#ME-FUCKING-TOO: A RALLYING CRY.
GawdDAMMIT! I was hoping I didn't have to write about this AGAIN.
But here we go....
Have I ever told you about the time my all male management team at the large pharmaceutical company I worked for invited me to the hospitality suite at a Business Conference and when I entered the room I was the only female employee there along with a full size blow up sex doll?
Or the time my senior manager (same company) followed me to a porta-potty at a different out of town meeting and tried to enter it and I was pulled aside the next day and warned not to say anything to anyone about it?
Or about the time when I was 11 and I was riding my bike with my girlfriend, like kids do around their neighbourhoods, and a guy pulled up in his muscle car to (what we thought) ask for directions, but NO, it was so he could show us his DICK that he had pulled out of his pants?
Or about the neighbours whom EVERYONE loved because they were the only house on our street that had Super Channel and how the husband would invite kids for sleepovers and to watch movies while his wife worked nights as a nurse. And during those sleepovers he would sexually molest the kids? Yours truly being one of them.
Or about my Grade 6 teacher who took me into the supply room to console me after I was punched in the gut (by a boy) and who thought trying to kiss and fondle me was the way to do that?
Or the real reason, at 14, I had to quit my first job as a busser at the Steakhouse in St. Albert wasn't because of the smoking like I told my mom, but because of the constant harassment I was getting from the all male kitchen staff?
Or....
Oh forget it.
Honestly, I have lost track of the times in my life I have been sexually harassed or inappropriately touched or propositioned by MEN.
Yes, of course #METOO.
Ask ANY woman and she will tell you #metoo. And even if she doesn't or can't say it (for reasons that are NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS), I guarantee you, it has happened to her.
``````````
I am reading Alias Grace right now. (Yes, I know it is on TV, but I also don't have Cable anymore and I LIKE BOOKS). Grace is retelling her story to Dr. Jordan and he asks her:
“Did {Mr. Kinnear} ever touch you? Did he take liberties?
To which Grace replies, “ Only what was usual, Sir.””
Only what was usual.
Think about that. When I read those lines last night, I had to stop and take a breath. Because if that isn't the truth of this world.... OOF!
This is the culture we have bred into humanity. That woman are to expect a "usual" display from men of sexual, predatory, inappropriate, demeaning behaviour. Especially women they view in their realm of power or having no "social" status, with no recourse to say or do anything to stop them.
FUCK THAT!
Enough.
I have seen people criticizing the #MeToo hashtag (or campaign if that is what you want to call it) as just another form of slacktivism. Pop it up on your Twitter or Facebook feed and you're good. You did your part. You said the thing. Now move on. (Don't even get me started on how triggering it is for people to have to constantly tell or re-tell the traumatic events that have happened to them!)
Fine, opinions will be had and those people can have theirs.
HERE IS MINE. (That's what you came here for right?)
I see #METOO as a fucking RALLYING CRY.
A GODDAMN WARCRY ACTUALLY!
#METOO is a uniting force. A force that should scare the shit out of ALL THE MEN out there who have thought or still think that they are entitled to that "usual" display of predatory behaviour towards women.
To the men (and women) who insist that all of this is simply "locker room talk", or the people who continue to use the phrase "boys will be boys", or who truly believe that men can't be in the same room with women because of their uncontrollable urges, I say WATCH YOUR FUCKING BACKS!
WE ARE COMING FOR YOU!
We will name NAMES.
We will CALL YOU OUT.
We are NOT going to be AFRAID.
YOU will be shamed. NOT US.
We will not be ashamed of the things that were DONE TO US.
We are not as some have said, claiming some sort of "victim mentality" and wanting validation as such. (Also - FUCK YOU! Victim blamer/shamers.)
#METOO means that we are done believing the men who are doing these things are more important than we are.
#METOO means that we refuse to live in a world where 5, 10, 20 years from now our own daughters are saying the same fucking thing!
#METOO means THIS SHIT STOPS RIGHT FUCKING NOW!
And just so you know, I have been watching "The 100" on Netflix (totally BINGE-WORTHY show BTW) and as I write this, I am imagining myself as Clarke or Lexa saying this to an ARMY OF #METOO-ers as we are about to attack our enemies with the full force of our might!
And as the Grounders Say...
Blood must have Blood!
#METOO is not about being a victim, it is about showing the world that we are an army of survivors, OF FIGHTERS, of truth sayers, and WE WILL NOT BE STOPPED.
