Tag: love is love

Lessons

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I always start a post with a picture, usually of something I am working on, so here is my obligatory quilt picture–the finished Girl Power!

I have been pseudo-retired for almost 3 months now, the career I thought I would devote the rest of my working years to having dissolved under my feet. I have always believed that there are lessons to be learned from every life experience, each event adding to my body of knowledge, preparing me for whatever would come next. When it happened, I thought the primary lesson I was supposed to learn revolved around career decisions, learning to be adaptable and realizing that it was possible to totally redesign my professional self, choosing a path that would be more satisfying and rewarding. While I still believe this is a lesson I take away from this experience, I no longer believe it is the primary lesson I learned.

I thought perhaps I would come to realize the importance of spending time on myself for a change, learning to relax a little, be still and rest occasionally, none of which come naturally to me. Yes, I have come a long way in learning self-care, spending time doing things for the sheer joy of doing them, but still I don’t think this is the primary lesson either.

Maybe what I was supposed to learn was how fickle the notion of loyalty could be, and how no one is immune to the loss felt when loyalty and trust have eroded or vanished entirely. I walked alongside Carli when she came out and transitioned, and my heart ached for her when people she had known for over 30 years disappeared from her life overnight. This happens to trans people all the time; it’s awful and hurtful and unnecessary and deliberately ignorant, but when it happened to Carli I was still a bit of a by-stander because it was Carli’s story, not directly mine. Not everyone vanished, of course, and we treasure those people who have stuck around to witness the wonder of Carli’s transition. If someone you know is trans, I highly recommend sticking around, they are truly extraordinary people!

The last three months it’s been my turn to feel loss. I spent decades pouring myself into people I cared about, nurturing relationships, believing the respect and caring were mutual. I spent decades devoted to a career that I thought would always be there if I just kept pouring enough into it. But, as it seems to happen when things get tough, many of the people and institutions I have relied on for support sort of vanished into thin air. Like Carli’s situation, not everyone vanished. Quite a few people reached out to me, we’ve talked or texted or met for lunch. More time seems to pass between each communication, though. Moving on I suppose. Unlike Carli’s situation, the people I have known for over 30 years have remained supportive and communicative. This difference of loyalty between our long-term friends might be something I’ll have to dive into in another post.

It happens all the time to people going through divorce, or a health crisis, to people who have lost a loved one. People don’t know what to say or what to do, so they say and do nothing. I’m sure I’ve been guilty of vanishing on people who thought they could count on me, too. However, acknowledging that I feel a loss of something that was important to me can’t possibly be what I’m supposed to take away from this latest experience.

I’m starting to think that what I should be learning here is not to become jaded by the loss of people in my life, because it happens to everyone. It happens every day, in a million ways, but I refuse to let it color the way I view people or the world. People move on, they come in and out of our lives and it’s okay to let them go. More importantly, I will not let it prevent me from continuing to pour into people I care about, and when I do land in a new professional role I will pour into that new role with enthusiasm. The fear of being hurt or left behind or not being appreciated is not going to deter me from being a dedicated, caring, loving person, because without that what is the point?

Finally, the last lesson here is one that began a couple of years ago but continues to weave through this part of our lives. Carli was selling a truck and a couple stopped by to look at it. We did not end up selling them the truck, but these people have become our good friends. They were some of the first people I reached out to when things turned upside down in January. Their concern and caring is consistent and genuine; Carli and I feel supported by them and we gladly return the support and kindness. The randomness of how we met proves to me that when people are supposed to be in your life, they will get put in your path no matter what! So maybe the lesson is to stop feeling sorry for myself, realize that not everyone is fickle, and trust that people will continue to come into our lives and enrich our lives in ways we never expected.

And then BAM!

And then BAM!

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At 9:45 this morning, with two boxes and 16 1/2 years of memories, I drove away from the college for the last time. I didn’t look back because I do not regret driving away. The details, the how’s and why’s and what-for’s, I’ve decided are irrelevant to this story. I hope you will respect this irrelevancy and refrain from asking those questions, because I drove away not full of sadness but full hope, a little scared, but eager for what is next.

