All or Nothing

You find yourself staring at a candid photo of someone's honey coloured memory. A brief blurb letting you know about an emotionally charged situation. Your heart rises in sympathy. Rape or other violent crime plus ethnic label to season this equation with negative connotations equals jumping to conclusions and joining the latest Witch Hunt. Quick, put on your outrage. It's All or Nothing. Join the Social Media Mob of Good Intentions and Ethnic Cleansing! Get your virtual pitchforks and boiling tar over here! Bit currency accepted!

Stop. When you look at pictures and story teasers on social media, I ask you to do one thing before you do anything else. As your heart starts to get the feels, pause. Slip out of Facebook, Instagram, or whatever app you are in. Head over to a web browser. Do a search. Is the little blurb you're seeing truth or is it false?

Many of us have unintentionally shared false posts at some point getting carried away by a plausible pitch. In the early days of Facebook, I shared what interested me with the idea we each choose our own truths to believe, and I found some of the satire to be hilarious.
The world has gotten heavier with conflicts and gate seething like a pot about to boil over on a stove.

When you share an inflammatory post, hate accented with words that tug heart strings or passive aggressive prejudice that claims to be comedy you're actively hurting other people.

You're reinforcing prejudice. You're saying it is alright to judge and hate. You plant painful lies in the back of people's thoughts without considering they'll remember the emotion and the picture, they'll forget it was proven to be false.
Stop. It isn't All or Nothing.

Refugees aren't running around the country on rape and murder sprees but on the other hand vioent American criminals aren't being extradited to the states that have warrants- many are being allowed to go and commit more crimes as they slip across state lines and do terrible things. Do you remember the article about Police departments climing they don't have the money to transport violent criminals to the states they committed crimes in to face justice?

You forgot about that? It's real news. How many times have you seen little blurbs of hate shared on media blaming refugees, blacks, men, women, or another group for some terrible crime. "Murdering some sweet young girl so her ex military Daddy took the law into his own hands." This is what the narrator in a fictional story says.
If it sounds like the introduction to a bad B movie, it isn't news. Stop. Do not share it. Fact check it. Comment on it, in case there person who shared it is not aware they are sharing a fiction and helping breed prejudice. I will note, if you put it this way, your "friend" will probably not stick around.
There is enough real tragedy in the world. There is more than enough hate. A wise man once wrote "What's so funny about peace, love and understanding?"

One thought. If we all made the choice to jump as enthusiastically on  understanding and love instead of hopping the daily animosity train- if as much effort was put into respecting and communicating, think how different we could make the world?
If we looked at people wondering about their positive potential instead of assuming they'll manifest the worst behavior it makes a huge impact.
Other people aren't the enemy. Judgement, fear, and spreading inflammatory falsehoods are.

I hope that in a year I can look back and say "2018 was the year people really started questioning. 2018 was the year people started critically thinking. 2018 was the year many people held themselves accountable for their own shortcomings and they stepped up. They made changes. 2018 is the year many chose to set aside prejudice and hate. It was the first year on social media where people overwhelmed inflammatory posts with fact based comments; Snopes reported a seventy five percent drop in false hate articles."

I know, Ive got a big imagination. Imagine what the world could be like if we all set aside our fear and mistrust, if we all tried respecting each other?
This is a goal worth going All in on.