MY FELLOW WARRIORS,
I SEE YOU!
I BELEIVE YOU!
I WILL FIGHT FOR AND WITH YOU!
N~
~~~~~~~~~
For more important reading to stoke the fires for this rage battle, please read:
At what point do women simply burn it all to the ground? by Janelle at Renegade Mothering
and
next level rage stroke: harvey-fucking-weinstein by KatyKatiKate
END :: BEGIN
Oh HAI THERE!
I am still here. Lately I have been writing all my thoughts....
Well, nowhere really.
I could say it's been mostly in my head, but my writing coach (@renegademothering) would say NO, that is #NOTWRITING, that is just thinking. So, right now, I suppose I am not a writer, I am a thinker. And believe me, I have lots of great "think pieces" up in there! LOL
I am by the way, also about to have another orthopedic surgery.
Like tomorrow.
Seriously. Getting my right knee totally replaced this time. You know, to match the left one! (I like symmetry.)
And then I am done for a long time. (Crosses ALL THE THINGS!)
Can I tell you all something?
Three major surgeries in one year is A LOT. Yes, I know, technically and for the most part, these are elective surgeries, and I am choosing to do this, but that fact doesn't diminish the impact these procedures have on my body, my psyche, and my family. I am not going to lie. It has been tough. For all of us.
I've become an expert at detecting each of my family member's levels of anxiety and their respective coping mechanisms, and trying to support them in a compassionate way while also keeping my own levels in check. This too has been hard and I thank the Goddess for my anti-anxiety meds and my summer discovery of a new favourite wine (but not at the same time of course!). Also, DO NOT @ me about drinking!
On the bright side, we have officially sold the #NaturalUrbanHome. FINALLY! I have avoided going back to the old house since we moved in to the #SleeperHouse in the spring, but now, I feel like I have to go back before we hand over the keys and say a proper farewell to the house that we thought was our "Dream Home". It's funny how dreams and life and priorities change, isn't it?
I am looking at this time in my life (and this surgery in particular) as a new beginning, or perhaps the end of the new beginning. Does that make sense? I have plans people and I need to have a fully functioning body to execute them. You have no idea how much I am looking forward to the simple act of walking with NO PAIN. It's been a good 20 odd years, I think I am due. And I have a feeling that once I start, I won't stop.
People keep asking me if I am excited about my surgery and in a way I guess I am. I mean, I am not SUPER excited for the surgery itself and the pain afterwards and the catheter thingy they put in because of the spinal anaesthesia and not having a proper shower for three days and the hospital food (aside from the mashed potatoes - I would eat those for breakfast, lunch and dinner if they let me!).
I am excited for what the surgery means to me.
An end and a beginning.
#ICANDOTHIS
See you on the flip side my friends!
N~
P.S. Have I mentioned that I want a record player? 'Cause I really, REALLY do.
So when I say "See you on the flip side", I WILL LITERALLY MEAN IT while I play some vintage ABBA on my turntable!
We built a #sleeperhouse and it has made all the difference.
In February of 2016, my little family of four was finally on a much needed holiday on the beautiful island of Kaua'i. I had found a super cute condo in Princeville, and we settled in for our week in paradise. The condo is important - I’ll come back to it.
We loved everything about this little piece of Paradise!
At the time, we were on the look out for a new property to buy back in Edmonton. It was something we had been talking about for the past two years, ever since that day in 2014 when life changed for our family in the blink of an eye and the bleep of a heart and lung machine. Suddenly, how we wanted to live became more clear to us, and we realized we had emotionally outgrown our current BIG house, on our BIG lot ,and all the things we thought we wanted and needed.
I woke up the second day of our vacation, took my laptop and my coffee out on the lanai to do a little writing, and there it was in my inbox. A 60-year old, 1200 square foot bungalow, on a smaller lot, steps away from a beautiful tree-lined boulevard, and a 10 minute walk to the kid's school. And priced to SELL!
I called my real estate agent and he took me to "see" the house via FaceTime. I knew it was the one. To be sure though, I had our builder also go to the house and give us his expert opinion. He agreed it was a solid house with a good foundation, and with that we made an offer. By the time we got back from holidays, the house was ours!
