Janelle Gray's Blog, page 9

2 Steps Forward

In 2012, the Mormon Church launched a website called “Mormons and Gays.” I saw that as HUGE progress. It asked for members to have love and compassion for their LGBT sons and daughters. Sure, I didn’t love everything about the Mormons and Gays site. The Mormon Church still believed that marriage was only between a man and a woman, so those of us who are gay should either remain single and celibate or be in a mixed orientation marriage. Neither of which felt authentic to me.After the site launched, I finally came out to my family. While they weren't necessarily thrilled by the news, they weren't shocked either. I was happy with myself. I was fine with where the church was. Eventually, I believed it would not merely tolerate its LGBT members, but embrace us. And that overall sentiment of love was a win in my book. That feeling of gratitude did not last long because then came the “exclusion policy.”In a nutshell, the “exclusion policy” labels “homosexual relations” as “Serious Transgressions” alongside attempted murder, forcible rape, sexual abuse, spouse abuse, intentional serious physical injury of others, adultery, fornication, etc. Mormons who enter into same-sex unions are considered apostates, subject to ex-communication, and their children are barred from blessing and baptism rituals without the permission of the faith's highest leaders. Even then, to participate in such rituals, the individuals must wait until they are 18 years old and have disavowed their parents.Seeing “homosexual relations” listed among “serious transgressions” including rape and murder infuriated me!I'm saddened that once the policy came out, the suicide rate among LGBT Mormons sky-rocketed. But it doesn't surprise me. I get it. I've thought about it, a lot. I remember being 15. I started coming up with excuses to stop doing baptisms for the dead after I heard folklore that a temple worker could tell who was unworthy to be there and would share your sins with everyone else. Even though I hadn't done anything wrong, I was scared of being found out. Had the exclusion policy come out when I was a teenager, it's very likely that I wouldn't be here now.I'm still flabbergasted when my friends don't understand why I'm outraged. They don't see it as hurtful that a baby with gay parents can't receive a name and a blessing in the church. They don't think it's unreasonable for a child with gay parents to have to wait until they're 18 to be baptized.My friend explained it like this: “It is not simply a delay of baptism. The child can only get baptized if they denounce the same-sex marriage of their parents and no longer live with them. I guarantee you that those children love their parents even if they are ‘gay married.’ Having to choose between denouncing their parents and joining the church is a violation of agency and an unjust imposition to a child who was nurtured, loved, and supported by such parents who still love and cherish them. Your love for your parents is no more valid or real than that of a child of gay parents.”Last year, the Mormon Church updated the “Mormons and Gays” page, changing it to “Mormon and Gay." It's like they were trying to put a band-aid on the gaping wound that is the exclusion policy. The inclusive name may be the only positive from the revamped site. Sure, it's full of videos showing supportive families with gay members which is great. But the gay members shown are those who have chosen to live a celibate life to remain in the church; never to fall in love and get married to a same-sex partner. There's a lot of feel-good effort on the site, but not a lot of action.Mitch Mayne explained it better than I could in a Huffington Post piece. Basically, he reminds Mormons of the second great commandment: Love thy neighbor as thyself. But, he points out, we don’t really do that. We love LGBT people as something less than us. The videos, articles and websites, he says, are “underpinned with a single notion: LGBT people are, at their core, broken, afflicted, and a little bit less than whole.”He’s right. That’s not love. “It’s a misshapen disdain for LGBT people based in ignorance, fear, bigotry, and elitism. That’s offensive at its best, and at its worst it can be deadly to the vulnerable among us.”Every time I think that the LDS church is making progress or taking a step in the right direction, they do something to undo the “good” that was previously seen. Not long ago, The Mormon Channel on YouTube released “The Mackintosh's Story - A Son Comes Out and a Family Loves.” While I don’t love everything about the video, it did prompt the release of more like it. It showed families embracing their LGBTQ+ family members. It was beautiful.But after that, the Mormon Church magazine, “The Ensign,” published an article titled "The War Goes On" by Elder Larry R. Lawrence. In a section called “Lies and Deception,” he talks about the devil being “the great deceiver” and the use of counterfeits for every true principle the Lord presents. He says counterfeits are not the same as opposites because the opposite of white is black; but a counterfeit for white might be off-white or gray. He gives other examples like lust is the counterfeit is love and superstition the counterfeit of faith. And, then he finishes by saying that same-sex marriage is the counterfeit of marriage between a man and woman. And, he says, “like counterfeit money, [it’s] worthless…It brings neither posterity nor exaltation.”Just when I thought the Mormon Church was taking another step to include their LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters, they demean our love and relationships, referring to them saying they bring “darkness.” Such language and rhetoric that the church continues to use only furthers the “us vs. them” dynamic and truly hurts the LGBTQ+ community. That is not the love of God coming through. I know that God loves me.I would urge people to consider Matthew Vine’s words in the 2014 Time article titled “10 Reasons God Loves Gay Christians.” He wrote, “Condemning same-sex relationships is harmful to the LGBT community. Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount that good trees bear good fruit, while bad trees bear bad fruit. The church’s rejection of same-sex relationships has caused tremendous, needless suffering to the LGBT community—bad fruit. Those harmful consequences should make Christians open to reconsidering the church’s traditional teaching.”This back and forth, yo-yo toleration concerns me. It’s shows me that voices for equality are needed more than ever. And I’m determined to be one of them; within my religion and throughout the world.