The Unspoken, Hate and Healing

Hate. A strong ugly word. I remember being on an ambulance call in a small town in western NY. The individual we went to transport to the hospital was one of two black people who lived in our town. I went to school with him. He was nice. He was smart. He was muddled sitting in a kitchen, in a dingy small town slum house. The rest of the squad had the look of impatience and unspoken distaste. The words they used to justify encouraging him to deny transport "drugs." No evidence of drugs there but that's what they wanted to believe. I tried to do vitals and help him, the others stood back. The unspoken body language he read motivated him to decline transport.
I was shocked. There was awkwardness after we left. This was a truly skilled squad, I was friends with everyone on that call. My brother was on that call.
That silent, unspoken consent to view a situation in a way that didn't rock the boat and bowed to outdated values was eye opening.
I started really looking at how I was raised. At my community. Why did my half black aunt tell most people she was northern Italian?
When I was young, I tried to do things for social approval in the hopes I could win the love of my parents. I wanted friends.
I was rewarded for cruelty and ridiculed for compassion. Tricked my brother into drinking toilet water, get to sit on my dad's lap. Trick the neighbor into shooting a dog in the face with a squirt gun, so she got nipped- Mom chastised me but Dad took me out to point out animals so he could shoot them. Intimidate someone, Mom might brag to all her friends.
It didn't feel right. I was small, smart and female in a small minded town. If I'd been a boy, I would have been popular. I wasn't, so I made people nervous. Other kids didn't like me. I was teased, locked in lockers, bullied and got attacked by other kids. I spent a lot of time at the nurses office. After a while, I stopped seeking approval. I watched. I observed. I stopped wanting approval from peers. Over time, watching how my parents manipulated and mistreated nice people I became embarrassed and started learning from those nice people how to be less of a monster and more of a human being.
I chose to grow.
Hate.
With the election and the behavior of a portion of people who seem determined to say and do terrible things- in part for approval from people they look up to and in part due to their desire to do something or say something to hurt those they choose to hate or antagonize.
Confronting them only gives them reinforcement and resolve- locking them against letting go of hate, asking them questions and getting them to see where their hate logic fails is the key to unlocking that door.
It's easy to hate a group of people. It's easy to judge. It's easy to dismiss, justify, turn a blind eye and immerse in the shallow socially acceptable waters of those who are like minded.
It's harder to accept responsibility for mistakes and hate or fear driven words and deeds. It is harder to change and accept that the views you were raised with might not be right or respectful.
What causes hate? Judgement. Teachings. Past experiences which might have been with an individual but have been generalized. "You people," "they," "all," "always," and "never" are dangerous words.
Hate is not something you fight, fighting hate is like arguing with a fool. You come out exhausted, drained, frustrated- and the fool still never changes.
Hate is something you change through your own choices and behavior. Questions. Information. Helping others realize they are hurting other wonderful people who did nothing to warrant such treatment or judgement. Imagine hate as a pus filled wound someone is proud of, to reduce it the person with the wound has to realize they have a wound and they have to want to address it. If you chase them around throwing bottles of antiseptic and squirting antibiotic ointment in their direction- its going to make a mess and its going to utterly fail.
To change hate and reduce bigotry, we as a people need to come together and communicate. We need to build support networks. We need more education and critical thinking, less emotional responding.
We need to find a way to remind people that we are all human, we all deserve to be respected.
Bashing someone because of their gender, religion, ethnicity- these things need to become a thing of the past. This will only happen by coming together, demonstrating over and over that the justifications people hide behind to do horrible things are bullshit and that our society will not tolerate it- regardless of who leads the country.
Folks, this is on us. We've got to go beyond our echo chambers and face the hate with truth. "You got beat by a girl." "What does gender have to do with it?" Is my new response. Actions speak louder than words. Demonstrate reality, and the house of cards collapses. Create connections. Remind people of connections they have. Real people making real strides forward despite the biases they face.
Some day perhaps the unspoken will not be prejudice, some day I hope to see the unspoken to be inclusion and empathy.

We are all Those People to Someone

Beliefs are clashing. Fear and outrage are the new American high. Who to blame? Who to hate? What's the group of the week?
Before the words "you people" or "they all" or "those people" come out of your mouth, remember absolute statements are dangerous. Absolute statements about groups of people close minds and close eyes, they are used to influence our behavior. It's okay to do morally reprehensible things to people we can mentally justify as beneath moral consideration. When we do this we forget, we are the "you, they, and those people" to someone else.
I don't want someone's arbitrary group bias to negatively impact me, I don't want to negatively impact someone else because I'm mistaking a human being for a stereotype that could be devastatingly wrong.
Consider, to children who have had family who were non-military die in bombings, people working in sweat shops to make the clothes we're wearing, migrant workers fighting cancer from the pesticide additives to GMO crops: the insincere, soft, ignorant, judgemental, greedy 'Muricans are all of us. You are thinking, but I am not, I do not, that's not accurate! You're probably right, but it's what others might perceive. Nobody is perfect. If I throw stones I will throw stones at myself, throwing them at anyone else isn't justified. 