So, what’s next? I haven’t a single solitary clue! The past 16 years have flown by in the blink of an eye, I didn’t take the time to figure out what was going to come next because I was always worrying about the right now. What was the crisis of the day, which fire needed to be put out first. There was never time to think about the future because I was so busy dealing with the present. The seasons flew by, one after the other, leaving me feeling like I barely had a minute to experience them and then they were gone. Spring would poke in, with the grass starting to green up and the bulbs erupting through frosty ground, but I barely had a minute to mark the first robins of the season singing in the trees because I was busy. And then BAM! It was summer.

Summer, hot, too hot to plant the garden vegetables I didn’t make time to plant in spring. But we would baby the tomato plants along, watering and pruning and tying until all hours, because summer was busy at work and there was never enough time in the evening. There was never a summer vacation, rarely enough time to just listen to the crickets at night and watch the sunset, holding hands with Carli in front of a little bonfire. And then BAM! It was Fall.

Fall comes crashing in, colliding with Summer. It’s still hot, but the year is slipping away. The garden harvest accomplished in fits and spurts, the pressure canner running at 4:30am so we wouldn’t lose the green beans that were picked the night before, hunched over the rows, each row seeming like it was longer than it was the day before. Carli had to do most of the work then since it was late registration at work, I was busy. And then BAM! It was Winter.

Cold, windy, not much work we could do outside, so Carli is stuck inside, often by herself because it was spring registration at work, and I was busy. The holidays would leave us frenzied and exhausted, always thankful for the one day of the year we might be able to have everyone over for dinner at the same time. And then BAM! 16 years and 7 months are gone by, and all of sudden I have been given the most unexpected, precious gift I could ever imagine.

Time. I have been given time. I’ve been given the opportunity to start again. BAM!

For the next little while I am going to use this gift, this time, to spend reflecting on how I want the next 16 years to go. But before I can make that decision, I have to figure out what is important to me. What do I truly value, and what am I willing to do in order to be true to my values? When I’m ready to move on to the next chapter of my career, what am I going to demand from my employer? Do I even want another employer? Maybe I should start my own business, or go into consulting, or maybe run for office!! Who knows!! There are so many things to think about, and so many possibilities. Carli and I will be fine, as long as we are together.

I am going to use some of this time to take care of myself, which I am learning is not a selfish act. Maybe I’ll spend an entire day or two watching Criminal Minds or The West Wing or Madam Secretary or The Great British Baking Show, and I won’t consider it time wasted. Maybe I will paint the front room. I know I’ll purge my closet and dresser of clothes I no longer need or want! I will definitely quilt.

I am looking forward to cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner for Carli. Cuddling with the dogs for more than 4 minutes before bedtime. I am looking forward to all the ordinary things I never made time for, never paid attention to until it was too late. I’ll have to go back to work before too long, after all, bills still have to be paid and our dogs are accustomed to a certain lifestyle. I would hate to disappoint them. But in the meantime…….I will quilt. Hit me up with ideas; I have a bunch of sewing machines and time on my hands.

By the way, the picture at the top of the post is of my first unemployment quilt. The name of the material collection is Girl Power. Watch out world, give me minute, I’ll be back.

My Hope For You

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Cari and I chat, wondering, what is happening? What makes a white female police officer shoot a young unarmed black man in his own home? What makes a white male police officer shoot an unarmed black woman in her own home? What excuses any man for killing a transgender or homosexual person based on being “surprised” by the persons’ gender identity or sexuality? What makes a brown person more apt to be demonized based on their skin, regardless of their contribution to society, values, or morals? What makes any woman believe that a misogynistic, sexual predator, or abusive man is fit to fill any elected office in this county?

I wish we had the answers, but we don’t.  All I can offer is hope. I hope you have the opportunity to experience so many things you may never have experienced before.