The Shift

Even after 25 years as a nurse, it's so hard working that 7 to 7 shift at a county hospital. I take great pride in my job and I work hard. People don’t realize the physical toll it can take on your body.That particular morning I ached all over from wrestling "Mr. Johnson" into leather restraints after his alcohol withdrawal antics became violent.Back at work, feeling positive, and loaded with caffeine, I go in to answer a call light. I see this patient’s dressing is soaked. So I glove up. He asks if I'm going to wait for the nurse. I smile and say I am the nurse. By this time I see the blood has started to drop to the floor and I approach him and he tells me to call "the other nurse.”It was an all-female staff that day, so it couldn’t be that I was a woman. I was the oldest person on duty that shift so it couldn’t be my age. No. After growing up in Louisiana and years of living in Texas, I knew exactly by the inflection in his voice what he meant when he said “the other nurse.”But I played along. If he was going to be prejudice, I was going to make him say it. I take my gloves off and paged Suzy. When the Asian lady walked in, he said, “No.” Then Maria, the Hispanic nurse, he said, “No.” Anna, the Pakistani nurse? “No,” he said. “The other nurse.”Jill, the Caucasian 25-year-old nurse, walks to the room. She looks bewildered as she proceeds to tell him she is still under training with me and would prefer that I do.He isn’t happy about it. But he let's me change the dressing. And I do so with a smile.They don’t teach you how to respond to this when you’re in training. But the first time this happened to me I was in nursing school. I was very upset. And when it happened again and again, I wasn’t always as calm about it. But since then, I’ve developed a thick skin. It bothers me less now. Maybe that’s because it’s simply the norm. It happens maybe once every two to three weeks, now.The first thing that goes through my mind is, “How can people be so ignorant?” I feel sorry for them because they miss out on a lot of life by excluding minorities.But it doesn’t only affect me. When this happened, Jill was upset. She was embarrassed. I told her not to worry about it. I do expect my coworkers to speak up. And sometimes they do. But many times they just kind of stand there and look uncomfortable.In 25 years, there hasn’t been much of a shift in opinions and treatment. After all these years, things haven’t really changed. At this point in my life, I’ve really stopped being hurt by it. That day, I wasn't there to change his mind about how he felt about minorities. I was just there to change a dressing.

