tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76010139913368938872024-02-07T11:34:03.564-08:00A-Writers-Whimsical-MusingsJessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.comBlogger120125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-85373259020579461722022-11-19T12:17:00.000-08:002022-11-19T12:17:21.491-08:00Introspective musings from last night and my dvar<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6rMQDa6ywLEXv7ZiBLohEtsIxK2Pq0B5K5t5YZAJkt2B699mm4FeBmimoWJyJ3I_FOHSrJfVGtEP_TB6UTy1ij1JGAaO9JrzawuKd_D48qQLRxQH7HAnZFCnLRi7nBOeoa0Bta9GprOqEedh9mo2bZXl54y978QitjPNmfxn0f72t5LBiTNxWVUfUw/s2086/Shir%20Tikvah%20Service.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1078" data-original-width="2086" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw6rMQDa6ywLEXv7ZiBLohEtsIxK2Pq0B5K5t5YZAJkt2B699mm4FeBmimoWJyJ3I_FOHSrJfVGtEP_TB6UTy1ij1JGAaO9JrzawuKd_D48qQLRxQH7HAnZFCnLRi7nBOeoa0Bta9GprOqEedh9mo2bZXl54y978QitjPNmfxn0f72t5LBiTNxWVUfUw/s320/Shir%20Tikvah%20Service.jpeg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikD33tvAWBOqWHdOpuduhslG7MmdDynN_9ToVBmI4tAAM3WyTeiEkrJfpOzbU-a4tDxT4cr1z4LwdsQ60Tvgtr09m0R8n8ldVXLlMIMjBXHAxEW2FqKsuZSc3nBVgyDRIDSw4CnXNR5UJT_v0gR2WgguEYXGAUIDe8Cao9JhXonWaIgERcPvXO3sH_rQ/s1834/My%20Dvar.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1834" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikD33tvAWBOqWHdOpuduhslG7MmdDynN_9ToVBmI4tAAM3WyTeiEkrJfpOzbU-a4tDxT4cr1z4LwdsQ60Tvgtr09m0R8n8ldVXLlMIMjBXHAxEW2FqKsuZSc3nBVgyDRIDSw4CnXNR5UJT_v0gR2WgguEYXGAUIDe8Cao9JhXonWaIgERcPvXO3sH_rQ/s320/My%20Dvar.jpeg"/></a></div>
<p>Last night I delivered a talk to my synagogue, what we call a dvar Torah for the annual Trans Day of Remembrance. It’s all rather new for me, as I spent a lifetime avoiding public speaking, a result of a childhood traumatic experience. I chuckle that now at 75, I’m finally confronting that fear head on.
<p>So, the sanctuary was filled, and my moment came. I tied the remembrance of Avraham (Abraham) and Sara to our own remembrance of trans lives lost to murder, and the terrible toll it takes on the rest of us, ending with an excerpt of a spoken word piece I’d written several years ago after the murder of two trans women in Washington DC.
<p>What followed was something I was totally unprepared for. Accolades from the members of my community, including the Zoom Makom Minyan. Am I ever so grateful for that moment. My emotions were all over the place, for this was foreign territory for me. I’m just not accustomed to praise, I guess. It was a moment that was satisfying, for continuing to overcome that lifelong fear, but also a community that demonstrated loving support in a spectacular way. After, I got to speak with Kochava for a few minutes, and then to the bubbe (Grandmother) of the Bat Mitzvah girl for this week. She was a poet and I wanted to talk more, but my transit driver arrived, and I had to leave. ::chuckling:: Anyone who knows me knows I like to schmooze. That was my one regret for the evening, having to leave so soon.
<p>So in this moment of introspection, I am filled with gratitude. My Shir Tikvah congregation is teaching me in profound ways. At this old age, to be conquering a childhood trauma is spectacular. I am grateful to Rabbi Joey who asked me if I would deliver this Dvar, and his support as I put it all together. I’m grateful to Rabbi Arielle for her kind words and a voice like an angel. To Dan Nadel whose music I have appreciated for a long time and how wonderful to be seated by him as he worked his magic. Thank you Shir Tikvah who have shown chesed (loving kindness) in so many ways. I feel such love for you all!
<p>Shavua tov!
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-69667266714828982382022-10-29T16:42:00.001-07:002022-10-29T16:42:17.541-07:00Time to Choose: Democracy or Fascism<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlmiFgqOc2YJO91h4X7ewM2wLyA5nMDlr5tmqfeft9z68jPXjiAjf156XpssoVctUsRunMsP_IywKaydtilRqYM3pFLqyAC9hsrAFAHpF96qQEzV125cjJhPH-gzK5-nTN9JXYHkhHXgnWRgFPAK4AuUpjbGz8-XFgyB5a1DLaLY1ST01OMPII9xVKQ/s756/american%20fascism.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="756" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlmiFgqOc2YJO91h4X7ewM2wLyA5nMDlr5tmqfeft9z68jPXjiAjf156XpssoVctUsRunMsP_IywKaydtilRqYM3pFLqyAC9hsrAFAHpF96qQEzV125cjJhPH-gzK5-nTN9JXYHkhHXgnWRgFPAK4AuUpjbGz8-XFgyB5a1DLaLY1ST01OMPII9xVKQ/s320/american%20fascism.jpeg"/></a></div>
<p>It saddens me to see what is happening in America today. Okay as a teenager, I helped a guy out on his farm once building fences. His son brought me to his bedroom, pulled out a box, showing all sorts of Nazi paraphernalia. A bit disgusting, but no great alarm. I as a progressive had no illusions of jack-booted marchers coming down the streets tearing up shops, burning synagogues, taking people to concentration camps. No, just one deluded soul enamored by a society that had brought so much mayhem.
<p>Now though, there is ample cause for concern. For the record, I’m Jewish, transgender, lesbian. The embrace of fascism (or Christian Nationalism, Nazism was a Christian Nationalist state lest we forget) by a major political party is on display for all to see. Conspiracy theories abound, antisemitism confronts us at every turn, transphobia, homophobia, and misogyny are being written into law in state after state. There was the attack on our capitol on January 6. 4 years ago, we saw the worse antisemitic attack in American history at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburg. Antisemitism is increasing at every turn on the right, but tragically increasingly on the left as well. A few years ago, trans murders were in the low 20’s, but last year and this, they have doubled. Just last night someone broke into Nancy Pelosi’s house looking for her and attacking her husband. Democratic lawmakers increasingly are getting death threats.
<p>I heard today that the Department of Justice has issued an alert fearing possible violence at the polls. How do I feel about all that’s going on?
<p>I’M ANGRY AS HELL ABOUT IT. Around the world, democracies are in peril. I look at folks like Putin, and their embrace of fascism and the number of people in America, Republicans, who increasingly look to him as their ideal. Our former president who virtually salivated in the presence of the likes of a Putin or Kim Jong Un. These extremists in America have their own news sources, and with the new owner of Twitter, an outlet for their propaganda.
<p>I know this. If you are a refugee, a black or brown person, a Jew, a Muslim, a member of the LGBTQ plus community, a woman (unless you are one of the good ones who is subservient and obedient), then fascists will use you as a scapegoat. That is how they get and hold power. The more power they get, the more they will attack.
<p>I mentioned I’m Jewish. I’ve studied the history around the holocaust. More importantly, I’ve talked to people who survived, either by getting out in time, or enduring the horrors of those dark days. They tell me that it feels now, very similar to what it felt like in the months and years leading up to the Shoah. I believe them.
<p>So, it is my prayer, that we do what we can. This election means EVERYTHING! I believe deeply our very democracy is at stake. I have already voted, and I hope every thinking man and woman does the same. I’ve spent seventy-five years living in a democracy. Please do not let it end now. We must not fear, but we must prevail.
Jessica Wicks
10-29-22
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-44471773480008411452022-10-28T13:34:00.001-07:002022-10-28T13:34:06.506-07:00Memories: A Gift to Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYuOPyecITKBkcg-y5qTZtuPreAAqi7QYnRx9R7hyzh8zpstgsT1MTA6xHb4fXkqvNHH-grAGqlKBaDRJ5CSfUwuV8ZFziIRZbylMZHsOzNPSa1Gpl50qG5HWe5_1OoC7Ivm5zVMepCQaQ98yvtoUptsYCeK0TFRru127JsQfdiOoUWNxXtFS-3-N0A/s1703/87.05.21%20Arkansas3.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="1703" data-original-width="1085" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYuOPyecITKBkcg-y5qTZtuPreAAqi7QYnRx9R7hyzh8zpstgsT1MTA6xHb4fXkqvNHH-grAGqlKBaDRJ5CSfUwuV8ZFziIRZbylMZHsOzNPSa1Gpl50qG5HWe5_1OoC7Ivm5zVMepCQaQ98yvtoUptsYCeK0TFRru127JsQfdiOoUWNxXtFS-3-N0A/s320/87.05.21%20Arkansas3.jpeg"/></a></div>
<p>Memories. As I age, they become such an important piece of my life. A scent, a photo, a turn of a phrase can take me back in unexpected ways. Perhaps a smile, even a giggle, a tear, any, or all. The other day, my wife was mumbling to herself. Immediately I am sitting in the living room in the early 90’s and my partner Skip is having a conversation with himself. I ask him if he’s talking to himself and he shoots right back saying, “Only intelligent conversation I can too often have.” We both laugh out loud.
<p>I love the mountains, always have. When I was younger, I would travel, sometimes with my daughter, often with cousins, or sometimes alone. We would hike on mountain trails, communing with nature, and from their peaks look out on the magnificent view down below. We might travel to the Rockies, perhaps the Ozark or Ouachita Mountains, always an amazing two weeks to recharge and interact with the natural world.
<p>The photo above was a mountain stream near Petit Jean State Park in Arkansas. My daughter put on her bathing suit and let the cold mountain water wash over her. I love her and miss her so. Like much of my family, my transness was simply too much. But I will always love her… and… I have the memories. Even as I type this, a smile, and a tear.
<p>So here I sit, old and disabled, but always the possibility of those journeys into the past, a smile and a tear. Outside the leaves have turned yellow and a brilliant red for Autumn is upon us. With that, memories as well. They are a true gift, filling my heart with what has past, lest the void in my present take full hold. There are no more mountains, no more strolls or rigorous climbs to experience the fullness of HaShem’s creation. I do what I can do, volunteer work, my writing (memories again), occasional D’var Torah with my synagogue. Brightened along the way with another moment in time engraved firmly within this heart. I do not wish for youth, but mobility, perhaps some. But I do have love, friends, and the blessing experience formed as memory.
Jessica Wicks
10-28-2022
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-44370159767897240972022-10-26T16:10:00.003-07:002022-10-26T16:10:34.592-07:00Disability and Steep Stairs<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSyemOHGvYCV1zMF0_PMFxQ1M-WMD243sMm-wWd2eu0ZsO3IUjqElYEjUOscYQqbxH1WarjtStEQp6MuRgVxg5zCYXdhyhETTK4RmIz320bKMOpdnkY_zzCq9x5b_Mpz-ZD9VjAPdk3GKrrCLJQTRqAsjiq8BNOkGNHux_fAK4pSVOorCD5NxRZK6lvw/s3264/IMG_2314.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSyemOHGvYCV1zMF0_PMFxQ1M-WMD243sMm-wWd2eu0ZsO3IUjqElYEjUOscYQqbxH1WarjtStEQp6MuRgVxg5zCYXdhyhETTK4RmIz320bKMOpdnkY_zzCq9x5b_Mpz-ZD9VjAPdk3GKrrCLJQTRqAsjiq8BNOkGNHux_fAK4pSVOorCD5NxRZK6lvw/s320/IMG_2314.jpeg"/></a></div>
<p>So, it’s been a while since my last posting here. December of 2000. Pain made it too difficult to write. Finally at long last, a purchase of a lap desk made all the difference. I’m writing again!
<p>Since I last posted here, I realized I must surrender my license. Immobility made it unsafe for me to drive anymore. I deeply miss that ability to simply make my way down steep stairs, using one wheelchair to let the other down to the sidewalk, take apart the wheelchair so I can fit it in the trunk, using a strong-arm cane to keep my balance, then hopping into the car and going where I want to go. Hmmm… well maybe not so simply.
<p>I had considered a move, but between current inflation and economic uncertainty, it seems to be a bit risky right now. I think in my heart this kind of thing is not uncommon among the elderly. I have no family nearby, and while I crave that human interaction that was such a part of my life for so long, I am relegated to hours, days, weeks of alone time. Oh, my wife and I talk some, but she is not a talker and where I despise alone time, she loves it! Don’t get me wrong! I deeply love her and honor her need for that alone time. But for me, it’s difficult. I do have a caretaker who comes in two hours a week. For the first hour she does chores. The second hour is relegated to conversation.
<p>I may not be the only one who experiences loneliness. I suspect there are many more. There are many younger people I know. But they lead their busy lives, too busy to bother with a 75-year-old crone.
<p>But… I will not simply sit here and cry in my iced tea. I try to stay busy. I’m active on my synagogue’s caring committee, making sure our volunteers send out cards for Shivas and health issues and such. I’m also doing training to lead Shivas on Zoom for those who desire it. I on occasion make the journey to my shul to deliver a Dvar Torah (a sermon). Mostly I attend now online. I’m presently writing a full Dvar for each week’s Torah Portion, posted in a different blog. I just wrote a Dvar for the Shabbat nearest Trans Day of Remembrance which I’m looking forward to delivering to my congregation on the 18th of November. I do my obligatory housework and spend time reading as well. Also, I am doing Daf Yomi, studying a page a day of Talmud. I’m presently in volume 18.
<p>Loneliness is difficult, and it wears on you over time. But staying busy helps. May my remaining years be productive ones and may we all help to make our world a little bit better. I know this post was a bit of a downer, but they won’t always be that way. Truth involves both the ups and the downs.
<p>One final thought. Imagine a world where we each, myself included, would reach out to somehow make another life a bit better. Radical no doubt, but it is how we begin to heal the world. Many blessings.