I hope your white daughter brings home her black boyfriend, the boyfriend who challenges your views on what it’s like to feel safe in the world. The boyfriend who says that they must teach young boys in their family to raise their hands every time, regardless of the situation, even if the police have not yet screamed at them to do so. Especially when weapons have already been drawn on them for utterly no reason. Your daughter would instantly jump in front of the bullet meant for him, and your future black grandchildren. I hope you understand why.

I hope your son brings home his boyfriend, the one with an old soul who sees beauty in everything around him, but who has been bullied every day of his life and been disowned by his biological family. The beautiful boy who befuddles you with his gentle and kind spirit, the boy who exudes love and compassion even though he has yet to experience these things in his life. How does he know these exist, and how does he know how to give these to other people? I hope you see the gift he is giving you and family.

I hope your brown neighbor has a wife and children sitting in detention at the border waiting for an immigration hearing. I hope you know your neighbor well, and know that he is a good man who would do anything for his family or for you. He works hard and has told you his dreams for his children, which are simply to go to school and not be killed by the gangs in their country. I hope he mows your lawn when he sees you are tired and the lawn need mowing. He will, because that’s the sort of neighbor he is, and I hope you will do the same for him.

I hope you have the privilege of knowing a transgender person both before and after transition, watching them struggle with the fear, guilt, and shame they must slog through in order to simply live as the person they were meant to be from the beginning. I hope you have the chance to hold the hand of the most courage, amazing people you will ever have the privilege of knowing. And I hope you hold their hand in the most public of places so the whole world has the chance to know these people are beautiful, and real, and special, and belong.

I am so sad about what is happening in this country right now, so much fear and guilt and doubt, all seeming to build into misunderstanding and hate. I don’t believe hate comes first. Hate comes last. It comes out of not knowing another person. Not willingly understanding someone else’s lot in life, not believing them when they tell you their story. Thinking no one else can possibly have it worse than you, and that it’s someone else’s fault that you have it rough.

I do not know why it is so difficult for some of us to believe that other peoples’ struggles are equally difficult as ours, or more difficult, but for some reason we hold it against people who seek to shine a light on the injustice they experience every day. The injustice inflicted upon our brown and black neighbors; the violence experienced by our gay and trans brothers and sisters; the hateful remarks and attitudes continually thrown at our Muslim, Sikh, and Jewish friends. The list goes on. Needlessly, and remarkably, the list goes on and on.

I hope you are faced with love and compassion from those in your life who you have struggled to give love and compassion in return. Those who have surprised with the gift of unconditional friendship, who have left you completely and utterly speechless with their devotion to family and community.  Given the opportunity, these people will open your hearts to an entirely new world, one in which color and sexuality and gender and identity and ethnicity are not required to add up in certain way in order to make a person worthy of love and compassion.  I hope you see a world in which simply BEING is enough.

I hope you have the chance to see the world through the eyes of truthful people, whose hearts and minds are honest and true and loving and kind.

I hope you are touched by kindness and find it within your ability to return the kindness to anyone and to all.  Is that really so much to hope for, friends?

But you did change

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When Carli came out to the world we did our best to help people understand that not much would really change. Certainly her outward appearance would be the most dramatic change but the characteristics that made up her being would remain relatively unchanged. Her hobbies would still be her hobbies. She would not forget how to fix all the things (she really can fix anything!) She would still enjoy tinkering on small engines and cars. But recently someone challenged us on this assertion, saying “you said she wouldn’t change but she did.”

I had to take a step back and really think about this. Had Carli changed more than I realized? What about me; had I flipped on my interests in response to all the other changes? Maybe I just didn’t see it because I was too close to the situation.

When we were newlyweds Carli was always working on some project. She is a skilled woodworker and has all the tools. She builds beautiful garden furniture! She has rebuilt more car engines, carburetors, lawn mowers, and garden tractors than I care to remember. We didn’t buy a new lawn mower until she got orders to Korea and I insisted she leave me with a self-propelled push mower instead of the rescued and repaired mower that worked but took some finesse and brute force to use.