Safari

Some people hate the zoo. To them, the idea of observing animals completely controlled by humans seems inhumane. I’ve never worked at a zoo. So, I don’t know if it’s true that some animals are drugged to make it easier for them to be controlled. But they are certainly caged: confined to small spaces, placed behind glass, and put on display.Before visiting South Africa, the one thing I talked about was the lions. Maybe it’s the movie the Lion King or maybe because I’m a leo. But lions fascinate me. They’re familial and regal. They move with grace and deliberation. So I was completely ready to go to the zoo or on a safari see the lions. But when my friend said he absolutely wouldn’t take me to see the lions because they drug them, I instantly didn’t want to go either.But why? I like animals but you won’t see me at a PETA meeting (do they have meetings?). I still eat meat. And we’ve had a long-standing tradition of going to the circus as a family.Nonetheless, I forewent the opportunity to see the lions. After that simple statement, it just didn’t seem right to pay the captors and feed into this animal enslavement. Instead, we hopped in the car and he took me to see the townships.If you are like I was, you have no idea what those are. The townships are the American version of the ghetto. But before you quickly move past that, take moment to make sure you understand where American ghettos come from.I think when most people hear the word “ghetto” in the U.S., they immediately envision a majority-black population in poverty with dirty streets and less-desirable housing. But the term is said to have originated in Venice when they had segregated housing for Jews. In definition, it’s “a part of a city in which members of a minority group live, typically as a result of social, legal, or economic pressure.”During Apartheid, black people were evicted from areas that were turned to whites only. They were moved to “townships” that were adjacent to these towns. They were on grounds that were not valuable. They soil was not rich and could not be used making them still dependent on communities outside of these townships.And while the end of Apartheid brought about positive rapid change and growth in some of the townships, the residue of segregation is still left on others. In these areas, many people are not educated past a certain age, poverty still runs rampant as its inhabitants have limited employment opportunity, and these areas are still majority (if not all) black.I knew why we were there. He told me, “You have to go just to see. You have to know.” When I talked of South Africa in my other article, I talked of what they try to hide: The Africa with its beauty and modern culture; the one they try to convince me is nothing but barbaric, antiquated, and primitive so they can find some sort of comfort in the fact that my people were taken from there.But the townships are what you see in the commercials. The women barefoot, people gazing from stoops at every passing car; the lack of indoor plumbing and neighborhoods with homes built of spare metals or wood that hardly provide protection from or safety during the storm.I sat in the back of the car trying to stealthily take pictures so my camera wouldn’t be stolen. Barefoot kids racing carts made from old grocery store buggies, women with babies strapped to their backs, clothes hanging on lines next to portable toilets.I never shared or posted the pictures I took. It seemed exploitative as a visitor to just post. I had a hard time with it because at some point, in the backseat of the car, it occurred to me: This is no different from going to the zoo.No, I’m not calling them animals. But go with me for a second. The consequences of apartheid have created a place for containment. Chained by poverty due to a system that refused to adequately educate them, caged by little to no opportunity, and placed in a land deemed invaluable, these people are still forced to perform the everyday tasks of simply being human and surviving. And they do so in conditions I would never consider.It seemed a little wrong for me to go and take pictures with the intent to share as a depiction of my short 9-day stay. I could give a little money but I would leave and go back to my comfy home, sip wine, and give little to no thought of what I left; all while patting myself on the back for giving a little change.That’s why I held on to the pictures. I wanted to make sure that I shared them with context. I wanted to frame them, not with the “poor Africa” narrative that’s spread in the U.S., but with the “the consequences of the past are still affecting the present” narrative we keep trying desperately to ignore.The pictures are important. My friend was right. I did have to go. I did have to see. I had to see the conditions some people are living in.Donating your time or even your money and food isn’t enough. When you go to these areas of need, take in the living conditions but also consider long-term solutions.This is not a zoo. These are people. Don’t just roll down your window and offer crumbs from a bucket as you pass through. Don’t just pose and take pictures or take pictures to share in your small groups as a self-gratuitous pat on the back to show you’ve done something.I’m not saying don’t go. I’m not saying don’t take pictures. But make sure you frame them properly. And make sure the solutions you’re providing don’t end when you leave.Many times, people don’t need our presence in these places. They need us to help dismantle the social constructs that maintain them. We can’t just pass through.This is real life. This is not a safari.

