undivided love

disclaimers:
1. this is my opinion. it is not backed up in other place but my heart.

2. if there was more time, I would include large piece about the ancestral bounds forged through slavery, however, as I started all that came out is this blog.

3. this blog has been in me for sometime. A question from friend Virlena sparked it again. I just want to be clear that any angst that comes through is not to or at V; In fact, I want to thank her for reminding me that I have some things I want to elaborate on.

prompt:
b: back atcha, my sister from another mister!

q: I am black: if we have same mom different dads, then we are full siblings however, different moms/ same dad makes you a half but not step that is reserved for remarriage. didnt you get the handbook?

v: q: huh? is that an inside joke? re: same mom=full sibling?

q: v: yes and no ...later when I am not a little tipsy and tired will explain. There are times when twitter works for my thoughts, and other times when facebook covers it. But Virlena Reed I created a blog to answer what I thought a simple question.

Undivided Love

I was 13 year old when a friend's mother introduced the concept to me that my sisters (with whom I shared a biological mother but not a father) were my "half siblings". I was reeling. I had never even considered this a possibility given that my mother and sisters were the only thing I knew of familiy.

fully
They were fully everything I had ever known.
They were all I knew of home, of happiness, of hunger, of growth, of sadness, of anger, of hurt.
They were all I knew of love, of laughter, of loyalty, of warmth, of comfort.
They were all I knew of gravity; I was a small shadowy moon to no less than four planets at any given time in the celestial clock wise rotation I called life.

Never half of anything.

They fully shared in the joys of childhood: roller skating at the gardens, penn ave mcdondals, fred's garage, oak park community center, oliver street double dutch, 7-11 slupees, hide and seek on the whole block, girls and boys clubs and kings grocery store.

They fully shared in the moments where innocence was lost: Any of our time spent at the old or new Estes Funeral Home is enough to make memories cascade like a swollen spring waterfall.

understand
I understand the division between whom my mother shared a biological miracle and our collective experience as siblings being raised by a single mother/ by a women village- the other women also raising their kids.

I understand that this women village raised us all-calming infants, combing nappy heads, sending us to corner store demanding change back, sending us outside with nothing to do so we would stay out of grow folk business, who had the same powers as our mothers/siblings but called Auntie and cousins.

DNA, has a role yes!
But I also know what binds us is 1000 times more complex.
There is something unspoken and tangible that passed between my sibling group (and all sibling groups that do not share two biological parents) that shatters DNA with katarina force wind gusts.

And then we arrive at June 30, 2009.
There was no halves in the room.
No half siblings.
No step fathers.
She took a last full breath.

There was no partial loss
(I lost my half sister today)

There was no percent style mark down
(I lost 50% of my sister today)

There was no half break of spirit.
(I am only half broken by the loss of my sister)

She died whole.

I can not hold anymore division.
I am refusing to internalize any further fracturing; I am too splintered from my daily reality as a queer, fat, brown mama.

And truth be told:
I don't need you to validate my family.
I will not make my world small enough for you to understand, I would rather that you opened your understanding wide enough to
hold me.
to hold us.
to hold our truth.

And it is from this place (of healing and tender heart) that I have come to fully understand that all my love has to be whole if I am ever to be whole.


dedication
my sankofa's/the women whose shoulders I stand on daily:
My grandmothers-maternal Lois Anita/paternal Yvonne Blanche.
My mother Anna Lillian.
Sisters-Shawn Yvette, Ericka Dawn, Dorian Anjanette.
Maternal Aunts-Tracy, Adrienne.
Paternal Aunts-Toni, Pecolia, Melody, Bridgette, Belinda.
And countless second moms, aunties, cousins and sister friends.

Sankofa can mean either the word in the Akan language of Ghana that translates in English to "go back and take" (Sanko- go back, fa- take) or the Asante Adinkra symbols of a a bird with its head turned backwards taking an egg off its back, or of a stylised heart shape. It is often associated with the proverb, “Se wo were fi na wosankofa a yenkyi," which translates "It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten."^[1]

Fire Fly Goddess

When I read your note to her, "Firefly Goddess", my heart skipped a beat. My best friend from youth died five years ago, and the symbol of the firefly resonated really strongly with her. I found out later that the firefly symbolizes transformation, and shared that with her family. Anyway, I wanted to let you know some of the meaning it has for me too. ::Hugs:: Karen S.

