Syringes and Halos: The Battle of Capital Punishment

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Pure Hearts in Lost Souls

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.

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.

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?

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^th birthday.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

Hiroshima: Lessons Unlearned

Einstein envisioned it. Oppenheimer created it. Truman deployed it. Little Boy, the first ever weapon of mass destruction, was nestled snugly in the belly of a B-29 fighter jet and sent sailing over the town of Hiroshima on August 6, 1945. The explosion left the world both horrified and awestruck, and left a large bloody stain in U.S. history books. It also began the race and opened the flood gates for the development of more powerful artillery. And in the continuing wake of international turmoil, throughout the years our awareness of this clear and present danger has bred a very real fear into daily life.

With the second World War hinging on its fourth year for the U.S. and Japan still clinging by a thread, common sense and humanity gave way to frustration and impatience. Just a few years earlier, Albert Einstein had written a letter to President Franklin Roosevelt noting that a bomb of mass destruction must be built in order to definitively end the war. A top secret assembly of scientists and engineers gathered under what would be called the Manhattan Project with J. Robert Oppenheimer at the helm. Soon, the atomic bomb was born.

Though it seemed that Roosevelt had no intention of utilizing the bomb, as Europe seemed to be losing power and Japan was slipping along with them, after his untimely death in April 1945, Vice President Truman took over. Once victory was achieved in Europe, Japan had little to lean on and ran dangerously low on artillery, planes, and manpower. Despite the fact that the Japanese seemed to be on the verge of raising the white flag, Truman saw an opportunity for the gross demonstration of power the U.S. had suddenly come to wield with this bomb, and ordered it be dropped.

On August 6, 1945, at 8:15AM, Little Boy was released over Hiroshima. Nearly 2,000 feet in the air, the bomb detonated, and a radiant white flash lit the morning sky. Waves of heat exceeding 7,000 degrees raced through the town. Everything within a one mile radius of the explosion was incinerated; within 5 miles, the city was completely destroyed and everyone killed; within 10 miles, a severe risk of exposure to radiation that injured and killed thousands more weeks, months, and even years after, but not before putting them through the agonizing pain of radiation poisoning, burns, and cancers. The casualties topped 150,000. Three days later, in Nagasaki, we dropped a second bomb that killed another 80,000.

While a few narrow-minded people regarded these attacks as sufficient reciprocity for the Pearl Harbor tragedy, bear in mind that while devastating and terrible, Pearl Harbor was an attack on armed forces preparing for war, which resulted in the deaths of 2,300 soldiers. The atomic bombs were attacks on civilian towns (Little Boy missed his target by 800 ft and exploded over a hospital), and resulted in the deaths of 230,000+ innocents who had no say in the matter of Pearl Harbor or whether they desired any part in the war at all. It goes without saying that these two matters are a dark mark on our records (but you wouldn't think some people had gotten the memo, given the petty responses that littered Facebook following the Japanese defeat of the US women's soccer team at this year's World Cup).

Nowadays, we have moved on to more deadly substances: nuclear power, and the looming threat of such power falling into the wrong hands is ever-present. The Nuclear Club, an unofficial title for the states that acknowledge they possess such warheads, consists of eight countries: the United States, Russia, the United Kingdom, France, China, India, Pakistan, and North Korea. Israel is suspected of having nukes, but it has yet to be confirmed. The first five of the preceding list are nuclear-possessing members of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, an agreement which in short states that it will prevent any countries who do not have nukes from obtaining them, will allow for the use of nuclear energy without the threat of abuse, and more importantly, binds the participating countries of the treaty to gradually move towards a total disarmament and abolition of nuclear warheads. The latter pillar seems a little more difficult, given that the language of the agreement is hazy, lacking a timeline or any real obligation to succeed, and suspicions of one another leave the states acting like five criminals in a room, holding one another at gunpoint, and no one trusts the others enough to lower their firearm first.