In the 31 years we’ve been married, we’ve hired contractors just 3 times for home repairs or installation.  We hired a guy to install new vinyl siding on our house in Utah…well, actually the guy was driving by our house, had extra siding on his truck and he thought our house was in desperate need of new siding. He was right.  There was no way we could tackle putting a new roof on a 3,000 square foot single-story house. That was a big check to write but it had to be done and we are fortunate to be able to hire that out. Most recently, installing a new gas fireplace and necessary chimney flue required licensed professionals. Don’t knock the trades, people! These professionals are highly skilled and do important, necessary work!

We’ve done all other home improvements ourselves, learning how to do it all as we went along. Remodeling kitchens and bathrooms, drywall, electrical, plumbing, painting, finish carpentry. When the garbage disposal sprung a leak while Carli was gone, the boys and I crawled under the sink and figured out how to replace it.  We’ve learned it all.  Carli taught herself how to fix the vehicles, she didn’t have anyone to show her how to drop the transmission out of the truck while it was sitting in the driveway in base housing. We crawled under the truck and figured it out.

I remember working for hours and hours on complex cross-stitch projects to give as gifts. I made the boys clothes when they still little enough to force them to wear something handmade, back when it was still cheaper to make it than buy it. They had some darn cool handmade Halloween costumes!

Many of things we have done over the years we did out of necessity. When we were younger we didn’t have money to hire auto mechanics or plumbers. We couldn’t go out and buy a new lawn mower just because the old one started smoking. We had to fix things, there was really no choice. It was luck that Carli had a knack for it and that she didn’t hate doing it.

When I was confronted with the statement that Carli had indeed changed and I started thinking more about it, perhaps she and I both had changed more than we realized. I still had doubts about what caused the changes but we couldn’t deny the fact we didn’t enjoy certain things as much as we had in the past.  We no longer enjoy crawling around on our backs under cars or sinks, but did that have anything to do with her transition? Or was it just that we have gotten a little older and it’s harder to get back up? Being under pressure to repair a vehicle that is needed to get to work or fix a drain that is leaking all over the kitchen is not fun. I have 100 cross-stitch patterns I would love to make, but I simply lack the dexterity, eyesight, and hours of interrupted concentration required so it’s become more frustration than enjoyment.

There are some things that serve to trigger unpleasant emotions for Carli, mostly things that in her mind she associated with hyper-masculinity, but from what I have observed she has reckoned with those emotions and is not as easily triggered by these things now.  She is learning, as I believe we all must do, that activities have no gender. If you like to do something, do it.  If you don’t like it and it can be avoided, don’t do it. If you like to do something but no longer have the physical capacity or time, perhaps it is okay to let it go and move on to the next thing. Right now we would rather be covered in garden dirt than grease, although we have 1966 Mustang in the garage that needs some serious TLC over the winter.  We aren’t done with grease just yet!

 

31 Years

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Thirty-one years ago today Carli and I were married in a tiny church in Port Austin, Michigan.

We don’t have a video of our wedding, but here is a link to our 30th anniversary vow renewal ceremony… 30th

When I tell people we’ve been married for 31 years I usually get a variation of essentially the same response. “Wow, that’s a really long time. Not many people stay married that long anymore. You should be really proud of staying together that long.” We are proud I suppose, but that’s hardly the first thought that goes through my mind when thinking about the life we’ve made together. Nor are we trying to be boastful when talking about our marriage in successful terms. We’ve worked at our marriage like most couples have, pushing through our own unique challenges, fortunate to have grown closer rather than farther apart.

When I started this blog it was with the intent to demonstrate that marriages and families can and do survive transition. Marriages can and do survive a lot of tumultuous times, with or without one spouse being trans. So what do you think makes a marriage last?