<p>Jessica
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-67373977770974176562020-01-15T19:36:00.000-08:002020-01-15T19:36:48.950-08:00Journey to Darkness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6A_wZkMDAg2ZvP_801LJa0JfpmT3iRwXdHDKts4vc3_Fo9L6W8lDnsoaRA0PVvlS5OxjsSL0t0Evoc8Ai1t1ts_d_rzSADU-KjEM1jlAwxrXm3ceClfSKeZ7PQ8v3DsOYkIRKpVhNSWm7/s1600/IMG_1965.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6A_wZkMDAg2ZvP_801LJa0JfpmT3iRwXdHDKts4vc3_Fo9L6W8lDnsoaRA0PVvlS5OxjsSL0t0Evoc8Ai1t1ts_d_rzSADU-KjEM1jlAwxrXm3ceClfSKeZ7PQ8v3DsOYkIRKpVhNSWm7/s320/IMG_1965.jpeg" width="320" height="240" data-original-width="1600" data-original-height="1200" /></a></div><br />
Journey to Darkness<br />
<br />
Life brings us difficulty and hardship along the way, and we hope we learn and then move on…<br />
<br />
Outside the ground is covered with snow. A big snowstorm is expected this weekend. Snow and ice are anathema for an old woman in a wheelchair. If I could get out to begin with.<br />
<br />
I found myself staring at the blank tv screen. Most of my day is filled with silence. I love my wife dearly, but she is a true introvert, involved mostly with her projects, quite happy to be at home to pursue such endeavors. A few guests pop in from time to time. Help with a chore now impossible, on maybe 3 or 4 guests to visit and chat since early November. How I treasure those moments, fleeting though they may be.<br />
<br />
So how did I reach this stage in my life? I’m a person who loves to be out and about, sharing time and stories with other people. My wife laughingly refers to me as the social butterfly. Learning, enjoying activities at shul or elsewhere makes me so happy. Even in a wheelchair, I could load it into the trunk and head out to wherever life beckoned. On November 1st, it all changed. I was loading the chair in the trunk. After several false starts with the doctor, an MRI was done and I had additional spinal damage that took away all the strength I had in my good leg.<br />
<br />
Did I mention we live in an upstairs apartment, the stairs being steep and treacherous? Save for doctor visits, I am captive to these lonely oppressive walls. Coming back from the last doctor visit, as I negotiated the stairs, I became very dizzy. The world was spinning and I sat down and lay back but I felt myself losing consciousness and I reacted by leaning forward, initiating what could have been a long tumble down the stairs, but for the fact my right leg, the one now affected by my back issues, got caught on the stair and I proceeded to be a perfect imitation of a human pretzel, hanging on for dear life knowing that if I let go, well perish the thought. Robin managed to grab my coat, holding on for dear life as I reorganized all my body parts. Muscles overstretched, but they are healing nicely. <br />
<br />
So I am wrestling with my place in time. How many YouTube videos can a person watch, or movies, or whatever? A new and very unfamiliar guest has arrived. I never was one to experience depression, something new to cope with. Unexpected tears for no particular reason. “Move,” people say. And how do I do that, the two of us confined in this space unable to go and look. I am starting to sort some stuff, things to toss and things to give away. Hopefully I can find volunteers when I’m ready to unload some of that. I’m doing Daf Yomi, a page a day of the Talmud which takes about 7 ½ years. I read when I can, but pain makes that difficult sometimes. Oh yeah, my pain levels increased in this latest incident. But I cope. <br />
<br />
Sleep is my best friend. There my mind can wander, meet new people and see new things, and these walls disappear for a few hours. There is life, and then there is life worth living. As old age and loneliness takes its toll, I wonder where that life worth living can be found? If it can be found? Oh how I do not want to become that person sitting in the chair waiting for that final hour to provide blessed escape. In my heart there is so much life I wish to live. I’d doing the exercises, my part in trying to restore that place. Meanwhile a tear appears, wondering if it will happen at all. For some reason, a very dark poem I wrote many years ago during dark times comes to mind. I will share it here. I transcended it before. Perhaps I shall again.<br />
<br />
AIMLESSLY<br />
<br />
Like a fish on its side, body still, moved only by the motion about...<br />
Bloated white-gilled swollen amidst the waves.<br />
Currents driving towards, then washing away<br />
But the fish cares not, senses dulled by time.<br />
The flies swarm, waiting for their banquet to wash ashore,<br />
The flesh willingly gives of itself, a feast<br />
To vermin that wait for what they deserve least.<br />
It matters not, no great concern. Serenity has found the fish.<br />
The furious feeding on its entrails proceeds<br />
For they feed on the rotting carcass of solace.<br />
<br />
The struggle is over, for the fish has<br />
Surrendered to the bottom feeders;<br />
Its breathless form a delight to those<br />
Who feverishly rip it apart for its peace.<br />
A piece of peace, for the strongest and most ruthless,<br />
Swarming fury, then emptiness.<br />
They have found what the fish has already known.<br />
Bones sink to the ocean floor, some wash ashore<br />
And peace silently waits <br />
To be discovered once more.<br />
<br />
Jessica Wicks<br />
copyright October, 1999<br />
<br />
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-7337918225575942322018-10-23T14:38:00.000-07:002018-10-23T14:38:22.475-07:00Age's Steep Ascent<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-BFh6_k_i48tLYJr_vkRvosE5yhMwrUIPEs1-kIqgqvQ8O9RETpArgb7d6A0g_JbUaRID1-Derj0k5IR5p3ciHfpFbUoI71p1SU3-gO25Nz9wyAlNI6bv-ecuIUKtByDYh65NQ_F6ncj7/s1600/Princess-quote-helen-keller.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-BFh6_k_i48tLYJr_vkRvosE5yhMwrUIPEs1-kIqgqvQ8O9RETpArgb7d6A0g_JbUaRID1-Derj0k5IR5p3ciHfpFbUoI71p1SU3-gO25Nz9wyAlNI6bv-ecuIUKtByDYh65NQ_F6ncj7/s320/Princess-quote-helen-keller.jpg" width="320" height="213" data-original-width="1600" data-original-height="1067" /></a><br />
<br />
I can’t put it aside any longer. I prepare to carry down the week’s garbage. Slowly I move bags filled and with an aroma best not described towards the door. I love old homes and my apartment is an old 19th century dwelling, filled with history, character, stories told and untold. What I do not love is their penchant for building steep stairs to enter and leave. <br />
<br />
Situating myself in the doorway, holding firmly to the rail for these old legs tend to give way on occasion, I carefully drag the bags down those steps, through the breezeway, and out the side door. By then I’m already weary from pain and bones riddled with arthritis, spine with discs pushing against nerves and back bent with age, and still a few more steps off the porch. Carefully I sit down for a moment, resting and rising again, put the garbage in their proper cannister. It’s time to go back up. On the first step my leg gives and the rail supports me, a short prayer of gratitude, before continuing. If the steps were bad going down, the journey back even more so. One step at a time. Pain radiates up my leg, through the groin, into the small of the back. Then the next step. Same thing. Slowly I ascend. <br />
<br />
I’ve a special name for those last three steps. Shit… Hell…F__k, and Damn. Still, as I rise, the light for the apartment beckons. Promise of rest and relaxation. My wheelchair sitting nearby. A short distance to a waiting recliner. I embrace each step. Shit… three more to go. Hell… Okay I know we Jews don’t believe in Hell aside from the hell we find on earth. Still this pain. F__k, and Damn I’m almost there. The light beckons me up and within. A sigh of relief for a journey once again. <br />
<br />
So it occurred to me, my journey, discarding the garbage, struggling ever upward, is a metaphor for old age. One day there will be the final journey. Until then, I struggle. I prevail. Embracing both the pain and the light. Like so many before me and so many who will come after.<br />
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-23345964646416097612018-08-13T14:22:00.000-07:002018-09-08T11:00:59.774-07:00My Conversion to Judaism : Beit Din and Mikvah<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDeOP2fBVI82ojcWcys4abKZm2rU11oREUm4dJSt1LOS4FrDJYJzar02XvINkgbsn6D7-rZEvF7kJtwYzuHWIU60IGJ6LDUI5EM3rexvI8s_bR11mf89HyP3aXTR89tWUMLRbC3JADpwe/s1600/Mikvah+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXDeOP2fBVI82ojcWcys4abKZm2rU11oREUm4dJSt1LOS4FrDJYJzar02XvINkgbsn6D7-rZEvF7kJtwYzuHWIU60IGJ6LDUI5EM3rexvI8s_bR11mf89HyP3aXTR89tWUMLRbC3JADpwe/s400/Mikvah+Day.jpg" width="400" height="300" data-original-width="1600" data-original-height="1200" /></a></div><br />
So came the final day. I'd studies so hard over the past year, and deeply involved in synagogue life. At 71 my memory is not what it used to be, but repetition helps until it sticks. I've learned the Hebrew alphabet and some words, working with my chavruta partner. "The Way" that is the holidays of the year, memorizing various blessings, and most important, making may home a Jewish home in partnership with my wife who is not Jewish. It's been an amazing time, driven by a passion postponed for many years. See my last blog post entitled A Conversion Story that says why it was delayed for so long. <br />
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But finally the day arrived. We arrived at the Mikvah location where we met up with the three rabbis from Shir Tikvah. My high school buddy Steve who is a Rabbi flew up to participate as well. To say I was nervous was an understatement. Compounding it, the day itself was one of my "fuzzy" days. Something old people sometimes get when the mind is not firing on all cylinders. My wife sat in as did my witness and chavruta partner Kerry who was there to confirm to the rabbis (assuming I got past the Beit Din) that I indeed completely submerged in the Mikvah. In retrospect, I am not too happy about some of my answers, leaving out what I consider important details. But after questioning me on a range of topics related to Judaism and my own Jewish practice, they excused themselves for a short conference, then returned and welcomed me to the tribe, offering special blessings for the moment, then singing a resounding "Mazel Tov and Siman Tov:<br />
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1hlcHA6bP8o<br />
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Then it is time to go to the Mikvah. First I enter the dressing room to prepare. My wife is there to assist. I remove carefully all clothing. I am to enter the Mikvah totally naked as the day I was born, for indeed I am in a sense reborn as a Jew. I shower and make sure I am completely clean. No cosmetics, clean finger nails and toenails. Each step involves a meditation. There is a word called kavanah, or intention. There are seven kavanot for preparation:<br />
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Mayyim Hayyim’s Seven Kavanot for Mikveh Preparation<br />
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The Holy One created the world in six days, but made it complete with Shabbat, the seventh day. The number seven suggests wholeness and represents the creative process. Seven steps lead into the mikveh.<br />
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These seven kavanot - preparatory meditations - are offered in the hope that your immersion will provide you a sense of shleimut or wholeness and peace.<br />
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1. Hineni. Here I am. <br />
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Take a minute and think about the transition mikveh will help you mark today.<br />
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Immersion in the mikveh represents a spiritual transformation from one state to another. In traditional language, your change is from ritually unready (tameh) to ritually ready (tahor). Prepare yourself by writing in a journal, or saying a personal prayer, or reading something of meaning to you. Breathe deeply. Sigh audibly.<br />
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2. Hiddur Mitzvah. The unadorned body is beautiful in itself. <br />
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Remove all jewelry as well as makeup, paying special attention to the eyes. Remove nail polish on fingers and toes. (Acrylics may stay on if they have been on for more than a month.)<br />
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There is no need for adornment or artifice in the mikveh. There should be no physical barriers between the body and the living waters.<br />
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3. Nekavim nekavim. You fashioned the human being intricate in design.<br />
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Empty your bladder.<br />
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Our tradition celebrates and blesses the body in every possible moment and mode.<br />
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4. B’tzelem Elohim. I am made in the image of God.<br />
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Remove all clothing, eyeglasses, contact lenses, dental plates, hearing aids.<br />
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Each person enters the mikveh as naked as the day of his birth, as the day of her birth. Without rank or status. Simply a human being. Gloriously a human being.<br />
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5. Elohai neshama shenatata bi tehorah hi. The soul in me is pure.<br />
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Shower or bathe with thoughtful attention to the miracle of your own body. Pay attention to every part of yourself. Wash yourself, head to toe; shampoo your hair, lather your shoulders, back, arms, belly, and genitals. Scrub elbows, knees and heels, removing calluses and dead skin. Wash between fingers and toes.<br />
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Relax and enjoy. The water of the mikveh will feel even sweeter after this.<br />
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6. Kol haneshama t’halel yah. The breath of every living thing praises You.<br />
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Clean your ears, blow your nose, brush and floss your teeth, rinse your mouth.<br />
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Stand before the mirror. Consider all of your senses. Look into your own eyes and smile. Think about the words that come from your mouth.<br />
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7. Tikkun Olam. We can stand for justice; we can build a world of peace and justice.<br />
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Clean under your nails - toenails, too. (Nails do not need to be cut.)<br />
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Consider the power of your hands and feet to create wholeness in your life, in our world.<br />
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When you enter the mikveh do not rush. Walk slowly. Count the seven steps into <br />
the water, stopping on each one. Relax into the embrace of the water, into <br />
whatever the next moment may hold for you. <br />
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In the mikveh, every body is a sacred vessel.<br />
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So I begin entering the Mikveh. With each step, a flood of memories wash over me. Of the completion of a decades held dream. The oft used phrase is joining the tribe. It really was a simcha, an celebration, but also an obligation to be held dearly. I remember each step into the warm waters, all the while awash in feelings of joy, love, and fulfilled desire. Down I went and submerged the first time. I remained under a few seconds, then recited:<br />
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Baruch atah Adonay Eloheinu melekh ha-olam, asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu al ha-t'vilah.<br />
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Blessed are you, Eternal God, ruler of the universe, who sanctifies us through mitzvot and has enjoined us concerning immersion.<br />
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Then I submerge a second time for a few moments:<br />
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Sh'ma Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai echad.<br />
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HEAR O ISRAEL, THE ETERNAL OUR GOD, THE ETERNAL IS ONE!<br />
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Then I submerge the third time:<br />
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Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheynu melekh ha-olam, shehekheyanu, v'kiy'manu, v'higianu, la-z'man ha-zeh.<br />
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Blessed is the Eternal, the God of all creation, who has blessed me with life, sustained me, and enabled me to reach this moment.<br />
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In this moment, I am fully Jewish. Kerry awaits with a towel and somewhat dizzy from the flush of emotion, I return to the dressing room. We visit a few minutes outside, then Steve, Kerry, my wife and I head for Cecil's deli for a celebration. It was an amazing day which I will never forget. I still glance at my certificate of conversion and a wide smile appears. A new journey lies ahead.<br />
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-63277267386657940272018-08-13T12:58:00.003-07:002022-10-10T16:29:04.073-07:00A Conversion Story: My Journey to Judaism<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcjrJhnuMJPd0DXCtJYiDOQ5rHDZ5Hv39LRQ103Ym_Gx74fopgJztMj9ouA_bZB9FXvr2CmLHdIGRrGJmd1DMw0MVSe-mdqXbYe0uEhioNWbEsfGhXq_UChVnQgMn53xyLVwIhHLwB04Z/s1600/IMG_1819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrcjrJhnuMJPd0DXCtJYiDOQ5rHDZ5Hv39LRQ103Ym_Gx74fopgJztMj9ouA_bZB9FXvr2CmLHdIGRrGJmd1DMw0MVSe-mdqXbYe0uEhioNWbEsfGhXq_UChVnQgMn53xyLVwIhHLwB04Z/s320/IMG_1819.jpg" width="320" height="320" data-original-width="1600" data-original-height="1600" /></a></div><br />
For many years I have been a part of a church community at First Universalist. It's a wonderful community, deeply devoted to social justice and radical inclusion, and friendships made there will last a lifetime. Still I chose to convert to Judaism, not because of any dissatisfaction, but rather from a deep seated desire over many decades. When a person converts, there is a period of deep study and participation before a Beit Din (Rabbinical Court) is convened, and if they say yes, the person enters the Mikveh (ritual bath) and is fully Jewish. It's a major life change and one I have entered into seriously. Towards the end of our period of study (though study actually continues for a lifetime), I was asked to write a short piece on why I choose Judaism. Here I am sharing what I wrote:<br />
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Why I Choose Judaism<br />
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History:<br />
