant them marriages. Arguing still that marriage was a
religious institution and homosexuality had no place in marriage, she couldn’t
grasp the significance of her vote or the obstacle it created in helping me
feel that sense of Normal again. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Older now, a bit wiser, slightly more patient, I was angry,
but understanding. My mother had been fighting her deeply rooted religious
beliefs for 10 years, trying to balance her faith with her biological
attachment and affection of her own child. She tried to make heads or tails of
which path to take: follow the 3,000 year old theology her life had been based
on, or erase the asterisk from her unconditional love and support her daughter,
embracing her completely. The decision could not have been easy, and separating
the two was a challenge my mother had tasked herself with for the past decade.
But bringing that lifestyle into the church? Merging the two by granting
marriages before the eyes of God in his very house? My mother could not handle
those worlds colliding and she voted the only way a God-fearing woman of
tradition could.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
The following years, as I went on sporadic dates, my
mother’s interest increased and the events were sandwiched with questions and
comments like “where are you guys going? You look nice, have a good time!” and
“What was she like? What’s her name? Will you see her again?” And the Normal
began to grow. We survived my brother’s wedding, an event which at the time I
looked upon with somewhat blighted eyes. I struggled through the pain of
thinking I would never be afforded the same opportunity as a legal marriage,
and I watched as my mother buzzed around preparing what she must have thought
would be the only wedding of her children, even commenting it would be “the
only bridal shower [she] would give” and “the only daughter-in-law [she] would
have.” I did not take this to be a malicious comment, just more so a statement
of fact as the fate of Proposition 8 sat on a desk somewhere outside the US
Supreme Court, awaiting someone’s consideration. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lately I have been flittering through internet dating sites
and personal ads, struggling with my own perpetual social anxiety and my
dislike for the club and bar scenes to find love. On top of that, I have the
worst case of baby fever as my hormones have kicked into full gear. Though I am
not even 30, my own unfulfilled expectations of where I should be in my
personal life leave me melancholy. While family members and friends are getting
engaged, marrying, having babies, I have yet to secure even a long term
relationship in my hapless decade on the gay dating scene. Overjoyed by the
announcement that my brother and sister-in-law are expecting a child, a twinge
of pain struck my heart knowing that a baby for me is so far away. I always
knew I wanted children. I of course dreamt of sharing the precious milestones
of raising a child with a partner, but even if I never found a partner to have
one with, I had made up my mind I would be a mother through my own pregnancy or
adoption. But being gay makes the task that much harder in that you must pay
for either artificial insemination or adoption, in addition to all the other
costs that come with having a baby. Knowing I cannot afford this on my own, I
am left feeling alone. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I burst into tears one night. My mom held me as I cried for
my loneliness, I cried for my uncertain future in love and motherhood. And with
one comment from my mother in one moment, I realized how far we had come in the
last 15 years: “I will pray for you. I know someone is out there for you, and I
know you will find her. I will go home and pray for you, I just want you to be
happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love you, Mama.<o:p></o:p></div>
Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-39035079278283895352013-04-20T00:36:00.001-07:002013-04-20T00:49:52.602-07:00From Ribbons and Dolls to Fish Nets and Johns<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hookers. Whores. Harlots. Wenches. Women of ill-repute. Prostitutes. There are many names and titles for women who sell their bodies for sex. Did you ever think "child" would be one of them? Most people don't. Even when we think of children being used for sex, we think sexual abuse and pedophiles, not solicitation and pimps. What about the phrase "human trafficking"? For most, the term brings to mind thoughts and images of foreigners, refuges, unfortunates being shipped in from around the world, gliding through the US borders under the cloak of the black market for sexual favors. It doesn't foster mental pictures of American teenage girls on the street corners of LA, New York, Nevada, and many more states working their territory as a villainous pimp lurks in the shadows nearby. But that is exactly what is going on in the US today, and has been for quite some time.<br />
<br />
Many girls and boys in the US are being scooped up in the despicable world of solicitation by pimps and gang bangers just looking to make some quick money. And when I say girls and boys, I mean exactly that. At this time, the average age for entry into solicitation is 12, though children as young as 7 have been documented to have been sold for sex in the states. Girls are more prominent in the population than boys, but there are young boys being utilized on the streets as well. This blog, however, will address the females since most studies have focused on them and more information is readily available. How do these girls get picked up? Pimps practically soar above the dankest neighbors and cities like hawks, searching for prey, and have an eye for the "type".<br />
<br />
Most girls who are easily manipulated and drawn into "the life" (as they call solicitation) are girls coming from broken or disturbed homes. Many struggle with self-esteem; they lack the attention and involvement they should be getting from their parents, lack a sense of safety and belonging. Many are runaways, and most have been sexually abused in the past, which automatically raises the risk for re-victimization. Being well-educated on their needs and short-comings, pimps ride in on their soiled horses, a knight in aluminum armor, ready to sweep these tragic children off their feet and persuade them with a fairy tale ending, which is of course nothing more than a fairy tale. Typically, a pimp finesses the child, sweet talks her, and makes her feel important, wanted. He might compliment her on her beauty, tell her she's special, make superficial promises. An introductory dialog might go like this: "Hey baby, you are looking so beautiful tonight, I can't believe you don't have a man looking out for you! You are gorgeous, you got it going on! Why don't you let me take care of you, baby? Let me take you out, I'll take you to nice places to eat, I'll buy you this dress, I'll get you some diamonds,you'll live in this great house, come on girl, get in the car!" While most of us know a pathetic game when we hear it, a 12 or 13 year old girl who has been emotionally neglected for the majority of her life and still suffers from the poor judgment all tweens have is overwhelmed by the positive attention, gushes and blushes and jumps in the car to start her new life. A life, a fantasy, which lasts a few weeks at best.<br />
<br />
There is, at times, wining and dining and some flirting and "love". After a week or two, though, once the trust has been earned, the fairy tale shatters, and the dark nightmare begins. The pimp, who is done with the flowers and the threads, suddenly turns on the girl, tells her in short "girl, I'm a pimp, you're now my bitch, and you're gonna make me some money." Threats of harm follow to cement the reality of the situation. Of course, in that brief period of ecstasy that preceded this revelation, information has also been gathered on the girl's family and their addresses. So to secure the business deal, viable threats toward her family are made. The girl is coerced into sexual exploitation and she begins her fairy tale life of rape, violence, johns, pimps, and degradation.<br />
<br />
A pimp usually has multiple girls in his pocket and one "head girl" ironically named the "bottom bitch." This girl is typically favored by the pimp, receives the most benefits, and is in charge of managing the other girls, as well as recruiting potential workers. They teach the new girls the ropes, show them how to draw in the customers, coach them on discerning between undercover police and legitimate johns, and most importantly, teach them about the life under their new "daddy." There are quotas to meet, rules to follow, expectations for behaviors, and severe consequences for any breach in guidelines or protocol. Missing a quota usually results in a beat down, refusal of food, shaving one's head, and walking home barefoot as the pimp drives behind them. Many girls have reported being run down and hit by the pimp's car, not hard enough to kill them, just enough to make a point. Sometimes it means compensating for the loss of money (a gang rape), or in one girl's case, being tied down naked to the bed and, like a revolving door, having one john after another come in and rape her, leaving the money with the pimp before each encounter. The girl was 13. If, on the other hand, the girl meets her quota, her rewards depend on the pimp. Some will give them a small percentage of the money earned. Some girls have reported earning a $1 cheeseburger at McDonald's if they meet their quota (most quotas are set to $700 and above every night). Some just avoid physical abuse and live to work another day.<br />
<br />
The most effective weapon these pimps have to reign these girls in is psychological warfare. As previously mentioned, these street princes bait the girls with charming hollow promises and whispers of sweet nothings, then like a pumpkin carriage on the stroke of midnight, they transform into the menacing antagonist they are at heart. Threats of harm towards the girls and their families keep them in his pocket, too terrified to run and pursue freedom. It was once reported that a girl had attempted to run away from her pimp, but was caught. To set an example, the pimp gathered his other girls, took them all out to a field, and lined them up. He told the others "this is what happens when you try to leave me!" and shot the runaway in the head, leaving the others far too frightened to try a similar escape. But, at times, even when the looking glass has shattered and they see the reality before them, some girls cannot accept the truth. Suffering from trauma bonding, formally known as Stockholm Syndrome, these girls develop a sense of love and affection for their exploiters, who, in their eyes, can do no wrong. Many have deluded themselves into their own fabricated fairy tale, lamenting "he really does love me! He buys me clothes, and we sleep in the same apartment, he gives me some of the money I earn, he takes me out to nice dinners and he's a good daddy to our son!" They ignore the beatings, the fact that he has four other girlfriends, and that at the end of the day, if money is low, he will send them out to have sex with other men for more money.<br />
<br />