I’ve heard people say you have to learn to compromise, that’s the secret to a long marriage.  I disagree. Compromise means that no one wins; everyone has to settle for a level of disappointment in whatever disagreement they’re up against.  Compromise would be me telling Carli that she could dress in women’s clothes but only around the house, never in public. This wouldn’t have been a solution, it wouldn’t have helped Carli live authentically and it wouldn’t have helped me learn to be a true ally.

Compromise would have been Carli supporting me in pursuit of a Masters degree, but not in pursuit of a Doctorate. That would have been half-hearted support, and likely would have had me justifying not pursuing the PhD by telling myself I wasn’t smart enough anyway, even if that thought never crossed Carli’s mind. Although it might have been easier on everyone as far as lost sleep, frozen dinners, and tables covered with endless piles of research papers for years!

What about learning how to argue? What is that supposed to mean? As a society we’re quickly losing the ability to intelligently debate issues over which we disagree, but we are darn sure good at arguing for arguments sake. Perhaps over the years Carli and I learned to simply skip over those things we disagreed about and jump right to what really matters. The issues that matter cannot be addressed through arguments, but require compassion and understanding. By the time Carli transitioned, we were very good at getting to the heart of issues through dialogue.  Really talking WITH each other, not AT each other.  Listening more than talking.

At the end of the day we don’t have any magic advice for people about how to make a marriage last. We don’t profess to be perfect in way, shape, or form. But we can say that marriages and families can and do survive transitions. It has nothing to do with the art of compromise or solid arguing techniques, but rather the openness of heart, mind, and soul. It has everything to do with loving each other enough to build each other up instead of constantly tearing each other down. It has everything to do with stopping on the side of the road to watch a beautiful sunset together. It has everything to do with celebrating the shared life we’ve built together.

Happy Anniversary, Carli.  31 years isn’t nearly long enough. Let’s do this forever! I love you!!

We Voted

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This will be a pretty short post, friends.  I just wanted to share a few thoughts on yet another challenging election cycle. Carli and I actually voted a couple of weeks ago, but the polls just closed a couple hours ago.  So many things will not change, though, regardless of the election results.

We are under no illusion that there will be some giant blue wave sweeping across our staunchly red state, but that doesn’t mean we have no hope. We know many like-minded people are living around us.  There are children and young adults waiting in the wings for their opportunity to stand up and be the change a few adults are struggling to bring to fruition.

We know our candidates might lose, but that doesn’t mean our support for their positions wane. We will continue to advocate for all the things that touched our hearts.  Immigrants. Women. LBTQ people. Education. The very planet we need to survive.

We know more hate pours out of people everyday, people who would seek to terminate any right of existence for trans people, but that doesn’t mean the hate outshines the love.

To my ally friends, please take care of your trans loved ones. They need us now.  They need us to hold their hands in public. They need us to tell people how much we love them because they are brave, extraordinary people. They need us to advocate for them every chance we get, for their health care, their employment rights, their right to use a public restroom, and the very right to exist. Amplify their voices.  Stand beside them to show we are on their side all the way.  Stand behind them to show we have their backs and are there to prop them up should they waiver. Stand in front of them to shield them from harm.

Yes, our LGBTQ family and friends need every one of us right now.  And they’ll still need us tomorrow.

It’s Coming Out Day

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Today is National Coming Out Day! A day to celebrate and raise awareness of LGBTQ history and issues. A day to recognize the courage of people who knew coming out was not only risking the loss of friends, family, employment, and housing, but also risking personal safety. A day to honor those who came before and lost everything, sometimes their very lives, to pave the way for future generations.

I have personally never come out, I’ve never had to.  I have never felt the fear of telling my family something about myself that might shatter them to the core. Nothing in my life has caused my family to think I needed to be “fixed” through conversion therapy.  My family never threw me out on the street when what I needed most was their support, love and understanding. There has been nothing about my existence that others felt so threatened by that might cause them to loathe my very being alive.