Blanket hatred for ethnic groups needs to be an embarrassing human flaw of the past. We need to teach awareness, tolerance, and approach things we fear with common sense, cool heads and compassion.

Black lives matter. Native lives matter. There is white privilege, but not every white is privileged. I read justifications for blanket prejudice from individual experiences, inflammatory and derogatory actions and words with zero tolerance for other people's experiences, common sense, reason, or respect.

Society is acting like an entitled child having a temper tantrum and lashing out because "they". Religion, political beliefs, cultural beliefs are all justifications for anything: we can use them for acts of beauty and kindness. Instead of building one nuclear weapon we could provide food and stability to an unstable country.

 Food, clothing, shelter, and compassion will always have a greater impact on improving the world than any weapon. Why are we still feeding a perpetuating cycle of hate and violence? Time to grow. Time to let go of outrage and resentment. The future grows when we quit poisoning ourselves on hatred we excuse because of our perception of the past.

 Everyone has ancestors who were assholes. They survived. We learn from their mistakes. Let's not emulate them.

A small percentage of people have the wealth, legislation, and media at their finger tips. It's up to you if you choose to become a puppet to rhetoric, whether it's Islamic, Christian, or Pro-life. Terrorism is killing for beliefs. It's time for us to stop rewarding terrorism and terrorists with publicity. Their acts are shameful and heinous. Honor the bravery of survivors. Problem solve. What led to the attack? Life stressors, lack of money, relationships, religion? What can we as a society address and change in a positive way?

I'm going to refer to history.
When you want peace you take care of the needs of people whether they are like you or different. When you want war you inhumanize and provoke and attack. 

Would you want someone's arbitrary beliefs and prejudice making major impacts on your life? I don't want that level of responsibility and I don't want it done to me.

None of us is perfect. Work on yourself.
If you've got a loved one who is lost to rabid hatred and blanket statements offer them other perspectives and know that somewhere, in a ghetto, in an office building, in a war zone someone else is trying to talk sense and a live and let live philosophy to a rabid friend there.

There's no absolutes about people. Treat everyone as an individual. Treat everyone else as if their life and their choices deserve as much respect as your own.

How many lives have to be disrupted or destroyed because of prejudice? It's caused more wars, human rights violations, and murders than any bomb or gun. The bombs and guns are tools. The people wielding them are dangerous, thinking tools.

Give people a chance, disarm a prejudice today.

Absurdity of Adopting Identity

Ethnicity is a touchy subject. We all have ancestors, we all come from somewhere. Every ethnic group has culture, heritage and should have pride. Caucasians lately have had to resort to borrowing other ethnicities to express pride as white pride is synonymous with prejudice and it's out of style.

I'm asked what are you? My response: human or half cartoon. Looking at me a fortune teller once said I am painted, but the artificial color is the one on the surface. She said the painters are really just bringing my true colors out. I am red, yellow, orange, green, blue, Gray, Brown, white, pink and purple. I am a cacophony, and when painted I look like a rainbow threw up on me.

The complex answer, my ancestors were horny. They fell in love with people and had children, they weren't focused on heritage or lineage. They came from many countries: Sweden, Germany, France, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, the US. Most were Irish.

I was raised going to wakes, knowing that the key factors in my family history on both sides were tragic and humiliating. My Irish great grandfather died of emphysema working the railroad. I've had to go through the railroad museum in Sacramento and read plaques belittling and stereotyping Irish workers. I don't know of Cliff Magee fit those stereotypes. I wanted to hit someone by the time I was ready to leave I was so tired of reading plaques ragging on Irish workers, it was all about the amazing Chinese workers. Hats off to them but I say also hats off to the others who worked and died.

Yes, I have feisty family members who drink too much, tell fancy tales and get into fights. I've been one more than once. I'll stick with fancy tales and weaving words.

I look at it differently.

My great uncle Grubby was Irish. He drank too much. He started fights. More than once his reckless behavior endangered lives and caused harm to others. No Irish story is a happy story. His life was like that. He didn't cry out label me, he didn't tag out. He kept going. Most of his twelve siblings hated him, I did mention he was Irish (stereotyping says he had to have an army of siblings). When he died, the family gathered for his wake to trade the stories of his life.