The justice department is of course, not much help. Though many girls picked up by the police are underage, they are charged for solicitation and detained or placed on probation. Ironically, in the state of California, an individual under the age of 18 cannot consent to sex with someone over the age of 18. Under normal circumstances, if a 17 year old child is found having intercourse with an adult, the adult can be charged which sexual assault or statutory rape. If a 13 year old child prostitute is found having intercourse with an adult, the child is arrested, and the adult is giving a warning or a ticket. The child can spend up to a year in juvenile hall. The adult? An 8 hour course on illegal solicitation (this is the same consequence for receiving a traffic ticket). Other times, the police actually become johns, being educated on where these children work, they have no difficulty taking advantage of what they find to be favorable circumstances. A recent proposition was passed in California in the 2012 elections which would criminalize pimps and johns for seeking intercourse from minors, which passed overwhelmingly, however the prop was placed on hold after a judge deemed the language of the bill "too ambiguous to protect the rights of the accused." And these girls are once again victimized by people who were expected to protect them.<br />
<br />
It is has become a dark world when a child cannot walk home from school alone because pimps are recruiting on the street corners. I have begun working with many of these clients; it is tragic when 20% of my clients have been approached by pimps, and another 20% have worked for one at some point and time, if they aren't still. Child Sex Trafficking is made up of a population with many titles which are constantly changing to provide the most accurate perception, from Sexually Exploited Minors (SEM), to Commercially Sexually Exploited Children (CSEC), and now Domestic Minor Sex Trafficking (DMST) to reiterate that we are not talking about foreign refuges and unfortunates. Many cases are hard to swallow, many break my heart, and some have traumatized me. But this is a problem that has flown under the radar for so long it can never begin to be resolved if it continues. If awareness cannot be bred, these children cannot be saved.<br />
<br />
For more information on domestic child trafficking, visit these sites:<br />
<a href="http://www.misssey.org/">http://www.misssey.org/</a><br />
<a href="http://www.gems-girls.org/">http://www.gems-girls.org/</a><br />
<br />
And you can watch the informative documentation, Very Young Girls on YouTube Here:<br />
Part One:<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycgaPw38fkc">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycgaPw38fkc</a><br />
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Part Two:<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7I54dPNQqk">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7I54dPNQqk</a><br />
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Part Three:<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gEbqPRnBEI">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gEbqPRnBEI</a><br />
<br />Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-16728635543456498682012-06-26T22:50:00.002-07:002012-06-26T22:50:19.593-07:00Apologies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sorry to my few readers for the extreme delay in blogging, life has been cray-cray with a new job, new apartment, and all kinds of crazy new experiences, which will undoubtedly be blogged within the next few weeks. Hope you enjoy the latest!Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-90294463359207774852012-06-26T22:42:00.002-07:002012-06-26T22:46:21.174-07:00The Cold, Callous Child: Sociopath in Training<br />
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To act without emotion, without a sense of empathy, with little concern for the pain one causes another and even an almost obscene enjoyment of harmful acts. These are symptoms usually reserved to describe most individuals with sociopathy today, also known as Antisocial Personality Disorder. As with most personality disorders, there are age requirements and limits to meet the criteria for diagnosis, and with APD, one must be at least 18. So what happens before 18? It has been shown through most studies that those who qualify for APD as adults presented with symptoms of Conduct Disorder as children. Both are categorized with symptoms of criminal behavior: harm to others, theft and property damage, serious rule violations, deception and defiance. But one key symptom seemed to have been left out of Conduct Disorder that presents in APD: lack of remorse. While most children with Conduct engage in maladaptive behaviors, there is usually resulting remorse or regret, even if it’s simply the fear or disdain of the punishment that inevitably follows. Additionally, studies have demonstrated that most children eventually grow out of such behaviors by the age of 21 rather than progress to the more chilling diagnosis of APD. However, aside from Conduct Disorder, there is no other diagnosis that can accurately diagnose children presenting with possible Antisocial tendencies. But is that to say it doesn’t exist? Can children be sociopaths and should we diagnose them at such young ages?<br />
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In my line of work as a therapist working with severely disturbed children, I have handed out many diagnoses of Conduct Disorder and all kids have had similar symptoms as well as similar origins. Most are given this disorder due to serious rule violations (truancy from school or running away from home), deceitfulness (lying about where they are going), theft (stealing from family or local stores), and other negative activities such as drug use, gang activity, etc. One last category included in the diagnosis is of course harm to other people or harm to animals. In nearly all my cases, harm to others has included fighting with peers at school; in rare cases, it was fighting with staff at their school or group homes. All were impulsive acts, poorly thought out, all fueled by anger or pain, and while some did not openly express remorse toward their victims, there was an element of emotional response: anger for being caught and punished or blame toward the victim for upsetting them (typical to avoid self-blame and thus remorse).<br />
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In Antisocial Personality Disorder, aggression and acts of violence towards others are rarely impulsive. These behaviors are usually planned and carefully calculated. A premeditated act, there is no crime of passion or rage, just cold, undeserved punishment against some defenseless victim. A good example of such would be Timothy McVeigh, who for months plotted a terrorist attack against the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. He had no particular victims in mind, no one who upset him other than the US Government. McVeigh detonated a car bomb which caused over $500 million in damage and killed 168 people. When he learned there was a daycare in the building, he wrote the lives of 19 children off as “collateral damage”. He remained calm and collected throughout his arrest, questioning, trial and death. In the remaining years of his life before being executed, he never expressed remorse for his actions.<br />
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While it is difficult to imagine a child as cold-hearted as McVeigh, to assume that such characteristics arise purely in adulthood is absurd. Signs and symptoms present themselves early in life. Ted Bundy had such an incident when he was 5, where he stood by his aunt’s bed while she slept. When she awoke, she found him with a devilish grin, watching intently. As she became more alert and aware of her surroundings, she found that she was surrounded by a collection of knives laid on the bed, points directed inward toward her. The book “Children Who Kill" also gives several accounts of disturbed children engaging in acts of cold murder and torture far beyond typical problem children. And I have had the unfortunate business in my 21 months of work as a therapist to come across two such kids.<br />
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Both were six years old. My first was much harder to diagnosis: he presented with a mosaic of symptoms, bits and pieces of disorders never quite coming together to conclusively provide one concrete diagnosis. His symptoms ranged from possible autism, Aspergers, or developmental delay, Conduct Disorder or Oppositional Defiance, anxiety, depression, or bipolar disorder. He was moody, most times without antecedent, which would throw him into fits of rage that would last for several hours, or an abundance of depression, triggering crying fits for days. He also presented with a remarkable ability to control his emotions and behaviors, having fits and tantrums at home but not any issues at school. Even in a brief exchange during therapy, while I was explaining that therapy was a safe place to talk about our thoughts and feelings, he angrily retorted “I KNOW!" Taken slightly aback by this abrupt outburst, I calmly addressed it, asking why he felt so frustrated. His physique changed in the flash of a moment: his hunched shoulders sloped, his furrowed brow relaxed, his expression almost angelic, and he sat back and cooly responded “Nothing, I’m fine”, as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and tried to cover the evidence. He acted aggressively towards his younger brother, 3, whom he would drag around the house from room to room on their tile floors by a small limb, or whom he would calmly walk up to him and without warning scream inches from his face and frighten him to tears. Previous therapists could not pinpoint a disorder, and my task was no easier. While my supervisor pushed for Conduct, at the time to me a conduct disorder diagnosis was a life sentence on a dark road to sociopathy. He was given a provisional diagnosis of conduct, but it wasn’t until 8 months later that I was no longer given an option. A call from his frightened mother informed me that he had killed a duck at the local park, and she believed it was intentional. While somewhat fantastic, she relayed the tale of woe, that he, a pitcher for his local little league with a strong arm, had collected a pinecone, approached a duck by the riverbank, and threw the pinecone full force at the duck’s head. The duck began seizing, no doubt from a hemmorhage, and flopped over in the water, dead. Mom reported he did not seem phased by the incident and did not show remorse. When I later asked him what his intent was, he stated he “wanted to see what would happen”. He later confided that he had the option between the duck and a turtle that was also in the water, but noting the turtle’s protective shell, he stated “I knew if I hit the turtle, nothing would happen, he would just swim away, so I threw it at the duck”. Chilled by this calculated thought process, I reluctantly listed Conduct Disorder on his file.<br />
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My most recent case, I cannot go into detail with given that the case is still open, however he presents with a less complex case, nearly no mood lability or developmental delay but similar symptoms of disturbances which resulted in the death of an animal. Both children we exceptionally bright, both came from families with histories of significant mental health issues.<br />
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What has become apparent is that in comparison to my typical conduct cases, these children are in a class all their own. While Conduct Disorder has been generally considered the childhood APD, the connection between Conduct and Antisocial Personality Disorder is built on nothing more than a mere resemblance of one another. As previously stated, APD lacks the crucial component of humanity: empathy and care for one another, regret and remorse for our own behaviors, which is not necessarily reflected in CD. But even if the DSM could create a more appropriate diagnosis for children presenting with sociopathy, would the field allow it? Much like my reluctance to diagnose a 6 year old with such a dismal label, many others would most likely be just as apprehensive to diagnose a child with a damning sociopathy label. But as with my dilemma, my concern for labeling a patient and my hesitation to do so did not bring that duck back to life, and it did not make my patient’s difficulties disappear. If anything, it only delayed receiving more appropriate treatment. While labels can be hurtful, refusing to diagnose for fear of social stigma can be far more detrimental and as a therapist it is ethically unsound.<br />