The concept of building what we call our "Sleeper House" came to us because of a few house renovations my husband had seen online. The builders had taken these beautiful heritage houses, left the front facade of the houses in their original state, and extended the houses with very modern additions/renovations at the back. From the street, the houses maintained the look and feel of the neighbourhood, but once you walked inside, the house was not at all what you expected (hence the term “sleeper house”). Inside you were taken into a completley redesigned house and into open, airy, thoughtfully designed contemporary spaces. This was exactly what we wanted to do with our new house - maintain that ambiance of the streetscape in our older established neighbourhood, while still renovating and updating the house to suit our needs.
We added 800 square feet to the back of our little bungalow and turned the original house into our bedrooms and laundry room. The addition became our main living space with an open concept living/dining/kitchen area, a small office and the mudroom/pantry leading to the attached garage. And when it came to decorating, we all agreed that we wanted it to feel like very much like our little condo in Kauia - simple, cozy and colourful (and eventually with a vintage surfboard mounted on one wall).
Colourful - CHECK!
This house is our grounded space, our connection to that which we hold dear in our lives. To that end, we have strived to fill it with design elements that speak to us of nature, mother earth, history and togetherness.
We have barn doors, a bedroom feature wall, and a custom dining room table made with reclaimed timber from a farm corral built in the 1940's. To honour the house that was, we recycled the original metal kitchen cabinets and used them in our laundry room. We have a full wall that is made of real mason-laid brick that serves a dual purpose of bringing an earthy warmth to the house both aesthetically and thermally. We installed a wood burning stove which brings the element of fire into our home to spark creativity and transformation, and fuel our passions. We built the main living area around the space for the piano and guitars, so our house will always be filled with music and magic. We built 20 feet of bookshelves lining one whole wall to feed our minds and souls with words, knowledge, stories, and wisdom of others. We have 12-foot ceilings in the addition and large windows to let the light into our home and our hearts.
Reclaimed 70-year old wood for the table and barn door.
This house was built with a purpose beyond that of simple shelter. We built this house to reflect our truths as a family. We are a pretty tight little foursome and we wanted our home to reflect the things that matter to us. A home in which we can have family-style dinners every night, or sit in front of the wood stove and warm our toes while we read our favourite books, or all curl up with pillows and blankets in front of the big(ger) TV in the basement and watch old movies. A home that showcases the artwork we have collected in our travels and that the kids have made, the memorabilia that has been passed down to us from our parents and grandparents, and our own kitschy collectibles. The house is 30% smaller than our previous one, and yet, for all the space we no longer have, everything here feels just right.
Earlier this week, my husband said of all the houses that we have built (this is our fourth), our #SleeperHouse is the one where he feels the most comfortable. I have to agree. And I know it is not just the house. It is the neighbourhood and the community we are in as well. We live in a place where when the doorbell rings, 90% of the time it is not for me. It is a friend coming to get the kids to go for a bike ride, or to play in the park, or throw some hoops, or climb a tree. When it is for me, it’s a neighbour coming over for a glass of wine, or a coffee and a chat while we sit in the kitchen or on the front porch and say hello to all the other neighbours walking by. Our bright yellow door is a beacon and I love it!
The house with the yellow door.
We set some serious goals when we decided to build this house. We wanted a smaller, more compact home. We wanted to really incorporate the "sleeper house" aesthetic we had seen done successfully elsewhere. And above all, we wanted a house that reflected our family values of togetherness, sustainability, thoughtful design and purposeful living. Values we encompass in our family motto of All you need is less.
We've been living in the house for almost three months now and I can honestly say that I fall more in love with this space and the way we are living in it each day. Along this particular home building journey, the most important lesson we have learned is this; it is not the house that makes a place a dream home, it’s when your dreams of a purposeful and meaningful life become a reality in your home.
Our #sleeperhouse definitely has us on the right track.
....and Unicorns.
This post is part of The Whole Family Happiness Project, in partnership with Social Currents and the Low Carbon Economy Narrative Initiative. The Whole Family Happiness Project poses the question, “What is the connection between our individual purpose, our family happiness, and the happiness of the world around us?”
To learn more or get involved, visit Whole Family Happiness on Facebook. #wholefamilyhappiness
I am still here - just a bit broken...
And I needed some new parts.
I swear to god, I sound like an old Ford Model-T or something almost as vintage. (I am saying vintage these days because It sounds way more bougie and fun than old.)
Last November I had my first knee replacement. It went well, and I got a gold star from my surgeon for my recovery and rehab. We decided then to go ahead with the other knee six months later. In June.
Hey - lookie here. It's June. And apparently my body had other ideas.