Throughout the past 5 decades, the fear of a nuclear apocalypse rose and fell with the Cold War. The Cuban Missile Crisis, a narrow standoff between U.S. forces and Russian-backed Cuba which left John F. Kennedy sweating and the world on the verge of a miocardial infarction, brought paranoia knocking on the average American's door. Bomb shelters were built, bomb warnings were developed, bomb drills were exercised at schools and offices, and talk of the Red Menace littered daily conversations. Though the CMC ended at the last moment with Cuba turning away, the reality of a nuclear war came dangerously close. Another incident occurred much later, when the U.S. had scheduled an exercise to test a rocket model. Notifying Russian authorities that the test would take place to avoid suspicion, the message went astray. When a supposedly unannounced rocket showed up on their radar, Russian President Khrushchev was given less than a minute to respond, his finger twitching on the button that would send a nuclear warhead hurtling toward the U.S. With seconds to spare, Khrushchev decided against the move, and after clarifications were given, the near-mistake left everyone with sense of dreadful relief. Today, the daily threat of hostile countries and terrorist organizations obtaining nuclear bombs lingers at the backs of people's minds, but who do we have to blame but ourselves? The fire we started has roared out of control, beyond our power to contain it, and it may prove to be our own self-inflicted demise.

While there is always the growing threat of hostile forces gaining access to nuclear arsenals, we have made progress in international disarmament. In the time from the Cold War to the present, nuclear warheads have been reduced from 70,000 to roughly 20,350. South Africa, once a country that had developed 6 nuclear warheads, acted in good faith and dissembled all before signing the NPT. But if you're thinking that 20,000 warheads and 8 countries are still too many, you're right. All it takes is one bomb to obliterate a nation, one explosion to set off a series of explosions as state retaliations take flight. Without total disarmament and the careful watch of all nuclear sources, we as a global community will never be safe.

"Every man, woman, and child lives under a nuclear sword of Damocles, hanging by the slenderest of threads, capable of being cut at any moment by accident, or miscalculation, or by madness." -John F. Kennedy

IN MEMORY OF THE VICTIMS OF HIROSHIMA

For more information on the movement to total disarmament, watch Lucy Walker's Countdown to Zero

Leaving 'Em in the Dust

As we encroach upon a new school year, districts, schools, and teachers are gearing up to dive back into the remaining debris of our disintegrating educational system, namely the No Child Left Behind policy, George W. Bush's brain child. Copies of workbook pages and practice tests are running hot off the presses, Number 2 pencils are being freshly sharpened, and teachers take another swig off the flask before entering the prison their classrooms have become, devoid of independent thought, creative teaching styles, and fun. A backwards policy that has left students burned out, teachers exhausted, and both dreading going to school every day, No Child Left Behind practically guarantees the failure of our children, and the rippling effects of standardized test obsession are destroying any hope our future may have.

Standardized tests are, at their core, an assessment of performance to determine the level of achievement each grade, school, and district can obtain, and the effectiveness of current teaching practices as they are. When I was in school, these tests were exactly that. The school year went on as it always did, we engaged in fun activities, we had projects and experiments, and we had the leisure of additional subjects such as music and art. Preparation for the annual standardized tests took all of two weeks out of the year, mostly with the focus placed on attendance for the tests. We completed the tests, usually in a week or two, then went on with our regularly scheduled curriculum.

Today, standardized tests have become less of an assessment tool and more of a formal exam that needs to be practiced for, studied for, and requiring extensive preparation with more time and efforts dedicated to these than most students probably dedicate to their SATs. In the stead of the fun, creative, active learning environments teachers had hoped to build, monotonous endless work pages are replacing most class time, boring students and reducing any chances of academic retention. But why is the drive to do well on these tests so high?

It's a given that the school, district, and state who have the best test scores gain national recognition for being just that, the best. The accolades one can obtain from having such high performance marks can be motivating enough, but let's be real here, it's all about the money. Those who receive the highest scores get the most money from the federal government, which filters down through the aforementioned branches into the schools, utilizing money as a motivational factor, a policy that ends up being more ironic than intelligent.

Most people think if one waves money in the face of superintendents, principals, and teachers, they will work harder and produce better scores; however what they fail to see is that low test scores are the result of a multitude of factors, most of which stem from a lack of money in the system. Classroom sizes are too large, school supplies such as desks, updated text books, and advancing educational technologies are missing in action, and lower socio-economic area schools pay less which brings in lower qualified teachers. So why does it make more sense to give money to schools who do better when one of the main reasons they do better is because they have more money to provide the learning environment children need to do well on the tests to begin with? Schools with lower scores should be carefully examined and it should be determined whether or not lack of funding was a direct cause of low scores, then money should be distributed as necessity dictates.