Thanksgiving Prayer

Ah, Thanksgiving. The great debate.It’s the holiday that evokes a debate not over religion but humanity and sensitivity.Do we celebrate it? Don’t we? Do we honor tradition or lament history?You can decide your answer. But I offer here a Native American prayer of Thanksgiving to say in lieu of or in addition to your celebrations.Happy Thanksgiving and enjoy your meal and family.JPrayer found on blog Spirit in Action by Ms. ohnwentsya. Check out her other great content there!Greetings to the Natural WorldThe PeopleToday we have gathered and we see that the cycles of life continue. We have been given the duty to live in balance and harmony with each other and all living things. So now, we bring our minds together as one as we give greetings and thanks to each other as people.Now our minds are one.The Earth MotherWe are all thankful to our Mother, the Earth, for she gives us all that we need for life. She supports our feet as we walk about upon her. It gives us joy that she continues to care for us as she has from the beginning of time. To our mother, we send greetings and thanks.Now our minds are one.The WatersWe give thanks to all the waters of the world for quenching our thirst and providing us with strength. Water is life. We know its power in many forms-waterfalls and rain, mists and streams, rivers and oceans. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the spirit of Water.Now our minds are one.The Fish We turn our minds to the all the Fish life in the water. They were instructed to cleanse and purify the water. They also give themselves to us as food. We are grateful that we can still find pure water. So, we turn now to the Fish and send our greetings and thanks.Now our minds are one.The Plants Now we turn toward the vast fields of Plant life. As far as the eye can see, the Plants grow, working many wonders. They sustain many life forms. With our minds gathered together, we give thanks and look forward to seeing Plant life for many generations to come.Now our minds are one.The Food PlantsWith one mind, we turn to honor and thank all the Food Plants we harvest from the garden. Since the beginning of time, the grains, vegetables, beans and berries have helped the people survive. Many other living things draw strength from them too. We gather all the Plant Foods together as one and send them a greeting of thanks.Now our minds are one.The Medicine Herbs Now we turn to all the Medicine herbs of the world. From the beginning they were instructed to take away sickness. They are always waiting and ready to heal us. We are happy there are still among us those special few who remember how to use these plants for healing. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the Medicines and to the keepers of the Medicines.Now our minds are one.The AnimalsWe gather our minds together to send greetings and thanks to all the Animal life in the world. They have many things to teach us as people. We are honored by them when they give up their lives so we may use their bodies as food for our people. We see them near our homes and in the deep forests. We are glad they are still here and we hope that it will always be so. Now our minds are one.The Trees We now turn our thoughts to the Trees. The Earth has many families of Trees who have their own instructions and uses. Some provide us with shelter and shade, others with fruit, beauty and other useful things. Many people of the world use a Tree as a symbol of peace and strength. With one mind, we greet and thank the Tree life.Now our minds are one.The BirdsWe put our minds together as one and thank all the Birds who move and fly about over our heads. The Creator gave them beautiful songs. Each day they remind us to enjoy and appreciate life. The Eagle was chosen to be their leader. To all the Birds-from the smallest to the largest-we send our joyful greetings and thanks.Now our minds are one.The Four WindsWe are all thankful to the powers we know as the Four Winds. We hear their voices in the moving air as they refresh us and purify the air we breathe. They help us to bring the change of seasons. From the four directions they come, bringing us messages and giving us strength. With one mind, we send our greetings and thanks to the Four Winds.Now our minds are one.The ThunderersNow we turn to the west where our grandfathers, the Thunder Beings, live. With lightning and thundering voices, they bring with them the water that renews life. We are thankful that they keep those evil things made by Okwiseres underground. We bring our minds together as one to send greetings and thanks to our Grandfathers, the Thunderers. Now our minds are one.The SunWe now send greetings and thanks to our eldest Brother, the Sun. Each day without fail he travels the sky from east to west, bringing the light of a new day. He is the source of all the fires of life. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to our Brother, the Sun.Now our minds are one.Grandmother MoonWe put our minds together to give thanks to our oldest Grandmother, the Moon, who lights the night-time sky. She is the leader of woman all over the world, and she governs the movement of the ocean tides. By her changing face we measure time, and it is the Moon who watches over the arrival of children here on Earth. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to our Grandmother, the Moon.Now our minds are one.The StarsWe give thanks to the Stars who are spread across the sky like jewelry. We see them in the night, helping the Moon to light the darkness and bringing dew to the gardens and growing things. When we travel at night, they guide us home. With our minds gathered together as one, we send greetings and thanks to the Stars.Now our minds are one.The Enlightened TeachersWe gather our minds to greet and thank the enlightened Teachers who have come to help throughout the ages. When we forget how to live in harmony, they remind us of the way we were instructed to live as people. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to these caring teachers.Now our minds are one.The CreatorNow we turn our thoughts to the creator, or Great Spirit, and send greetings and thanks for all the gifts of Creation. Everything we need to live a good life is here on this Mother Earth. For all the love that is still around us, we gather our minds together as one and send our choicest words of greetings and thanks to the Creator.Now our minds are one.Closing Words We have now arrived at the place where we end our words. Of all the things we have named, it was not our intention to leave anything out. If something was forgotten, we leave it to each individual to send such greetings and thanks in their own way.Now our minds are one