On May 20th, while en route to my niece's graduation ceremony, I bent over to do up a buckle on my shoe and in the process, twisted a bit too much and dislocated my right hip. AGAIN!
FUCK!!
We turned the car around and headed to the ER. All the while with the kids in the back seat, experiencing what I imagine is all kinds of PTSD triggers brought on by trips to the emergency room. It was a stellar day people.
Since this was my third trip to the hospital for this very problem, I figured it was going to be the same as before. Easy Peasey, give me the knock-out drugs, reef on my leg, pop the hip joint back into place, off I go - Lemon Squeezy.
I was wrong.
Three tries later and way more propofol than one should probably have in one day (sorry MJ), and the very nice and super cute orthopedic surgeon told me the bad news. They couldn't get my hip back in place and I would have to be transferred to another hospital to have a surgical revision done.
This was Saturday.
Sunday morning I was transferred. And Tuesday morning I had surgery. YES. You counted correctly. I laid in a hospital bed for three days with a dislocated hip joint. Something I do NOT recommend. And people - bed sores are serious business! One more day and skin would have broken and it would have been BAD.
The gist of things was that the lining of my acetabulum (the socket part of the joint) had worn out, and along with the head of the femur (the ball of the joint), had to be replaced. So, new parts for me and another six weeks of post-op recovery.
Emergency surgery means you get to keep your nail polish on!
And no driving. Sigh.
I am sitting here at week five and everything is healing up very nicely. I am technically supposed to still be using my crutches until next week, but my goodness are they ever a PITA! I can move around easily now at home and am starting to get stronger when I am out and about too. (And I may have gone for a short drive to pick up milk yesterday!)
Needless to say, that right knee replacement that was actually scheduled for THIS Thursday is not happening. I managed to negotiate with my surgeon for a date in September instead. This is what you get to do when you are a gold star patient like me. (Or at least that is what I am telling myself).
So I get the summer with the kids, we can focus on finishing up everything around the #sleeperhouse (including landscaping), and I get to put in some time at work leading up to the Fall Fashion season.
And I am writing again. So, this forced confinement and convalescence hasn't been for naught. Perhaps it is what my mind needed. A chance to be still within myself and find that place where the words and my thoughts meet and then pour forth through my fingers. I'll post a few links to what I have been doing and where, as most of the recent writing has been for other publications.
You know how the saying goes... everything happens for a reason, blah, blah, blah..... Well, maybe that is true. Or maybe I just need to stop reaching for shit in my car and twisting my body into positions it clearly is not meant to do anymore!
Bus ride for persons with reduced mobility!
Did you miss me?
XO,
N~
Weekly grocery shopping done in under three minutes!
I remember the days when my babies were actually babies and going to the grocery store by myself for an hour in the evening felt like a bloody vacation! I would stretch the time out and walk every single aisle and just listen to the musak playing in the store and read ingredient lists for funsies.
Fast forward 8 years later, and I now dread grocery shopping. I don't need a Safeway Vacation these days. I need a 2-weeks-on-the-beach-with-my-husband-and-six-books, vacation. PLEASE!?
Unfortunately, that beach vacation is not going to happen anytime soon. In the meantime, I have to find ways to get our weekly food staples into the house, while also maintaining my sanity and avoiding the grocery store.
Inevitably, every time I go to the store to get milk or bread or eggs, I come out with about 10 other things my stomach thinks we MUST HAVE right now! (Like Licorice Allsorts and Hawkins Cheezies and four different kinds of fancy cheese). This routine is simply not working for our food budget, or my pant size!
Enter the solution: the SPUD Weekly Staples Box.
With one simple click, I get over $65 worth of the items we use on a weekly basis, delivered right to my front door!
And now you can too! For the month of March, you can try out SPUD home grocery delivery and the Weekly Staples Box for only $40 a week (new customers)!
Your time is precious and I really want you to have that hour or more you would have spent driving to the store, picking everything, and then paying for and sometimes packing your own groceries, to do something else. Maybe catch up on your fave Netflix show. Have a family board or card game night. Go for a nice long walk, or get to that class at the gym you can never go to because - stupid grocery shopping!
Go for it! I can't tell you how much SPUD.CA makes my life easier. And you know what, I don't care what anyone says, Organic Milk DOES taste better in my morning latte!
Yours in health(y food) and (extreme) laziness,
N~
*Disclosure: I am a Spud Ambassador and was compensated with a one week trial of the Staples Box. All opinions are truly my own, because I am that lazy and really do hate grocery shopping!