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My exposure early in life to Jewish practice was minimal. I did have some aunts and uncles who were deeply involved in the early history of the State of Israel, evangelists who for their reasons supported and funneled substantial resources towards Eretz Israel. I saw slide presentations and heard the stories from their repeated journeys there. I had family who were actually there during the six -day war and later the Yom Kippur war. Several classmates were Jewish as well. As a liberal in Tyler, Texas, while attending the UU congregation, there were so few liberals and we tended to cling together with our progressive Jewish brothers and sisters in mutual support, working for our common vision of the world we dreamed.<br />
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However, I think I first really became enamored with serious Jewish teaching in a research project studying the Holocaust. My goal at first was to try and understand why it happened and could it happen again. Seen a gay man wrestling with gender identity as well at the time, I knew people like me had been sent to the death camps. I wanted to know why, and could it happen again.<br />
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While researching, I learned of the historical, religious, and cultural histories of the Jewish people along with other oppressed groups, and the more I read, well, Judaism resonated deeply. I wasn’t Christian, so no issue there. I wasn’t an Atheist either. I fell in love with Jewish belief and practice. Studying alone from the late seventies (I know this because a new book came out around that time… The First Jewish Catalogue) and into the eighties, I felt I would like to convert. Friends in my LGBTQ community in Houston who were Jewish however said as a gay man, much less trans, conversion wasn’t really possible. Not there, not then anyway. So, I shrugged and set it aside. Over the ensuing years, I tried various Christian denominations, then returned to Unitarian Universalism, the best compromise as a faith community for someone who’s not Christian and can’t be Jewish. <br />
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Until recently. My interest in Judaism never waned and I would perk whenever the subject would come up. But it wasn’t until this past year that I learned of changes that had occurred within Reform Judaism. I read of inclusion for LGBTQ folks, and I realized being Jewish was a possibility. I contacted Rabbi Latz and told him I wished to convert and set up our first meeting.<br />
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What attracts me to Judaism:<br />
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1. I love how we wrestle with Torah, the evolution of faith making our belief relevant in our own time.<br />
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2. Marking the passages of time. Seeing G_d within time even as we occupy space, and using that time to reflect on those moments, whether in the daily services, Shabbat, the holidays and festivals or just because of a particular moment.<br />
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3. Prayer life. I’ve come to see Shabbat as the highlight of my week. I do daily prayers and it brings me a special peace within.<br />
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4. This is a faith that is not just about belief, but responsible action. The three three pillars t’shuvah, t’fillah, tzedakah, i.e. correcting a wrong, prayer, giving. <br />
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5. We are not simply a belief or religion. We’re a culture with a remarkably long history. It’s an amazing history. We are responsible for each other, and for the outside world as well. We have 613 mitzvot, a body of literature ranging from Torah, Prophets, Writings, Mishnah, Gemara, Midrash, Kabbalah, literature right up through today, all the while wrestling with our faith within today’s context. There’s an emphasis on study I find refreshing and invigorating. We have rituals both as individuals and as a community carrying us through our life journey.<br />
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6. For me personally, I believe in one G_d,<br />
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7. I love to sing the psalms, nigguns, and despite inability to carry a tune, I love song as prayer. <br />
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8. As a historian, the history of our people is one that has held my fascination since youth. The survival of our people is remarkable. There was the destruction of the Temple and the birth of Rabbinic Judaism. Or the rebirth of Hebrew outside of the ritual role within synagogues. I’ve followed archaeology in the area since the first issue came out of Biblical Archaeology Society so many years ago up to the recent discovery of a seal from King Hezekiah and what may be a seal from Isaiah from the same period. For me, it seems our culture is firmly based within our historical experience. <br />
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9. I love Torah study. I plan to continue studying Hebrew to hopefully reach that point where I can understand better the context of Tanach. <br />
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10. The communal nature of our faith. Chavruta, whether in twos or more.<br />
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11. Tikkun Olam, our responsibility to the world around us. That’s a faith statement and a call to action I hold dear.<br />
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12. My community. Shir Tikvah, yes, for it’s a community whose actions speak for themselves. But beyond that, the wider Jewish community as well. I love how Judaism is there from birth to the grave, with rituals to hold, comfort, and sustain us each step of the way as we hold each other in our journey through this life.<br />
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13. Traditions. Some hundreds and even thousands of years old. From the Mikvah to our Oral Torah, to rituals more alike than different.<br />
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14. I’ve just begun preparing for study of Zohar, and already I know I’ll have to add this to my list.<br />
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From that moment decades back when I felt the call to Judaism, that love never left. So “hineni,” here I am. I understand the history and know the worse and the best of being Jewish. I would choose nothing else. I am fulfilling a dream that has been with me for many decades now. My deepest desire, is that when I’m laid to rest, people will say, she was a good Jew.<br />
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Jessica Wicks<br />
Yiskah Rachel Bat Avraham v’ Sarah<br />
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I cannot explain why the attraction has remained so strong over the years. But I can vouch that it feels so right, and I am where I belong. I will still go back to visit First Universalist, my former congregation. One does not suddenly drop people who have been community for so very long. But spiritually I belong where I'm at. In the next blog post I'll speak to the experience of Beit Din and the Mikveh, and what it meant to me.<br />
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0Minneapolis, MN, USA44.977753 -93.2650108-34.792369863911013 126.1099892 90 47.3599892tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-31734231543037398312017-08-09T20:00:00.001-07:002017-08-10T07:11:21.725-07:00In Memory of My Skip, RIP Beautiful Spirit!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKE3LaaoUfd8eq3_3uR1ZsssyKqiW-iTGRWUBV1g8wPly2ib_ufauZcueDFE7au0uEHYqRQlwnG0flhg19958MooparihhoUmD9mFog20cXEQ72atRscjzXts2BiZkFF7iPVLQZCR_1blZ/s1600/97.05.10+Skip+and+I.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKE3LaaoUfd8eq3_3uR1ZsssyKqiW-iTGRWUBV1g8wPly2ib_ufauZcueDFE7au0uEHYqRQlwnG0flhg19958MooparihhoUmD9mFog20cXEQ72atRscjzXts2BiZkFF7iPVLQZCR_1blZ/s400/97.05.10+Skip+and+I.jpg" width="246" height="400" data-original-width="985" data-original-height="1600" /></a></div><br />
It was on August 10, 1997, twenty years ago today, when my beloved partner and soulmate, Skip Wood, departed this world. How can I describe him? I know from day one, we could not get enough of each other, and we would talk into the wee hours. He had been a teacher, mostly in the Catholic School systems but also for a time with Spring ISD in Houston. He was brilliant, with a classical type education that included German, Latin, Classical Greek, English, Theology, Philosophy, and Music. He was well grounded in Classical Music and had befriended Sir John Barbirolli when he conducted the Houston Symphony. I had not begun transition yet, and when we met, it was electric. We simply could not stop chattering, I said then, like two school girls, telling our stories, and it was in short time after that, he moved in with me. <br />
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We shared so much together, and it was Skip who showed me a love I could not have imagined. For the coming years, our lives were so completely entwined. Skip lived with Rheumatoid Arthritis, and even after he could no longer work, he would greet me as the car drove up, and we would plan the evening’s adventures. I had never before known such happiness as I did when we were together. Even when I began transition, he did not run away. I will always remember the moment I sat down and talked with him about it. He paused a bit, said there was much he did not understand, but we could talk about it as we went along. Then he said, he loved me, and if this was what I needed to be happy, then he would support me. “Love is like that,” he smiled.<br />
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So many memories. Nights at EJ’s or later dinner at Charlies. We watched classic movies or gay theatrical films, or listen to music. We often entertained friends and our apartment became a bit of an open house for neighbors in our complex. I'm smiling even as I write this, remembering the non-stop drama in our small complex, akin to the fictional Barbary Lane so delightfully offered in Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City series. Or we would slip off for a romantic get away to the Hill Country or to Galveston, sometimes on a moment's notice.<br />
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Then in July of '97, he began to get visibly weaker and we didn't know why. His voice lowered to a whisper. The doctor put him on a regime of iv fluids to rebuild his immune systems. One night I heard a crash. I ran into the bathroom where he had collapsed to the floor. I ran to the neighbors to have them call the ambulance. I sat there beside him, checking his breathing and vitals and holding him and… <br />
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We arrived at the hospital, and after a violent seizure and a spinal tap, he slowly slipped into a coma. I sat with him in the hospital. Days became weeks, and we learned he had contracted viral encephalitis, a direct result of his compromised immunities, and those being compromised by the meds he took for his Rheumatoid Arthritis. Day after day, a watch in i.c.u. and no change. The nurses were so good, and I remember one day a doctor stopped by, asked about him and me, then quietly showed me his Lobo card, code that he was gay. We learned he was not getting better and to expect the worse. Oh I held him so close and even if in a coma, I would tell him the events of the day, and of course, so many times, sharing the love I felt for him. I recall then one night, Jimmy Carper at KPFT had me on the program and he and I did a tribute to Skip. The nurses at the hospital had turned on the radio for him to hear, even if in a coma. I got back to my apartment in the wee hours, only to get a call from the hospital. He’d taken a turn for the worse. I rushed back to the hospital, where I held him, told him how much I loved him, and told him if it was time to go, it was alright and I’d be okay. Okay I lied, but it needed to be done. Slowly he slipped away. August 10th 1997. It was 20 years ago now. The nurse came in, gave me ten more minutes with him, asking if anyone was there for me, then I left and the family and the priest walked in. I headed for the coffee shop where our favorite waiter asked about Skip and when I told him Skip was gone, he held me and we both cried. Then he played "I Will Survive" on the Jukebox. <br />
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With time and lots of love from my friends, it did get better. Each year at this time, I hold up his memory. I got a lovely letter after he passed from Lady Evelyn Barbirolli. He would have been so pleased she had done that. Months and years passed and life does go on, and I learned to appreciate all he had been in new and different ways and with new perspectives. After all, he gave me the greatest gift anyone could. He gave us our time together. More importantly, he taught me how to truly love. What a profoundly beautiful gift! I choose no longer to try and get over it, but rather honor it for the gift we had. Thank you Skip. Yes, I found love again. Yes, I love you. Love is like that after all, immortal even if we are not…<br />
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Dedicated to my True Renaissance Man...<br />
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-35292923642791005232017-02-28T14:07:00.000-08:002017-02-28T14:07:25.877-08:00SAY THEIR NAMES, 2017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingavn08BOVjvubaiyTLFqxGWX_lvXqWxl2T_ZWE-iUeZ0bcxB-fwKAhH95VohLe_gACqA3ai9zoUJK3Y_XjIg39pjltd5MJ_wuJzNx8M-PQog3MNO2bODrprPkYOfmDHNpuSmac9zgJNd/s1600/Transflag+LIVES+LOST.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingavn08BOVjvubaiyTLFqxGWX_lvXqWxl2T_ZWE-iUeZ0bcxB-fwKAhH95VohLe_gACqA3ai9zoUJK3Y_XjIg39pjltd5MJ_wuJzNx8M-PQog3MNO2bODrprPkYOfmDHNpuSmac9zgJNd/s400/Transflag+LIVES+LOST.jpg" width="400" height="275" /></a></div><br />
It's 2017 and the pace of trans lives lost to violence has not slowed it's pace. Say their names. Hold those names in your heart. Join in working towards the day when such lists will no longer be required. This slaughter of trans persons, mostly women and overwhelmingly trans women of color must come to and end and soon!!!<br />
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1. Mesha Caldwell, 41 year old trans woman of color, found shot to death on a road near Canton, Mississippi on January 4, 2017.<br />
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2. Jamie Lee Wounded Arrow, 28 year old trans woman Native American member of Oglala Sioux tribe,found dead on January 6th in her apartment in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Police believe her death is a homicide. <br />
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3. JoJo Stryker, 23 year old trans woman of color found shot to death in a garage in Toledo, Ohio on February 8rd. Gunshot wound to the chest.<br />
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4. Jaquarrius Holland, 18 year old Trans woman of color, killed in Monroe, Louisiana shot after a verbal altercation on February 19th.. Originally she was misgendered in the press and that was not corrected until later. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycXlZ0eGXppqfIzTaTGrBoEhA5oViNKphlJvXiUozht7h2rAQ0KQP79HRVjVP2GNssRNARcoHdwApCJlZQ6-UHVlne1ACMksbmUxTen4MMzmAs6Ay0CFx7PyoQW35K3SP3udeQJ_YbLqO/s1600/Holland_640x345_acf_cropped-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycXlZ0eGXppqfIzTaTGrBoEhA5oViNKphlJvXiUozht7h2rAQ0KQP79HRVjVP2GNssRNARcoHdwApCJlZQ6-UHVlne1ACMksbmUxTen4MMzmAs6Ay0CFx7PyoQW35K3SP3udeQJ_YbLqO/s200/Holland_640x345_acf_cropped-1.jpg" width="200" height="108" /></a><br />
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5. KeKe Collier aka Tiara Richmond, 24 year old trans woman of color shot in a vehicle then dumped out on street in Chicago where police found her on February 23rd. She died hours later at the hospital.<br />
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6. Chyna Gibson, 31 year old trans woman of color shot several times in a shopping mall parking lot and found dead in New Orleans, La.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3c_45txWYEAJMRe6iCGnKFr20cGIa6PIOnhMy8mySNqbK7t7fxWhCuqCMhwX6qLWN6krg8pyZN2fDvISIycW3OdE3E7JQ7G-vgBZiO_lCVkhhdG7PZka0qe_gzyyajteTBKQpmqX9EaDk/s1600/CynaGipson.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3c_45txWYEAJMRe6iCGnKFr20cGIa6PIOnhMy8mySNqbK7t7fxWhCuqCMhwX6qLWN6krg8pyZN2fDvISIycW3OdE3E7JQ7G-vgBZiO_lCVkhhdG7PZka0qe_gzyyajteTBKQpmqX9EaDk/s200/CynaGipson.jpg" width="200" height="200" /></a><br />
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7. Ciara McElveen, 26 year old trans woman of color, stabbed and left on the road in New Orleans, La on February 27. She died later in the hospital.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPXJesZipHwsqBJvzG9Eo7QlQ8SZIs07jx9p1vZP9Lxq2IW-Kk_Fa00w6LsiKCmiv3jTJFRwHMOsjTuOca43nTr_Cqu-oGmyaBaxTqqKnXogKIujOtbvwhvLKdStxMVcfWytV0T_eos3ly/s1600/Ciara+McElveen.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPXJesZipHwsqBJvzG9Eo7QlQ8SZIs07jx9p1vZP9Lxq2IW-Kk_Fa00w6LsiKCmiv3jTJFRwHMOsjTuOca43nTr_Cqu-oGmyaBaxTqqKnXogKIujOtbvwhvLKdStxMVcfWytV0T_eos3ly/s320/Ciara+McElveen.jpg" width="320" height="320" /></a><br />
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Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-30683792525196404852017-01-24T15:50:00.000-08:002017-01-24T15:50:53.590-08:00Thoughts on Saturday's Women's March in St. Paul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7r0iD3jH8A1n2HQ37E1Xc7VhOnvIEVUqysFgY7uY-DHkjwEF-RGNsJ1pSVB0c2kjNcH7bpnEnxE_7Pzr-gQAZA1Y8yJr-J0fW1-CJOe_DyTqGcjRI2VtrN5wy3SK5s2lOZUmHumYWfao/s1600/IMG_1502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI7r0iD3jH8A1n2HQ37E1Xc7VhOnvIEVUqysFgY7uY-DHkjwEF-RGNsJ1pSVB0c2kjNcH7bpnEnxE_7Pzr-gQAZA1Y8yJr-J0fW1-CJOe_DyTqGcjRI2VtrN5wy3SK5s2lOZUmHumYWfao/s320/IMG_1502.jpg" width="320" height="240" /></a></div><br />
A few days have passed since Saturday’s march, giving me time to absorb what all happened that day. Our purpose was pretty clear I think. Following the inauguration of a president who objectifies and physically assaults women, who wants to dismantle health care as we know it, destroy the environment, and a laundry list we all are familiar with.<br />
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So yes, the march was political. The political has become personal in our time. So many have reason to be concerned. Immigrants, Muslims, Jews, Lesbian Bisexual and Gays, Transgender people like me, People of color, Women, Disabled Americans, all who have in the past been marginalized. But for the first time, many who felt comfortable in their cisgender, heterosexual, white identities stand to lose as well. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mVy3pxc_89KvYOED_yyCYSETS5FFM5VmM2ALcx-bLZY_A3-hiWSy2NY1QkaIWGqeczjaJ_vflqTrXbhIvT3tEOh8wJYaayJv4yI7ZZrcZtWvBUPSip6ZqMh_HLUaYmo0uOBe9e9uXxBR/s1600/IMG_1513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mVy3pxc_89KvYOED_yyCYSETS5FFM5VmM2ALcx-bLZY_A3-hiWSy2NY1QkaIWGqeczjaJ_vflqTrXbhIvT3tEOh8wJYaayJv4yI7ZZrcZtWvBUPSip6ZqMh_HLUaYmo0uOBe9e9uXxBR/s320/IMG_1513.jpg" width="320" height="240" /></a></div><br />
I was grateful to be able to attend. In a wheelchair, I needed others to assist. We gathered to fill up four buses at church. Turns out many volunteered to push me. We sang and prepared for the day to come.<br />
