Rights V. Responsibility: Making the Choice to Stop the Hate

Ugh, fellow Americans, can we please take our heads out of our asses now?

Removing a flag from the shelves of a corporate conglomerate will not erase racism. It will not stop people from killing each other. It will not stop hate.

It might, however, encourage the idea that your opinions, feelings, thoughts and words are only protected as long as the majority of society thinks they are appropriate. It might allow us to continue avoiding this responsibility we have to treat each other with respect and tolerance and to teach our children to do the same. It might relay to future generations that they can blame something like a piece of fabric on their fucked-up morals and actions.

For the record, I'm a white, middle-class Midwesterner who has always lived in a land of white. I've seen and interacted with very few people of other nationalities and races. If that takes away all my credibility and you no longer think I have anything intelligent to say, then stop reading. I still grew up with forms of discrimination and hate. I still see it today. As a mother, this makes me terrified.

I think Dylan Roof was taught to hate. I think he was raised in a society and community that viewed people as social castes to be stepped on in order to make themselves appear better. I think he was taught that problems are solved with anger and violence and that different opinions are bad.

It might sound like I'm blaming his parents, and in truth, I partly am. But his parents and community weren't the only teachers. As a society we preach equality and anti-discrimination, but in entertainment blacks represent only 10 percent of lead characters in movies and sat in 12 percent of director’s chairs in 2011. Not only that, but these films are given their own "genre." Ever heard the term Hood Film? The fact that the term exists says something.

How many conversations have been had about crime and violence and the direct relation to what we deem as ethnic races? I'd like to say minorities, but I find that term severely outdated, particularly since Caucasian is quickly becoming the less common race. When you think of the term "ghetto", what is the first image that comes to your mind?

It's not just blacks that face this either. Here in America, if we're equal about anything, it's fairness in our stereotypes. We segregate ourselves. We always have and we find this to be the norm. We've always had a standard of conformity, even in the days of the first colonies, and we've failed to evolve and adapt beyond it.

Which begs the question: which came first? The stereotype or the Hood film?

Then there's Rachel Dolezal. Now, in full disclosure, I didn't follow this story very well. From what I understand, she's a white woman posing as a black woman who had a job as head of the Spokane chapter of the NAACP, a civil rights organization for ethnic minorities. The verdict is still out on what her actual race is, not that it really matters.

WHOA. WAIT. Did I just write that?

Her RACE doesn't MATTER?!

Yes. It doesn't matter. I don't care what race she actually is or what race she identifies with. Can she do the job she earned? Can she do it well and help the organization succeed in it's mission to "ensure a society in which all individuals have equal rights without discrimination based on race?" If so, then awesome. End of story.

Hear that media? End of story. As in shut the fuck up about it already. Same goes for the Charleston shooting. Let it go. Let us mourn. You're making it worse.

 Banning guns won't stop violence. We'll simply find another way to kill each other. Creating a conformed race where everyone looks the same won't stop discrimination. We'll just find another reason to hate each other.

Am I saying that we should all love each other all the time? No way. There are plenty of people I don't necessarily like. I don't like them because of the way they think, the way they act or the things they say. But it doesn't mean I go out and shoot them. It doesn't mean I try take away their rights and dignity. It means I stay away from them, ignore them and move on with my life. I don't have time to waste on such negative energy when I have much more positive and important things to do. Like teach my children about tolerance.

I don't think racism, discrimination, hate and violence will ever go away. We won't be able to enact a law or ban items from being sold and eradicate it. It's something that's in people. It's in their thoughts and opinions, the same ones that our constitution protects. Lincoln declared slaves free in 1863, 152 years ago. Martin Luther King gave his "I Have a Dream" speech in 1963, 100 years later. Rodney King was beaten in 1991, 28 years after Dr. King's speech. And here we are today, 2015, full of riots and marches and sadness and gunshots.

The laws won't change us. Time won't change us. Only WE can change us. Only WE can teach out children to love each other, no matter what. Only WE can see past the colors and the life styles and seek tolerance. Only WE can choose words of action over the actions of bullets.