Happy International Woman's Day! Go forth and GODDESS (or strike)!
I've been scouring the internet all night looking for that one pivotal piece of writing that would sum up what International Women's Day is, why we celebrate it, and why some women are going on strike tomorrow.
I can't find anything that is working for me.
What I am finding is a lot of women asking who is going on strike? Are you doing it? How? When? What?
These updates and questions remind me of the day before a school dance in junior high. All the girls are asking each other if they will be wearing a skirt or not. No one wants to be the only one showing up in a skirt, and no one want to be the only one showing up not wearing a skirt.
For anyone wondering... I am not wearing a skirt. Or in this case, going on strike.
For one thing, I have a job now, one that I really like, and I want to go to work tomorrow. In three days we will be celebrating the 10 year anniversary of my boss's fabulous fashion boutique at her current location and there is so much to do to get the store and ourselves all ready for a weekend of events.
I can think of no better way to celebrate International Women's Day than supporting and working for a fellow woman, one who left the corporate world to live and work according to her own philosophy of consumerism and lifestyle.
Sure, maybe I'll wear red too if that makes y'all feel better. You go ahead and wear whatever colour works for you and makes you feel like a bad ass! Be a Shelby and wear pink as your "signature colour." Coordinate the shit outta your outfit! I feel good in green. And blue too. Maybe I'll go with a nice red lippie tomorrow.
The thing with this strike business, is that it feels a bit elitist. Maybe some of you don't HAVE to go to work and can afford to just not show up, but that is not the reality for the majority of women who are the sole breadwinners for their families, who live paycheck to paycheck, or who will get fired if they don't come in to work. So maybe don't be all in your face to other women about your privilege if that's the case, mkay?
Now, about all that emotional labour we are often responsible for? Absolutely quit that shit for sure. And maybe not just for the day. Let's make a pact to try to cut down on this bullshit significantly this year. The guys who are working on my new house joke whenever I walk in the door, "Oh-oh, the boss is here." You know what? DAMN FUCKING STRAIGHT GUYS. I am not going to apologize for knowing what I want and telling them how and what to do.
Ladies, be the fucking bosses in your lives. Support women-owned businesses. Don't let anyone tell you what to wear or not wear to be a "good" feminist. Take out the garbage, or not. Leave the house on Saturday and let everyone know that laundry needs to be done before you get home. Get yourself some sex toys and take care of yourself whenever you need to, with or without a partner. Drink good wine. Or coffee. Or scotch. Buy those shoes that you think are too much, but make your heart sing, AND DON'T HIDE THEM AT THE BACK OF THE CLOSET!
Meet my new Stellas!
Speak boldly and with conviction. Have all the confidence of a mediocre white man and go forth knowing that the world owes you....
EVERYTHING!
Now, I am off to paint with the blood of my menses and drink the tears of #notallmen from my sacred chalice made from the clay of Mother Earth. #feministtraditions
#nomorecookiesforyou
I have made an observation of my life these past few months as I creep closer and closer to the "official" beginning of middle age. It seems my level of righteous indignation at the injustices of this world is increasing at a rate proportional to the amount that I am sweating at night. Which is to say - a whole damn lot!
One particular injustice or societal trend I keep seeing over and over, is something I call the fetishization of men who assume roles of caregiver/feminist/allies. I don't know if there is a technical phrase for this phenomenon, so I kind of made one up. I like to call it, #givingmenallthecookies.
This is why women can’t have nice things in this world. And by nice things, I obviously mean economic, political and societal equality.
You know what I am talking about. You see the one man wearing a baby in a baby carrier at the playground or the mall, something women do all the damn time (while also doing many other things I would add), and he gets fawned over like he might actually be the ONLY man on the planet at that very moment.
Or how about the man who got invited to the White House to talk about parental leave because he was denied leave from his employer when his child was born? A few years ago, I sat in a giant conference room full of American mothers, all of whom had zero leave when they had children, as they unironically applauded this man like he was some kind of parental-leave messiah. As one of the few Canadian women in the room (I actually had a full 52 weeks of parental leave - twice!!), I was very confused by this. Why is it that thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of women can fight for something for decades, but the minute it affects a man, and he has something to say about it, it becomes front page news and is White House invitation worthy? Why are the feels of this one new father so much more important than those of the countless mothers who have come before him and have been fighting, seemingly unseen and unheard, for maternity leave in the USA forever?