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Dan Waschbusch, a researcher at Florida International University, has continued his study in children presenting with similar symptomology as my cases, and even one child named <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/13/magazine/can-you-call-a-9-year-old-a-psychopath.html?_r=2&pagewanted=all">Michael</a> was an almost exact replicate of my first kid with moody lability, hysterical outbursts, calculated aggression and violence toward his siblings and amazing mood control. Waschbusch described the condition as “Callously Unemotional Children”, and began a research camp where many children with the same affliction were sent to be observed and treated. The level of manipulation was immeasurable and bringing these children together could have been a recipe for disaster. Many children ended up worse, some remained the same, few improved, though Washbusch maintains that early intervention and intensive treatment could drastically improve the chances of these children growing into productive members of society. I am not so sure that I agree at this point and time, as an effective treatment cannot have been developed yet; typical behavioral interventions are probably ineffective as a simple system of rewards and consequences mean little to children who struggle with apathy. Certain medicinal interventions have been ruled out such as Ritalin, which would decrease any impulsivity the child suffered from and allow them more time and mental clarity to plan and coordinate more intricate attacks. In residential or treatment facilities they would be grouped with other children either with the same symptoms which they could pair with and learn from, or in facilities with children of different diagnoses they could dominate or harm. But no one wants to write any case off as being hopeless or untreatable and we have to try, at the very least to intervene when it might still make a difference.<br />
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It is impossible to claim that Antisocial tendencies don’t exist in children, and it has been demonstrated that it is inappropriate to lump preliminary APD into the Conduct Disorder category. On the other side of the scales lies the concern of wrongly diagnosing a child. What needs to be developed is not only an appropriate diagnosis and supporting criteria, but diagnostic tools to assist in accurately recognizing this disorder in children. Only when that path is paved can we begin to explore and create more effective treatments and help these kids before it’s too late.Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-91087118672705158492012-01-11T04:30:00.000-08:002012-01-11T04:40:27.753-08:00Bullying: Bruised and Battered<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i>Hey guys, Happy New Year! We're starting off 2012 celebrating four years of Another Drop in the Ocean (which was really three if you consider the year-long hiatus I took)! Thanks to my readers, however few and far in between, for staying with me and reading my rants and raves about various issues. Admittedly this post is a few days late of my anniversary, but I struggled with topics and you just can't force this stuff out. So here's my latest, inspired by the movie "Cyberbully". </i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NZS5CtySvJQ/Tw2CR7ZdvVI/AAAAAAAAAI4/CLpITRWT9gc/s1600/mean-girls1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 293px; height: 299px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NZS5CtySvJQ/Tw2CR7ZdvVI/AAAAAAAAAI4/CLpITRWT9gc/s320/mean-girls1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696352348207430994" /></a><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Bullying has been an age-old pastime for children, teens, and even adults. But times have changed, the ante has been upped. The bullying of past decades starkly pales in comparison to the bullying of today. Older generations can recall schoolyard scuffles with a laugh and a shake of the head. Younger generations recall them with pain, trauma, and at times, lifelong impacts on their self-worth. Perhaps this is why so many people don’t take it seriously. Far removed from the reality and severity of the case, many parents, school administrations, and even law-makers tsk tsk the wounded and sweep the problem under the rug. And that is when it becomes deadly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Back in the day, playground banter was better described as superficial childish name-calling. The classics are ones we’ve all heard: if you wore glasses, you were named four-eyes, if you were fat, they called you various derivatives of tubby, fatty, piggy, etc. If you wore braces you were metal mouth, acne: pizza face, and so on. These were names that would sometimes send kids home crying, only to face their antagonists again the next day. Now I won’t pretend that such names weren’t hurtful or somehow damaging to a child’s confidence, but most usually overcame the experiences and moved on to successful lives.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Nowadays, bullying has reached new levels of brutality that blaze through the barriers of harassment and teeter on the edges of assault. What was once simple teasing, usually on the basis of appearance has escalated to deeply damaging slurs, character defamation and public humiliation. In the golden days, bullying was usually an unfortunate chance encounter by the monkey bars or crossing the wrong street when walking home from school. Now they’ve turned into hunts, with bullies banking on growing intimidation; they scout the school grounds like packs of wolves for weaker prey, and the slaughter is horrific to watch.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My own experiences with bullying were extensive, to say the least. Resigned to wear glasses, in elementary school, I endured the superficial name calling, nothing that left a very deep impact. It wasn’t until I reached Jr. High that the bullying started. I was always heavy but gained much weight as I got older, and my peers took notice. Names like lardo, Free Willy, and fat ass were not in short supply from my classmates, but I was usually able to brush it off. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">High school was where it became unbearable. I was heavier than ever, wore glasses, and hardly put any effort or thought into my appearance; I never wore make-up or styled my hair and my clothes were a fashion disaster. Bullying me was like shooting fish in a barrel, and it attracted new patrons all the time. Accustomed to my typical bullies who were in my classes, I was suddenly being attacked by people I’d never met, which caught me off guard. People I didn’t know would trip me in the hallways, one spit gum in my hair as I was walking by, and one day, for no reason at all, while walking down the hallway, a boy passed me and slammed me into the concrete wall before walking on, laughing with his friends. The people I knew were much worse. I endured name-calling and trash talking in class, usually as other students sat by and laughed as my tormentor rattled off painful insults. One episode sent me running out of the class crying. Another pushed me to the brink, and I rose from my desk, approached the student and slapped him across the face. He took a pen and attempted to stab me in the throat, but couldn’t break the skin.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But this was just one level of bullying. Many students began to go out of their way to make my life hell. Students who took issue with me, though for what reason I never knew, started a regimen of harassment. Figuring out my schedule, some would get hall passes, walk by my class, stand in the hallway out of the teacher’s view, and mouth insults and threats to me. At times, during passing periods they followed me to my next class, tormenting me for the three minute trip. Once I reached my room, they would stand outside the door, talk trash, and peek into the class to watch my reactions and laugh at me. I wasn’t safe after school either. There were times when I had to walk home, which left me wide open for attack. One day, two girls made it a point to follow me home to bully me. Never mind the fact that they lived in the opposite direction, they stayed five steps behind me for the twenty minute walk, calling me names like whore, fat ass, slut, bitch, dyke, and fag. When I reached my street, two cars pulled up and multiple students filed out. At first confused by their presence, I realized somehow word had spread that I was being harassed and some anticipated that a fight would ensue. They wanted front row seats. I entered my house and stole glances outside my bedroom window. The girls stood at the foot of my driveway, yelling obscenities and slurs at my house, threatening me before finally disappearing. Even the faculty had their moments. During one class, I tripped and fell back on the floor. The teacher, standing on the far side of the room, blurted out “wow, I felt that all the way over here!” and the class erupted in laughter. Another teacher who also had her assumptions about my sexuality overheard a piece of a conversation about me chasing down a girl and she remarked in front of my classmates “so you’re chasing <i>girls</i>?” with a smirk.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I asked my mother to allow me to be home-schooled in order to get away from the daily torture, but given that I was in the midst of my depression and was becoming increasingly isolated from society, my mother was concerned that if I were home-schooled, I would never leave the house. She refused, and the hell continued, though it ultimately contributed to lasting damage to my self-esteem, and to my suicide attempt my sophomore year.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Today, risks of suicide have increased, creating a new trend called Bullycide, breeding electronically. The internet brings with it not only a new tool for bullies, but the anonymity of false names, faceless interaction, and little to no personal responsibility for your words. Text messages, stalking, degradation, insulting web pages, embarrassing photos, and impersonation are all new ways that bullies have begun to attack their victims. The harassment has reached a new level, where bullies and their minions go above and beyond name-calling and taunting and have actually told their victims that they should kill themselves; the victims obliged. Ryan Halligan told a “friend” he was going to kill himself, and the friend responded “it’s about time”. Another bully told Phoebe Prince she should hang herself. So she did. Ashlynn Conner was only ten years old when she hanged herself in her closet due to excessive bullying.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sadly, bullying doesn’t stop after high school, as it seems more and more people are failing to grow up. The perpetrators continue on into adulthood intimidating, insulting, lying, back-stabbing, creating drama, and laughing at the pain of their victims, as if someone were filming a sequel to Mean Girls starring the Plastics: All Grown Up. Sitting in my Master’s Program class, I couldn’t believe the insulting and degrading comments I would hear from my cohort about other peers, bullies who were twenty years older than me, but acting like they were sixteen.