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Whenever 100,000 human beings come together in the spirit of justice and with hearts centered in love, it transcends beyond simply political. It was a spiritual experience. Here we were, packed together like sardines, and one would expect crankiness, especially after standing in place for an hour. But rather there was laughter, sharing, planning for the future, and a firm commitment to action understanding this was but the beginning. The crowd began to move, and I had no clue where I was and others had said the same, but we moved, this mass of humanity and yet space was made for my wheelchair (and another we encountered along the way. Old and young, disabled and able bodied, a truly eclectic crowd moving towards our goal. Then we rounded a turn and ahead was the capitol and the view was breathtaking. Later some news media wanted to portray the size of the crowd by comparing it to the RNC protests. But see, I attended those protests and they were no where near the size of this one. <br />
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Personal disclosure here, I am by nature an empath. I feel the emotions of those around me. I have to say that on this day, I felt so much energy, so much love that it was overwhelming, in the best sense of course<br />
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We live in a world of identity politics, and that is important. As a trans woman, I have to speak clearly about the issues facing my community. I saw some speaking through their signage about the separations they feel and the discrimination they encounter in this country. Yes black lives do matter. Privilege by some is real. What I was seeing on that Saturday was that we all have intersections and by fighting for ALL of us, by loving ALL of us, together we make an impressive response to a president who seems unable to see beyond his own ego and shows little respect for anyone but other greedy billionaires. The energy that day by these huge crowds of women and men was palpable. Here lies the strength to undo the harm since this past election. It depends on all of us to continue to organize, to continue to look out for each other and to grow even larger this community of women and men committed to justice, and we can create the world we dream of. <br />
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Make no mistake, the forces of evil currently occupying the halls of power will not yield easily. But if we continue what we began Saturday, then we will prevail. Each of us can ask, what gifts do we have to serve the cause? How do we grow this community? For some it will be civil disobedience. For others protests. We all can call and visit our elected officials and hold them accountable. Officials who don’t seem to be able to serve their constituency needs to be replaced. Some will blog, write op-eds, others may be skilled public speakers. We must organize, organize, and organize. As community, we look out for each other, providing sanctuary, provide safe space for self-care, whatever is needed. But to quote something my pastor said, all of us can love the hell out of each other. This is our time in history. How we respond will be the measure of our futures to come. We must resist and we must prevail. All I can say is bring it on!<br />
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-73929351368705272702016-12-05T14:57:00.001-08:002016-12-05T14:57:44.295-08:00Bah humbug<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwplbVhm4rvfBrh_9CumJc1z8bQYsUaXhp1Ahuxm2X_bMU4lYyLq2fisAIgmXSkvP5TcwWPUJMo5vSQAC-xG4zc80uGzeHYZqoidcT8zjv3wD9qN1IhGpZxJOk1Ei8U2hfOBk3S75aEtQs/s1600/OverSoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwplbVhm4rvfBrh_9CumJc1z8bQYsUaXhp1Ahuxm2X_bMU4lYyLq2fisAIgmXSkvP5TcwWPUJMo5vSQAC-xG4zc80uGzeHYZqoidcT8zjv3wD9qN1IhGpZxJOk1Ei8U2hfOBk3S75aEtQs/s320/OverSoon.jpg" width="320" height="320" /></a></div><br />
Okay, I need to explain some things first. I hope everyone has a happy and joyous season, whether it be Thanksgiving, Christmas, Channukah, Kwanzaa, Yule, Solstice whatever your observance may or may not be. What I will share is not about what you are doing, but only my own personal perspective on the season. I know I'm not alone in what I will be sharing, and that makes it worthwhile I think.<br />
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Here's the thing. For some of us, this is a particularly difficult time of the year. We live in a world where love does not always prevail, and bad things happen. Look around in the inner cities for instance. They are the throw aways, cast outs from families, communities etc. In my case, my wife and I are both ostracized from family. The season is us two, and we are growing old. We are fortunate, for we found each other. What makes this season difficult for so many is the constant reminder of being "other." I look on the pages of facebook, and people are planning to get together, to celebrate the season, to buy gifts for loved ones, to see their children and their grandchildren and I so do celebrate their joy. But it's also a constant reminder of my own daughter and my own grandson that I will not see, or my spouse's son from whom she is separated as well. We turn on tv, and there is just one schmaltzy tear jerker happy ending movie after the other, as if there were an intentional effort to remind us constantly... well you get my point.<br />
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Now I'm a big girl. With 69 years under my belt and headed for the big 70, I've learned to cope. It's not like I had a choice anyway. I've memories of a time when I was part of large family gatherings when my presence was welcomed and I so loved gathering with loved ones, but I was to learn that in my family, there was not sufficient room for a member who was trans and gay. What do we tell the children? I was selfish they said. ::shaking head:: I even heard that one family member put forward the idea that I was looking for the 'easy' way. Yeah right.<br />
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So the holidays are now going full force. There is no place to run or hide to get away from it. I wish the usual for my friends and even for people I've never met a wonderful holiday. I hold in my heart all those others who are for one reason or another separated from family or loved ones. This is not my best time of the year. So forgive my private scrooge moment when I offer that I simply will be glad when it is all over.<br />
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Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-37954153778387053962016-10-10T17:41:00.002-07:002016-10-10T17:41:32.409-07:00A Tale of Coming Outs: Coming Out Day Version 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXCS25lJgY06_pTezUzQByBlakbl1NA4Rr0m84aURgTo-V8SLiEUD8Q-01aDOPlpdVogadCiuRU0wkGzjAQyVKVQIj561B1BK9jaTJFHr1B2M_VKBm35To6ZMYSKkG-iXQvV-GRtLGvw1/s1600/51.04.30+Roland+with+train.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXCS25lJgY06_pTezUzQByBlakbl1NA4Rr0m84aURgTo-V8SLiEUD8Q-01aDOPlpdVogadCiuRU0wkGzjAQyVKVQIj561B1BK9jaTJFHr1B2M_VKBm35To6ZMYSKkG-iXQvV-GRtLGvw1/s200/51.04.30+Roland+with+train.jpg" width="128" height="200" /></a></div><br />
Coming out often is not one event, but many events over many years. In my case, the normal labels became confused along the way. You see in this photo a child who is confused and a bit melancholy, though I learned early on to cover that up. During the previous year, I experimented with my first coming out. So I'd been visiting a neighbor girl, and we were having a tea party. I dressed up in her Sunday finest and I was the Mommy and she the Daddy. The year was 1950. We had been playing for awhile, and it all felt so fun and so right. Then we hear footsteps coming up the stair and my Mom walks in. She looks startled, and snaps, "Put on your own clothes and come home now! I did so and came home and she said nothing. Then that night, she came to tuck me in. She smiles as she tucks me in, "You're a good little boy."<br />
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"Mommy? I'm a girl..."<br />
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"No you aren't and I don't want to hear that nonsense ever again!" I'm 69 years old now, yet I still recall that look in her eyes. Anger yes, but there was something else I could not identify at that young age. I now know it was fear. I did not understand, but I did know there must be something terribly wrong about me. From then on my parents set out fully intent on butching me up. Cowboy costumes, guns etc for Christmas etc. I could only be my true self in private when nobody was looking. Don't misunderstand though. I tried really hard to be what they wanted to be. But always there was this little voice inside telling me a. something is wrong and b. it was probably me. <br />
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We moved to Tyler, Texas from Illinois and it was a whole new world. By the time I got to be in the third grade, I was getting beat up almost daily, and they were calling me queer and I did not know why and I felt so terribly alone. I fought back as best I could because if I didn't my Dad made it perfectly clear he'd beat me worse. But I did find some respite. Out behind the garage, I dug a pit, about 3 1/2 feet deep. Above it I took sticks and vines and used some of the red clay in which I'd been digging and created a small private hut that was My Space. I even built cubby holes into it, and there I could play the roles I could do no where else. I also would sit in that space with a notebook and I began early on to journal. I couldn't keep the journals. That was too scary. But I could write out my feelings at that young age, and I truly think it kept me alive. As puberty approached, I figured out not only was there this inner feminine, but that I was attracted to guys. I tried to avoid it, but it filled my hormone filled dreams and made life even more scary.<br />
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So I grew up. My dad passed away in 67. Soon after I dropped out of college for a year and took off traveling, like so many in that time, I landed in San Francisco. While I spent some time in the Haight, I was drawn to the Tenderloin where I found other people like me. But I could not stay, and I returned to Tyler, and my closeted life continued. Finally I decided to make my last ditch effort at being straight. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8iMq9TmVva4ZgXHjtS1d42RzR79xLhztZSYuszyO52jeYlRODyIIS-mEBjy9QOVVbnCuZh05Wf4yssGRX5XlT8TgL2s5H3XGJwSckaaAJ_qrXlqwAQR0SWuUy7wFfw014jzFUG5Pkvuyp/s1600/73.12.14+Wedding+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8iMq9TmVva4ZgXHjtS1d42RzR79xLhztZSYuszyO52jeYlRODyIIS-mEBjy9QOVVbnCuZh05Wf4yssGRX5XlT8TgL2s5H3XGJwSckaaAJ_qrXlqwAQR0SWuUy7wFfw014jzFUG5Pkvuyp/s200/73.12.14+Wedding+pic.jpg" width="188" height="200" /></a></div><br />
Like some other people I've met over the years, I married a lesbian. She was a nurse and over time a drummer in a lesbian band, but then we were making our way trying to fit into something that would be called normal. We gave it our best shot, and even had a daughter, but it could not last and we split up only 3 1/2 years later. I began to find my way to the gay bars more and more. No one person, just satisfying my need to be myself and to express that feminine side more freely. I wasn't really a drag queen though,although I had a number of friends who were, but where they often (not always) were just playing a role, my feelings were not a caricature but reality. I did meet other transgender queens along the way and the feeling grew that it might be possible. For a time though, most of this was in the fog of alcohol and drugs. It was not until I entered a program to become sober that the feelings and the realization that I would have to be true to self began the journey towards reality. Still while I could be out to many of my friends, I could not be to my family. Mom had once told me that if she ever found out that either I or my former wife were gay, she would go to court to get our child and we would not be welcome again. I loved my Mom, even with her feelings about either of us being gay. So with my family, I had to be on the down low. But Mom died in '88. I gave some time to mourn, and then gradually I began to come out to more and more of my family. I also met a man who I fell in love with.<br />
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We met at a Dignity Chapter and he was the greeter. Soon someone replace him so we could talk. And talk. We were like two schoolgirls, back and forth and we began spending all of our time together, then there was "that kiss", a kiss that sealed the deal and we were a couple. It was a time when I learned how to really love. This was the love of a lifetime and soon we were setting up house. But there was one thing I had to do. It scared the bejeezus out of me. I had to tell this man, the love of my life, that his partner would be beginning a journey to transition, to truly be how I feel. Here was a man who'd never dated a woman in his life. Yet I was asking him if he could stay with me as I became a woman. To my huge relieve, he said yes. So by bits and pieces, beginning with a rather familiar androgyny and then transition in earnest, my next journey began.<br />
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Coming out originally as gay troubled some, including my daughter. But when I began transition, I lost almost all of my extended family, including the daughter and my brother who slipped farther away. It was so much to deal with and the hurt was incredible. But even with the pain, at last I was being truly that person who always dwelled inside and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world. I managed to keep my job when I transitioned. Something else came up though. For the first time I noticed I was attracted to women. My husband noticed it too. With hormones something had shifted. I preferred women in terms of attraction to men. But, I loved my husband. Skip and I talked about it, and I sure wasn't going anywhere. Love is love after all. Then in '97, he became ill and a few weeks later he passed away. He had contracted viral encephalitis. Suddenly I was alone again. But with time I healed. With transition completed, I was attracted to women. I began dating, had some false starts along the way. I got lots of support from my MCC congregation in Houston.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnmgTSya2AUiEfB30lO-MjxsyVsgbRfJdaQD_sqRw1voT9QeGVX4YKDR0mK0KQmXvyhUKQ8Q_hu1JbY0mzkVkfBmbJ4Y7GolIgV1XYd6zmaJZTEm3tKqlpFP9PfrROWafOFlEpXA_g_0R/s1600/97.09.24+Carolyn+and+me1+%25E2%2580%2593+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnmgTSya2AUiEfB30lO-MjxsyVsgbRfJdaQD_sqRw1voT9QeGVX4YKDR0mK0KQmXvyhUKQ8Q_hu1JbY0mzkVkfBmbJ4Y7GolIgV1XYd6zmaJZTEm3tKqlpFP9PfrROWafOFlEpXA_g_0R/s200/97.09.24+Carolyn+and+me1+%25E2%2580%2593+Version+2.jpg" width="125" height="200" /></a></div><br />
My community held me up during this dark period. See I had come to a place when closets were not desirable besides impossible. I became involved with the community center, hosting a lesbian film night monthly. I volunteered with Lesbians in Business, worked my buns off for Annise Parker who ran for and became a member of city council. She later would become mayor of Houston. I was involved all along with TATS (Texas Area Transexual Support) and GCTC (Gulf Coast Transgender Community.) Then I met Robin. We fell in love, my second love in this lifetime. She and I embarked on a life adventure that led to a very public wedding in San Antonio Texas using a narrow court decision in that state. It was all in the papers, so for a time our lives were quite public and all remnants of a closet were gone forever. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJoki72RPzzps_G95xAsAIVcq-VRXHGx1yJXPayFIWTHNa7_QZU9kpwPLqgTXuD3myNVrDO5q_M3finWMLUSVle7M5RnsEY-mg1B17cnUJjdXFtRFOp1usE6Ksw2HnTooWPTQmRshNhWv/s1600/Our+wedding+in+San+Antonio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJoki72RPzzps_G95xAsAIVcq-VRXHGx1yJXPayFIWTHNa7_QZU9kpwPLqgTXuD3myNVrDO5q_M3finWMLUSVle7M5RnsEY-mg1B17cnUJjdXFtRFOp1usE6Ksw2HnTooWPTQmRshNhWv/s200/Our+wedding+in+San+Antonio.jpg" width="124" height="200" /></a></div><br />
I turn and look out at the world today, and I see young people coming out and transitioning and a level of openness in society I never could have dreamed of in my wildest fantasy. Still I know it is hard for some. Open-mindedness is not universal, and some states bend over backwards to discourage those who are anything other than the norm they visualize. It can take great courage to come out. I can only say, when you do make that decision, no matter who you are or how old you may be, there is a community of people ready to welcome you with open arms. In my life, I heard the call of Harvey Milk to come out. I did so not once but many times as the circle of self truth expanded. I can only say that in taking those steps, I found a freedom and happiness I could not have ever imagined. Yes I did so in an earlier time, and I lost a lot. But I gained so much more. So come out, come out, wherever you are!Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-9214358427324539102016-08-13T09:21:00.000-07:002016-08-13T09:21:40.310-07:00Transgender Lives Lost to Homicide 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIsxJAjEUPENmYSRw01f4cAAjFXm5Tcntm_OzgE_mTaAHXCuiQqqDrIXCxCQAfv-7OP-5uUfS0Di4hiYrCwNe0ehNzN8Io2kn4KK11MQ-UQYwsfhyU-8oJbUJjtMVB9WvaaOoIHYcsGW2/s1600/crying-eyes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIsxJAjEUPENmYSRw01f4cAAjFXm5Tcntm_OzgE_mTaAHXCuiQqqDrIXCxCQAfv-7OP-5uUfS0Di4hiYrCwNe0ehNzN8Io2kn4KK11MQ-UQYwsfhyU-8oJbUJjtMVB9WvaaOoIHYcsGW2/s320/crying-eyes.jpg" width="320" height="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0jCwDjFxfnSc7OyN1du9nQ8PqbdM0N8L8bncspF4cfs7b9NfVatRzdoiwlH8-lehUfWzx7SvbLU5CcFc2D-pbf3BJtKpE2eMTe_o-wwFMBdIJ28vWr4wdU67QCRn_ZOz7rEBzbh65SNT/s1600/stop_trans_murders_2_288x444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ0jCwDjFxfnSc7OyN1du9nQ8PqbdM0N8L8bncspF4cfs7b9NfVatRzdoiwlH8-lehUfWzx7SvbLU5CcFc2D-pbf3BJtKpE2eMTe_o-wwFMBdIJ28vWr4wdU67QCRn_ZOz7rEBzbh65SNT/s320/stop_trans_murders_2_288x444.jpg" width="208" height="320" /></a></div><br />
Here we are, well into 2016 and once again on pace to be a new record year for the violence towards transgender lives. Here they are. Hold them in your heart. Say their names. Pray that this senseless killing comes to an end. Notice their race. Most are trans women of color. I'm so weary of the drip drip drip of trans lives, beautiful lives, cut short for what? Are our lives so threatening? I'll never understand this kind of hate though I've witnessed it in my own life. <br />
<br />
Trans Deaths from Violence: 2016<br />
<br />
<b>Jasmine Sierra</b>, Bakersfield, Ca, Latina trans woman. Dead in apt physical trauma, January 22 Misgendered by media so we did not find out until March<br />
<br />
<b>Monica Loera</b>, Austin, Texas 43 year old Latina transwoman. Shooting January 22. <br />
<br />
<b>Kayden Clark</b> , Mesa, Az 24 year old White Transman shot by police. He was having an autistic meltdown. Many upset that he was shot and killed when they called to prevent him from committing suicide.<br />
<br />
<b>Veronica Banks Cano</b>, Black trans woman, San Antonio, Tx Found dead fully clothed February 19<br />
<br />