To Imagine A Dream

Imagine at nine years old having to leave the only country you ever knew, the relatives you have, the street you grew up on, the familiarity and comforts of your home and being sent thousands of miles away.In this new country, it is just you and your immediate family. There are no grandparents to visit. No cousins to play with or aunts and uncles to talk to. It is just you, your siblings and your mom and dad.You all have to learn a new language. Your accent is so thick that most children make fun of you.You have to learn what to eat since the familiar foods you grew up on won’t be found in any grocery store. You marvel at sandwiches stacked high with only bacon and tomatoes and lettuce and a piece of toothpick to balance it out, and the new smells of “Chinese” cuisine or “Mexican” cooking. You get sick a few times and won’t revisit restaurants until you’re in your twenties.You all have to get accustomed to the rules of this society. You stand to greet the teacher, as that was the custom in your country. But in this new one, the teacher disciplines you in front of the classroom.You grow up with an “us” versus “them” mentality. Everyone fit into neat little boxes. Blacks. Whites. Hispanics. Other. Your parents tell you to assimilate and not be an ‘other.’ Don’t stand out any more than you already have.Flash forward to a few more years where you’ve finally gotten used to the country. You find a few people who used to live where you used to and, together, you have formed a small community where everyone calls everyone aunts and uncles. You suddenly have more space at the dining table for these adopted relatives. There are more presents under the tree for these friends turned into family.The accent starts to change gradually over time and before you know it, your voice inflections sound like the neighbors around you. No one would question where you came from since you started to sound like everyone else.Your views of an “us” versus “them” shifts.You’re an American.You saw the world crumble along with everyone else on 9/11. You even went to the nearest recruitment office to sign up and fight. The feeling of alienation diminished for you and was replaced with a sense of patriotism.You would do anything for this country. Your home. For the last twenty some years.And now imagine for a moment being told that this home no longer welcomes you. You graduated with honors and without government support. You worked your way up from working in the kitchen of a hospital to be a Nutritionist Supervisor. You have a family. You are an upstanding citizen who doesn’t even have any parking or traffic violations, and an active member in the community, be it at church or in the neighborhood.But for all that you have worked for and given back, you will never be good enough.You will never be treated as a citizen.You will never be welcomed.You will never feel at home.And all this because your family chose to bring you to another country to better themselves. Your parents did what they thought and believed was the best. You weren’t allowed to voice your opinion because, as a child, did you even believe it would come back to haunt you? No. As a child, you only knew fear. You only knew what was being taken away. You only knew that you were never going to see your relatives or your country again.Those were your realities and truths as a child.Now stop imagining this scenario and look up and around you.As an immigrant, I am fully aware of the legalities and pathways to citizenship. My family spent years and hundreds of thousands of dollars to get a work visa, then a green card for a more “permanent” status, and then finally, naturalization. Contrary to popular beliefs, it does not take a few days or months or a visit to the consulate and a demand that you be given citizenship status.It takes years and a lot of money. You have to have money for an immigration lawyer and continue to pay for that lawyer for years depending on how long you retain their services.You have to prove your worth here. You have to keep proving yourself over and over again.It took my family from 1990 to 2001. Let me repeat that statement, it took my mother, who worked as a Registered Nurse and saved all the extra money she had to pay for legal fees and multiple trips to Houston to get citizenship after eleven years. The road to citizenship is hard and paved with money. I became a United States Citizen in the summer of 2001.But as a child, I remember being in a newfound country and losing the only home I ever knew. So I can relate and commiserate with the DREAMers of today. Imagine doing so much for the country you grew up to love and would die for, only to be constantly told you are never going to be welcomed here. To constantly be in fear because you will be ripped out and sent to a place that is no longer home or familiar.Now imagine these DREAMers as your great-great ancestors; because I can guarantee that at some point in your family history, your family escaped from persecution to come to this newfound land. Your family may have assimilated so much that you have forgotten that you were once a product of immigration. A product of a dream.So regardless of the outcome, I can promise you this: That DREAMer will prevail in whichever place they end up. They did it once and will do it again. My only hope and prayer is that our country doesn’t lose out on some of the great immigrant success stories that this country was built on.And that includes yours. 

