Politics: Brokenhearted

I go a couple three days without reading even headlines. Then, like tonight, I peek at what is trending.

And now I am despondent.

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artist, Anna Giladi

Just the headlines are enough to make me want to crawl in a hole. Imagining these people in control, making rules and regulations (or undoing regulations as the case may be)… it’s terrifying.

Rape

I do not say the word “rape” lightly. I do not use it randomly. I have been raped. I know the seriousness of the word.

So when I say I am horrified seeing who is going into the Cabinet because they are going to rape the United States, I mean it with all the terror that comes with the word.

The people being appointed are going to make the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) “conflict” look like a picnic. They are going to dig deep into the land, tearing up beautiful homes, ruining National Parks… and the repercussions will be felt/known/experienced for hundreds of years after these fucking pigs are out of office and dead.

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Hopeless

I felt hopeless for a couple of hours. My chest felt like someone was sitting on it; I struggled to breathe. My blessed cub held me and talked to me as I cried about how horrible this all is.

And it hasn’t even begun yet!

I think that’s the scariest for me is if I am this upset and sad now, what am I going to be like in a year when we are in the middle of the rape, still years ahead to be attacked… every which way we try to get away, to fight our attacker, he strong-arms us and continues the assault.

Not Giving Up

I saw this photo:

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I cannot let anyone die alone.

No LGBTQIA+ youth who is outed because of new laws will not be alone. We will do everything in our power to save you from the evils of “conversion therapy”… torture.

No woman who has to have an illegal abortion because abortion has been outlawed will not be alone. Those who can will learn to do abortions safely, despite the laws, risking jail, but finding the risk is far less than a woman attempting self-abortion.

No Muslim who has to “Register” to be in this country will not register alone. Women who have their hijabs mocked or pulled off will be defended so she is able to practice her religion in this country that still allows religious freedom (so far).

No woman who is attacked… grabbed “by the pussy”… will not mourn and heal alone.

No Black man, woman or child will endure the escalating hate and murder alone.

No immigrant, here legally or “illegally,” will fight to live here alone.

No Native American will have to wrest their rightful land back from the lying White people alone.

No disabled person will be left to live or suffer alone. We will find the tools they (WE!) need for anyone who still has needs. We will not let the world become completely able-ist, forgetting/not caring for those who have challenges.

No writer, photographer or artist will be censored. We will find ways to get the words and images out to the world.

No child who is hungry and has lost their free breakfasts, lunches or dinners will starve alone. We will find food for you precious babies of ours.

And then there are the promises I cannot keep:

We will not know the impact slashing Social Security will have on our elder Americans. Will they die alone freezing and starving while those in charge have billions of dollars to spare?

What are we going to do for our mentally ill (myself included)? What if our free care is removed? What if we are not allowed our medications, therapy, our psychiatrists?

We know a only fraction of our brothers, sisters and others who have killed themselves because of their despair of who is coming into the White House. What of all the others who are misgendered, hidden, reported as dying of “natural” or “accidental” causes when they really overdosed on purpose. So many suffering without our knowing they are there.

I need to go house by house looking for those in pain. Like the Christians in Germany who saved the Jews, taking chances, risking death even… all to save even one soul.

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Reaching Out

I might cry again. No, I will cry again.

But I cannot give up. I cannot let someone die reaching out for another hand. I know mine is not the only one searching. Maybe, just maybe, if we all keep holding our arms out, joining hands, we might be able to save more than just one person.

I cannot give up.

The Birth of Censorship

Today I read about a library in Evanston, Illinois, outside Chicago, having several Islamic-oriented books defaced with slurs and swastikas.

Evanston Public Library Books About Islam Defaced With Swastikas, Racial Slurs

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One book about the Qur’an, pictured above, said “bullsh*t hatred cover to cover” with a swastika drawn below it written on the title page of the book. Neal said other books in the same library section were also defaced. She wrote in her post to urge readers to speak out against hatred and intolerance.

“Evanstonians like to think we are safe in a bubble of tolerance, but none of us can afford to pretend that we are not affected by the hatred that surrounds us now,” she said. “None of us can afford to sit this out, to hope it goes away, and leaves us untouched. Whatever your politics, if this kind of hatred and intolerance disgusts you, speak out today.”

Censorship Begins

It might seem a stretch, if not ridiculously impossible, for this one defacing act to have anything to do with Censorship and the end of the Free Press, but I promise, it absolutely is just the beginning of the encroachment of the boot heels of those-soon-to-be-in-power onto the fingers of the writers of, not only books, newspapers and magazines, but also on the keyboards of little blogs like this one… all because we/I dare to question the status quo.

Their goal of erasure of conflicting opinions has begun.

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Censorship (Part 1 of many)

I have many stories about me and censorship. They will unfold in time.

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Yesterday, in my Facebook Memories, came this amazing post I wrote on August 2, 2010. It begs to be shared here.

Open Season: you have been warned

The Internet has no walls.

It pays to remember that. While I am meticulously careful to not talk about clients on-line or in articles/posts without their permission, there is a whole different set of rules when reading through the Internet’s public domain.

Therefore, I am serving notice: If you write something publicly, whether in a blog, in a comment in a blog, in a comment to a newspaper or magazine article, in a comment to someone’s post… my spring boarding off of it is fair game. IF YOU DO NOT WANT ME OR ANYONE ELSE TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR WORDS, MAKE YOUR BLOG PRIVATE.

If you are in Facebook with me, I might just use the context of what you are saying, without using your name, when I write something to be seen publicly. I will not quote or reveal discussions in private chats, Skype sessions (without okay) or in private emails. If you have friends that comment to something said in Facebook, their context is also fair game. IF YOU DO NOT AGREE TO THIS, UNFRIEND ME NOW.

Note to public figures (and you know who you are): You and your words, wherever they are, are fair game. I grudgingly agreed to ignore one very important comment made in Facebook a couple of weeks ago. I WILL NOT DO SO AGAIN. If your words come over my Newsfeed, you and your words may very well be written about. If I find them randomly over the Internet, they are also fair game.

Netiquette continues evolving and I do try to keep up on the legalities and ethics of writing on the Internet. There seems to be confusion lately about a writer’s boundaries, some thinking it should be here and others agreeing it can be way over there. I am laying out my boundaries so there is no longer any confusion when it comes to my writing.

Remember, the Internet has no walls.

Much more to say.