<b>Maya Young</b>, Philadelphia, Pa, 25 year old black trans woman stabbed multiple times, February 20th (announced on the 23rd)<br />
<br />
<b>Kayderie/Candicee Johnson</b>, Burlington,IA, a 16 year old black genderfluid child shot several times and left in an alley.<br />
<br />
<b>Demarkis Stansbury</b>, Baton Rouge, 30 year old transman shot to death February 27th (misgendered in press)<br />
<br />
<b>Courtney Yochum</b> 32 year old black transwomanMarch 24thLos Angeles, Domestic dispute<br />
<br />
<b>Shante’ Isaac (Thompson)</b>, Houston, Tx 34 year old blackTranswoman shot in head along with another person, male in Midtown April 10th<br />
<br />
<b>Keyona Blakeney</b>, Montgomery County Md 22 year old black trans woman. Blunt force trauma April 11. Found dead in motel room.<br />
<br />
<b>Reece Walker</b> Wichita Ks 32 year old local advocate, black trans woman stabbing May 1st <br />
<br />
<b>Mercedes Successful</b>, Haines City, Fla 32 year old Black trans woman. Shooting Death<br />
<br />
<b>Amos Beede</b> May22nd 38 year old Transman in Burlington, Vt. Blunt force trauma from 4 homeless attackers. Died days later.<br />
<br />
<b>Goddess Diamond</b>, June 5th, New Orleans, La, Blunt Force Trauma, then burned in car.<br />
<br />
<b>Dee Whigham</b> 25 year old trans woman, found dead from stabbing in motel room in St. Martin, Mississippi, nursing student, originally misgendered.<br />
<br />
<b>Sky Mockabee</b> 26 year old black transwoman found murdered in Cleveland, result of online date gone horribly wrong.<br />
<br />
<b>Deeniqua Dodds</b> 22 year old black transwoman shot in Washington DC July 4, 2016, died on July 14th.<br />
<br />
<b>Erykah Tijerina</b> 36 year old Latina transwoman, homicide in El Paso, August 10, 2016 found in her apartment.<br />
<br />
<b>Rae’Lynn Thomas</b> 28 year old black transwoman, killed by her mom’s ex who called her Satan in Columbus, Ohio<br />
<br />
<br />
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-53601802842527253852016-07-01T13:16:00.001-07:002016-07-01T13:16:55.964-07:00Quotes by Founding Fathers on Church and State Plus a Surprise at the End<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPClE6Kwqf-thJ56Itb1dTa83k6nlhIjb23XMjSeY3YxI4ne_ouQW4OiuIo1jHwhkEOPCNgrHID7xoV7TTffvZWGOJGXqExYsZhv1asZvlbOe5Qn9mR8NBHl17WZz6sr16OgWIdLJEGVOY/s1600/Founding+Fathers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPClE6Kwqf-thJ56Itb1dTa83k6nlhIjb23XMjSeY3YxI4ne_ouQW4OiuIo1jHwhkEOPCNgrHID7xoV7TTffvZWGOJGXqExYsZhv1asZvlbOe5Qn9mR8NBHl17WZz6sr16OgWIdLJEGVOY/s320/Founding+Fathers.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Over and over I hear people expound on how this is a Christian nation. While some, not all, of the founding fathers were Christian, their own words seem somehow pertinent. Here's a list of quotes. Again, note the surprise at the end.<br />
<br />
<br />
". . . Some books against Deism fell into my hands. . . It happened<br />
that they wrought an effect on me quite contrary to what was intended<br />
by them; for the arguments of the Deists, which were quoted to be<br />
refuted, appeared to me much stronger than the refutations; in short, I<br />
soon became a thorough Deist."<br />
<br />
Franklin<br />
<br />
"When a religion is good, I conceive it will support itself; and when<br />
it does not support itself, and God does not take care to support it so<br />
that its professors are obliged to call for help of the civil power,<br />
'tis a sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one." -- Benjamin<br />
Franklin, 2000_Years_of_Disbelief by James A. Haught<br />
<br />
"Religion I found to be without any tendency to inspire, promote, or<br />
confirm morality, serves principally to divide us and make us<br />
unfriendly to one another."--Benjamin Franklin<br />
<br />
"The way to see by faith is to shut the eye of reason."--Benjamin<br />
Franklin, Poor_Richard, 1758<br />
<br />
"Lighthouses are more helpful than churches."--Benjamin Franklin<br />
<br />
Say nothing of my religion. It is known to my god and myself alone.<br />
-- Thomas Jefferson<br />
<br />
Because religious belief, or non-belief, is such an important part of<br />
every person's life, freedom of religion affects every individual.<br />
State churches that use government power to support themselves and<br />
force their views on persons of other faiths undermine all our civil<br />
rights. Moreover, state support of the church tends to make the clergy<br />
unresponsive to the people and leads to corruption within religion.<br />
Erecting the "wall of separation between church and state," therefore,<br />
is absolutely essential in a free society.<br />
<br />
We have solved ... the great and interesting question whether freedom<br />
of religion is compatible with order in government and obedience to the<br />
laws. And we have experienced the quiet as well as the comfort which<br />
results from leaving every one to profess freely and openly those<br />
principles of religion which are the inductions of his own reason and<br />
the serious convictions of his own inquiries.<br />
-- Thomas Jefferson, to the Virginia Baptists (1808)<br />
<br />
Millions of innocent men, women, and children, since the introduction<br />
of Christianity, have been burnt, tortured, fined, and imprisoned; yet<br />
we have not advanced one inch toward uniformity. What has been the<br />
effect of coercion? To make one-half the world fools and the other half<br />
hypocrites. To support roguery and error all over the earth.<br />
-- Thomas Jefferson<br />
<br />
"... I am not afraid of priests. They have tried upon me all their<br />
various batteries of pious whining, hypocritical canting, lying and<br />
slandering. I have contemplated their order from the Magi of the East<br />
to the Saints of the West and I have found no difference of character,<br />
but of more or less caution, in proportion to their information or<br />
ignorance on whom their interested duperies were to be played off.<br />
Their sway in New England is indeed formidable. No mind beyond<br />
mediocrity dares there to develop itself."<br />
<br />
Jefferson<br />
<br />
"History, I believe, furnishes no example of a priest-ridden people<br />
maintaining a free civil government. This marks the lowest grade of<br />
ignorance of which their civil as well as religious leaders will always<br />
avail themselves for their own purposes."<br />
<br />
-Thomas Jefferson<br />
<br />
What influence, in fact, have ecclesiastical establishments had on<br />
society? In some instances they have been seen to erect a spiritual<br />
tyranny on the ruins of the civil authority; on many instances they<br />
have been seen upholding the thrones of political tyranny; in no<br />
instance have they been the guardians of the liberties of the people.<br />
Rulers who wish to subvert the public liberty may have found an<br />
established clergy convenient auxiliaries. A just government,<br />
instituted to secure and perpetuate it, needs them not."<br />
<br />
Madison<br />
<br />
. . . Thirteen governments [of the original states] thus founded on<br />
the natural authority of the people alone, without a pretence of<br />
miracle or mystery, and which are destined to spread over the northern<br />
part of that whole quarter of the globe, are a great point gained in<br />
favor of the rights of mankind."<br />
<br />
Adams<br />
<br />
The 1796 treaty with Tripoli, negotiations begun under Washington and<br />
signed by Adams states:<br />
<br />
"[As] the government of the United States of America is not in any<br />
sense founded on the Christian Religion"<br />
<br />
"Religious controversies are always productive of more acrimony and<br />
irreconcilable hatreds than those which spring from any other cause. <br />
Of all the animosities which have existed among mankind, those which<br />
are caused by the difference of sentiments in religion appear to be the<br />
most inveterate and distressing, and ought most to be depreciated. I<br />
was in hopes that the enlightened and liberal policy, which has marked<br />
the present age, would at least have reconciled Christians of every<br />
denomination so far that we should never again see the religious<br />
disputes carried to such a pitch as to endanger the peace of society."<br />
George Washington - letter to Edward<br />
Newenham, 1792<br />
<br />
John Leland (1754-1841) was a Baptist preacher whose life involved<br />
writing about and preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ and about the<br />
proper relationship between religion and government. In the latter<br />
passion, Leland agreed with the position of Thomas Jefferson and James<br />
Madison, both of whom he knew personally. Leland spent approximately 14<br />
years in Virginia from 1776 to 1790-91. He was a major leader of the<br />
Baptists in Virginia. He helped Madison by rounding up support for the<br />
defeat of the assessment bill in Virginia in 1784-86, and by supporting<br />
the ratification of the new constitution (only after being assured<br />
that Madison did favor the addition of a bill of rights), He worked to<br />
get Madison elected (over Patrick Henry's hand-picked James Monroe) to<br />
the House of Representatives of the First Federal Congress. He returned<br />
to his home state of Massachusetts in the winter of 1790-91, where he<br />
remained an active minister and champion of separation of church and<br />
state and disestablishment till his death in 1841. He wrote articles<br />
against establishment while in Massachusetts and testified before the<br />
Massachusetts legislature on at least one occasion.<br />
<br />
Research by Jim Allison<br />
Excerpt from July 4th Oration by John Leland, July 5, 1802.<br />
<br />
[emphasis added]<br />
<br />
. . . Disdain mean suspicion, but cherish manly jealousy; be always<br />
jealous of your liberty, your rights. Nip the first bud of intrusion on<br />
your constitution. Be not devoted to men; let measures be your object,<br />
and estimate men according to the measures they pursue. Never promote<br />
men who seek after a state-established religion; it is spiritual<br />
tyranny--the worst of despotism. It is turnpiking the way to heaven by<br />
human law, in order to establish ministerial gates to collect toll. It<br />
converts religion into a principle of state policy, and the gospel into<br />
merchandise. Heaven forbids the bans of marriage between church and<br />
state; their embraces therefore, must be unlawful. Guard against those<br />
men who make a great noise about religion, in choosing representatives.<br />
It is electioneering. If they knew the nature and worth of religion,<br />
they would not debauch it to such shameful purposes. If pure religion<br />
is the criterion to denominate candidates, those who make a noise about<br />
it must be rejected; for their wrangle about it, proves that they are<br />
void of it. Let honesty, talents and quick despatch, characterise the<br />
men of your choice. Such men will have a sympathy with their<br />
constituents, and will be willing to come to the light, that their<br />
deeds may be examined. . . .<br />
Source of Information:<br />
<br />
Excerpt from "July 4th Oration by John Leland, July 5, 1802". The<br />
Writings of John Leland, Edited by L.F. Greene, Arno Press & The New<br />
York Times New York (1969) pp.260-270) Originally published as: The<br />
Writings Of The Late Elder John Leland Including Some Events In His<br />
Life, Written By Himself, With Additional Sketches &c. By Miss L.F.<br />
Greene, Lanesboro, Mass. Printed By G.W. Wood, 29 Gold Street, New York<br />
1845. Nedstat Counter<br />
<br />
AND...<br />
<br />
"The national government will maintain and defend the<br />
foundations on which the power of our nation rests. It will offer<br />
strong protection to Christianity as the very basis of our collective<br />
morality. Today Christians stand at the head of our country. We want to<br />
fill our culture again with the Christian spirit. We want to burn out<br />
all the recent immoral developments in literature, in the theatre, and<br />
in the press — in short, we want to burn out the poison of immorality<br />
which has entered into our whole life and culture as a result of<br />
LIBERAL excess during the past years" — Adolph Hitler (Taken from The<br />
Speeches of Adolph Hitler, 1922-1939, Vol. 1, Michael Hakeem, Ph.D.<br />
(London, Oxford University Press, 1942), pp. 871-872.) Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-38457350321722244442016-07-01T11:30:00.000-07:002016-07-01T11:30:47.544-07:00Agism Again...WTF?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbulEB0OYKIXDJlOuBp0rorJ7l75ApJyjQ_IIjzPyHvV1CSaX3Z3gSB-qmG9PMdWuWTkKkXOtmhjeL6xBVfXlQY7MI51oWZZX6_Lu92ECqJFO2AGITHPYQ5Fv62TDuWLVM0uthH6kWbPG/s1600/young-and-old.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbulEB0OYKIXDJlOuBp0rorJ7l75ApJyjQ_IIjzPyHvV1CSaX3Z3gSB-qmG9PMdWuWTkKkXOtmhjeL6xBVfXlQY7MI51oWZZX6_Lu92ECqJFO2AGITHPYQ5Fv62TDuWLVM0uthH6kWbPG/s320/young-and-old.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I suppose times of intense change, revolutionary change even, whether for good or evil, lends itself to extremes. Thus as part of our discourse we hear that Muslims are terrorists, Mexicans carry drugs as if by sheer virtue of their nationality, race, or spiritual journey, every one like them is lumped into the same tiny box. Not only race, nationality, or spiritual belief now, but also I am seeing the ghost of Agism Past rear its ugly head once again. See, hard as it may be to imagine, I remember my own youth and young adulthood. We were in the midst of great change then too. We were moving out of the time of great conformity and extreme oppression of other races, beliefs etc also known as the fifties into the sixties when change was in the air. Our childhoods were filled with the stories of Communists under every leaf and the McCarthy hearings and we were determined to change the status quo. I recall expressions like "Don't trust anyone over 30." On the other side, so many older people looked askance at "the youth of today." Shaking their heads and wringing their hands. "Why when I was their age, I never..." But of course they did, but chose not to recall their own explorations of independence.<br />
<br />
Our reality and if allowed our strength is in our diversity, not in our sameness. I've learned having been young, middle aged, and now old, that sometimes great wisdom and sometimes great foolishness can come from the lips of old people. Some learned many lessons and embraced wisdom, while others remained oblivious all the way into old age. I could say exactly the same thing for the young, and of the middle aged as well. Sometimes in talking with young people I will receive a pearl of wisdom so precious, not from experience, but from eyes that can look outside the box. Anytime we categorize and place people into a box of sameness rather than accept them in the rainbow of diversity that is the human condition, we not only limit them, but ourselves. <br />
<br />
What inspired all of this? Two articles. One from Ozy yesterday suggesting old people should not be allowed to vote. That suggestion is so antithetical to any concept of a democratic society, I'll not even waste my time ranting about it. The other came today. Vox suggests that "old people become more conservative with age because science says so." Look someone does a study and publishes it, with or without peer review and suddenly it's an absolute. Look, some old people grow more conservative. More often I think conservative experimentation happens in middle age when conformity is demanded, and many revert to liberalism as they grow older. BUT THERE ARE NO ABSOLUTES. How old was the dude who killed the worshippers at that church in South Carolina? <br />
<br />
So maybe we can start to chill with the agism, whether one is young or old, perceived or not. It's getting old really quick.<br />
<br />
Jessica Wicks aka Long in Tooth (just fooling, mine are false)aka Cantankerous Old Crone aka (fill in the blank)Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-91213397006518297732016-03-18T14:09:00.000-07:002016-03-18T14:09:13.229-07:00My Thoughts on Trumpism<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWyNkFXd_Lkw8twryZPPzvK24goqDHRTUDSGFlyZWeO1OOuN5o8pC1HXyQAC3wRaZYA4NXTqiLbJ_28Fg3PyLqkKoqao_jjzSFBzUnnG2Ligf3Yo3SX5v3y6ceAlxIICPeeU2daDLgsfw/s1600/Donald-Trump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWyNkFXd_Lkw8twryZPPzvK24goqDHRTUDSGFlyZWeO1OOuN5o8pC1HXyQAC3wRaZYA4NXTqiLbJ_28Fg3PyLqkKoqao_jjzSFBzUnnG2Ligf3Yo3SX5v3y6ceAlxIICPeeU2daDLgsfw/s320/Donald-Trump.jpg" /></a></div>The unease and admitted fear is palpable in conversations with others, in real life and in social media. That is understandable. Many have not learned the lessons of the past, but some have. There are two primary candidates for the Republican nomination, both of whom have offered racist solutions to the world in which we live. Both want to kick out ineligible aliens including children who’ve known no other life but that in America. Both paint Islam in terms of “Islamic terrorism” and where one has called for banning all Muslims to our country, the other is not much better. <br />
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Donald Trump takes it a step further. He calls for attacks on all sorts of people, and ignores every tenant of constitutional protection. Consider this quote from Adolph Hitler in his work Mein Kampf:<br />
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1. Keep the dogma simple. Make only 1 or 2 points.<br />
2. Be forthright and powerfully direct. Speak only in the telling or ordering mode.<br />
3. As much as possible, reduce concepts down into stereotypes which are black and white. <br />
4. Speak to people’s emotions and stir them constantly. <br />
5. Use lots of repetition; repeat your points over and over again. <br />
6. Forget literary beauty, scientific reasoning, balance, or novelty. <br />
7. Focus solely on convincing people and creating zealots. <br />
8. Find slogans which can be used to drive the movement forward. <br />
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Now watch any speech by Donald Trump. It was said by an ex wife that he kept a copy of Mein Kampf by the bed. Okay, that’s okay. I’ve got a copy on my Kindle because it is important to know history and the lessons for us today. But copying his blueprint is quite another thing. <br />
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Let me address the remarks by people saying they are afraid. That’s okay, and understandable. However we cannot let that fear dominate us or stand in the way of standing strong in the face of this assault on our democratic sensibilities by pure racism and hate. As FDR said, “The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself.” Years ago, I did a multiyear study of the Holocaust. What I learned was that what happened in Germany could happen anywhere. Certain factors were needed.<br />