As the various facets of these systems become more and more obsessed with the green, the heat is turned up and flares down the line like a burning fuse with the teachers holding the dynamite. Ultimately, if scores are not up to par, principals and superintendents have decided, it is a direct reflection of the performance of the teacher, which can lead to a pink slip and a nice field trip to the unemployment office. Now, in spite of the glaring examples already provided regarding lack of funds and an overly-structured classroom environment that allows for little actual teaching, additional fault can and should be shouldered by the demographic of the classroom. The best example I can provide is a friend of my mother's, a first grade teacher who had 20 students: 7 of whom were recommended to repeat kindergarten but whose parents pushed them through, 5 of whom could not fluently speak English. Twelve students who really had no business being in this particular class held the fate of this teacher's career in their hands. And, faced with such a harsh reality, teachers became desperate.

In early July, it was revealed that Atlanta public schools had engaged in a city-wide scandal producing fraudulent test scores during the 2009 test period in order to receive the public notoriety and money higher scores would bring. Eighty-two educators admitted to various forms of cheating, including altering their students' test answers. Another 178 educators pleaded the Fifth Amendment, and additionally, 38 principals were charged with involvement. While many will tsk and shake their heads at the city, as we all should, we have to take into account the ridiculousness of this, the level of desperation these people must be feeling to take part not only in cheating on exams, but at such an incredibly large scale. Some driven by greed, others driven by the greedy and the desire to keep their jobs in this crumbling economy, all robbing their students and setting a poor example, to say the least.

So, with limited money where it needs to be, teachers facing undeserved punishments, and moderated teaching methodology that actually hinders learning and productivity, these standardized tests are ruining our education system. The long term effects are already being felt as high school graduates are barely passing exit exams, and the standard of education is lowered so students can move on, whether or not they're ready. This in turn will lower the standard for college entrance and then work standards of quality as well. So in short, we're crashing and burning. While the Obama Administration is set to revise the policy, change is slow, how many more failed academic years will it take before someone has the cajones to repeal this destructive policy? And how many more children will have to suffer in the meantime?

The Dance of Love

Can you imagine my horror when, after pondering my next blog topic, I realized that I had not written a gay-themed blog this year? And haven't even mentioned gays in a blog post since last November? I'm such a bad gay! So in hopes of redeeming myself, here's a blog of glittery gay goodness...

We are caught in a dance my friends, one of progress and regression, diversions and delays. The Human Rights Movement has, in the past months, splintered, moving forward, backward, and every whichway, leaving us confused as to whether we should be celebrating or protesting and where we should go from here.

We achieved monumental success in New York last month when the state voted to legalize gay marriage, after years of debate and failed attempts (the senate voted on it back in 2009 as well, and fell short, despite impassioned and infallible arguments such as this). Every state we win is a milestone victory, bringing us just a tad closer to feeling equal, and what is infinitely more important, normal. The country had held its breath as we waited for the chorus of ayes in the tiny room that would decide the fate of millions of New Yorkers, and messages of congratulations arose all over the internet in united support of the new law. One step forward.

In almost immediate response to the passage of the new law, the House of Representatives ordered the Pentagon to uphold the Defense of Marriage Act, which defines marriage as between a man and a woman and prohibits the Pentagon from granting same sex benefits to gay couples. In spite of the fact that the Obama administration has previously announced that they will no longer utilize DOMA, the government is still running rampant to retain any anti-gay power they once wielded. Likewise, they are dragging their feet on fully repealing Don't Ask, Don't Tell on the grounds that more studies need to be conducted to ensure no negative long term effects will befall the armed forces. One step back, but we had a comeback on the way.