This a old poem that I remastered-Karen thanks for the reminder;
Lida- I had to feed your persistence and patience.

Fire Fly Goddesses:
We call each other sister,
We assume if you are in the range of our voices you know to whom we speak.
Sister is no longer an improper noun in our presence; it has been reclaimed as transformation,
We have never spoken of the rapture but recall it clearly as metamorphosis of emotional Diaspora.

One day I heard and I was sister,
I quickly learned the register in which to respond, while learning their tones.
If you listen with deep intention, our conversations weave a warm cocoon quilt around
who we are,
what have become and
the journey itself.

We are omnipresent through this intricate sister woven web;
with the correct inflection
we can call down thunder,
Give birth to light,
calm oceans of pain and
become phoenix fire.

Sister is more than a summons it is the rhythm by which our first heart songs were strummed.

We move in the world with marrow level understanding that our individual realities are a collective point of departure,
deep breath,
battle hymn,
letting go place.

You know all these things about us and you no nothing about us;
what we have done, will do and what fates we are carving out with pain, broken toothpicks and slivers of self doubt.

We are:
The ageless harbinger:
Begging for forgiveness for the she cannot remember if she done

The dreamer:
Giving birth to ideas, while searching for answers to questions that can never be asked


The winter river:
Moving swiftly, creating resolve rather than waiting for it to come in a spring thaw

And the heart:
Cultivating hope and deliberating the possibilities in deep indigo magenta hues

We have no shame
motivation
or faith.

No one will believer from where we have come, this is where we have arrived for
We are the fly fire sisters

Why I Did Not Wear Purple

or why the cause of the "moment" has to be longer than a moment

In recent weeks youth who identify as Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer (GLBTQ) have been prominently featured in the news with focus on the most recent cycle of suicides, attempted suicides and bullying attributed to GLBTQ identity. This media frenzy has included the video project, It Gets Better Project initiated by Dan Savage. This is one of many outreach efforts to address the unique needs of this highly vulnerable group. The Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) has created an event: Wear Purple on Wednesday October 20, 2010 for Spirit Day to show your support for the teens who took their lives because of anti-LGBT bullying.

I applaud these efforts.
I am not hating/ critiquing/shaming these efforts in any way.
I am however, calling myself and others to task to do more than wear purple.
One day/act (noting the singular) is not enough.

My working assumptions:

OUR CHILDREN ARE DYING. THIS IS NOT OKAY.

Our= mine, yours, his, hers, zer-unbound from everything; connected in the web of life. These are OUR children.

Children=someone’s son, daughter, niece, nephew, step son/daughter, best friends; no matter their age, they were someone’s child.

Death= death of spirit happens in daily acts: hiding your queer parents, starve/ overeat, cut, etc. Death of the body is a final act; an attempt to control the pain that feels insurmountable.

Bullies do not reserve their brutality to GLBTQ persons.
Bulling happens every day for a real or perceived difference: being differently abled, fat, thin, too smart, not smart enough, too rich, too poor, too middle class, perceived level of promiscuity, type of dwelling, location of dwelling, shoes, facial features of any kind, out of school activities, in school activities, band participation, faith, gender presentation, role in the school play. I am not attempting to take away from the gross realities of GLTBQ youth but rather highlight the fact that cruelty has no bounds.

Bulling is not connected to age or maturity level.
Bullying is not just happening youth to youth. Unfortunately, everyone can bully and everyone can be bullied. I have met many adult bullies whose victim pool was anyone in their path. Coaches who pit players again each others, Co workers who gossip, roommates who write passive aggressive notes, lovers who use sex/kids as tools of manipulation, the aggressive pee wee soccer parent.


The cause of the "moment" has to be longer than a moment

First, I understand the need to take advantage of the media’s short attention span, to zone in on GLBTQ youth issues, however, I think we (the royal we of GLBTQA community) send an equally scary message to youth when we only respond to the violence. We say very loudly: you have to die to matter.

It was always going to get better, it is sad that the youth listed below had to take their lives before WE rallied and spoke up and to queer youth. When we link our collective response to these tragic events, we send a dual message to youth. We have to consider all the messages we send even the positive well intentioned messages. Youth always need our love, support and mentorship.