My cousin Scott and I were hours away. In Irish style we drank Jamison's in his honor and memory. I called my grandmother who was at the wake to have her share my story. Most of my generation did not have Grubby stories, he was too cartoon and too volatile. I spent a lot of time at my great grandmother's house. Alice Magee had one of the most beautiful hearts and the loveliest garden in the county. She read tea leaves and could see your future in a ring spun on thread. Did I mention she was Irish? Sometimes a stereotype is based on average perceived character or behavior. It's not always meant as offensive.

Alice let me get away with my shenanigans. I was rambunctious. I heard the adults. No one liked Grubby or that he went to visit his mother. Somehow that was bad? He had to be using her.

I was there this time and I was antagonistic toward him on behalf of the opinionated adults who were not there.  He told me not to swing on a macrame plant holder. I swung for all I was worth. I hit a table and my great grandmother's prize vase fell to the floor and shattered.

Until then, I had never upset Alice. I upset my parents often and was used to getting screamed at and told how worthless and terrible I was. Alice did not do that. She accepted it. No chastising, just acceptance as we know Irish stories are full of loss and sorrow.

Tears filled her eyes, she sighed and said it was just a vase. Grubby could see the hurt, he could see that I was crying now too. It hurt me to hurt her. I would have done anything to take the moment back. He did not yell either.

The deplorable scoundrel, he quietly went for the broom. He got a newspaper and a magnifying glass. He got super glue. He got two chairs. He taught me the second most profound lesson I learned that day. Her reaction taught the first. My world changed, I changed because if their choices that day.

It's not the accidents that count, it's what we do to make things right.

He spent hours with me piecing the vase together carefully, as if we were paleontologists putting prize relics together for a museum. She stood in the door with a beautiful smile. Tears of a different sort in her eyes. I knew why she loved him so much. I loved him too.

That was the one memory I really had to share with him. When my grandmother relayed the story, his siblings and friends grew reflective. Few of them had known him like that. Few had gone beyond their loathing to see the guy inside the Irish caricature he was. It was his one good story. The family remembers now. The memory shares forward in story.

My great great grandfather on my father's side was Cherokee. He lost his land in the land drives twice. He skipped the trail of tears. He rode north to New York state. He met an Irish immigrant girl, Alice Padden. They married in great scandal. They had two kids. His name is different on each census, always Hunter being his last name. He left to apply for the Dawes act. He was denied because he left Oklahoma. He was not heard from again. He cautioned my great great grandmother to raise the children as caucasians.

He insisted they be protected from the color of their skin and the negative connotations of being Cherokee. My grandmother chastised my grandfather when he even mentioned his ethnicities. Prejudice is still out there, ironically it's often held by those who want you to know their a little bit of something or other on so and so's side.
I wish I could find Hunter's grave to put a flower there, to let his spirit know one of his descendants wanders as he did but without the anger. Maybe he knows though.

He was like a coyote, he came fathered two kids with a pretty lady and vanished with a name made up of letters-much like those I use at work?  Who was he? Who am I today? What name should I sign? The joke is on us both.

Isn't it enough to be you? Do you need an impressive lineage to feel important?

Can't you be impressive as yourself?

I don't need to buy overpriced tourist gook that has stylized stereotypical designs. I wince at New age hubris and posers claiming to be Native whiter than I am talking with Brooklyn accents. I wince just as much seeing kids run around with their pants hanging down below their butts "prison style" trying to look tough like black or Hispanic gangsters. Somehow it radiates "weak" "pathetic" and "moron" rather than dangerous, strong, or badass.

It's the old saying I'm starting now, if you have to stand in the shadow of a mountain to point out how impressive your shadow is, remember it is not your shadow your claiming- the shadow is still that of the mountain and to those around you, you look like a fool. Make your shadow tall by being who you are. Be proud of your strengths, your flaws, be aware where you came from.

My heritage was written on air, woven of words and hearts. My ancestors were people who were not perfect. They lived, they died. They live in the stories still shared. None of them were famous, they didn't need to be. They lived their lives, they made their mistakes and celebrated their successes. Many of those moments are forgotten, as most of us will be in a hundred years.

It is alright to be Caucasian and proud of your heritage. The Scottish know that, so why not take a note from them?