The most recent example of #givingmenallthecookies that had me all hot and bothered, was at a recent blogging and social media awards presentation. The list of nominees was impressive. New faces and established bloggers alike, and included many women changing the world through their words, businesses, and online presence. These awards are an opportunity to acknowledge the hard work of many in making these spaces for themselves and others, and at THIS conference, which is primarily targeted at women in the parent blogging community, we celebrate our own. Or so I thought.
Where have I been before today? Reflections on the #WomensMarch.
“where have you been? Where have y’all been? Why is this your first protest? I cannot put into words how heartbreaking it is to see grown adults that I know and love decide only now to take to the streets. I’m glad you’re there. I’m glad you’re doing something. But weren’t we enough? Weren’t we worth it before? Why weren’t we reason enough?
Where have you been? And where will you be once this doesn’t impact you directly anymore? ”
Today, Eight and I went to the local Women's March on Washington in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, along with about 4000 other folks in our chilly, weird zombie-fogged-over city. And here is the truth. This was not only my 8-year-old daughter's first real rally/protest/march, it was mine as well.
So when Ijeoma asked the above on Facebook (and Twitter) tonight, I had to sit my privileged, cis, white-lady butt down and really think about this. Why am I a 45-year-old, loud and proud FEMINIST who carried out my first real, in-life, tangible act of defiance and activism today?
I hate to admit this, but I don't have a good answer for her.
I think for many people of privilege, "the wall" is already there. Separating us from those who are not US. Oh, we see you, we see your struggles, the injustices and inequality, and we talk a good talk (or write a good blog post or FB status), but our activism ends when we close the tab, or get enough likes to make us feel good about ourselves. We look over the wall, but we rarely climb over it.
It's easy to sympathize with people from afar. It is much harder is to empathize with them. To put yourself right next to them or right in their shoes, and REALLY know what it's like to be truly marginalized and dehumanized. To bear witness and feel the pain of black and brown mothers losing their babies to police brutality. To step in (online or IRL) when a trans sister or brother or non-binary person is being attacked for the mere fact of existing. To send that email or make that phone call to our elected officials demanding action for our Indigenous people living in third-world-like conditions in our country. It's easy to say, who am I to say or do anything? It's not MY issue.
I guess what I am trying to say, and what Ijeoma's post made me realize is; why have I been choosing easy?
All week I have seen post after post from the Women of Colour on my timelines saying that they were not going to go to the Women's Marches. That they were TIRED. TIRED of doing SO MUCH WORK, and being attacked time and time again for standing up for the rest OF US. SO tired of showing up, only to be upstaged by white women, taking the credit (and all the selfies) for their work.
Photo credit: Angela Peoples and Kevin Banette
This is when I knew I had to go. Because it is WAY PAST time that I step up and into the fray, and let my black and brown and indigenous and LGBTQi+ and disabled sestras take a GOTDAMB break. Time to let them be the ones at home, safe with their loved ones, watching the Live feeds on social media. IT WAS time to PUT UP or SHUT UP. Hell, it was SO way past that time and I am ashamed it took me this long to put my body and my being on the front line. I am sorry it took so long for me to use my privilege to protect you. To be the RIGHT KIND OF WALL that stops the bigots and racists and xenophobes and sexists from getting to you. I am sorry it has taken me this long to physically lock arms with you and say to all the people with hate and ignorance in their hearts and minds, NOT ON MY WATCH MOTHERFUCKERS!
I know these words are not enough. I know me showing up today is not enough. I know being in the echo chambers I curate online or the "barred rooms" I visit with fellow feminists and friends (as one of our local speakers called them today) preaching to the choir, is NOT ENOUGH.
I wrote a post a few years ago saying our world needed a revolution. Well... here we are. It's been a while since most of North America has been this OPENLY divided. It is time for us, FOR ME, to make some choices about what side we are on and if we really are who and what we say we are.
So... Ijeoma, Addye, Kelly, Elisa, Stepha, Aja, Syreeta, Asha, Marni, AJ, Janelle, Amanda, TJ, Jenny, Alexandra, Eight, Ten and SO MANY MORE...
Please accept my apology for not being a TRUE ally until today. My pledge and promise to you is that from this day forward, I am with you, beside you, in front of you (if you need me) and behind you when you don't.
I promise to do better. You have always been worth it, I was just too shortsighted and walled in my own privileged world to see it and do something REAL about it. I own that. No excuses.
Love and solidarity AND ACTION.
Eight's protest sign.