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now I’m not going to sit here with my pipe-cleaner halo and pretend I’ve been the innocent by-stander all these years. I have fought fire with fire; I’ve bullied those who bullied me. I remember in high school I was in the girls’ room with my friends and a rival came in. She called me fat ass. Noting her up-turned nose that from the proper angle resembled that of a pig’s snout, I retorted “who are you calling fat, Miss Piggy?” My friends and I laughed and began pressing our noses up with our fingers, snorting at her. A look of pain flashed across her face and she quickly exited the bathroom. My heart sank when I realized I’d lowered myself to her level and hurt her. But even today, I’ve made my comments about people and joined in on the laughter when comments were made by others, even when I knew I shouldn’t have been laughing. It’s a work in progress and I’m always trying to improve myself by taking the high road. Sometimes I fail, but try again the next day.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I hate to sound cliché and regurgitate the heavily spewed dicta regarding the breeding of bullies, but it all rings true. Most bullies suffer from an inferiority complex, they are insecure with low self-esteem, so they put others down not to raise themselves up, but simply to bring their victims down to their level; “if I feel lousy, why should you be so happy?” Misery loves company, yes? Other times they don’t even know they make people feel bad. Again, though I wouldn’t consider myself a bully, there have been times when I’ve unintentionally made people feel dumb while trying to showcase my own intelligence. Now I’m no Einstein, but I’m certainly no Gomer Pyle either. Thanks to all the bullying I endured, I draw most of my self-esteem from the one thing that I succeeded in: academics. But in trying to prove my worth, at times I’ve embarrassed others, moments I still look back on and cringe: “why must I always be right?” And yes, many bullies become such because they’ve been bullied themselves. My usual tormentors came from seemingly perfect families, but I later found their mothers were alcoholics, or their fathers were abusive. People like that just need empathy, love, and forgiveness. Chances are they don’t have many friends anyways; chances are they’ve been hurt by many more bullies. So don’t add insult to injury by becoming another one in their lives. Take the high road, you’ll feel better in the end.</p><p class="MsoNormal">If you're being bullied or see that someone else is, speak up! Visit:<br /><a href="http://www.stopbullying.gov/">http://www.stopbullying.gov/</a> </p>Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-64449158232029374342011-12-06T22:29:00.000-08:002011-12-06T22:53:54.585-08:00Frankenfood and Famine<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H-VvvauMfUs/Tt8KjYtvdDI/AAAAAAAAAIg/KzMWplWBbVA/s1600/frankenfood_large.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H-VvvauMfUs/Tt8KjYtvdDI/AAAAAAAAAIg/KzMWplWBbVA/s320/frankenfood_large.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683272857810859058" /></a>The fight over genetically modified foods is a battle that has carried on for years on many different fronts. What opponents have called playing God, those in favor of the scientific advances being made in agriculture see a solution to a worldwide problem. Once again, the mediator in this debate is good old fashioned propaganda, and, like so many other situations the media sticks its nose in, the results can be and have been deadly for decades.<p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The genetic modification of foods started as nothing more than the interbreeding of different species in a laboratory. Experimenting with such began as purely that, experimentation: out of simple curiosity, researchers wanted to know what would happen if the genetics of one species were manipulated with the genetics of another. Becoming an expedited process of unnatural selection, the results of these trials produce strings of both unremarkable and fascinating organisms which grow and develop in ways never before thought possible. With the exchange of some proteins, individual chromosomes, and full DNA strands, plant species were created that could grow larger and in different climates.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Of course, once you mention that a lab experiment encompassing what is abstractly the slicing and dicing two beings and pasting them into one, a Frankenfood of sorts, the crazed pitchfork wielding mob screaming “monster!” is not far behind. This mob, littered with various personalities like environmentalists and theological zealots, is mostly headed by Greenpeace. And once they nabbed the media’s ear, common sense gave way to ignorant fear.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The media was thrown into its usual disarray as when any group has an aversive agenda, shoving misinformation down the general public’s throat and frightening them into submission. Erroneous claims were splashed across newspapers and websites such as animal and plant genes being mixed and sold, upsetting the natural course of life by playing God with a Petri dish, untested, unregulated sales of produce that would ultimately replace all produce in American stores, and worst of all, fighting the technology that could end world hunger. I recall in my undergraduate program in an ecology class, we were given various environmental issues and had to give a presentation on the pros and cons of each. While most projects had differing arguments and points to make, the group presenting on GM foods presented and debated facts that mirrored each other, as if one side stood in Bizarro world and the other in our own. “Foods are unregulated” “Foods are regulated by the government.” “They mix animal genes with plant genes”. “No they don’t”. “They’ll sell nothing but GM!” “No they won’t.” If soon to be college graduates couldn’t extract from their in depth research more compelling arguments than this, how can the average American by simply watching TV?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">As mentioned before, science is driven by curiosity, and all the advances that come with it are the result of experimentation, simple trial and error. We would not be where we are medically, environmentally, or socially if someone somewhere hadn’t asked themselves “what if?” These lab explorations began with switching the genes of plant species with one another, and gradually migrated towards playing with animal genes. However, in spite of the outrageous claims, these animal-plant experiments are simply that-experiments. The Greenpeacers insist that labs are taking fish genes and putting them in lettuce and taking rat genes and putting them in tomatoes and stocking the shelves with them, therefore vegetarian and vegan practices are undoubtedly in danger! Once GM foods infiltrate and overrun the produce market of America, vegans and vegetarians will be unable to find animal friendly vegetation and they will starve and vie. I mean die. Unfortunately for the anarchists, universities and agricultural researchers alike assure us that though they are observing what such changes in an organism these manipulations create for the purpose of science, these specimens were never meant to be used as a food crop, and will never be sold in any store to the general public. Even if they wanted to, the government would never allow it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">One statement that has been a widely used favorite of the GM opponents is that these crops are completely and totally untested and unregulated by the U.S. government. This produce is created in labs, grown in crops, cut and sold in stores, without the government even bothering to glance over their shoulders at, let alone examine the process. Right. The Federalians are good, but they are not that good; they would never get away with that. As a matter of fact, GM foods are more carefully tested than any other produce sold in stores and it took millions of dollars and years of testing to be approved for human consumption. They are also heavily regulated by the U.S.D.A to determine the effects on the surrounding environment where they’re grown, the F.D.A for food safety, and the E.P.A if a pesticide is involved in the crop growing. To be perfectly clear, it’s probably safer to eat GM produce than organic or even plain old pesticide riddled regular vegetables. But, thanks to the American way of business, never fear! You will always have a choice on what types of produce you want to buy. If you don’t want the Frankenfood, you can pay extra for that crazy organic crap, which, mind you, you spend more time washing off bugs, slugs, and caterpillars (yup, found ‘em all in my lettuce). If you don’t like the added protein from the insecta class, and don’t trust the GM stuff, you will always be able to buy the regular veggies. To monopolize the market with one type of food is not just frustrating, it’s communism. But hey, even if we had one choice, and one choice only, who are we to bitch if we are lucky enough to have food?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Many have also argued that by manipulating the natural order of these species DNA strands and creating hybrids is like playing God, and therefore is an abomination. I believe that letting people all around the world starve to death is an abomination. Now I’m not a Bible Thumper myself, but I believe that God is as much like a parental figure as anyone else. No parent who wants their child to grow and become successful believes that doing every little task for them will help them achieve this. No decent parent comes running the minute their child cries out, ready to pull them out of the mess instead of letting them learn to find their own way. Like any good parent, they provide the tools and sit back to see what their child can accomplish with them. God has provided us the tools. He has provided us the brains that developed the technology to resolve our own problems. And not only do we keep crying for help, straddled by religion-induced self-helplessness, but we actually fight the people who might just have the answer.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The various hybrids created by these experiments have been engineered to not only grow larger and feed more people, but they can actually sustain life in harsher climates with fewer necessities. Many people in third world countries starve, not because they’re lazy, not because they don’t want to help themselves, but because in most countries, the summers are too hot, the winters, too cold; the region too dry or far too wet, the soil, useless. They cannot grow their own crops because no crops survive. Many of these GM foods can last in dry heats with minimal water or in flooding rains. They can survive permafrost; they can survive with few nutrients most other crops require in rich soil. They would thrive in nations in Africa or Southern Europe. And people would live. Norman Borlaug knows this story well. Using similar technology, he helped engineer various strains of grains (wheat and rice) and introduced these specimens to Mexico, India, and Pakistan, doubling their food production in less than 5 years. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1970 and has been credited for saving over one billion (yes, BILLION) people from starvation. Way to kick ass, Mr. Borlaug.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So taking this into consideration, some Americans are still not happy with GM foods being sold in America. Fine, but this technology is not just for you. We are fat. We are gluttons. We really don’t need it. But others do. So let’s send the food and technology over to the other countries and let them enjoy it, right? Wrong, said Greenpeace. Damn it, those little tree-hugging hippies are at it again! And this time, it wasn’t just propaganda through interpretive dance that we could all ignore. At the 2002 Environmental Summit in Africa, Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth crammed their misinformation down the throats of several African presidents, convincing them GM foods were poisonous and harmful. Therefore, many countries turned down tons of GM foods that had been donated by the U.S., leaving their people to continue starving. One fact Greenpeace forgot to mention? In the last 50 years, not one person has ever become ill or died as a result of consuming a GM food product.