Wednesday, November 9

I needed this today . . .

Yesterday, this whole election really, was brutal.

My candidate did not win.

The winners have made walking back protections on families like mine
part of their campaign promises,
and given the VP Elect's record in Indiana I have to believe that
they will work to accomplish those promises.

So today, I needed a reminder that those communities
(Women, LGBT+, People of Color, Muslims,
Latinos, the Disabled, the Media, etc.)
that the President Elect has spent the last 18 months
ridiculing and denigrating have pulled together before.

And we will do it again.

The movement is hurting and tired,
but our momentum to make the world kinder, more inclusive
and less fearful has not been lost.

My daughters were watching this today,
and I realized just how much I needed to see a diverse group
(even one as nonsensical as multi color anthro ponies)
support one another, lift each other up and rally together to make things better.

We are stronger together.

We will make it through this.

We will protect each other.

We will not let our momentum falter.

And until then . . .

We have singing anthro ponies.

Friday, September 23

Arguing with Myself: Won’t Someone Think of the Children?

I saw something today that made the little voice in my head
(the one that doesn’t stop until I’ve written down what it has to say)
start gnashing its teeth.

As I left the parking lot where I was waiting for my wife to text me back, a pick-up truck with a confederate flag license plate pulled in.

Now, let’s be clear . . . I’m white.

Not quite blind you with reflected sunlight,
but my heritage just doesn’t get called into question.

My parents were staunch Republicans
(my dad is now an Independent and my mom is a Libertarian, *headdesk*).

In fact one of my dad’s favorite denigrating phrases, for years, was to call anyone who was at all socially progressive a
“Jane Fonda Pinko Commy Faggot.”
It was his favorite insult up until about a decade and a half ago.

My mom (who now denies this conversation ever took place) told me point blank that gay couples shouldn’t be able to get married because the law to legalize same sex marriage (this was probably around 2000, not sure which specific bill) included wording allowing same sex parents to touch the genitals of their children (for things like diaper changes, and medical need) and she didn’t agree with letting pedophiles have that kind of legal loophole.

They are both lifetime members of the NRA,
and vocal Blue Lives/ All Lives Matter proponents.

Now don’t get me wrong, my parents are loving, caring people who have evolved on their views on a number of civil issues
(same sex marriage, interracial marriage,
religious discrimination, and some women’s issues).
And I don’t want to paint them as bigoted or hateful or less than the loving parents and decent human beings they are.

But this is where I came from.

And where I am desperately trying to keep from going back to.

The reason that flag got to me this morning
has to do with the world my kids are growing up in.

on video, with his hands in the air on Friday.

My sister and her husband just had a beautiful little boy, and
I don’t want him growing up in a world where he needs to be afraid of the police
because his skin has more melanin than my kids’.

I don’t want Alani’s beautiful children portrayed as thugs, criminals or sluts
because of the color of their skin.

I don’t want my cousin’s children
demonized for the religion they were raised with, that their mother chose.
For their brown complexions and dark hair and manner of dress.

All of those children deserve to be as unafraid of the police
as my white children are.

Full stop.

My children should not have to worry that their parents’ marriage
is not seen as valid, that someone’s political agenda could see our
legal marriage unmade and
Hunny forced back into a role that would have killed her.

That there are people who would use their lack of understanding, lack of compassion to destroy our family because they aren’t ok with rainbow flags.  

Our children are watching. What message are we teaching them?
What kind of a world are we leaving them? 

#I don't really do hashtags #but this is important #bigotry kills #our kids deserve better

Friday, April 22

“No More”

Since its the 10th anniversary of the beginning of my favorite Doctor’s tenure (David Tennant as the tenth), I finally decided to write the mini-sode that I wished Moffat had given us as an epilogue to the Doctor Who 50th Anniversary special. I mean, seriously . . . how hard would it have been? David Tennant and Billie Piper were both there; it wouldn’t have taken very long to shoot. Really Moffat? 

Anyway . . . Here's my post 50th mini-sode, "No More".

The peace of the darkened bedroom was broken by vague mutterings. 
The dark, sleep tousled head of the Doctor lifted from the pillow as the the small, distressed noises continued on the other side of the bed. His brown eyes widened and single heart raced as he glimpsed the troubled face of his wife,
 still trapped within her nightmare. The movement of his outstretched hand, poised to comfort or wake his beloved, arrested as her eyes snapped open.
“Rose . . .” he began, only to have the words snatched away by 
the flash of gold that obscured the whiskey brown of her eyes. 
He felt his heart hitch in its frantic rhythm as she proclaimed “No more.”