Justin Aaberg 15;
Tyler Clementi 18;
Seth Walsh 13;
Asher Brown 13;
Raymond Chase 19;
Aiyisha Hassan 19;
Billy Lucas 15;
Jeanine Blanchette 21;
Chantal Dube 17;
Chloe Lacey 18;
Zach Harrington 19 and
Cory Jackson, 19

Second, in my opinion, bulling/abuse is (a) a flawed effort to gain power; (b) a reflection of behaviors that are modeled and positively affirmed to the bully; (c) reinforced when bystanders are idle; (d) evidence that our culture has normalized verbal, physical and emotional violence.

I could speak to each of these in detail, but for brevity I will say we need to empower others in meaningful ways; this is not the same as patronizing. If we bear witness to any behavior that makes us uncomfortable, we need to be brave enough to call it out- for the bully, the person being bullied and our own personhood. Our humanity is interlinked, every time we do not address abuse we move further from the creation of a safe healthy community. Finally, we have a growing immunity to recognizing violence. We are inundated with such a relentless stream of violence in all forms of media we are coming to a place where we can no longer see it to even call it out. We cannot allow violence of any kind to continue on a path of normalization- it’s simply not normal.

Third, as members of the royal WE community we need to call ourselves to task. Do we use discriminatory language in our everyday that communicates our distain/disapproval of any one group (that is so retarded! that is ghetto! that is so gay!) Are we active and present in changing our behaviors when they make us feel uncomfortable rather than waiting for a cultural paradigm shift that makes our behaviors no longer acceptable (I stopped saying gyped, jewed down, and Indian giver to name a few about five years ago. CNN and Dan Savage could care less). Are we able to call people to task in a loving manner? Are we open to being called out for a behavior that needs loving attention? Do we learn more than the Wikipedia version about the topic, do we take the time to grow in our understanding so we can be a community resource on the topic?

Do we support organizations in their long term efforts to support venerable groups such as GLBTQ youth? Do we donate money? Do we donate our time? Attend their annual event? Click a link and share it on our facebook page so others can learn about the organizational efforts and can contribute as they are able to the organizations success?
And at the root, I would ask: How are WE shifting from caring, compassionate voyeurs into caring, compassionate action-focused activists?

I struggle with onetime events such as wear purple day, pink for breast cancer, rainbow for pride, red for HIV/AIDS awareness or get to excited about women’s/blacks/GLBT history month. I validate the importance of having a rallying point, a group effort to indicate solidarity. However, I live my complicated reality everyday.

In no order: I am black, I am a woman, I am queer, I am a mother, I am poor, I am middle class, I have a mental illness, I am over educated, I am faith filled, I am happy. I cannot even image how many people I piss off on a daily basis by virtue of breathing in an out.

I did not wear purple today, no red on December 1 (World AIDS day) and come June, I will be dodging rainbows like it was an Olympic sport.

I do have your back the other 364 days/11 months of the year.

• I will not tolerate violence to take place in my presence. No, not an option.
• I will call you out in loving/learning manner if you say something classist, racist, xenophobic, ablest, sexist, transphobic, size phobic or ageist.
• In the future, I will resume my support (time and financial) of organizations whose missions align with my beliefs.
• I rock no less than 4 rainbow stickers on my car.
• I will out myself as a queer parent to fight hetero normative stereotypes. Being a parent does not make me straight.
• I will speak with/on behalf of/for marginalized communities when appropriate.

My aim this day and every day is maintain the dignity of others by being present in my own behaviors, being brave enough to act when called out and to love fiercely.

For Briana, Tiffany and Ericka: galactic

There is no loss in the mind of the Divine, therefore, I cannot lose anything which belongs to me. It will be restored or I will receive its equivalent and more. ~Florence Scovel Shinn
(Last post from TLH’s Facebook wall 9.22.10)


galactic
There is loss, a short movement that is only felt on the edge of the skin in a way that leaves one longing yet wrapped in understanding; connecting us to the web of life through the soft tears we shed.

This loss.
Your loss.
Our being lost is more of the gut wrenching soul churning act that creates a shift in the time space continuum.
The type of loss that is felt in the marrow of the earth, an irrevocable change in the gravitational pull.