The Ghost of White Privilege

They're creepy and they're kooky,Mysterious and spooky,They're altogether ooky...Each year in America around this time we all indulge somewhat into the hysteria of Halloween. There is something fun and exciting about the "Big Scare."We tell stories of ghostly events to help evoke and embellish this emotion of fright. We've long celebrated fictional characters such as Jason and the man wit the hat and claws, Mr. Krueger. There's even a hit show called "American Horror Story" that teases our pallete for those horror junkies (If you haven't seen it, you're doing life wrong.). And while most would agree, they are all fiction; it still presents a thread of realism and possibility. It begs the question, is this fake or realistic fiction? One of the most horrific and scary times of our country's history is slavery and the lasting impact it has on the country.Unfortunately, this isn't a fictitious account of history. It really happened. From throughout the 1800s, to Jim Crow, to the civil rights era, people of color and other minorities suffered greatly through these times at the hand of spooky white oppression. The film Saw was the remake of the real life events of the horror film Emmitt Till. His body was marred and mangled. His mother said when she finally saw his body, she could see through his head from one side to the other. That's not even the scary part. The scary part is that decades after his death, his accuser said she had lied about the events. He was innocent. FRIGHTENING!!!The Purge series was just a copy cat of the factual decimation of an affluent black community in Tulsa, Oklahoma. In 1921, an affluent black community was rioted with privilege as their community was burned to the ground. It left over 300 black people dead and businesses destroyed. But, that's not the scary part. The most horrific scene of this real-life film is that nothing was done to right this wrong until 2001.The crime: your skin is your sin. It was Nightmare on America Street. White Privilege Boulevard seemed to be the only street of safety. There was a group of people who even regularly dressed for the occasion. They'd wear these white sheets with hoods and, in true Halloween fashion, terrorize anyone not on the boulevard.Fast forward to now, many would like to believe that things are different.  And while many things have made us better, I contend that many things are still the same.There was a hit movie called the Ghostbusters, where a team of 4 would find ghost lurking in a more modern society, where many believed ghosts weren't real. They'd seek out these ghosts and capture them. In a similar sense, many feel that the progress that has been made took away all the privilege and now there's equal opportunity across the board. But, in the spirit of Rosa Parks when asked to give up her seat, I say, "Nah."And even now, in 2017, the legends of gore and horror have been upstaged by new characters in new films. Now playing, is the privilege of an NFL owner to make a statement such as, "inmates don't get to run the prisons" in response to a peaceful protest by NFL players against police brutality.  Up for an Academy Award, is the privilege of a misogynistic, sexist, and racist guy who helps himself to a handful of p***y while ascending to the highest office in the land. Scared yet? Or how about the blockbuster hit of mass shootings by a "lone wolf" or "disturbed man" instead of a "terrorist." It seems that Jason's mask has come off and Freddy no longer looms in nightmares; his movement is full throttle in reality. There's no debate to be had on whether white privilege existed. In my opinion, there's no question if it still exists. However, if I were to play along with those who contend it no longer exists, just like Freddy, Jason, and the white-hooded good Christians, it may be gone but the haunt of it lives on. It's just changed costumes for the new present-day films... Happy post-Halloween. Boooooooo... 

The Parade

The day after I arrived in Auckland, New Zealand in the fall of 2005, I walked down the street, taking in the different people, food and stores. In the distance I could hear what I thought was a sporting event or a parade - lots of people yelling. I noticed as I walked along that this place had an abundance of something - coffee shops. I made a mental note to reward myself with a coffee later. But for now, I had somewhere to be. I stood outside an office that would help me get my first job in New Zealand, waiting patiently for it to open. Next to me was a guy, about my age, who seemed to be waiting as well. I began chatting to him and picked up on a German accent. As we talked, I asked where he was from. He named a town in Germany I didn't know and I tried to pronounce it. In the distance, I could hear the parade coming closer as it grew louder. The German guy asked where I was from, and right as I was about to answer, my words stopped like a lump in my throat as I realized what the yelling was about."Down with Bush! Down with America!!! We don't want your war!"It wasn't a parade, it was a protest.After the protest began moving away from us, I turned back to whom I hoped was my new friend from Germany, took a deep breath and said "I'm from Texas."He seemed a bit awkward and unsure of what to say to me next. Fortunately, the office opened soon after that and saved our little buffet of awkwardness.I didn't see him again. In that moment, when the crowd of people shouted "down with America," I had a mixture of emotions; as you might imagine. Self preservation was definitely up there, and I wanted to find a corner and hide. But there was also pride for my country and the need to defend the actions of it. However, at the same time, I didn't agree with the decision to go to war from one powerful man.I think back on that moment often. And I wonder if there are other people in the world who have been in a similar situation. Perhaps something happened that was beyond their control - something based on the decisions of a group of powerful people. And perhaps their nationality was blamed. Perhaps they were blamed. The funny thing about bigotry is it can happen anywhere to anyone. It can be based on any nationality, sexual preference age or belief. It isn't exclusive. But the more people who understand what it's like, the broader our perspective as humans becomes. 

I Speak For Me

Allies are incredibly important to have. When we feel like we don’t have a space or a voice, allies can make all the difference. Kindness and truly seeing someone goes a long way and its effect is larger than people can imagine. It’s easy to feel like no one gets you or cares about you. But even just one ally can show that people are invested in you and your happiness.I love it when people ask me “what can I do to help?” Allies multiply in number. Just by simply existing and standing up for minority communities, others are encouraged to open their minds and be accepting as well.We all need people on whom we can depend and who we know accept us for who we are.Allies have quite literally saved my life.But there are times when it’s too much. With all of the racial tension that is still happening, I don’t pretend to speak for my black friends. I sit with them. I listen to them. I cry with them. I show up for them. But I in no way speak for them. It’s their story. They are the ones being mercilessly persecuted. So I hold their hands and walk with them in the fight. But I let them lead the way.I can speak as part of the LGBTQ+ community and say that same sit-down ally-ship that I participate in with the battle of racism needs to be put in action here as well. Yes, I need allies to see me and validate me. But I don’t need allies to speak for me.When I was younger and didn’t either have the vocabulary or the courage to stand up and speak for myself, I turned to allies. They were typically straight, because at the time I didn’t know many LGBTQ+ individuals.But now, I can and will speak up for myself. My voice and experiences don’t need to be filtered through straight individuals. I’m tired of people being interviewed and speaking for the LGBTQ+ community simply because they have an LGBTQ+ son, daughter, cousin, in-law, etc. Ask the son. Ask the daughter. Ask the cousin, the in-law, or whoever else it may be. Because, as much as you see me and love me, my experience is not your experience. And no one can tell my story like I can. 