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So what about us? Could it happen here? Consider this. After WWI, thanks to a Great Depression and crippling reparations imposed by the allies combined to leave ordinary families uneasy and quick to seek a strong leader who would bring them something better. Hitler was that person. Look at our current society. We are moving out of the Great Recession, but wages are less, and fewer benefits are offered. Money has been focused among the very rich at the expense of all the rest of us. Citizens United created a system where our politicians fear their corporate donors more than the populace who elects them, and their votes no longer represent the people. Now Donald Trump would not improve that one iota, but he is able to play on the fears and insecurity of these people. <br />
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Hitler once was said to have stated that had there not been a Jewish people, he would have needed to invent them. Lest we forget, it was not only Jews he targeted. Slavs, gays, and many others were utilized to stoke the fears and hates of his followers. Hmm Mexicans being called rapists and killers and his so called war on Islam… sound familiar? <br />
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Now I am not saying he is Hitler. I am saying that he stokes the same fears of the other, in his effort to be the strong man savior for all who are afraid. He’s a bully, and quite content to extend violence to get his way. We may feel fear, but the only way for anyone to deal with a bully, especially one who would emulate Hitler, is directly. We also need to remember, just as with the early followers of Hitler, that not all were bad people. They just wanted a decent shot at life when they voted him Chancellor of Germany. Many paid the ultimate price for that early endorsement, made possible by their willingness to overlook the bigotry and hate being offered up by their leader. They allowed themselves to be swayed to believe that really was the root of their problems. Many asked later, what we could have been done to prevent what happened. Together, hands outstretched, they ignored the obvious and for that paid a massive price.<br />
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As a child I was bullied. I learned the hard way that bullies had to be confronted, even when there was more of them. We confront this bully with truth, with love, and if it goes too far, then perhaps by violence. I pray not. I’ve watched black people be assaulted and he defends it. I’ve seen other black and Muslim people not allowed to come to his rallies simply because they were black or Muslim. He constantly encourages violence and laments the “good old days.” Does he mean the good old days back in the 20’s when his father apparently was arrested in conjunction with a brawl involving a KKK dispute? The fifties when everything was just wonderful unless you were non-white or poor? Yes he is selling folks a bill of goods. But if they buy in…. well, that must not happen. Last I heard, his followers were forming a group to “defend” the candidate against protesters. Perhaps they can call them Brown Shirts? Stand strong my friends, and just respond “Oh hell no!!!” <br />
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Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-75635317749638737512016-03-06T10:06:00.000-08:002016-03-06T10:06:36.400-08:00A Tribute to My Friend: Andrew Adair Rebman<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1DSj1u6MO3WlmGlVOPpn6Z_FWZXfoj0brHWMxVn3UOUJbxg3eQjE5cRsmeu2tcjjwtk-St1erguQIYwE-Pt2JAzsjEdLWEmKBu-9rXMwgLNPKxDFD8lhP5-jR3-vLjWUrx40qNsK8SN1/s1600/Andrew+self+portrait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1DSj1u6MO3WlmGlVOPpn6Z_FWZXfoj0brHWMxVn3UOUJbxg3eQjE5cRsmeu2tcjjwtk-St1erguQIYwE-Pt2JAzsjEdLWEmKBu-9rXMwgLNPKxDFD8lhP5-jR3-vLjWUrx40qNsK8SN1/s400/Andrew+self+portrait.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Today, one of my best friends ever is being memorialized following his all too soon passing. I cannot be there in body sadly, but my spirit is with all those who loved this incredible person I called friend. <br />
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I first met Andrew in the early nineties. This was before I had fully transitioned, and I had moved to Westheimer Square Apts in the Montrose neighborhood of Houston with my beloved Skip. One day Skip walks into the apartment and says, "I just met this cute guy outside and he seems really nice. <br />
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I laughed, and said, "Well invite him to dinner!" He did and a life long friendship ensued. Understand, we were considerably older. We were in our mid/late forties and he was 18. We had an amazing visit, and sat and visited for hours. From then on we would hang out, and watch the drama play out (often we were part of that drama) in this amazing community of people. He always threatened to write a novel about this place. I ultimately did. It really was like Houston's version of Barbary Lane. He loved to tease Skip, watching the two of them go at each other laughing as they did and we used to do long walks together. It was the prequel to his photography style which would come later. Skip could not always make those because of his rheumatoid arthritis, but when we got back, we'd sit around and just talk about... well... everything within our hearts. <br />
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Some memories from Westheimer Square:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FnYKusXVutnN5J2vv8AdloAp4d2jHYfdS87yH4FVLloKKxxBUaFVcH66Z3c6wCBoEWwf2MI6q9mojOT8ZYvGFZLMloRAplBcQa6xOJrCWztovy03wcqZJcYuHMPdY_F3D2ImwiJbGHui/s1600/Andrew+and+Skip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FnYKusXVutnN5J2vv8AdloAp4d2jHYfdS87yH4FVLloKKxxBUaFVcH66Z3c6wCBoEWwf2MI6q9mojOT8ZYvGFZLMloRAplBcQa6xOJrCWztovy03wcqZJcYuHMPdY_F3D2ImwiJbGHui/s320/Andrew+and+Skip.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmL2ooilt5vnEtVClRevE-w34D05w_m9cuhW52u0SAXpIXaSVnHm48vFGYqE2dxorSHhQBKGDxlJwV_dZnm9Lmro-oh6JaUaelU54mQ-ekxjUcSVWQy0Ussz0L3hkSI362nz_OWdD1dwpf/s1600/328662560_4c8c3e1f86_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmL2ooilt5vnEtVClRevE-w34D05w_m9cuhW52u0SAXpIXaSVnHm48vFGYqE2dxorSHhQBKGDxlJwV_dZnm9Lmro-oh6JaUaelU54mQ-ekxjUcSVWQy0Ussz0L3hkSI362nz_OWdD1dwpf/s320/328662560_4c8c3e1f86_o.jpg" /></a></div><br />
My beloved Skip became ill in '97 and passed away soon after. It truly was my dark night of the soul, and as i tried to sort it all out, one constant was my friend Andrew. We would talk, and sometimes he'd just sit and listen while I poured out my grief. I had lost so much, family, my beloved as my transition had exacted a heavy toll. But there consistently was Andrew, ever the true friend. He allowed me to share my inner thoughts and he shared his own. <br />
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I met Robin in '99 and we moved to Minneapolis soon after. That did not mean the end of a friendship however. Every few weeks he'd call, and we would talk on the phone literally until one of us had no juice left in the phone battery. You know, it's been interesting since we learned of Andrew's passing, how many people I've connected with who I already knew through our long conversations. <br />
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I remember when he came to visit in Minneapolis some years back. He was an accomplished photographer by then, and I did it as a hobby. We walked all over Minneapolis,taking photos, comparing notes and telling our stories in the coffee shops, and even speaking out loud how important our friendship was. How I treasured our time together that year.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxXst1iEKWXhTdfiVh-we1hPl__mnpVoQVUyIZILLeh2suTzbx6W3Gfs9SyINLK9r1SQRg333Q7rUX4p8NoEBH8aflIQ63MQwxwkjj0HkioUUiiOs4QDl4GvVmxDOcbzar1bG_XLDTCCfu/s1600/Andrew+at+Dunn+Bros.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxXst1iEKWXhTdfiVh-we1hPl__mnpVoQVUyIZILLeh2suTzbx6W3Gfs9SyINLK9r1SQRg333Q7rUX4p8NoEBH8aflIQ63MQwxwkjj0HkioUUiiOs4QDl4GvVmxDOcbzar1bG_XLDTCCfu/s320/Andrew+at+Dunn+Bros.jpg" /></a></div><br />
After the visit, we continued our friendship via social media and phone. He stayed so busy, so we understood that it was best for him to call me. Which he did faithfully for all these years. There is no one else on this earth with whom I could talk so deeply and completely. Perhaps such friendships are rare. They certainly are for me. About two weeks before Andrew passed, I got a post via FB and he was curious as to my response. I sent it, and expected to hear back, but did not. It also was past due for one of our phone conversations. Then Gina (his stepmom) got ahold of me and told me my friend was gone.<br />
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Andrew, I'm going to miss you so very much! I'm getting older now, and my own time will be coming soon enough. What I know is that the days to come will be a little less bright, and I will glance from time to time at my phone and know you won't be calling anymore. I will grieve, and then life will regain some sort of normalcy, but that normalcy will be some shade of beige or grey, for the aurora formed by your presence among us has faded away as you passed through death's door. All that remains are the memories and the tears. <br />
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Finally, Andrew, I've no idea if there is anything beyond that door. But on the chance there is, I have a couple of requests. Those who knew them will understand. Lionel? If you see him, kick his butt for me. After the way he treated Merlyn, he's got it coming. Caroline, give her a big hug. For the readers of this blog, she's the cute girl in the photo above with the kids closet to the viewer. Like you Andrew, she left us way too soon. She's likely dancing ballet among the stars in my mythos of a world beyond. Then there's Skip. You'd know what to say to Skip. It's comforting to know that the two of you would be exchanging barbs, laughing all the while as you wait for me to get there. Rest in power my friend. Rest in power...Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-19780519690626632372016-02-05T12:54:00.002-08:002016-03-16T06:50:46.510-07:00Hillary or Bernie?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFz6MfkTB5iAJoQAyXRSJsoEdHp3ElXiZIXmtVXGStfmyeqIlBS5ap6EljnJ-oK4VTtKeek_YR4oP1ONapN4B9Cw-Ie987gYm1sp927DZEQ0Q6TyeLu5kVJCzfF7K6STVCAPf9n0MwrmYB/s1600/sanders_hillary5.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFz6MfkTB5iAJoQAyXRSJsoEdHp3ElXiZIXmtVXGStfmyeqIlBS5ap6EljnJ-oK4VTtKeek_YR4oP1ONapN4B9Cw-Ie987gYm1sp927DZEQ0Q6TyeLu5kVJCzfF7K6STVCAPf9n0MwrmYB/s320/sanders_hillary5.jpg" /></a><br />
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Who I’m Supporting for President and Why<br />
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Okay, I’ve not talked much about the race this year. I’ve got lots of reasons for that. First the few times I’ve said anything, the opposition jumps all over it with uncommon rancor and ugly accusatory language. I’ve neither the temperament nor the time to deal with these childish outbursts. Second, I’m a Democrat. Whoever is selected will get my support. Their differences are subtle, far more than their advocates would let on. Please understand one thing. If you are voting for someone else, that’s fine. I respect your right and ability to make that decision. Just know that my decision has been made. I can read the papers and hear discussions on issues and evaluate them same as anybody else. We are diverse as people, so our choices will be diverse. DO NOT USE MY BLOG, GOOGLE PLUS, OR MY FACEBOOK PAGE TO MAKE YOUR CASE FOR SOMEONE ELSE. Spend your energy elsewhere with someone whose mind is not made up. I am not the enemy because I am not supporting your candidate. You are not the enemy because you are not supporting mine. Now let me tell you my choice and why.<br />
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I am voting for and caucusing for Hillary Rodham Clinton. There are reasons that resonate with me for why I’m doing that. Actually politically I’m pretty far to the left of Ms. Clinton, and much that Bernie Sanders says resonates with me. In a far better world, I could vote for him and caucus for him easily. But I live in the political mess that is America in 2016. <br />
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First let’s state the obvious. We no longer live in a democratic republic. Big money elects our Congress and to a great degree our president. This is especially so now with the advent of Citizens United. Congressional districts are gerrymandered assuring the Congressional House will remain under Republican Control. Only one house in Congress has any hope of selecting a Democratic majority. With the infusion of literally billions of dollars of corporate dollars into our political races, we are presented with a dilemma. Though corporate money dominates, the two parties are NOT the same. On a host of issues from lgbt rights to civil rights to war to taxation, they have significant differences.<br />
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I’ve heard the other side say repeatedly how Clinton has ties to Corporate dollars. Here’s the thing. In an oligarchy, that is a bit of an advantage. Make no mistake. Whoever gets the nomination will be subjected to the full frontal attack by the Republican attack machine and those corporate interests that support them. <br />
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Which brings us to the issue of labels and attack ads. Sanders’ supporters repeat over and over how crooked Clinton is. Welcome to the product of the Republican attack machine. She has been attacked with untrue accusations ever since the days her husband was president. Reality check: If you repeat “Benghazi” enough times, people will believe it. There is not one accusation brought against her, either with Benghazi, emails, etc has ever been substantiated. They didn’t have to be substantiated. By repeating them over and over they have been planted into the psyche of the American voting public. Now imagine what would happen with labels like “socialist” being used. How about soft on defense? Remember how John Kerry was painted as soft on defense despite being a hero in Vietnam? Before they were done with him, people thought he as a coward and a fraud. Clinton for all the attacks stood strong and prevailed. Furthermore in the Senate she showed her ability to work across the aisle, something essential in getting anything done. <br />
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Now I’ve heard over and over about what Bernie Sanders did back in the sixties around race. My first inclination is to say, “So what? What have you done lately?” Locked in my mind I can see Senator Sanders being confronted by members of Black Lives Matter in Seattle. I’ve never seen a man look more impotent in my life. He responded with fury and refusing to talk. If he cannot deal with a protest from two women standing up to him, someone tell me why we think he can endure against the massive Republican attack machine. In addition, when he speaks around racial inequity, he keeps going back to the standard class/economic opportunity argument. He fails to see even at this late date that with race, even when a person is economically advantaged, they still face inequity thanks to racism. That is why he has failed to win support among Black and Latino voters overall.<br />
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In my opinion, the candidacy of Bernie Sanders is at the wrong time in history. There is a massive struggle required to which Sen. Sanders himself stated that will require people all over America to organize and to engage in a revolution to take back the country. It means dismantling Citizens United and restoring many of the anti-trust protections offered in another time. It means demanding by force if necessary to change the tax structure. When the power is restored to the people, then the election of a Bernie Sanders carries with it meaning. Until then, a president must find ways to work across the aisle, in an environment where moderate is not considered the opposite of progressive. <br />
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There are some stark realities also facing us. Certain court appointments can destroy marriage equality, legal protections against lgbt folk, dismantling of Obamacare and further erosion of laws that protect us against the excesses of industry. There are several protections, environment and social implemented by presidential decree that would go away. <br />
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I do not believe Candidate Sanders could withstand the onslaught of Republican propaganda. I know he could not implement the things he says he would do. Not in the system as it exists today. I would hope the Sanders people would join efforts to dismantle the obstacles to true choice by the people. That’s a revolution I willingly join. I hope whichever candidate will embrace Black Lives Matter. That’s a change that simply can’t be delayed.<br />
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Then there is his striking naivete' when it comes to foreign policy. Ours is a dangerous world, and he has for decades now been purposefully disinterested in what is going on in the world politic. It's almost as if he has been frozen in time with opinions set in his youth.<br />
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These are my primary concerns. I met Hillary Clinton (she was Hillary Rodham then) years ago when I was a paid worker in the George W. McGovern campaign, and I was impressed with her. Sadly the McGovern election was also a campaign with high ideals but nothing in terms of a political constituency to back it up save some of us young folks who believed that change was at hand. Instead we had delivered to us a resounding defeat. Understand though that for friends who disagree, if your candidate wins, I will work for him with all the passion I do my own. Whatever happens, we must not allow a Republican win this next go-round, or the last vestiges of our democratic system surely will be in peril.<br />
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Go Hillary!!! (I still like you Bernie!)<br />
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Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-32783870348590902792016-01-10T19:04:00.000-08:002016-01-10T19:04:23.601-08:00Life Death and Impermanence: A Sermon Response<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3n9J_tSqapDa7aIQsOiTpk8dcRDZUNY7wJG7NRicR72oxOoxcSvw8964NOmEy19QFB3XgysghnfVXTqDQJB9a-UlYarFnvZCZcPwetOSI9hZf7TSE9vmZLar7A_biOi1OeNTCnxg16Ol1/s1600/Tuttle+Tomb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3n9J_tSqapDa7aIQsOiTpk8dcRDZUNY7wJG7NRicR72oxOoxcSvw8964NOmEy19QFB3XgysghnfVXTqDQJB9a-UlYarFnvZCZcPwetOSI9hZf7TSE9vmZLar7A_biOi1OeNTCnxg16Ol1/s400/Tuttle+Tomb.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Impermanence and Expanding our Souls: A Response to Today’s Sermon at First Universalist<br />
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Some days a sermon reaches and grabs my heart and simply won’t let go. Today was one such day. First, there was a powerful story by member Frederic MacDonald-Dennis. He spoke of attending college at the University of Alabama in the mid eighties, a black gay man at a predominantly white college with a fairly well known racist history and face it, being gay was no easy journey in 1984. His parents supported him even though privately afraid for him. His friends tried in every way to discourage him, but he followed the message in his heart, and as most often is the case, it was the message of truth.<br />