Everybody has a right, but nobody has a responsibility. We hide behind our constitution. We hide behind our rights and refuse to take responsibility.

We can change that, you know. We have the power and the intelligence to make it better. We have the courage and bravery to improve our country. We can learn from this, if we choose to.

We can choose to use our rights in a responsible manner. We can choose to stop hating each other. We can choose to stop killing each other. We can choose to stop tolerating it and accepting it and allowing it to continue happening.

And we can choose to start today.

The Day the Momster Came to Visit

I was THAT mom today. You know her. You've seen her at the grocery store, at the park, in the mirror.

Her signature style is "comfortable," meaning clothes that are less than clean and possibly too big. Her hair is frizzy and sometimes contained in a pony tail. Other times she's letting the frizz flag fly because she didn't have time to restrain her hair. Her make-up routine is, to put it nicely, optional. Meaning none. No make-up. Just a generous slathering of wrinkle-fighting cream that doesn't appear to be doing a damn thing.

She's got a scowl on her face. If you thought resting bitch face was dramatic, then you've never witnessed "mom who is simply done" face. It's terrifying. Her posture is slow and hunched from the emotional and mental drain that is taking place.

You can see - and hear - her coming from the chaotic entourage that are her children buzzing about her. They can't be contained by holding hands, walking in a line or even strapped in a shopping cart. Nope. They're dodging into traffic, tripping over brightly painted curbs, exhibiting a professional deafness at the sound of the mother's voice.

You've seen her. You've judged her. You've talked about her and pitied her and promised yourself that no matter what, you'd never be her.

Well, today, that was me.

I took a shower (okay, managed a 10 minute rinse under running water while naked. Shower might be stretching it a bit). Threw on some clothes. Threw the kids in the car and went to run errands. After listening to screaming for the entire trip into town (because heaven forbid if siblings touch each other), we came to our second stop at the Verizon store. Before getting out of the car, we talked about the rules. I sat down with a very (very) (yes, very very) young man to start looking at my options. Turns out, you need a whole slew of account information, which I didn't have. Then I looked over to see my 6yr old taking apart the fish tank. I told him to stop. He did. Back to the severely young man, who I could tell was wishing he was helping a more responsible customer, but still no access. Then my 20mo old comes to me with batteries, proud as can be that she managed to find something dangerous (her number one talent) and bring it to me. Sales guy smiled but was less than impressed. Clearly, he didn't think my kids' shenanigans were cute. Probably because he doesn't have kids. Probably also because at that moment, I was THAT mom and I was the reason he doesn't ever want kids.

Unable to access my account and unable to focus because my 6yr old was again taking apart the fish tank, I decided to come back another day. Alone. With make-up on.

The 6yr old asked where we were going, the 3yr old ignored me and wouldn't take my hand, instead bolting through the door (which was being held open) and into the parking lot. The 20mo old sat and waved at everyone, her new diaper springing a leak at that moment and the front of her pants soaking wet. I grabbed her and bolted.

Bring on the judgement. Go ahead and talk. I welcome your pity and will gladly serve as a warning of a person that you never, under any circumstances, want to become.

And I did what any mother in that situation would do. I stopped the shopping trip immediately, shoved my kids in the car, went home and cried.

When I was done crying, I thought about drinking. No, not a glass of wine or a beer to calm my nerves so I could get through the day. I mean, tip that bottle upside down and don't stop until you can't see and don't feel the feels anymore drinking. I thought about dropping my kids off at home and driving way, parking on a back road somewhere and taking a nap. {Disclaimer: this might be the appropriate time to mention that my husband works from home and would be present. No matter what level of shitty my day is, I would not abandon my children. I'm crazy, not stupid, and I love the little devils.}

So what do you do after you've hit what feels like the bottom of a cesspool? Nothing. This, folks, is the ironic part. You. Do. Nothing. Because there's not a goddamn thing you can do to CHANGE it, or FIX it. Because no matter what, you're a mom. And it's just ONE DAY in your life. Maybe next time, you run a comb through your hair or swipe on some eyeliner. Maybe next time, you give the kids a timeout right there in the store or don't even bring them with (hahaha, yeah, even I'm laughing at that thought). But the point is, as with all things, great and otherwise, this too shall pass.