Appropriately Accessorized

Everyone talks about cultural appropriation. As an admirer of cultural differences, I’m constantly checking myself. And, with Halloween costume ideas already taking over the web, I thought it would be good to address it from a different angle.Let’s define it for the purpose of this article. There’s a difference between cultural appropriation and cultural appreciation. And appreciation does include participation. You don’t have to admire from afar.But there’s a caveat: you have to understand and respect not only the origins but also the creators.Don’t judge me, but, when Halloween comes around, I absolutely love the costumes. And while I’ve never been confident enough to wear the Indian costume, it was definitely something I secretly hoped to one-day wear. (Never mind the obvious sexist idea that all women’s costumes are sexed up and you rarely find just a ghost but a “sexy ghost” – another post for another day)In my opinion, dressing up like the Disney Princess Pocahontas is acceptable. But dressing up like a Native American, a whole culture, a whole race of people, is not.What does this have to do with cultural appropriation? Glad you asked. I watched a video where Native Americans responded to costumes sold every October. One thing they repeatedly mentioned was the importance of the prayer beads; how each bead, fashionably placed, should signify a particular prayer. Of course, that would only apply if they had been correctly placed with regard to the tribe and the garb.For those who are deeply religious Christians, imagine someone dressing up as Jesus. I know I generally feel a bit of a cringe when I see a “Sexy Nun.” (For more than one reason, but you get the point)So, overall, for me, wearing a culture, religion, an ethnicity, or race is definitely crossing a line of disrespect. Especially when its importance is dismissed and exploited for fashion or a laugh.I often use hair braiding as a reference here as it’s something with which I am familiar. I’ve even shared how, when I was working in corporate, I was told not to wear them. I was also told that locs or natural hair violated the rule of “kempt hair.” But when those people were on Facebook, posting vacation pictures, braids were acceptable and fashionable.To add insult to injury, when something my culture created is worn by someone of my culture, it elicits negative responses, stereotypes, etc. But when worn or done by what is recognized as the dominant culture, it’s trendy and edgy (not to mention often dumbed down).Living in Colombia, I’m very aware of this. I want to soak in the culture. That is, after all, why I chose Colombia. And although I’m not recognizably North American (which plays to my advantage many times) I want to be sure that I don’t steal and strip their rituals of their importance or meaning. I ask questions, listen to stories, and heed advice. Then it occurred to me: I’ve never done that with my own culture.Hair braiding is African. I’m part of the African Diaspora. I’m a card-carrying (i.e. skin color having) member of that culture. So I just took for granted I can wear what I want. But am I much different from the white people who rock the braids? Can you self-culture appropriate?What I’ve learned is that braids can indicate what tribe you’re from, age, social position, marital status, religion, wealth, and more. It’s styled different for certain occasions and is considered a social duty to braid someone’s hair. Thus, in some places, it is not a paid service and considered unlucky to thank the braider.In addition, it’s often performed by a senior member of the tribe while the younger generation looks on to learn. There’s a sense of intimacy, friendship, and love associated.Perhaps that’s where the disdain comes from when you touch a black person’s hair. The first thing I think is, “I’m not a dog. Don’t pet me. I’m not a sideshow. Don’t stare.” But the second is, “I don’t know you like that.” We can be friends, but that doesn’t mean I’ll drink after you, share my food with you. There are levels to friendship. And my hair doesn’t come with each level.At the end of the day, cultural appropriation is a thing. And I think the cultures that are consistently worn as an accessory by a culture that still consistently admonishes it when worn by its creators, deserve to stand up and defend it.It’s often said, that if people loved Black people as much as they loved black culture, we’d be all right. In light of every black person unjustly killed in police stops (or stopped unjustly at all) you can see why people say that. But in light of DACA, you can say the same about Latinos. In light of the Standing Rock, you can say the same about Native Americans. In light of white actors cast in Asian-American roles, you can say that about Asian Americans.I admit, I did self-convict: realizing that I turned part of my own culture into an accessory. But I put this before you: when Africans were captured and made slaves, many times their heads were shaved because the slave traders considered it unsanitary. If I have only kept traces of it, it’s because it, along with the language that could have been used to explain it to me, was stolen. And all that remains is a remnant of a culture lost and reinvented as some sort of way to connect to a land my ancestors longed for.To my people of African descent, I encourage you to research what trend you’re rocking. Be able to speak intelligently about its meaning, and understand the importance and honor it appropriately.And for those who are able to wear our culture and ethnicity without fear of job loss, life loss, discrimination, generalizations, and stereotypes, I urge you to consider that our cultures should not be for sale.The minute you boil a culture down to a margarita, a costume, entertainment, or just ignore its creators altogether, is the minute you, too, become the oppressor.Remember, our braids are just as powerful a symbol as the ring your spouse places on your finger. Their prayer beads are just as powerful as the rosary hanging from your car mirror. These aren’t simply fashions you pull from the closet. We deserve for our cultures to be honored and not disrespected. We deserve to be heard and seen.You can engage in cultural exchange. You can be a culture appreciator. But I implore you: accessorize appropriately.