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It never ceases to amaze me that the people who are fighting the biotechnology that could feed the world are always the ones who have enough food in their refrigerators. Even if there were risks, could you look at your starving child and deny them food that <i>may</i> make them sick in 30 years, even though without it, they <i>will</i> die in 30 days? As one Greenpeace hippie dude said about GMs, “yeah we could save the world but, like, uh your kid might grow four eyeballs!” Watch out world, we’re in the presence of a mental giant here. Norman, we miss you.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Minhaj Gedi Farah, starving baby weighed just over 7 pounds at 7 months old. Weeks later, after receiving nutrients through an IV, he's almost at a normal weight for his age. Come on Greenpeace, you're doing this to everyone.</i></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2_uAmGsjdkU/Tt8KZj6kpkI/AAAAAAAAAIU/EcXChVkWE7k/s1600/starving.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2_uAmGsjdkU/Tt8KZj6kpkI/AAAAAAAAAIU/EcXChVkWE7k/s320/starving.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683272689018775106" /></a>Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-60799496279705557522011-11-24T02:33:00.000-08:002011-12-14T20:06:20.275-08:00Violence in Occupation<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dQXhzZHddYU/Ts4dxwWLsNI/AAAAAAAAAHk/oW86NWjiv2M/s1600/LIZ-NICHOLS-OCCUPY-PORTLAND-PEPPER-SPRAY.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dQXhzZHddYU/Ts4dxwWLsNI/AAAAAAAAAHk/oW86NWjiv2M/s400/LIZ-NICHOLS-OCCUPY-PORTLAND-PEPPER-SPRAY.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678508920789512402" /></a><br />The occupy protests have taken the spotlight in news as of late, but not for the reasons they should. Across the nation protesters are gathering to begin a peaceful revolution in the corrupt system that has been misguiding our country and our economy, steering us into this crippling recession. Unfortunately, that’s all old news. The headlines today are covering the police brutality that’s taking place against the usually harmless people who are sitting in on the demonstrations, and the country is split between horror and justification.<p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In most locations where protests are taking place, the local law enforcement has asked for the crowds to disperse for a wide array of reasons: sometimes it’s a traffic matter if they’re blocking roads or sidewalks, sometimes it’s a safety matter (some protesters have been killed and raped at the camps), and sometimes it’s simply a way for law enforcement to rid themselves of the nuisance the people have become, an attempt to silence the rising voice of the 99%. Most protestors believe it to be the latter, and all have refused to dissipate, bringing the tension between police officers and demonstrators to a head.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Many demonstrations have simmered into a boil as police encroach upon the gathered civilians and civilians respond by banding together and refusing to move. Some confrontations have become face to face showdowns, where police and civilians stand nose to nose waiting for the other to blink. Frustrations mount as a war of words flies between the two adversaries, and then someone makes the first move: a shove from a civilian or a baton to the stomach by an officer, and all hell breaks loose. Civilians are beaten as officers throw punches, jab their batons, and pepper spray the living daylights out of the crowds.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Given the excitement, the massive numbers of the crowds and officers, and the muddle of the two meshed together in extremely close proximity, 20 years ago it would have been difficult to know who started what, which side was justified, and who was the innocent party. But in this day and age, thanks to the incredible advancements in technology (and let’s face it, even with the simplest of inventions like cameras) one does not have to be Sherlock Holmes to realize in most cases, the police are using excessive force in trying to “regain control” of the crowds, some of which weren’t out of control to begin with, for example a group of students at <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AdDLhPwpp4">Northern California’s UC Davis</a>. Protestors sat on the ground, arms interlocked, refusing to move as police officers circled and marched along the line like power drunk dictators. Suddenly, completely unprovoked, officers began shooting pepper spray over the heads and in the faces of the peaceful individuals. Many ducked, most had their heads covered with their jacket hoods, but if you’ve ever been around a fresh cloud of pepper spray, you don’t need it to be shot directly in your face, you don’t even need to be present when it is sprayed for it to have an effect on you, stinging your eyes and burning your throat as you breathe in the residual vapor that lingers in the air.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Other protests have resulted in harmless non-violent civilians being pepper sprayed as well, including 84 year old Dorli Rainy, and a priest. Elizabeth Nichols (pictured above) said a police officer actually began the dispute by jabbing her in the ribs with a baton then pressing it against her throat. When she reacted verbally by shouting at the officer that she was being mistreated, she was met with a steady stream of pepper spray at approximately a range of no more than two feet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Driving out to dinner tonight with my dad, he had the car radio tuned to his favorite talk show, and they were discussing the typical debate of whether the force was necessary. Some on the show agreed that police are justified to react to any violence portrayed by the demonstrators. “What are you going to do when you have people standing right up in your face, shouting, spitting, and shoving you? Are you going to stand there and let them shove you and spit in your face? You do what you have to do,” said one. And I sat, thinking, "you couldn’t be more wrong."</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ve frequently and very recently discussed my experiences working in group homes with troubled teens and the violence we were usually faced with when intervening in their crises or simply being in the way when they were having a bad day. The rules were clear: do not ever put your hands on a client, do not ever use physical force unless they are a clear and immediate danger to themselves or others. Such work is a high stress job and it takes a very patient and dedicated individual to do it and do it well. Usually, employees like this were in short supply, thus the several reports that speckled the news headlines when teens were dying in restraints in various facilities; employees who lost their cool and patience and used too much force. But at our facilities, the preceding policy usually meant if you had a client in your face screaming and shouting, if you had a client spit at you, or if you had a client shove you with minimal-moderate force (if they didn’t shove you hard enough to make you fall down), you were expected to take it, walk away, or call group therapy. Sometimes, even more violent behavior was tolerated, simply because you managed to keep your cool or because restraints require a minimum of two attending staff members and you were alone. Whatever the case, there were several times I was threatened and injured without resigning to physical force: being pushed down the stairs, being cut with a small piece of glass, being slammed into a wall, being hit with a metal folding chair and other various pieces of furniture, the list goes on.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Of course it’s easier to maintain one’s self-control when starting at 0, but what happens when you’re rushing towards 60? Many cases of police brutality occur after a high intensity event, such as car chases, or during riots or stand offs, when the adrenaline is rushing and some claim it's hard to maintain control. Well, sorry boys, but that’s usually bullshit too. There were plenty of moments where we were forced to engage in restraints at our facility, those moments where they were a danger to themselves or others; at one time in our facility when we housed a few more colorful characters, we were engaging in, on average, 15 restraints a week, sometimes as many as four restraints on four different clients in one day. Of course company policy also stated if it was determined to be required, place them in a restraint that would immobilize them, NOT harm them, making sure to never use more force than necessary. This meant stop them, get them to the ground or wall, and hold their arms and legs still until they calmed down, making sure they could breathe and their circulation was adequate at all times. Now at times, restraints did not go smoothly. Sometimes the clients were difficult to get on the ground. Sometimes there was a chase or a great struggle before they could be effectively immobilized. Sometimes their struggles and attempts to break free resulted in their own injuries. Our adrenaline was usually pumping by the time we hit the floor, and with a kick to the face or chest, a bite on the hand, or a sudden grasp of hair that is quickly ripped from your scalp, the test of maintaining your calm becomes almost impossible. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">But we were trained to handle those moments, to avoid reaching what our training supervisor called the level of “pisstivity”. Now everyone’s human, everyone makes mistakes. I recall the moment when I finally reached my level of pisstivity with a client. She had attempted to strangle me with a lanyard draped around my neck. After trying to evade her until I was backed into a corner, I finally went into a wall restraint with her and another staff member. She was too strong for us to hold against the wall so we transferred her to the floor, where she proceeded to struggle for the next 30 minutes, biting me on the hand twice. After she claimed she was calm, we allowed her up. She slowly rose to her feet, straightened her clothing, then turned to me and snapped “Bitch! You can’t hold me down!” and shoved me with brute force. I flew back and slammed into a steel pole, my head flying back and cracking against the metal. We immediately resumed a wall restraint and at one point, as we struggled with her, I became fed up and forced her to the wall a bit harder than I needed to. It went unnoticed by the belligerent teen, but I still felt guilty when all had passed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s reasonable to assume that at some point, even a police officer is going to be pushed to the brink; they are, after all, human. But if anyone should be better trained in maintaining their cool in high-stress situations, and using appropriate force at appropriate times, it’s those who have to face these types of behaviors on a regular basis. If people who are given guns, batons, and pepper spray can’t be trusted to use it effectively, why the hell are we giving them these things? Why are we entrusting our safety to people who have no knowledge of how to provide and maintain it? They are given weapons and limitless power, practically free of consequence and responsibility. But someone needs to remind them that having power doesn’t make you powerful. Having the power to control yourself is true strength.</p>Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-47410891155487761312011-11-14T20:07:00.001-08:002011-11-14T20:21:30.902-08:00Troubled Teens and Jaded Juveniles: Failing Our Kids Part 2<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tplgW33B0_I/TsHloADjhoI/AAAAAAAAAGc/orAj8_yYI9I/s1600/Juvenile-hall.