This loss.
Your loss.
Our being lost must be configured into a new galactic map which our hearts must generate in order to account for the collapsing of a super nova star; we must find a way to explain the black hole that is dancing on the edge of our memories of you.
It will take years to fully re educate the world on the impact of
this loss.
Your loss.
Our being lost.

To re learn/reteach your name-
for how does one rename stars, planets, sisters, daughter, nieces, mothers.
It will take the better part of an ion to transfer memory into past tense, if it is even possible.

And as I watch moonbeam light which you carried in your smile, fade, I know you have left me enough light to follow, if I am willing, when I am able.

And it is this loss,
Which must be surrendered.
your loss,
which you have already surrendered
our being lost,
which can only be turned over to a high power

Briana Franzmeier: Our last conversation was year ago today- at the TC Marathon. I talked of maybe being pregnant; you talked of cancer and recent hysterectomy. Who knew a year later I would be holding my son and you would be gone. Life is precious, valuable and NOW.

Tiffany Harmon: I vividly remember our time at Youthlink. You taught me to be a woman of my worth. You came to my wedding, wearing purple it waved proud in the Sun; it made me feel less afraid. I saw you years later at convention-you were the first person to say, “I know that name it is from the bible”. For this and more, you hold my heart.

Ericka: Words fail, tears fail. No comfort calms. Pain ebbs, tears slow. And I would have it no other way FireFly Goddess.

Visiting Grace

I asked as a joke and received a YES as a blessing. I not only know I am going to be okay, I know I am coming out of the last 30 months of assorted mental health issues a better human.

Last year at this time last year, I broke; All the duct tape came undone and I was left dazed and wandering. My sister Ericka passed away and two weeks later my father Alfred had a major heart attack. These events brought us together but it also showed our family dysfunction.

Well soon after we moved to Ann Arbor; I was 6 weeks pregnant and deep in first trimester slumber. Well since waking up, I have worked hard to get better- to heal/ to become some version of whole for myself, for Matthias, the boys and hence for everyone who loves me.

In May, we planned to take a trip home (to Minneapolis), but the boys were ill and in hindsight I still was not in a good head space. However, since having Owl baby my healing has kicked into turbo. I was able to ask for what I needed and received it with all the grace it carried. I asked Aunt Tracy to visit as a joke and she said yes- what a blessing! So Friday, Aunt Tracy, Aunt Adrienne, Sister Dorian and Nephew CJ came to visit us!

First off, seeing their car pull up sent me into happy shock; I am not out of it yet. We talked until we were tired and our faces ached. Dorian and Tracy called me to task about several topics- I needed it. Adrienne and Tracy reminded me where I got some of my habits from… we all need bumper stickers that say “will break for a sale/deal / thrift store” and another announces that we are “Foodies”; Let’s just say they went through Plum Market like they were in the Smithsonian.

I got to see my skin, size, grace and style reflected in these three women- I did not know how much I missed or needed it.

We held CJ, Thumper and Owl until they could barley breathe. The boys played so hard they could not sleep. CJ and Thumper are so much like Dorian and I it is creepy- they we fighting over cars and I had a Barbie doll flash back. And both of these fearless little boys are scared of the vacuum-LOL.

On Sunday before they left, Dorian scrubbed my floor on hands and knees; you do not know love until someone scrubs your floor without being asked-on hands and knees. We talked for a long time, she told me: to take a deep breath, remember I am not alone, that God is working in my life and finally that I AM A GOOD MOTHER; She might as well of told me I won the lottery.

T-Rex was the ultimate husband: doing things before I could ask, making food and filling glasses. He demonstrated our collective growth by having other plans and outlets so he could stay healthy too. We have learned that just as much as we need each other we need other people too!

Their visit was a powerful reminded that I come from a long line of survivors, from women who have taken on the world and never lost the ability to love with their whole hearts. I feel like I could take down the sun with all the joy I have inside. I know I am not only going to be okay, I know I am coming out of the last 30 months of assorted mental health issues a better human.

Life is a Zoo!

The ZOO!
On Sunday we went to the Toledo Zoo, overall not a bad place but I definitely had some observations. The Zoo is much like any state fair, the people watching is out of control. I've got them down to 3ish worth sharing.