Just a few days ago Governor Jerry Brown of California signed the Gay History Law, requiring that "all contributions of Americans from all backgrounds and walks of life are included in our history books" specifically the homosexuals. Now when I first read of this news, I have to admit I was a little apprehensive, given that this was a keynote argument of the proponents of Prop 8, that if gays were granted the rights to marry, children would be taught about homosexuality in school. However, after careful thought and consideration, it becomes clear that this is not about homosexuality, this is about things people accomplished who simply happened to be gay. Children will not be taught about gay culture: glitter and rainbows, U-Hauling and scissoring, it will simply be "John made this, Sara did that and by the way, they were gay". Arguments are already flying as opponents of the bill gear up for a fight, concerned their children will be taught to accept homosexuality. Yeah, they probably will, so fight as hard as you can, because God forbid a public school system teach your children the horrors of open-mindedness, tolerance, and respect for their peers. God forbid as a direct result, school bullying and GLBT harassment and suicides might go down. A flying leap across the stage, but with a shaky landing.

As the GLBT movement/argument takes the forefront and extremists come out in opposition of equality, our children are being exposed to hate that is reminiscent of the Civil Rights Movement: discrimination of a group of individuals who are different, therefore viewed to be inferior and treated violently. A recent report published by the LA Times has found that anti-gay homicides have risen 13% since 2009, a number which is more than likely grossly underestimated given that not all homicides are automatically classified as hate crimes, as many states have no inclusion of hate crimes for gays in their law books. Even in California, where a transgender man was killed in a university bathroom and had the word "It" carved on his chest, it took a fair amount of advocacy to declare the crime as motivated by hate. And the harassment and violence that don't result in death isn't even considered in this report. Protests, hate speech, and abuse is undoubtedly on the rise as well. Even I was the subject of an attack not too long ago; though I haven't been exposed to much harassment since high school, mostly because I actively hid my sexuality from most people until about 2 years ago, it knocked on my front door (or rather, my Facebook wall) when a friend's account had been hacked and a post was left on my wall calling me a faggot and lamenting that I should die, among other things. Others were hacked as well, but whether or not this was a generalized hacker post or dedicated directly toward me, it stung a bit. Spin and fall.

The tension surrounding gays since the Prop 8 aftermath has widened divisions across the country, and as we disjointedly progress toward equality, the score will climax and hostilities will surge in a final encore before the show is over and the curtain falls. There will be jumps, skips, stumbles, and falls, but we must take the wins, however small, when they come in order to strengthen ourselves for the fights and losses we will inevitably face before we reach our goal. Amid the frustration and anger, sadness and tears, I just keep telling myself, we will get there someday, we just have to keep fighting. What other option do we have?

The Anomalies of Normalcy

Normal. The word makes one cringe when they hear it. A word that should have every positive association attached to it carries a hoard of negative connotations when you realize it is a term that doesn't apply to you. A social definition of what is deemed acceptable behaviors and appearance in one's host culture, what is normal is rarely black and white; the boundaries are blurred and surrounded by a sea of gray. Its idea changes from person to person, family to family, to neighborhoods to states and so on; it is hard to know where you stand in the scheme of things and your placement is always determined by someone else, and is always changing.

There is often a movement somewhere in the world that sets out to magnify our differences. Highlighting how unique we are from one another, they call attention to wonderful qualities and talents that help us stand out, so we don't feel that dreaded monotonous sameness the Nazis once dreamed of. What these programs don't warn against is the risk of being too different. "Express yourself!" (but not too much), "Follow your dreams!" (except those dreams), "Love whomever you want!" (but not that person), "Be yourself!" (wait-not that self). And the people who dare to step out of the bounds of acceptable uniqueness are the individuals who are, in essence, excommunicated from society. Met with stares, frowns, abusive remarks, and even pure avoidance, those who go against the grain become isolated, save the small circle of friends with similar quirks who accept them without judgment.

In being a therapist, our business is Normalcy. Leave the people who are normal alone, make those who are abnormal become normal, with the help of societal standards and our handy dandy DSM IV TR (another socially determined collection of defined categories of normal). When a patient comes to my office, I am essentially charged with a Caesarian rule: thumbs up or thumbs down, sane or crazy, normal or abnormal. But how does one truly know what is normal? In one psychology class we were asked to develop a clear cut definition of normal, and few if any could compose an accurate representation of such. So who are we, above anyone else, to wield the power of labeling people who might just be different?