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 274px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tplgW33B0_I/TsHloADjhoI/AAAAAAAAAGc/orAj8_yYI9I/s400/Juvenile-hall.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675069480835974786" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">The ominous situation most juvenile delinquents find themselves in is that no better than the punishments typically reserved for adults. Though some may think that Juvenile Hall is a playground for the young offenders of today, the nature of the environment is unfortunately exact to the nature of prison. There is an element of survival, a hierarchy one must navigate through in the social construct of federal and state reprimand. To prove oneself, through acts of structural defiance, acts of loyalty, and further criminal behaviors, is to guarantee one’s protection. Other times watching and learning the inner workings of the placement assists the convict in manipulating the system to best meet their needs. And such behaviors are hardly limited to imprisonment.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">As an alternative, in order to provide juvenile offenders with a better opportunity for self-improvement and successful reintegration into society, many convicted delinquents are sent to behavioral treatment facilities, high level group homes, and work camps. Through tightly structured days, afforded slightly more intervention and support than that found at the Hall, these facilities were ideal compared to the juvenile prison. But it was far from perfect, and here, the kids are expected to grow and fall on the right path. But what really are the odds?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">One event I noticed on occasion both in my work with the teen girls at the BT facility and working with the male juvenile delinquents at their facility was that at times, teens are misplaced for one reason or another, a decision that compromises their future. With the boys, I found one young man placed in the facility for a very minimal offense (stealing a bike and truancy from school), though the rap sheet of his peers typically included robbery, grand theft, drug dealing, assault with a deadly weapon, and in one case, manslaughter. Though we were a level 12 facility for the girls with specific behavioral criteria for admission, some girls were merely placed with us because extraneous circumstances left them with no better placement. They had mild behavioral issues, usually depression, but significant medical issues such as diabetes or epilepsy, conditions far too risky for a level 10 or 8 home. Therefore they were placed with us, though we were no medical center either.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">When it came to the young man, achieving protected status in the dormitory of 24 other delinquents became his priority. A typical 13 year old, he was well-mannered, polite, seeming to be of middle-class status, and terrified of his new surroundings. When a fight began to ensue between his roommates, he did what he believed to be the right thing, alerted the staff member on duty. Unfortunately for him, in this society, he was now labeled a snitch, and became a target. After one beat-down, he quickly began what Jane Goodall would refer to as displaying in the chimp community, proving his worth by showing off his machismo. He began to break rules, disrespect staff, and fight with other clients to climb the social ladder. After proving himself, he was accepted into the protective circle of the thug society and was deemed a pain in the ass by staff throughout the facility. After a confrontation between him and other peers took place, fearful that he would be moved to the Hall, he ran away from the facility in the dead of night and I never heard of him again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">With the girls, while there were several instances of behavior changes to graft a niche into the group home society, one behavior I typically observed was the modification to get one’s needs met. This is where the key element of the Social Learning Theory, first presented by Albert Bandura, comes into play in these environments. Individuals observe behaviors others engage in, note the pay off of the behavior (are they punished or do they receive some kind of reward) and in turn imitate the behavior themselves. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">When girls were placed in our facility who really didn’t belong there, they were typically the better behaved kids who followed the rules, went to school, completed chores, and offered to help around the facility whenever possible. While staff attempted to provide as much praise and rewards as possible for their efforts, it becomes difficult to give the individualized attention these teens so desperately needed when 17 or 18 other girls in the house were acting out. The girls who were more problematic were constantly requiring attention, redirection, and crisis intervention, and it didn’t take long for the better behaved girls to become frustrated, as they should have been. “I’m doing everything I’m supposed to be doing, and yet I’m invisible.” I imagine they concluded. Eventually, they made themselves heard. Resorting to similar behaviors, we had several girls display about the house, sheepishly throwing objects at windows that never broke, spraying fire extinguishers, and threatening to kill themselves by jumping off the second story balcony, after which they would march to the balcony and hesitate, glancing over their shoulders to see if we were following. Naturally, whether or not we knew they weren’t serious, we were obligated by company policy to follow, and reinforced their attention-seeking behaviors. Once, however, when we became distracted with another girl threatening to kill herself, the one who had dashed off to the balcony realized we were not coming to rescue her, and returned, loudly displaying in the hallway, stomping her feet and cursing. Eventually behaviors escalated in severity, and the girls rarely returned to their sweet dispositions.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Though social problems in the group homes and treatment facilities largely contribute to exacerbating the issues these teens are faced with, it seems they are set up for failure right from the start by being placed in these facilities to begin with. It was mentioned in part one of this blog that compliance with the teen girls was difficult to come by. With the boys, it was not quite so hard. Given that these boys were placed in this facility as an alternative to the Hall, they understood that whatever problems they faced here, they were much worse there. With the threat of being replaced in the Hall looming, they were more motivated to try. As previously mentioned, the structure was tighter, interventions and support was more readily available in order to help these kids. In other words, they were placed in a laboratory. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Every moment of their day was planned out for them, from getting up in the morning to breakfast, school, group therapy, activity, showers, homework, dinner, more group, and sleep. Their roommates were carefully selected, they had emotional support and guidance from staff, and limited temptation from outside sources. They were removed from the environment that created so many of their issues to begin with: friends who were bad influences, families who were dysfunctional and damaging, freedom and free time to make bad decisions. What else could they do but succeed in such an intricately designed program? Many still struggled as they found other ways to get in trouble: fighting, gambling, refusing to attend school, being disrespectful to staff. But when you take into consideration the things they were placed there for, these offenses pale in comparison. They thrived in a strictly controlled environment.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">After their time is served, however, they are returned to the defunct natural environments that bred them. They go back to their broken homes, back to their crime-riddled neighborhoods, back to the friends whose opinions mean so much and who always have access to drugs and booze, back to unlimited free will with little motivation to make the right choices in everyday life, and left without much aftercare. No one bothers to come out and check on them, no one bothers to take time out of their day to keep them in line. If they don’t go to school, no one really cares. If they don’t do their homework, they rarely have anyone to answer to; no one holds them accountable anymore. How long do you believe it takes them to revert to their previous lifestyle?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Such is the problem for adult convicts as well, and is a distinct answer to the question of rampant recidivism in prisons and juvenile halls. You cannot take an unruly chimp, teach him how to behave in a cage, then release him to the world and expect the same results you achieved in lockdown.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A better alternative, argued Richard Mendel in his report <i>Less Hype, More Help: Reducing Juvenile Crime…</i> was instead of removing the teens from their homes, to provide care within the natural environment. Offering therapeutic treatments in the home with the entire family, assigning a mentor to keep close tabs on the teen, and facilitating a collaborative effort between the multiple facets in their lives, such as family, teachers, and outreach programs, Mendel believed that the individual had a higher chance at success. The program’s therapeutic approaches, titled Multi-Systematic Therapy and Family Functional Therapy, addressed the issues at the root of the presenting problems, and guided the teen to make better independent choices in the current environment, instead of within a superficial one where the possibility to make their own choices was significantly reduced, thereby teaching them nothing. After longitudinal studies were conducted, not only did these programs prove to be more effective than treatment facilities and group homes, they were also significantly cheaper, costing anywhere between $2,000-5,000, whereas facilities and homes cost approximately $50,000 annually.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Granted, placement in this program is not appropriate for everyone, higher risk offenders that have been convicted on charges of violence, for instance, need alternative placement, but many of the offenders for drug use, minor theft, and behavioral issues such as truancy would benefit from it, rather than being placed in “criminal college”, where they will learn to be better convicts from more seasoned offenders, where their behaviors only get worse, and where emotionally, they’re as lost as they ever were.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So the question now is: when are we going to save them from themselves?</p><p></p>Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-34146250274218892522011-10-26T23:08:00.000-07:002011-10-27T00:47:53.978-07:00Troubled Teens & Jaded Juveniles: Failing Our Kids Part 1<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hUE3RpRhrro/TqkKrzkrWGI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Dihp6NmY9gQ/s1600/tumblr_lg9un72iaK1qd2o64o1_500_large.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hUE3RpRhrro/TqkKrzkrWGI/AAAAAAAAAFo/Dihp6NmY9gQ/s320/tumblr_lg9un72iaK1qd2o64o1_500_large.