1. The rules of fashion and decorum drop one degree for every degree over 75. Which brings up all my fashion stuff- note these fashion issues are mine, they make me uncomfortable. I am judging how these fashion items make me feel not the person wearing the offending item.
The tightness/ shortness of shorts- At some point, I turned to T-Rex and said, "If you your shorts make me think about anti fungal creme, they might be too short". As normal, he ignored me, so I assumed, I am correct.
Shoes... no flip flops are not shoes. So many people wear them for a 2-4 mile walk REALLY?? I have never been a fan of fashion over fuction so flips flops at the Zoo made me sad for people.
There was of course halter and tube tops dresses with BRA's... overall you know how I feel about the tube top but the bra adds a new element. Why?? if you need one, then you should not being wearing the other. PS you need to be within 100 feet of swimming water/ beach/ sand to justify wearing swim wear as out wear.
And those are the most persist offenders.

2. The Zoo's interpretation of AFRICA. It was like they got the Ikea version of a Zoo Exhibit- easy to put together and will fit in this much cubic space. I kinda wanna send the Zoo letter highlighting these points:
A.Africa is a huge place with several ecological systems and animal habitats; placing animals in vast grassland does not make it "Africa", it makes it one of the many animal habitats of Africa. If your goal is to educate, you might want to reign that in a little.
B. Toward the entrance, their is a sign that reads: *&^^%% means Hello in African. Umm I can not even google the number of languages and dialects that are spoken in Africa, the posting of this sign is well just ignorant and lazy.
C. When you enter the exhibit area you find the following fee based items: two food stands, a train which takes people into the grassland habitat, a caricature drawings station, a African exhibit gift store and African animal carousel- before you get to the FREE viewing savanna overlooking the animals (Giraffes, Zebras,a bush deer and some African birds). If Africa is your tourist money trap- and I am sure that it is- class it up, at least try to hide it, don't seem so grabby and hand all deep in my pocket.

3. And my final observation...
Being pregnant, I was walking behind Matthias and Abijah for most of your journey. It was interesting to watch people passing in the opposite direction puzzle over T-Rex's gender. And in the end, the question that came to me over and over (and not for the first time) is/was simple:
So what if you knew T-Rex's gender- what is the value add to your life? What does not knowing take away for you?
Watching this play out so many times in our 6 plus years relationship has really taught me a lot about the human desire to KNOW, to arrive at an answer, to hold it even for mere seconds no matter how false; the human need to grasp RIGHTNESS is amazing (think FOXNEWS anchors, staff and avid viewers.)

This human reality reminds of a pinkie toe, it is not pretty and seeming useless but if it is gone we are aware of it with each attempted step.

Your thoughts are welcome.

How is this for a closing:

I do not think I am saying anything new, I just happen to be figuring out that I want to say it too! QP 2010

Slavery Blame Game- Loius Gates Jr.

This article is from the NEW YORK POST from Louis Gates Jr. (do not
know who he is- google him). I posted it in the comments below- sorry do not yet know how to attach it in the posting.

Having been to Ghana Cape Coast Slave Castle, I have experienced the Door of No Return- the gate way from which captured slaves were taken before boarding slave ships- I am in agreement with Mr. Gates for just as with American Native populations, Jewish Holocaust and Japanese Internment- to name a few of our uglier human atrocities’, the range of players and victims is vast and colorful; the culpability rest on many shoulders. Maybe, as Alice Walker says, the way forward is with a broken heart.

And I would argue that in order to end the cycle and create true closure,we must move forward with empty pockets. I feel like I am already a benefactor from my ancestors process on many fronts- from Africa to America; from Jamestown to Jim Crow; From Montgomery to Katrina; I carry so much rich vibrant hope, history,divine strength and tangible resilience within my marrow, I could not ask for more from the current government in the name of of those same ancestors.

I want to introduce my children to a better world. I want a new 40 acres and mule; I want more than a lump sum check; I think we are worth more than what this country was willing to give sharecrop farmers circa 1863.

I am honest that I do not know what or how that NEW things looks like or what form it takes but I do feel strongly that blame serves no one.
The attached photo is of Cape Coast Slave Castle- found online