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Jen Crow spoke on our reluctance to honor the passages that surround us in life. Our denial of death despite our certainty in truth that it is a journey we all shall take. She spoke of listening to the voices of the ancestors, allowing their knowledge and experience to become a part of our lives. How much richer and expansive is the soul who embraces the experience of all the passages around us. How we grow the soul, in listening to the voices of those who’ve gone before us even as we create new experiences of our own.<br />
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I’m sure most of us have our own experience to draw upon. It’s my own experience however, that I know best, though I can say with some certainty others will share some parts of my own journey in theirs.<br />
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Let me begin with the things Frederic spoke about. I of course was not born black, so I can hear about the experience of racism, but it’s always obscured in part by the race lens through which I grew up as well. I came along earlier, during the days of the old Jim Crow South. The only black person I knew was as was so often the case in that part of the world in that time, the woman who came to our home and helped with cleanup, washing dishes and vacuuming and paid pitifully little as was also the custom of that day. But, on growing up gay and transgender in Tyler, Texas, that was an experience that was very much akin to my own. You know, I was not out when I began college, but everybody seemed to know, and my earlier years were marked by intense bullying, at least until I learned to express myself in ways that helped me evade some of it. But out of it all, as a matter of survival, I learned to listen to my inner voice. That voice nurtured me and led me along paths where life was possible and glimmers of light seemed possible. Unlike Frederic, my parents were not supportive, and I had to keep my closet firmly in place until my Dad passed in ’67 and my Mom in ’88.<br />
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I even in those early years learned of a story of race that I had not been taught growing up. My friends thought I was crazy when during college I went to some of the Black Power meetings of the day on campus, and listened for the first time of other stories. I’m not sure why I did that. I just know I’m a better person for having sat and listened to their voices rather than the ones of a world built upon white supremacy. From them I received my first early lessons that would guide me forward to this day, still learning but in a far different place. Perhaps I listened because it was the same nudge of connection I felt listening to Frederic’s remarks today. Perhaps it was the early stirrings of that little inner voice that has led me to this day. The voice that led me from the encounter with police in a gay bar raid in ’69. For that matter the one two years earlier that led me to take off from college and travel to the west coast and land in San Francisco and see for myself that I was not the only gay person in the world. I also had been writing reflectively since age ten or so perhaps, trying to find my way through the darkness. Oh how that saved me, shining a tiny ray of light in a sea of darkness.<br />
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Then there was Jen’s message. Oh Jen if you could only know how your message resonated within my heart. For me, death was virtually impossible to ignore. As a very young child my grandfather on my Mom’s side died. He lived in the back woods in Arkansas. When we arrived, his body was laid out on the kitchen table. He had not been embalmed yet. We slept in the adjoining living room on floor pallets, the light shining on his dead body even as it periodically twitched. Before embalming, those movements are not uncommon, even after death. Also there were the coins in his eyes. I was maybe five at the time, and that was fodder for nightmares for years after that. ::chuckling:: I used to dream repeatedly that Jesus was chasing me in my dreams and that if he caught me, I’d be dead.<br />
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Then at age 10 thereabouts, my other Grandpa came down with brain cancer. There was a tradition in those days, and each family member, first the parents, followed by the grandkids, entering individually for a formal last talk. It’s then the one who is dying imparts a final message of wisdom. I remember that conversation so well, then days later he died. My cousin Sandie and I had been downstairs at the snack area in the Dallas hospital. We heard two young doctors talking about a death and a coming autopsy. They seemed quite excited about it. We realized they were talking about our grandpa and cousin Sandie screamed and sobbed uncontrollably. Later he went to the funeral home, and per tradition, we took our turns, even the kids, sitting with the departed. The body was not left alone until time for the funeral.<br />
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It wasn’t over yet. My uncle died in a car wreck in ’67, then two weeks later my aunt died. Exhausted, I was caring for other family hurt in the car wreck, then off to Arkansas for another funeral, and then two weeks later, my dad died from a heart attack. We’d fought just a week before and I returned to Dallas to care for family. He called once, but Dad could not say he was sorry and I was quite stubborn myself, then I get the call and he was gone. You know, I had a tremor that lasted for the next two decades, until I finally set down and made peace with him in my heart. Then all sorts of wonderful things happened. <br />
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The eighties were not any better. So many friends passed on from AIDS in the eighties, people I’d grown to know and love. I’d moved to Houston where I could be more like me. I kept count for a while, but then I lost count and just quit. Memorial services and funeral parades in my world, even as the outside world simply seemed to wish we would go ahead and die off. I call this my radicalization years. Then in “88 my Mom died after contracting lung cancer. Starting in ’84, we had made our peace and got to have an adult to adult relationship and I love so much that happened. We talked together right up to the last day of her life. It was some of the most intense living one can do.<br />
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Then came ’97, my year of the dark night.. My partner, the love of my life, the man who taught me how to truly love, became ill from viral encephalitis. I cannot sufficiently share the depth of our love. I’d lost family to transphobia for I’d transitioned, was barely holding onto my job, and then this happened. He was in coma for a few weeks and then passed over, literally dying in my arms. Then a couple of weeks later, my friend and I are talking, ready to walk street patrol against bashers in our gay neighborhood, and suddenly she drops to the floor, and dies in my arms as well. I felt the life go out of her body. I sat on the stairs as the paramedics tried and failed to resuscitate her, rocking back and forth sobbing quietly. I’ve never been so lost. Oh what blessing for beloved community, people slipping into my life holding me aloft as I healed.<br />
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So, after all this darkness, there is light to be found. I stand here as testimony to that reality! When people speak of talking to their ancestors, it’s always been very real for me. Their voices whisper in my ear. Long after he passed away, my father would enter my dreams. You know, as adults, there are still times to hear good fatherly or motherly advice. In the dreams, it was as if he and later they were always alive, and we had he most wonderful talks and I’d hear the answers and ask the questions I needed to go on.<br />
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No, I’m not a Spiritualist. My wife is and I respect her journey, but it isn’t mine. I can’t tell you if they truly are my ancestors who speak to me, or my own subconscious actively at work to help me stay centered. See it really doesn’t matter. There are voices beyond me who help me find the way forward, assuring voices, voices that protect. I remember a police officer trained our work group after a brutal crime took place in our premises. He spoke of that gut nudge. Whatever it is, I treasure that little voice inside. That same voice makes itself visible in my dream life and speaks to me with such clarity as to be real. I still see Skip in his real form, smelling his scents and feeling his presence and my beloved Robin who is still very much alive stands alongside, providing a continuity of love and compassion/passion. It’s warned me how to avoid moments of danger well before consciousness revealed the same. Once I was surrounded by bashers and my life seriously in danger in my inner city Houston neighborhood, but there was the voice, leading me out of harm’s way. I do not have to know where it comes from to understand its value in my life journey. Speaking of it in term of my ancestors resonates, even as it has with people worldwide for thousands of years. I treasure my ancestors, past and in the relatively more recent times. Embracing the realities of all the passages in our lives I think really do make us more complete as people of compassion, as beloved community.<br />
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So thank you Frederic, and Jen for speaking today to my heart. Jen, I love the idea of an ancestors’ garden for our church hope that when in the not too distant future I pass on, my ashes will find a place there. The music by Ghost Revival was awesome as well. I’ve also spent time at Lakewood, and sat on the hillside at James Tuttle’s grave looking out over the lake below. For those in our church not familiar, he was a charismatic pastor of our church for the last half of the 19th century. He came from Rochester where he knew Frederick Douglass and Susan B. Anthony, and brought the breath of the liberal spirit to our First Universalist congregation. Nearby was the gravesite for Charles Loring, another church member and the founder of our amazing park system. Somehow it was fitting and special to be bringing in new members of the church family on the day we spoke of our ancestors as well. Thanks to Elaine and all of those who now are part of our beloved circle. It was a very special day for this soul, and I and the ancestors thank you for it!<br />
Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-51618769864855078472015-11-16T11:51:00.000-08:002015-11-16T17:17:00.854-08:00A World at War and the Search for Peace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzw0zofQX03m9FzRG4IR6xlXWL9WMBGIqA3TacS2qOHDPisPS45AY0ifICDmGOJhhGPj-2kyhD7zksEEqPAnPaPrqBAT4QIc3w7lBOShMQu8qqRjFL6W8yX6TAaC7hoZsJ3Y4IwBd77Ri/s1600/IMG_0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzw0zofQX03m9FzRG4IR6xlXWL9WMBGIqA3TacS2qOHDPisPS45AY0ifICDmGOJhhGPj-2kyhD7zksEEqPAnPaPrqBAT4QIc3w7lBOShMQu8qqRjFL6W8yX6TAaC7hoZsJ3Y4IwBd77Ri/s400/IMG_0008.jpg" /></a></div><br />
All about us we see, a world at war. Oh not massive armies in combat. Skirmishes, terrorist attacks, civil wars. Displaced persons become the other. We have at seemingly unprecedented levels found ways to divide ourselves against one another. <br />
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I cry for the people killed in Paris, in Beirut, in Kenya, in Ukraine, in Somalia, the list goes on and on. Yesterday the pastor (Elaine Tenbrink) at my church spoke to this. She related a story she heard of a young Palestinian girl, out after curfew when two IDF soldiers approached. Beneath the car she hid shaking. But then she did a remarkable thing. She began to focus on how those soldiers were feeling. Didn't they want to go home safe as well? In doing so, she tapped into that strand that connects us all. We all feel fear, suffer, etc. By opening ourselves to the universal humanity we share, by practicing deep empathy, there is healing.<br />
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You know, there is nothing new under the sun. Civilizations have been under crisis before, life has become insecure, and yes some of those societies have ultimately failed. We so often respond by building higher walls, employing more military, surrounding ourselves with a false sense of security. Then that sense vanishes when mass killings or destruction happen anyway. The responses out there have been interesting. Blame the Muslims. Not just these Muslims. All of them. Stop all immigration and try to contain them in the cesspools of death and destruction where they are currently fleeing. What a terribly NON HUMAN thing to do. Some decried that if only everyone in Paris had been armed then it might have been different. Some blamed Obama, because, well why not. Why did we make a major thing of it happening in Paris but not when it happened in Beirut or Kenya? Racism? Probably so, but yet another divide in a terribly fractured world. Take a map and mark every place where conflict currently exists. Yes, the world is at war, turning inward and eating it's own.<br />
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So where do we turn? For me, I try to remember the one common thread held by all world religions. Not the orthodoxy but the core message each one offers in it's own way. It's the law of compassion. Do unto others, phrased in countless ways. From our imperfection, from our struggles in this uncertain times grows empathy, and from that the capacity to see our common humanity, complete with fear, pain, and imperfection. <br />
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I hasten to add, I'm not talking about letting people off who commit such horrors. If you kill a theater filled with people, there's a price that must be paid. Justice is important. What I am saying is, don't blame it on Islam, a population well over a billion people. It's not the fault of the conservatives or the liberals or any other group that becomes easy to lump them into. A Christian blew up the Federal Building in Oklahoma City but to the blame it all on Christians is insanity. Yet I've seen that too. <br />
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Our politicians do not serve us well. They thrive on division and creating "the other." Perhaps the people will reach the point where they simply say no more. We aren't there yet. My prayer, that it happens sooner rather than later. Meanwhile, as the hymn sings, "Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me. It's not Je suis Paris or Je suis Beirut.It's Je Suis humanite'. <br />
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Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-73422761439482329462015-10-16T14:40:00.000-07:002015-10-16T13:48:18.155-07:00Say Their Names<b>BEAUTIFUL TRANS SOULS. SAY THEIR NAMES: THIS TRAGEDY MUST END!</b><br />
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new update 10-16-15<br />
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updated 10-6-15<br />
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Here they are. Say their names. Remember their lives. Trans hate speech translates to trans killings. My heart is weary, but the killing must end.<br />
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2015 TransgenderDeaths per Wikipedia<br />
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Note: Counts vary according to who is counted. I’ve chosen to include all those who are not gender conforming, while others require for their count that they have declared themselves to be transgender. I’ve copied Wikipedia’s list through Tamara Dominguez. I will add them myself going forward.<br />
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Papi Edwards of Indianapolis Indiana, and Louisville, Kentucky, died of a single bullet wound to the chest at Fern Valley Motel on January 9. Henry Richard Gleaves was arrested for Papi's murder and is being held on a $500,000 bond. The Advocate, among other media sources, originally reported that Papi Edwards identified as a gay man answering to Lamar and/or Goddess, who likely participated in drag.[38] It has since been confirmed by others close to Papi, and reported by various sources that Edwards identified as a female. <br />
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Lamia Beard of Norfolk, Virginia was found with life-threatening gunshot wounds on the morning of January 17. She was taken to the Sentara Norfolk General Hospital, where she died.<br />
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Ty Underwood of Tyler, Texas was found in her car, dead from three gunshot wounds, on January 26. Her roommate feels she may have been targeted because she was a transgender woman.<br />
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Yazmin Vash Payne of Van Nuys, California was found stabbed and burned to death in her apartment on January 31. The following day her boyfriend confessed to the murder and surrendered to police.<br />
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Taja DeJesus was stabbed to death in San Francisco, California on February 3, 2015. She was 36 years old. The man believed to have stabbed her, James Hays 49, was found dead hanging a short distance away.<br />
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Penny Proud of New Orleans, Louisiana was fatally shot multiple times on February 10.<br />
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Bri Golec of Akron, Ohio was stabbed to death by her father, Kevin Golic on February 13, 2015. Bri was 22 years old. According to a bandmate, Brian dropped the trans identifier about a year ago. He now identified as an androgynous pansexual man. His father called 911 after the stabbing claiming it was "the cult" that had broken in and stabbed Brian. The cult he referred to is believed to be a local trans support group. Police determined that no one had broken in. Kevin Golic is being charged with murder and felony domestic violence.<br />
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Kristina Gomez Reinwald of Miami, Florida, was found dead in her apartment on February 15. She was 46 years old. The case was initially considered a suicide, but news broke on February 19 that police are now treating it as homicide.<br />
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Sumaya Ysl of Toronto, Canada, was found dead on February 22. She was 26 years old.<br />
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Keyshia Blige, a 33 year old from Mongtomery, IL, was killed March 7, 2015. Blige was shot while driving and crashed while attempting to drive herself to the hospital. "Police declined to comment on the motive for the shooting, but described it as "not random.” Though she had performed for many years under the name, Blige just started transitioning in January of 2015. "Stiff's mother said, though her [child] had begun taking the hormones in January, already she noticed a new glow to [her] skin." Blige was reported as male in the news.<br />
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Vanessa Santillan, a 33 year old from Miami, Florida, was fatally beaten on the head and neck in an apartment in Fulham, London, England on March 28, after responding to a neighbor's phone call.<br />
