The Fight Never Was About Me

Your fight is over, someone typed, how’s it feel to be a loser?

The fight, I say, was never about me,

My whiteness

My straightness

My middle class existence

My religion 

The fight was about the others who are also us.

For their rights

For their justice

For their well being

For their freedom to worship. Or not.

And OUR fight isn’t over.

LESSONS OF LIFE & HISTORY

From my friend, Mike Steeden. Read more at mikesteeden.wordpress.com.

mikesteeden's avatar- MIKE STEEDEN -

banjo

Cairo smelt of sweet dates, sweat, camels dung, hashish and tangible fear

white noise barter and banter in the bazaars irked her more than a little

also, she noticed that the wily toffs, those gaudy suited moneyed ones

donned the reddest fezzes, wore ‘hammer and sickle’ fashioned cufflinks

bewildered she took the last ocean liner out of Alexandria

across The Med, home to timeworn England’s pastures green

within her productive invention, she saw

towering evergreens mask a nest of ferns

disguise an undergrowth of helpless combs

paint a permanent eventide, never to betray

a murder, self-destruction or a clandestine union

of thickest skinned untamed carefree true lovers

now safe and sound, the bespectacled librarian

read Shakespeare and counted pennies

she loathed bigots, arranged marriages and Chaucer

and, although her mousey disposition indicated otherwise

virginity was an irrelevant thing she could not claim

as her own, less spoken of, timid virtue

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Plan-It


Saturn scheduled a shindig, inviting eight of her closest friends. Even Pluto

Who technically wasn’t in the same social circle received an embossed envelope

Worthy of a royal wedding reception and signed in gold script with a grand flourish.

Mercury responded in a flash, while Neptune tried to come up with a worthy excuse.

Earth and Mars forgot to r.s.v.p., while Jupiter sent a hand-written affirmation.

Venus began planning her outfit while Uranus graciously declined, having already

Made plans to visit the arboretum on the same day. The event was a huge success

Stars waited outside the venue, waiting to catch a glimpse of their favorite celebrities

All dressed up in velvet and ice, flashing their concentric rings to the universe.

A Death in the Family

She lived a good life
Protected and nurtured us
Now lost forever

Yet birds keep flying
The sun continues to shine
Heedless of her death


Our grief is immense
Life, though, continues apace
While this old world turns


I’ve been asked repeatedly today how I feel about Trump winning the election. Truthfully I feel like there has been a death in my immediate family. Ultimately I know we will be alright, but right now I’m experiencing a deep grief.

I spent a sleepless night in which my thoughts circled relentlessly like a dog chasing its tail, and I recalled reading Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s book, On Death and Dying, in which she introduced the five stages of grief:

  1. denial, 
  2. anger, 
  3. bargaining, 
  4. depression, and 
  5. acceptance

From my psychiatry courses in college (where a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing) I remember that one can cycle through these stages in a variety of ways unique to each individual. 

I ran through denial pretty quickly. The numbers were there. And while it was heartening to note that Hillary won the popular vote, Trump undeniably took the electoral college votes. 

Anger is my current companion. I’m not angry at Trump or his supporters so much as I’m angry at their willful ignorance. They don’t care that he has no real plans to implement his policies. They like him because he’s not a career politician, and he isn’t politically correct. 

I’m angry at the registered voters who just didn’t show up. I’m angry at those who used their votes to protest by voting for non-viable candidates. I’m angry at the subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle voter suppression tactics that were employed in several states.

I can’t imagine there’ll be much bargaining involved, but depression is anger’s little sister and I’m going to do everything in my power to avoid going down that rabbit hole. Today I smiled at everyone I saw and hugged a woman at work who supported Trump. Little steps.

Acceptance? That’s going to take awhile. But I won’t be like those conservatives who disrespected President Obama and actively rooted for his failure these past eight years. I’m going to support Trump as our president while continuing to fight for the rights of all those living in our country: health care, reproductive rights, racial and gender equality, etc. 

I know other bloggers have addressed this much more eloquently than I, but I think the healing starts when we lay it all on the line. This piece was part of my healing process. Maybe it will help someone else along the way.

Peace, people.

Ennui

Every time he sighed
She heard, I’m through loving you
He meant, I’m so lost


Ennui so intense
That his desire to do naught
overtook boredom

He lives in grey tones
Avoiding the bright facades
Embracing nothing


Ennui is one of those words that I chronically mispronounced for much of my life. Most avid readers will understand this. We come across a word with which we’re unfamiliar and discern its meaning from context without ever bothering to stop and look up the correct pronunciation. For many years I mentally said, “in you ee,” rather than “än wē.” Sometime soon I’ll address “facade” and “docile,” both of which I mentally mispronounced.

99 Glasses of Wine

Call it escapism
Or call it empowerment
Whatever works best

After the third glass
My political leanings
Became slightly vague


Give me liberty
Or pour me a deep merlot
Full bodied freedom

Feminism in Action

He told her to smile
“You look so much prettier”
She stuck out her tongue.


Don’t cut your hair, girl
You don’t want to look too butch
She shaved it all off.


Just a little kiss…
He touched her against her will
She rescued herself.

The Difference We Make

We cannot all be stars, shining unrestrained, but each of us can make a difference.

Make a difference. Say no to hate. Vote for Hillary.


I’m with her.