My family was likely pretty disappointed in me when I told them I was going to be a single parent at 18, but not once did they threaten to kick me out, disown me, drag me to damaging therapy, or threaten me in any way.  I was then, and continue to be, the luckiest damn person on the planet to have been born into this particular family! Nope, that experience doesn’t hold a candle to what our many of our LGBTQ folks have experienced.

I’ve never NOT felt loved.

Lately I’ve had the chance to interact with some pretty remarkable kids and their equally remarkable parents.  The kids have already summoned the courage to come out to their parents and in some cases their entire community circle. They hold their heads high, but their vulnerability is palpable. These kids are innocent but wise, playful but reserved, eager but cautious. The parents have wrapped their arms around their kids, trying desperately to balance the fierce instinct to protect them while helping them embrace their unique being and live out loud. They’ve renewed my faith in humanity and buoyed my hopes for the future.

As Carli was coming out to the world I was there to love and support her. I proofread her coming out letter to family and the email to her coworkers. I walked beside her the first time she went into the women’s dressing room at the department store. I helped her pick out lipstick and eye shadow, even though I really know nothing about make up at all.  I held her hand tight while she told her parents what she knew would shatter them to the core.  But it was not my coming out, it was hers, and I was her witness.

I am grateful for the opportunity to stand beside Carli as she summoned the courage to do the impossible.  I am grateful for the chance to interact with the kids who hold the future in their hands and hearts.

Because of those who had the courage to come out decades ago, and those who have the courage to come out today in what is a very scary world, coming out won’t always be remarkable, it will just be beautiful.

 

Pride Month 2018

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Pride 2018

Happy Pride 2018 to all the dear people celebrating authentic life, loving unabashedly, and showing the world what it means to be truly compassionate, kind, genuine, caring, and positively joyful!

I’ve learned so much from my LGBTQ family and friends, there is no doubt in my mind that I am a better person for knowing them. These people and my experiences with them have shaped who I am today, changing me in all the best ways, helping me evolve, pushing me out of what I thought was my comfort zone into a much more beautiful world!

In consideration of Pride Month, I’d like to share with you a few things I’ve learned, some of the beliefs that I hold now thanks to the welcoming people in the community, some pieces of advice, and a couple things that hurt my heart.  It’s just a list but there are numbers to refer to if you would like to open a dialogue about certain items. Here goes……….

  1. Being transgender is a real thing.  Believe them when someone comes out to you.
  2. None of this is a “lifestyle choice”.  Straight folks, can you just “choose” to be gay?  No? Then what makes you think they can?
  3. The singular “they” is acceptable. Get over it.
  4. Trans kids NEED and DESERVE loving adults in their lives, often for their very survival.
  5. If you are afraid of your kid sharing a restroom with a transgender person you are looking for monsters in all the wrong places.
  6. There should be both baby changing tables and hygiene boxes in EVERY restroom.
  7. One LGBTQ person murdered is one too many.
  8. Every state should have a hate crimes law.
  9. There is no shame in having a queer child. They are a gift, not an embarassment.
  10. As in so many other aspects of our society, LGTBQ people of color are disproportionately discriminated against, abused, murdered.
  11. Just because it doesn’t hurt you, it doesn’t give you the right to diminish the problem or deny its existence.
  12. I respect ALL religions and the right to practice them; however I will NEVER respect someone who uses religion as an excuse to discriminate against another person.
  13. I believe I am a good ally but I still have to work hard not to appropriate culture that is not mine or put words into the mouths of community members.
  14. Being married to a happy transwoman is far, far easier than being married to an unhappy human hiding their identity.
  15. It’s never, EVER been about the stupid cake.
  16. People deserve to be treated equally. Period.

If you are not planning to attend a local Pride event, please reconsider. These festivals often help support local artists, raise money for social issues or educational scholarships, and showcase businesses that are friendly and welcoming of everyone.  We’ll be braving the Indiana heat and humidity Saturday to attend Pride, loving this community more and more with each rainbow flag we see flying against a summer sky! That reminds me, we need to buy sunscreen.