Working predominantly with a severely autistic population, I am exposed to the rare black and white that most of us can't see when it comes to determining "normal". Normal becomes survival in society, the ability to talk, the ability to communicate with others one's own thoughts, feelings, and needs without bursting into tantrums of frustrated screams and physical aggression, and most importantly, the ability to develop and maintain relationships with others, because we are, at our cores, a social specie. But once we gravitate to higher functioning autism, and even Aspergers, one is met with opposition to such labels of anomalies. Thought of as socially deficient, these individuals have found peace with their diagnoses and have learned to function in society without seeking or desiring a cure. They may struggle with interpersonal awkwardness, as we all do at times, but they are content in living their lives as they may, with or without judgment from others, and wish to be left with their oddities and idiosyncrasies.

As one who could easily be described as socially inept, I sympathize with this population, one which parallels much of my own symptomology. Plagued with an at times debilitating social anxiety disorder, I also struggle with interpersonal exchanges: making appropriate facial expressions at appropriate times, making and maintaining eye contact, reading social cues, taking comments too literally, expressing my thoughts clearly, and properly adjusting my prosody (tone of voice). For the most part, I have coached myself well enough to engage in conversation without much difficulty, I mentally develop scripts to various scenarios and can usually respond to others effectively. However, in times of heightened anxiety, I become a bumbling flustered idiot with a flat affect who stares at the floor or out windows and fidgets with any object of comfort that can be found nearby.

Now, for the most part, people have come to take me as I am. There is an understanding that I am slightly odd, that certain facial expressions are not to be taken offensively, that eye contact is not a necessity for listening, and that silence does not always manifest lack of comprehension. For others, they struggle with the nature of our exchanges and, confounded by such, require alterations. What this becomes is not so much a fault on my part, but a need of theirs that is not being met. They need to know I'm listening by making eye contact, they need to know I'm friendly by having me smile when I don't particularly feel reason to, and they need me to respond to feel as though I'm understanding them. So, content in my own ways, how much should I change myself to make others happy? To make them comfortable?

The problem is, we all at one point or another want that normalcy. We want to fit in, we want to be like everyone else, we want to belong. In these times of desperation, we are given to sacrificing ourselves for that comfort of having a niche. But our uniqueness is what sets us apart, even if those idiosyncrasies are not always shining beacons for model citizens. Sometimes our idiosyncrasies are abnormal, and downright crazy, sometimes they annoy the hell out of the others around us, but what would the world be without them? Without van Gogh's inability to fit in, we would not know the pain-driven beauty of his creations. Without Emily Dickinsons' need to isolate herself from the world, we would not have her devastatingly breathtaking poetry.

While I can hardly compare my blogging and sporadic poetry to art, writing is my creation and my best way of communicating with the outside world when my mouth and my face can't say what I long to. I may be odd, but oddities create art, create beauty, and create change. Those who are different are the ones who make history, those who conform are the ones we forget. And yet, when they are living, the world is confounded by them, they challenge the balance of things and are usually scorned. Embrace them. The strange child of today can grow to be the quirky genius of tomorrow.

We Have Seen The Enemy and He is Us

On May 1^st, 2011, the streets of America were filled with jubilant celebrations as cheers and chants floated on the night breeze, and painful memories healed somewhat upon hearing the news that our number one fugitive, Osama bin Laden, had been killed. A ghostly image that has been seared into our retina over the past nine years, the self-proclaimed mastermind of the tragic 9/11 attacks lay dead after being shot by special US armed forces.

I must admit I hardly celebrated in a similar manner as my fellow countrymen. Taken partly by surprise, then dull relief, the nine years of chasing down the ever-elusive mountain dweller has taken its toll. What was once believed possible faded into disappointed resignation, then slipped into the shadows of a mission forgotten. And then, out of the blue, his death was splashed across TV screens, computer monitors, and cell phone displays and the deaths of 3,000 American civilians had been avenged. But being the pessimist my mind has condemned me to be through this existence, all I could think of the manhunt that has ensued for nearly the past decade, when the costs were assessed, was that it was utterly pointless.