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668073353717176418" /></a>As I begin that perilous feat of pounding the pavement again in an unstable economy, I find myself reverting to positions where I hold the most experience: severely emotionally disturbed teens in foster care. Spending over two years working and volunteering with this troubled population, most of which were delinquents by one measure or another, I found the time to be often unpleasant, but invaluable. I was exposed to the dark world of child abuse and neglect, the typical underlying causes of behavioral problems and psychological disorders. I was frequently abused myself, be it verbally or physically, a punching bag for children who had no one else to lash out at. But, even in most difficult times, I found myself fighting to be the stability these children so desperately craved, the mother figure who disciplined and loved unconditionally, the parental figure who applauded good math grades and held numerous correctional meetings with principals and teachers, the mentor to guide them down the most beneficial path available to them, most of which were in short supply. Unfortunately, time and time again, experience proved there was little if any hope for lasting improvement in their lives, be it the group home, the treatment methods, or the environments they would inevitably be thrust back into once their time was served. This was a reality that threw me into a depression and I find myself asking if this is really where I need to go again.<div><br /></div><div>Given the shortage of viable foster families, most mildly troubled teens are placed in group homes. These homes are evenly numbered in terms of severity of behavioral issues, going from 6 to 14, above which you find juvenile hall or psychiatric placement. Children are removed from biological families for various reasons: child abuse, neglect, criminal behaviors, or even voluntary placement when the parents have determined their behaviors are far too unmanageable for them. </div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, most group homes are in short supply as well, therefore more severe children are placed in lower levels that are not necessarily capable of providing the children the supervision or interventions required. Once I worked in a level 12 facility, typically reserved for teen girls suffering from depression, self-mutilation, anger management issues, or in recovery from drug abuse; however given the lack of adequate facilities, we were accepting intake patients suffering from suicidality (one girl was brought to us after attempting to hang herself in her basement with an electrical cord), bipolar disorder, aggression and assaultive behaviors (one client had recently been released from Juvenile Hall for stabbing a peer with a screwdriver), continuing drug use (a social worker dropped a client off at our facility still high after a three day bender on crystal meth), schizophrenia, mental retardation, and even autism. For the most part, we didn't know how to handle our clients; we were not properly trained and found ourselves struggling to do our jobs the best we could. It was frustrating, to say the least.</div><div><br /></div><div>The behavioral interventions in place to manage these kids were largely ineffective. A hierarchical grading system providing four levels of achievement or failure, finding the rewards lackluster and the punishments unenforceable, the kids ignored our feeble attempts to discipline them. Level A, the highest level, promised rewards of larger weekly allowance ($20), more phone time, a later bed time, and the opportunity to take part in an outing reserved for high levels, usually a cheesy weekly trip to the mall or movies, once in a great while a reward of a night at the theater or an expensive theme park. Level B was largely the same, though slightly less allowance ($15). Level C was lower status, less allowance still ($10), restricted phone time, earlier bed time than higher levels, and participation in a weekend activity that was also usually quite pathetic, a trip to a skating rink, perhaps a few hours at the local arcade they frequent every month. Level D/C (Daily Contract), has a minimal allowance ($7), restricted phone time, earliest bed time, and losing the chance of any activity on the weekend, instead participating in group therapy taking responsibility for whatever action landed them on D/C status. Levels were determined collectively in group therapy sessions, whereby the individual's progress for the week was reviewed and their status voted upon by their peers.</div><div><br /></div><div>While it seems fool-proof, the system is heavily laden with problems and flaws. First being the horrible reward system in place for high levels, most didn't care enough to work for activities they hated, there was no point in staying up late because the TV was broken, and though larger amounts of allowance were given, they were only permitted to have no more than $20 in their possession at any given time, therefore any more money was locked up out of reach. Lower statuses hardly cared for the punishments. Having hardly any privileges at all, there was little they could lose. Understanding limitations of our power, the girls realized we could not physically force them to bed, so most stayed up as late as they wanted, playing in their rooms with their friends, while staff stood in the doorway, doing the only thing they could: redirect them to bed until we grew tired enough to leave them alone. Finding that legally we could not restrict them from using the phone to call family, they typically requested to talk to "relatives", most of whom were probably friends and boyfriends. The state of California requires that children in foster care are given a minimum of $7 weekly for allowance. For those on D/C, usually for running away or not following the rules, $7 was more than enough for bus fare to any friend's house for the weekend, doing drugs, drinking, eating whatever they wanted, watching TV whenever they chose, only to return to the facility, remain on D/C level, and continue the tirade next weekend. Daily Contract also allowed the girls to complete a series of chores for access to any one privilege for the day: cleaning the house could mean time on the computer, going on an outing, or any one of the privileges afforded to high statuses. This usually meant momentary good behavior, which immediately returned to typical delinquent behaviors once the reward was given.</div><div><br /></div><div>Additionally, there were a few aspects of the program that continually interfered with our interventions, one being day treatment classes. Every Tuesday and Thursday, the girls engaged in day treatment, which meant an off-site activity, usually to the mall or movies during the winter, to the local pool or beach during the summer. Though it was said to encourage appropriate behaviors within the outer community, not only was it ineffective (we were frequently banned from various venues for disruptive behaviors), but knowing that they would have the opportunity to engage in bi-weekly activities, motivation for additional activities was minuscule. Why work hard for a trip to a tar pit museum on the weekends when you know you're going to a nail salon to get a manicure for day treatment? Especially since Day Treatment was considered an integral part in their program, we were not permitted to pull the girls from it; it was a guaranteed activity, no matter how poor their behaviors might have been.</div><div><br /></div><div>Likewise, state laws and restrictions interfered. California state law prohibits staff from taking clients' property from them without their permission. We soon found that this meant we could not confiscate desirable recreational items such as portable DVD players, radios, iPods, laptops, skateboards, etc. when a client was misbehaving. Though we frequently removed radios as they were a source of high motivation and clients would do damn near anything to retrieve them, we were instructed to replace them all. What parent could be successful in child-rearing if unable to take anything away from their child?</div><div><br /></div><div>Given the problems that continuously presented themselves, we soon found the program was an expensive facade, and most of the administration was consumed with making money, not helping these teens. In the time I spent at one agency, a 43-bed facility, probably more than 150 girls rotated through the houses. Only one was successfully rehabilitated and reunited with her mother. One. The numbers don't lie, and yet hundreds of thousands of tax payer dollars are thrown into this black hole every year. The future for these girls is bleak and hazy, emotionally unstable and alone in the world, they are ticking time bombs waiting to self-destruct. And the plight for juvenile delinquents and society as a whole is no brighter...</div>Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-7913182963787125932011-09-22T20:56:00.001-07:002011-09-22T23:00:31.384-07:00Syringes and Halos: The Battle of Capital Punishment<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UbuIdDuAXkI/TnwetaoBtXI/AAAAAAAAAFg/BnKxAuwjFLs/s1600/death-penalty.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UbuIdDuAXkI/TnwetaoBtXI/AAAAAAAAAFg/BnKxAuwjFLs/s400/death-penalty.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655428997660652914" /></a>Throughout the years I've struggled with my position on various issues. As new information becomes available, as I become more educated on these matters, as I learn to decipher propaganda from truth, my belief system is altered. Such is the case when it comes to the very controversial issue of the death penalty. With evidence and emotion thrust on the balance, which becomes more weighty? Which guides our minds or stays our hands, especially when we hold in them another's life?<div><br /></div><div>I must admit that my stance on the death penalty changes depending on which side of my brain is engaged at the moment you ask for my opinion. If the left brain is tapped into, the analytical side of the mind, I can say whole-heartedly that I am against this ghastly act. Almost every point brought to the debate can be logically argued into opposition of the practice. From a moral standpoint, the hypocrisy of the "eye for an eye" mentality is painfully obvious: to kill someone for killing someone doesn't resolve the matter and only leaves the justice system as guilty as the convicted. From a sociological perspective, some may argue that such an extreme consequence as capital punishment will dissuade potential convicts from committing crimes. Unfortunately, several studies have demonstrated that the death penalty does not deter tomorrow's criminals from becoming exactly that. Crime is no higher or lower in states without or with the death penalty, respectively. From an economic perspective, some believe that it would cost tax payers less money to execute someone than to pay for them to remain in prison without the possibility of parole. This is also untrue. Given the legal costs of the numerous appeals processes made available to convicted killers, the manpower invested in reviewing appeals cases, granting or denying retrials, appealing to higher courts, etc., the cost of living on death row for the sometimes decades-long movement, and the actual cost of the execution, sustaining a death row convict is far more strenuous on our wallets. The total amount? Roughly $3.5 million. The cost of housing and feeding an inmate for life? Approximately $700,000-900,000. </div><div><br /></div><div>There are few logical arguments proposing capital punishment left to stand on, but the most compelling opponent is the ever-looming concern that we may just kill an innocent person. With the development of advancing technologies that can quickly exonerate a wrongfully convicted criminal, such as DNA-testing, many death row inmates have been set free just shy of a devastating fate. Who knows how many more never quite made it to the appeals court and never will. One recent story is that of Troy Davis. Convicted of shooting and killing an off-duty police officer in 1989, Davis was sentenced to be executed. In spite of a conviction based on circumstantial evidence and the testimony of seven eye witnesses who later recanted, claiming the police department pressured them to finger Davis, it seemed nothing could save him. Following the typical harrowing path of appeals and denials, little hope was left. After the Supreme Court refused to stay his execution, Davis was killed on September 21 at 11:08 EST, while crowds of supporters stood outside the prison and cried.