In this time of change, I believe it is incumbent upon me, me, me, to declare where I stand, since perhaps what I've thought and done with respect to the new ground upon which we stand is possibly a window not only on me and my thinking but a spur (worn on thigh-high black vinyl boots) to others to reflect on their needs, expectations and hopes of today.
Now, some of what I'm going to talk about disturbs even me, and does not reflect well on me, but it is the fact, and hopefully will, as I said serve to clarify and expand the possibilities that are present in this moment.
FIRST, an excuse which is probably not an excuse. Most of you know me to be mentally ill. Part of that illness is obsessive-compulsive thinking. SECOND, is that I've been pushing myself on my own racism for years. Just ask Nathan. I wish all the time to release myself from hate and hate from myself, and I'm pretty aware when it's there and when it's not. So, to get to the terrible response I had to Obama when he declared himself the winner of the Democratic nomination -- The N word came to mind. I was in the hospital (Bellevue) at that time. I was rather dismayed, but not as surprised as would be true if I had never thought that before. I never thought it before several years ago, then in the face of a lot of survival pressure combined with a lot of anger, anxiety and fear, ultimately I suppose because of some aspect of myself I'm afraid to face, and some subliminal messaging from my good old military background, I thought it quite often, especially when obsessing about it.
When Obama won Pennsylvania on November 4, I said, unexpectedly to myself, "too bad." Then a few minutes later when he won Ohio and clinched the election, I pumped my fist in half-jubilation. Over the next few days my mood careened around the emotional block, with trepidation, anxiety, elation and hope being the major alternating responses. Now I am encouraged that he does have the ability to inspire, and I hope that he will have the strength to make the changes that must happen in this country.
Now I think I can go two ways here. I can give the autobiography of my perceptions and development in relation to people of color, and bore you that way, or give my evaluation of the present time, and make you laugh at its shallow, ignorant, and deluded nature. Hmm, which should I choose? Both, of course: In the moment of Now.
Okay, what's my problem with black people. My response is "I'm afraid to die!" What does one have to do with the other? Another response is, "It hurts to be a girl without love!" Ditto. Why did I feel free to talk down to and otherwise belittle people -- and not just people of color, but many others for years? A good question.
At this point, you're probably asking yourself if you're a person of color or a strong ally/friend/supporter, why should I even read further? I'm not sure. I would like to learn something about myself, and "maybe" that will help others arrive at the conclusions they need to reach.
Of course, I'm going to try to reach inside first for the toughest answer, the deepest source of hate and fear I can reach, so that whatever love is there can emerge. So while you may be reading this in seconds, probably a little while longer is taking place as I write this, and I hope you will bear with me in any case.
As Nathan liked to tell me, you are what you fear/hate. So possibly I am aware of my own limitations when face to face with others of another skin color.
I know I have associations with this fear that must go back to a time when I was young, because I feel weak, powerless and scared when focusing on its source. Of course I'm not so weak, powerless and scared now, so maybe I can let it go. I was afraid. I was sad. I was stupid. I was a card -- a place on someone else's journey. I was Bruce. I wanted to believe in life, but no one knew I was drowning in love that didn't give me what I wanted.
I wanted friendship and caring. I wanted a way to give. I wanted to feel, and I wanted to love a woman, me, without the socially-supported visual evidence of being one -- my body was not beautiful to me. I wanted to see myself as a mother. I was afraid of the facts of being a drone.
I wanted a Goddess who would give me a friend.
She (the Goddess) was the one that would be my lover. And I was thought of as a girl. But that didn't make me the person that could see my desires and my life as I wanted.
My fear was that I would never be able to touch a "rose" and that I would never be able to release the truth of my being: Homeliness. My love was for a place that could give me a way to be. And that was Julia's mystery. (Also known as my anus.)
With all this said, I can say that kindness is the strength that can attain motherhood.
To all my sisters, and that means friends, Give, and embrace, all of those you are alive to shepherd and be shepherded by, and love your hopes and love your world for the joy there is in it. Be a person! And me is good to guide.
Just read this over. Though these may read like psychotic ruminations, I feel I've gained some understanding of myself. I do know that feelings can be hurt, and that it is for me to stop hurting them in others. Part of that is not putting others in place due to anger.
I want to express that there's a lot of change that is coming and that I am happy that it is loving.
If you want to respond to this post, I am eagerly looking forward to your comments. Thanks, and Love,
Ms. Tress of Freedom -- not feeling bad, that's the idea