The attacks of 9/11 were a horrific tragedy, one of insurmountable hatred no one could wrap their minds around; one of heart-breaking pain time will never heal. The video of the plane bursting through the concrete of the second tower, the images of debris showering down over Manhattan, the dark dust cloud that loomed over New York City like Death lingering above a battlefield will never be forgotten. In no way do I wish to belittle these events, but as I’ve written before, our government’s response, backed by our nation, was one of swift, emotionally-fueled retribution without much consideration for consequences or by-product results. Hunting down bin Laden became, in our minds, the ultimate conclusion to this nightmare, the final goal. In our illusion, his death would not only bring justice, but closure, an end to all we’ve suffered. But, in the midst of our tireless efforts, we became reckless, and, paired with our power, we became dangerous. Throughout the years, a transformation occurred: while hunting the terrorists, we became them.

In the past ten years, it is estimated that the west’s war on terrorism in Afghanistan and Iraq has resulted in the deaths of well over 500,000 innocent civilians, in spite of our government’s efforts to “minimize civilian casualties”. Excuses of misguided missiles and cases of mistaken identification did little to ease the daily fear and anxiety Iraqis and Afghanis suffered at the hands of our armed forces as helicopters soared over their homes and tanks rolled through their roads. Gruesome attacks of delusional and/or power-drunk soldiers rarely made headlines here in the states in order to avoid exposing the reality of this war and risk losing popular support, but some tales broke through: the wedding party that was shot up by soldiers on edge reacting to what sounded like gunfire (both the bride and groom were killed). The infamous video of the 2007 helicopter attacks on innocent reporters toting phones and cameras. The rape of a 14 year old Iraqi girl and the murder of her and her family. The slaughter of innocent civilians and the desecration of their bodies where soldiers took “keepsakes” for themselves. And the brutal murder of nine Afghani children, mistaken for insurgents, who were just out gathering firewood for their families.

Whether psychologically imbalanced from the strains of war or simply cold-blooded murderers, our government knowingly sent these individuals back into battle, terrorizing the people of these countries we viciously encroached upon without invitation or welcome. And they feared us. Will the soldiers come again? Will they shoot? Will they drop bombs? Will they destroy our homes? Will we die tonight? Our government has, in short, become the largest most powerful terrorist network in the world.

In addition to the overwhelming impact we’ve had on these poor people’s lives, we have sacrificed and lost so much more. Financially this war has become a sinkhole, exacerbating an already strained economy by spending what has become a trillion dollar expense. Our war-mongering antics have soured relations with many other powerful countries and our allies have slowly retreated. Our nation was immersed in a cloud of fear, apprehension, and distrust of the world around us, a distrust of ethnic and religious differences that turned into suspicion then anger and abuse. We have, in short, become a hateful, vengeful, hated, broke ass country that is still responsible for 166 times more civilian deaths after 9/11 than those the terrorists managed to obliterate on that fateful day. And this isn’t even our first time terrorizing other nations in retaliation. Many examples could be given, but the best I could provide to you is our response to the last attack on American soil, Pearl Harbor. A Japanese military attack that killed nearly 2,300 American soldiers, a country scorned and angry, and a bomb named Little Boy resulted in the deaths of 130,000 innocent Japanese civilians when the first atomic bomb was dropped in Hiroshima over an elementary school, killing women and children. Not quite satisfied with our finale, an encore was sent to Nagasaki three days later, killing 70,000 more civilians. Two hundred thousand innocent civilians who played no part in the decision to attack Pearl Harbor lost their lives so justice could be done. Likewise, the 500,000+ civilians of the Middle East played no part in 9/11, and it cost them just as much.

The wars we’ve fought beneath the guise of some higher cause, be it peace of mind, justice, or stopping the “evil-doers”, have gone above and beyond an eye for an eye as we engage in childish one-up-manship, leaving in our wake more destruction than has ever been dealt to us. And in spite of everything it’s cost us, we feel no safer; terrorism is not over, someone will take bin Laden’s place tomorrow and this war will continue as it has, but terrorism is not a bearded face with a turban. It’s not a particular religion in a particular region of the world. It’s an act anyone can commit. And we have. Was it worth it to become our enemy in order to kill him?

ter·ror·ism   [ter-uh-riz-uhm]
–noun
1. the use of violence and threats to intimidate or coerce,especially for political purposes.

2. the state of fear or submission produced by terrorism.