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, engaging the right side of the brain, the emotional realm, we come to a different story. When looking at the broader perspective of things, it's easy to analyze and rationalize why murderers should be allowed to walk this earth, even if it's in a 10X8 foot cell. But when the focus zooms in on individual cases, emotions take hold of the reigns and it's a wonder we don't expel them. Hearing the specifics of any heinous crime against humanity, premeditated, cold-blooded, remorseless, heartless murder is enough to elicit the strained painstaking scream for justice. When I read of the murder of Samantha Runnion, I couldn't ask for anything less. A five year old girl playing with a friend in her yard, just feet away from her front door, snatched up and stuffed into the backseat of a car. She was taken to a barren field, raped and then strangled to death. The murderer, not quite finished, posed her body in posthumous seductive poses for child pornography photos, then dumped her naked body on the side of a highway. Recently acquitted of child sexual abuse charges, Alejandro Avila kidnapped Runnion just months after his release. With her DNA in his car and his DNA under her fingernails, Avila was convicted and sentenced to die. He still sits on death row.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also executed the same night as Davis was Lawrence Brewer, a white supremacist who was convicted of murdering a black man in what could be called one of the most horrific hate crimes in the history of Texas. James Byrd was walking home one night and crossed paths with Brewer and two of his friends. Though details as to what happened next become hazy, hours later, the sheriff's department was deployed to find a mass on the road that was initially mistaken for animal road kill. A decapitated body missing a fair amount of appendages and flesh lay bloodied on the pavement. Byrd had been tied to the back of Brewer's pickup truck with logging chains and dragged behind the car for more than three miles on rough asphalt. Brewer and his friends were found and arrested that same day with Byrd's blood still on them. </div><div><br /></div><div>There are many more cases where one could argue that execution was justified: Timothy McVeigh, Ted Bundy, Saddam Hussein, all criminals with little chance of remorse or rehabilitation. There are many more cases best left to guess as to whether they are truly guilty and truly deserving of losing their lives. Entangled in my corpus callosum, I've yet to find a happy medium in between the two. So for the time being, I leave it at this: when it comes to logic, be it finances, morals, society and the wrongfully convicted, I say let them be, but when it comes to pure convictions with absolutely no doubt of guilt and horrific murders on their blood spattered hands, emotionally I scream light the bastards up.</div>Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2625717970936308646.post-53673271375578924072011-08-28T01:41:00.000-07:002011-08-28T11:41:11.438-07:00Pure Hearts in Lost Souls<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D7Y_AQCxrLk/TloV9X_eMII/AAAAAAAAAFY/_cO-PxbCodQ/s1600/work.1826147.4.flat%252C550x550%252C075%252Cf.where-are-you-real-god.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D7Y_AQCxrLk/TloV9X_eMII/AAAAAAAAAFY/_cO-PxbCodQ/s400/work.1826147.4.flat%252C550x550%252C075%252Cf.where-are-you-real-god.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645849227018776706" /></a>
<br /><p class="MsoNormal">Throughout the years, I have struggled with my relationship with a higher being and the following that has convened in the name of that entity. I have battled with the corruption of the very foundation of religions as the roots of belief systems have been torn from the ground and implanted in a pot of carefully manipulated lumps of soil, nourished with tainted holy water. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I cannot, with a clear conscience, completely banish the idea of God from my mind. Perhaps it’s the fear of the unknown, the possibility of some dark retribution awaiting me in the flickering shadows of a fiery afterlife. Perhaps it’s simply the wiping away of an ideology that has been deeply ingrained into my mind since I was a small child that I find impossible. Or, perhaps it’s the simple comfort He provides, an omniscient guardian to keep us safe.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A host of questions arise, with answers upon which one can only postulate. What would become of a society that has no basis for moral values or beliefs? Who would we become without the looming threat of eternal damnation, or the glorious promise of paradise after death? Would people still be generally good without being morally accountable to anyone but themselves? Such inquires send the mind hurdling back to the ultimate question of human nature: are humans inherently good or evil? Without the social influence of theology, would we grow to become saints or swine? Or would we simply exist, driven by biological forces of survival rather than of greed or just rewards?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Having a host of friends who are active atheists, I have many times had this discussion with them, debating the existence of God and the purpose and benefits of believing on pure blind faith alone. Being a lover of science and the knowledge it has provided me, I’ve struggled with the notion of blind faith and am usually left questioning, always questioning, with no answer given. I remember as a small child in Sunday school our teacher was arguing against the Big Bang Theory, stating “someone had to create the Earth, you can’t say that it was ‘just there’”. I raised my hand, in innocent curiosity, and asked “Well if God created the Earth, who created God?” My teacher fumbled briefly for an answer before sputtering out, “well…he was just there”. And as I sat back in my chair, I knew the answer was not satisfactory, but my religious education continued on. We moved to a new church and for a moment, the experience was fulfilling. I became a diehard Christian, bumping Christian rock music, joining the Christians on Campus club, doodling crosses and crucified hands on my notebook, preaching and recruiting to anyone who would listen. I loved my faith and my church, before we merged with an upscale church from the hills where snobbery and presumption was not in short supply. The hypocrisy of Sunday do-gooders drove me mad; you know the types, those Christians who do God’s thing on Sunday and do their own thing every other day of the week. Jaded by superficiality and morning preaching of religious superiority, coupled with a deepening crippling depression, issues with my sexuality, and dwindling faith, I finally threw in the towel and left the church before my 14<sup>th</sup> birthday.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Though I had given up on believing that God actually gave a damn about me, I could never quite bring myself to believe he wasn’t there at all, and in spite of walking away from the church, I never walked away from aspiring to be the best human being I could be. As a 13 year old, I used my miniscule allowance to support a starving child in South America. Throughout my high school years, I donated to various causes and participated in charities, rejecting the extra credit my fellow students needed to be motivated with to take part. During my college years, I worked with foster children and emotionally disturbed teens, I volunteered at an after school program, and I started a cancer fund raising over $2,300 for cancer research. Post graduation, I became an advocate of tolerance, specifically for the Muslim community after 9/11, and I became a therapist, working at a non-profit organization for autistic children.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now, am I providing this repertoire of activity in some vain attempt to secure my status as a pompous ass? Not so much as to demonstrate that one doesn’t have to be perched on a pew, singing some poorly adapted verse, keeling over a man-written document in search of a purpose and an explanation to be a good human being. Having an understanding of our shared humanity, being an active global citizen, taking care of one another and trying to have the most positive impact on the world around us that we’re capable of makes us good human beings. In fact, getting away from the church and out into the world is probably more beneficial to anyone’s spiritual journey. Where God fits into this, and how much, is dependent upon the practicing individual. For me, he’s there, and I’m here, and we acknowledge each other’s presence. I do what I feel I need to do to sleep at night, hoping I’ve done the best I could, and if it’s in agreement with him, great, if not, maybe next time. I do believe we can be an ethical and moral community without accountability to a higher being. Likewise, I don’t believe the immediate presence of that being automatically makes one ethical, moral, or accountable.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The hypocrisy I’ve previously mentioned is rampant in all organized religion. Many people, especially as of late, pick and choose which parts of the Bible they wish to enforce and which they wish to sweep beneath the rug. They utilize their religions as a vehicle to further personal agendas and cite their holy books as justification for discrimination and hatred. In the process of writing this blog, I was compelled to track down my old youth pastor, and found a site pushing religious superiority and a video of a panel he participated in arguing against homosexuality and equal rights. Many just don't practice even the most basic of principles that they preach. Last week I was set in a Christian school awaiting a lecture from my boss, and found myself in the throes of a mini-sermon, discussing Bible passages of delighting in the Lord and praying before my boss took center stage. I made a conscience effort to keep an open mind before a slight cutting comment towards Jews was made, then I shut down. But the tone of the room was one of devotion, love, and kindness, a tone which quickly changed once my boss, there to lecture on teaching techniques and brain functionality, began her speech. Met with criticism, snide remarks, and constant argument, a level of unexpected, unexplained hostility slowly rose through the three and a half hour presentation. It ended with a verbal battle between entities, one I did not witness because I left out of frustration and anxiety. The tension in the room was overwhelming and the difficulty of seeing a colleague and a mentor being attacked was too much to handle with quiet grace and decorum. While it would be unfair to overgeneralize this<span> </span>experience to all Christians, I think it’s fair to say, given this situation and numerous others, that the presence of God in one’s life does not guarantee that individual to be moral, ethical, accountable, or even to have an ounce of integrity. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I still struggle from time to time with my relationship with this God, but I figure at this point, I will continue to do my best and hope it’s enough. If God’s there in Heaven, I’m sure he’s watching, and if he’s not, well I’ve still done my duty as a human being and helped someone here on Earth to have a slightly easier existence than before. And in the end, that’s what makes it worthwhile.</p>Miss Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06708510027898483693noreply@blogger.com0