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Mya Hall, a twenty-seven-year-old transgender sex worker from Baltimore, Maryland, was killed by police on Monday, March 30, after taking a wrong turn in a stolen SUV and crashing into a security post on the National Security Agency's campus. Police assumed that the accident was a terrorist attack and immediately opened fire on Hall and her companion, Brittany Fleming, aged twenty. Fleming survived.<br />
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London Chanel, a 21 year old, died May 18 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania after being fatally stabbed in the back and neck by Raheam Felton, who was the boyfriend of one of her roommates.<br />
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Mercedes Williamson, a 17-year-old from Alabama was killed in George County, Mississippi by Josh Vallum. Her body was found June 2 after Vallum told his father about the murder.<br />
India Clarke, 25 years old, was found dead in a Tampa, Florida park on July 21st. She died due to blunt force trauma and her death is being investigated as a murder.<br />
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K.C. Haggard, 66 years old, stabbed in the neck from a vehicle in Fresno, California on July 23rd. <br />
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Amber Monroe, 20 years old, shot in Detroit, MI on August 8th. This was her third time being shot, but her fear of the police kept her from reporting other times. <br />
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Shade Schuler, 22 year old woman of color, found in a field in Dallas, TX on July 29th. There are no leads on the murder as Ms. Shade's body was so badly decomposed when found that it took two weeks to identify her. <br />
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Kandis Capri, 35, was shot in Phoenix, Arizona on August 11th. <br />
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Elisha Walker's body was found in a shallow grave in Johnston County, North Carolina on August 15. She had been reported missing a year before.<br />
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Jasmine Collins aged 32 of Kansas City, Mo was stabbed to death in June in a dispute. She was first labeled as male but the record has since been corrected to reflect her female trans status.<br />
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Tamara Dominguez aged 36 of Kansas City, Missouri was run over by an SUV truck multiple times on 15th August at 3am local time.<br />
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Keisha Jenkins, age 22 from Atlanta Georgia, shot twice in the back and killed on 10-6-15. <br />
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Zella Ziona Smith, age 21, shot in the head following an altercation. Gaithersburg, Md. 10-16-15. Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-74932178419090684392015-07-13T18:23:00.000-07:002015-07-13T18:23:48.096-07:00The Flag, The School, Brown V Topeka Board of Education<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3OGVj8TCR9X06ynkJLP6M3pVnQffCXOypX8_aLhc7XUqirLpd0egx-sO1M2-JVq1sxHHNLm1FyO1bHZhTlM5NC7SV1-gkf6JyLl00Oy6yY57NkAA_9N2M-HPuYfQ20vEdXSlXttV1y0q/s1600/ConfedFlagRacist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3OGVj8TCR9X06ynkJLP6M3pVnQffCXOypX8_aLhc7XUqirLpd0egx-sO1M2-JVq1sxHHNLm1FyO1bHZhTlM5NC7SV1-gkf6JyLl00Oy6yY57NkAA_9N2M-HPuYfQ20vEdXSlXttV1y0q/s640/ConfedFlagRacist.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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It's amazing to me how sometimes the world leads to new realizations from seemingly disparate sources. In my last blog post, I wrote about how we were taught a false history, a mythology that glorified the indefensible. I talked about my former high school, Robert E. Lee and the role the Confederate Flag played in my life in those years.<br />
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So today, I watched an interesting set of interviews regarding the new novel, Go Set a Watchman, a sequel to To Kill a Mockingbird, where Scout visits her Dad as an adult. Though it was written before Mockingbird, Watchman is about the adult visiting her aging father. No longer the crusader for justice, he is filled with the segregationist fervor common in the 50's in the south. It was about the difference in how we see our father, one vision of perfection as a child but covered with warts in our own adulthood.<br />
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Amidst all this, we've seen the Confederate Flag removed from the capital in South Carolina. We've learned that the Confederate Flag wasn't really the Confederate Flag, but rather was the battle flag for the Army of Northern Virginia, Lee's army. The creator itself proclaimed the flag to be all about white supremacy. Robert E. Lee after the war asked that it be put away and not be flown, and that it was only resurrected in the 1950's in response to the Brown Vs Topeka Board of Education that ordered desegregation as a symbol of segregation and hate. It was in that environment where my high school, Robert E. Lee was opened in 1958. We had the second largest Confederate Battle Flag, second only to the flag flown at Old Miss where we played Dixie and were immersed in the mythology of a Confederate mythology that never really was.<br />
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My question is simple. How can we possibly hope to truly move forward as a people if so many cling to a mythology that really never was. It hearkens back to a day not of happy white folks with their "colored" help gathered around supporting their kind "massa," but rather a time when people in order to be controlled had to be whipped mercilessly until they were broken. Segregation and Jim Crow laws were designed to maintain second class citizenship and continued oppression. Then of course came the Civil Rights Movement. Robert E. Lee Rebels became the Red Raiders, and the flag after a protest was retired. Then we replaced Jim Crow with Racism where race need not say its name. It's Mass Incarceration, and while race is not mentioned, statistically it is proven that racism never went away. It just changed its name.<br />
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Perhaps in a world obscured by incessant obfuscation, asking for truth rather than myth is simply asking too much. I'm not ready to give up however on the idea that seeking the truth is a worthy goal. Recently I suggested a film idea, and am pitching it to folks like Spike Lee, Ken Burns, Henry Gates etc. We've had tons of documentaries focused on black people. We need to have a really well done documentary on the history of whiteness, race, and our (White People's) culpability in creating and perpetuating the system of race and privilege that remains with us today after all these years. How we tell ourselves lies to avoid the guilt and the culpability for our actions. How white fragility is little more than a copout. We need to face it once and for all so we can all move forward instead of finding endlessly new ways of oppressing others. <br />
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Finally, I'm looking forward to reading Harper Lee's new novel. Even as time opens Scout's eyes, perhaps it can work that way for the rest of us too. It's time for the old south, and the national disgrace around race be put to bed once and for all, never to rise again.Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-45604637082766858002015-06-19T14:43:00.001-07:002015-06-19T14:43:59.736-07:00It Takes a Village<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKhQctmGBe-E7lF8EtOZOQDbWERGpd1lfYuVfV2JqWuYYH55h_ycWzQTYW1wGDf-0qyqY1vZOJ_kvn49345HsBXu4Cwd-h9uN4z2TY8rRIIvy_Vymm2W7-Xog9NMVQP_CTI5ylqyYwThD/s1600/Tyler+Lee+Class+of+65.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKhQctmGBe-E7lF8EtOZOQDbWERGpd1lfYuVfV2JqWuYYH55h_ycWzQTYW1wGDf-0qyqY1vZOJ_kvn49345HsBXu4Cwd-h9uN4z2TY8rRIIvy_Vymm2W7-Xog9NMVQP_CTI5ylqyYwThD/s400/Tyler+Lee+Class+of+65.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Photo of Tyler Lee Rebel Guard 1965 from my High School Yearbook<br />
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Last night John Stewart set aside his comedy to speak seriously about the deaths of nine innocents in Charleston, and about race and our failure to come to grips with the elephant in the room His video can be seen here:<br />
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https://www.facebook.com/116687955016786/videos/vb.116687955016786/1027868420565397/?type=2&theater<br />
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His words moved me to respond on my church list after viewing this. I realized I should share it to a wider blog audience. Here's what I wrote:<br />
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Let me share a piece of my own history. I grew up in Tyler, Texas. There was a confederate arms plant there during the civil war. I attended Robert E. Lee High School. We were the Tyler Lee Rebels and at our football games, one of the largest confederate flags in the nation was marched out onto the field held aloft during football games and Dixie was played by the band as we all sang along at the beginning and through the games, especially after touch downs. We also had the rebel guard, dressed in confederate uniforms who fired a cannon after every touchdown. <br />
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In American History, we spent over a semester just on the Civil War. There was a distinctly southern bias to what was taught. I used to point with pride to the ancestors who had fought for the south. Our myths were about great courage, and the great tragedy when a way of life had been destroyed by the yankee invaders. I knew people older than myself who spoke with pure hate about Sherman and his scorched earth policy. Our schools back then were segregated and our lives were segregated and I knew several in my home town who were racists and some who went on to become klan members. I graduated from high school in a hospital bed, a result of a motorcycle accident, where I remained for 3 months with my leg strung up in traction while the missing bone grew back in. At my graduation, the principal and superintendent were there as was the local press to photograph this proud young person at graduation, with a confederate flag draped across my pillow. The only black person I knew growing up was the help. Underpaid of course and she came in to clean every Saturday. She would be considered "one of the good ones." Then there was Grasshopper, who I only knew one day. He planted our lawn. I was five years old and he wove the most amazing stories for this young child, and to this day I remember him if not the stories with incredible fondness. I'm sure he's long since passed on, but his presence lives in my heart.<br />
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Here's the thing. I was lucky. I went to college and met real black people and the stereotypes began to melt away. I chose a career in public service and especially when I got to Houston, many, sometimes most of my co-workers and managers were black. I'd had an entire childhood of cultural myths to unlearn but they had no qualms about telling me how it really was. Unlike Minnesota, folks there can be pretty direct. But heres my point. This guy committed these murders in South Carolina, but he did not act alone even if he was not affiliated with any group. The phrase "it takes a village" resonates with me on this. There was family, friends, the community who nurtured the mythology of a dying culture stolen from them. A belief of the immoral black villains raping their women and resting control of their perceived image of white superiority and control. It's Lyndsay Graham hastily portraying the killer as some kind of crazy person and not like the rest of them other white people. Nikki Haley says the flag remains because she hasn't had any complaints from corporations. Seriously? A comment probably true in her world as those are her bosses, but really? Never mind the really large population of Black South Carolinians who've been gerrymandered out of representation. It's two politicians defending that flag, the very symbol of white supremacy coached in the very same terms that existed when I was a young person attending Tyler Lee. Lots of winking and nodding, code to conceal a very real racism and a commitment to maintain white supremacy. We've had a civil rights movement in the fifties and sixties, yet despite all that, we really haven't moved forward far at all.<br />
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Today I read the guy who did this heinous deed said he almost didn't go through with it. Those folks had been so nice to him he said. Here he had confronted real compassion and real love. But the messages, the mythology of his own being trumped reality. So now there are nine dead. He will go to prison. He's going to find other white supremacists there and they will commiserate together. Meanwhile, the community continues to hide from the truth, and perpetuate the myth of racial superiority. Until we change the community, this will be but one in a string of the attacks on the innocents stretching well over 400 years/ It does take a village. But one filled with compassion, not racist bulls**t. <br />
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One last thought. The confederacy was about traitors, not heroes. Their symbol of the flag was a symbol of treason. Time to quit pretending otherwise. I've spent a lifetime undoing my own damage. But I'm just one. This time compassion did not succeed. But in the long term I think it will. Regardless, it's a far better mythology than the one being perpetuated.May the healing begin.Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7601013991336893887.post-30431056150798299132015-06-18T15:36:00.002-07:002015-06-18T15:42:02.494-07:00Reflections on Terror in Charleston<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNZOOVbl8at0dvQTKrv6Z7qIeOv_dEbL8_gbsUqdwk2-ebPwr7USm8iM7gGF0_p2QykG30D-2dKRF04mBSJQS1Uw_a6IpgyZuYFXgRd78SqWf702yzamnT8dLl-84VICdTUna4hWSlXh0/s1600/edmondpettus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNZOOVbl8at0dvQTKrv6Z7qIeOv_dEbL8_gbsUqdwk2-ebPwr7USm8iM7gGF0_p2QykG30D-2dKRF04mBSJQS1Uw_a6IpgyZuYFXgRd78SqWf702yzamnT8dLl-84VICdTUna4hWSlXh0/s400/edmondpettus.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Ironically, day before yesterday my wife and I were having a conversation. I was thinking about the huge increase in militias, hate groups plus the increased rhetoric around hate, racism and the absurd denial by politicians who don't even recognize the racism that surrounds us every day. With a sigh, I told her that we were not dealing with it now, and things could get a lot worse if we don't.<br />
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The very next day, I hear of the terror attack in Charleston. I'd love to say I was surprised. But I wasn't. Saddened, yes. Angry? That also. But how could I be surprised in a climate of hate that surrounds us each day? A world where police continue to gun down unarmed citizens and target black and brown people as if they were somehow inherently evil by virtue of the color of their skin. A world where educational priorities go to affluent white neighborhoods at the expense of those without resources. A world where prisons operate for profit and there is an incentive to arrest and incarcerate. A world where preschool and early elementary kids are expelled from school because of the incompetence of their teachers.<br />
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Two news broadcasts stand out in my mind. One I didn't see but heard about. Fox News who as a matter of policy denies that racism even exists, decrying the very idea this was a racist attack or a hate crime. In their fantastical world that is not possible. I listened to a broadcast on so called liberal MSNBC where it was noted this was the worst mass killing in South Carolina's history. Um I suppose if you ignore the lynchings, the state sanctioned killing of 33 black folks involved in a slave revolt, mostly from this very church. Everyone acts as if this were a singular event. I suppose that's essential if you're trying to preserve the myth of white supremacy. But reality, yeah I know, uncommon these days, demands that one acknowledge the open racism, the blatant attempts by politicians to exploit that divide for their own benefit, the ongoing attacks on black and brown people around the country by a whole bevy of so called "lone wolves." Privilege demands I think, that we ignore the real role we as white people are playing in this ongoing slaughter. <br />
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Here's truth however. The population of white vs non white Americans is changing and whites are moving towards what will be a clear minority. If we persist in this evil that grants us privilege over others, and allows us to label each perpetrator of these heinous crimes as a lone wolf, a disturbed individual, but not part of a larger event, the anger of a people thus denied justice or fairness can only grow. If we scream bloody murder about a small group of New Black Panthers carrying arms while militias and white gun freaks tote their weapons openly and with abandon, that anger will grow. White people, the choice is ours to make. Confront our own racism, our own privilege and work towards healing of our humanity of which we all are a part, or sit about complacent in our advantages and face a bloody resurrection sometime in the future that will truly hurt us all. Those of us who are white must raise our heads out of the sand and confront our own evil. We must work together to end these killings by a succession of terrorists that seem to have no end. I chose the photo of the Edmond Pettus Bridge. Because the struggles of the early slaves and freedmen in America, of the Civil War, of Jim Crow laws the divide, and of Mass Incarceration that serves the wealthy seeking low wage workers are all part of one struggle.<br />
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I look at the history of this church. Good people, prayerful people, people committed to justice and fairness. The wrong people lost their lives. My prayers join that of many others for them, for their families, and for their community. My prayer also is that this will serve as an awakening within white people everywhere. We must actively join our black and brown brothers and sisters and and strike a death blow to that evil we call racism. If we can construct racism, we can take it apart. But it's going to take all of us. Listen to the black people you know. Here there stories and embrace them We've listened to our own lies for generations. Now it is time to hear their truth and to be moved by it. This killing was NOT an isolated event. It's part of an ongoing national history, a part of an ongoing national shame, and it's got to end, sooner rather than later. We need to confront media when it gets it wrong. We need to openly advocate regardless if it costs us friends. The killing and injustice must end.<br />
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May it be so.Jessica Wickshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18081182303083622732noreply@blogger.com0