That doesn't make things any easier right now, but there's not a whole heck of a lot that can. After we got home, my 3yr old peed on the floor - again. They were hungry and wanted a snack, and not any of that fruit crap either but sour gummi worms or nothing (hint: they got nothing). After their mini mutiny, they gave up. Even now, as they appear to be playing nice and quiet with each other, I fully believe they are plotting their next hostile take-over.

Meanwhile, I'm just gonna sit over here and take a deep breath. I'm gonna think about what to make for supper. I'm going to relax simply because I've spent all of my emotional piggy bank today and don't have anything left. I'm going to keep going because there's simply nothing else to do.

Yes, I was that mom today. Yep, there's a chance I will be that mom again. It happens. Despite what my kids yell sometimes, they want me and need me and love me no matter what I look like or how tough my day has been. I know this because as I was sitting on the couch, my face wet with tears, my girls climbed into my lap and hugged me.

They love me anyway.

And that's the one thing about this entire day that I wouldn't change.

Working Class Hero: Are you Brave enough?

It's funny how the world has your back one minute, then turns on you the next.

It's sad how we can celebrate something, then change our minds when the ebb of society flows another way.

It's annoying how one has to prove their worth in order to feel like a human.

This morning, social media was buzzing with praise over Caitlyn Jenner (the Olympian formerly known as Bruce Jenner). What I read was overwhelming support. Slowly, throughout the day, it started to turn and I started seeing negative comments. I tried not to let this bother me on the fact that each person is entitled to their opinion and that my reaction would be more of a reflection of myself than of them. After all, what would be the end result I would be hoping for? Another person to think like me? That just sounds boring.

However, now, I've had enough. So I am saying something. Because that's what I do.

I'm not out to change opinions, mind you. I'm just here to offer a different point of view.

As of this morning, Caitlyn Jenner was lauded as a brave role model for displaying her transformation and being true to herself. Now, however, those titles have been stripped as she is not as brave as someone, say, like a veteran.

I just want to point out that we are comparing apples to oranges, people. Actually, we're comparing a transgender person to someone who has served in the military.

And since when do the terms "hero," "courage," and "bravery" fall into a specific category? Since when is there a checklist for when those can be used?

I suggest - and slap me silly if this is just entirely off the wall - that both can be classified as brave.

I know. Shake your head and pass the smelling salts. I'm a rebel.

It does not mean that one is more brave or more heroic than the other. Again, it's apples and oranges. I believe that Caitlyn Jenner is brave because she is choosing to be who she wants to be and completely change around her life. She's going through a divorce, operations, physical changes, mental changes, emotional changes. This has all been in the public eye, with scrutiny and criticism, but she's done it anyway. That, to me, is bravery.

I also find the people that offer their lives for this country and it's citizens to be brave. They put their lives on the line, leave their family behind with the uncertainty that they'll ever see them again, they live in shitty conditions in places where people only want them dead. And all for little reward. That, to me, is bravery.

Other people that I consider brave: volunteers, nurses, teachers, police officers, firefighters, my best friends, my mother.

All of these people are brave for different reasons. Those different reasons don't make them any more or less brave than the next. My fear, which has already come true, is that we are using bravery as another means to judge each other. My other fear is that when we start assigning a scale to bravery, we will eventually all lose it.

You don't know what a person has been through. You don't know what their mind, body or soul has endured. You cannot establish how brave another person is. To attempt this is to tell that person that they are simply not enough. We are all brave, in one small way or another.

Bravery is a courageous behavior or character. Courage is the choice and willingness to confront agony, pain, danger, uncertainty or intimidation. 

These are the only definitions we should go by. Beyond that, bravery is in the eye of the beholder. I, for one, choose to keep my eyes open. 



*** And if you're wondering where the title for this little rant came from, click here.