White Dove In A Brown World

Like a typical millennial, I checked my social media accounts before I even got out of bed and brushed my teeth, this Sunday morning. As I was doing my usual scroll through Facebook, I kept noticing all of these posts about needing to find a new body wash or people making something out of nothing in regards to Dove’s latest ad campaign.With all that’s going on in America, I was honestly annoyed to hear that they were involved in a racially insensitive scandal because I love Dove soap. It’s good for my eczema. It doesn’t dry out my skin. And most importantly, I come out of the shower smelling good with skin as smooth as a baby’s butt every time I bathe with it. And now I have to find another soap because they chose to mess up. After seeing the ads, my initial response was confusion because I know that an ad has to pass a large amount of eyes to be released on the web or aired on TV. And to know that both ads made the cut was appalling by itself. I was further confused by so many of my black family and friends who were legitimately upset and outraged that other black people had a problem with the ads. I didn’t know what to say or how to feel, if we’re being real.Now that I’ve had a day to gather my thoughts on the subject I can tell you that I’m disappointed and irritated. I am disappointed because it seems like this kind of thing happens every other day, especially since 45 came into office. This is what they do now. Companies and public figures knowingly say or do the wrong thing, usually saying or doing something racist or sexist or LGBTQ-phobic, and then later retract the statement or action and assume that, by saying they’re sorry, it fixes it like we’re in kindergarten.Newsflash folks, we ain’t in kindergarten. A phony apology does nothing for me and it certainly won’t make me buy their products again. To know that Dove, a company who is known for campaigning on the back of diversity, “missed the mark,” proves to me that the diversity we see in ads is just a publicity stunt and an attempt to get people of color to purchase products. Companies realized that if they don’t have some kind of false portrayal of representation then they could be losing money. Therefore, they decided to slap a few black and brown women on the front to make us think that there has been significant change when behind the scenes there isn’t.The standard of beauty has not deviated from the skinny white woman with blonde hair. The beauty industry is still the same as it was 10 years ago. Having a black woman or any other woman of color, on an ad is cool. But how many of them are actually sitting at the table with the CEOs, the creative directors and the leadership of these companies? Few, if any at all.If there are no women of color in the room when decisions are made, then “accidents” like this will continue to happen. It’s past time that people of color, women, members of the LGBTQ community and other underrepresented groups get a seat at the table in all aspects of leadership. This goes beyond the beauty industry. We need people who share our interests in everything. We should’ve infiltrated the system a long time ago. And since we didn’t, we’re reaping the consequences of being on the sidelines while straight white men make all of the decisions.Controversial and racially insensitive ads will unfortunately continue to be made and published until we, as a people, hit them where it hurts; or more people who share our views move into leadership positions and actually have some sort of say in what is distributed to the masses. I hate to think that we still live in a world where the incompetent and inconsiderate have the authority and means to continually blast their bigotry into the world. I hate that some day I might have to explain to my little cousins or kids why an ad was created that insinuates that there is white underneath their brown skin. I hate that a household product that my family and friends use assumes that our black and brown skin can be magically washed away by using their product. I hate that there are people still out there who find my skin tone inferior. I hate that we even have to discuss issues like this around my dinner table. But despite all of that, I will continue to find solace in the fact that my blackness shakes these white folks to their core. I will continue to find solace in my blackness being a threat to their unstable, false sense of reality. I will continue to find solace in the fact that the world is becoming more brown by the day. And I will continue to use my voice, my education, my blackness, and my future career as a means of destroying the false notion of white supremacy in a brown world.