Celebrate Pride with pride, friends!!

 

Letter to the LGBT Community on our 30th Anniversary

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Dear Friends,

You were there for us when we needed you most. About three years ago we took our first tentative steps into a community we knew very little about, unsure, more than a little scared.  And there you were, waiting for us with open arms and open hearts. We are still in awe of your strength, and your fearless ability to live your lives out loud, never backing down and never compromising. We admire your loving relationships, and you validate ours.  You made us feel welcome, like we had a place to belong. You helped us map our future and reassured us that we could indeed move forward together as Carli and Tracy.

We celebrated our first Pride event in June 2016, marching side by side with the first transgender unit in the history of the Indy Pride parade.  We choked back tears of joy as we walked, holding hands, hearing nothing but love, support, acceptance, and encouragement all around us. It was a life-changing event for us.  The next day we woke up to the news of the Pulse shooting.  There was no holding back the tears.  The grief was overwhelming.  49 people, simply living their lives out loud, gone out of pure hate. So far in 2017 there have been 27 transgender people murdered in this country.  It could be anyone of you, our dear friends. Or our son and his partner. Or us.  Yes, we woke up that day and we continue to be “woke” as the cool kids might say.

You, friends, continue to keep us woke about LGBTQ rights, women’s rights, the relentless tragedies that continue to besiege people of color.  You care about everyone who struggles to be seen, everyone whose rights are still not a foregone conclusion.  Your compassion knows no bounds, and you strive to make the world a better place for everyone.  You are quite simply remarkable. Thank you for being there for us, for all of us.

In love, gratitude, and appreciation…………Carli and Tracy

I Call BS

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Every time there is a national crisis of some sort people turn out in droves loudly proclaiming their love and concern for the population effected by the tragedy. Hurricane Harvey is just the latest.  Hurricane Sandy, the Sandy Hook massacre, the Oklahoma City bombing, 9/11. The list goes on and on, and in each instance people donate money, they send relief supplies, they cry what they profess to be real tears for people who are hurting and in desperate need of help.  I CALL BS

Today is the first news cycle that was not lead by videos of Hurricane Harvey.  What was the first video? The president of the united states claiming “we love the dreamers, we love everybody” all while making the decision to end protections for young people protected under the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrival – DACA – act.

Let me get this straight.  You love them but you want them to go “back” to countries they do not remember, where they have no family, they do not speak the language, and have no means to support themselves.  That doesn’t sound like any love I’ve ever experienced and it’s certainly not coming from a place of compassion or concern.  How many DACA kids do you suppose are helping rescue hurricane victims? How many DACA kids do you suppose are up to their necks in debris and devastation left from the storm, but they’re at their neighbor’s houses helping with the clean up? These kids are allowed to work and required to pay taxes, but they get nothing in return.  They don’t qualify for any social services, they don’t get “hand outs” from the American people.  They give far more to this country than what we give them in return.

Thanks for helping.  We love you, now go away.

How about that ban on transgender people serving in the military?  The administration and a lot of flag-waving Americans claim to be “friends of the gays” using the phrase “the gays” as a catch-all for the entire LGBTQ+ community, but transgender people are clearly too much of a drain on military so they must go.

What a load of crap. I won’t even attempt to lay out the real cost of being transgender on the military, or compare it to the waste, fraud, and abuse that is rampant in this administration.  Others have done that already.  It doesn’t seem to matter to those making the decisions that the cost of caring for transgender servicemembers is astonishingly miniscule in the grand scheme of budgetary expenses.  This ban is borne of pure hate.  There is no way to spin it to make it sound remotely responsible or compassionate.

My transgender wife honorably served in the United States Air Force for 20 years.  She did not have the option to live authentically at that time. It’s speculation, but I believe those 20 years would have been so much easier for her had she been allowed to serve openly.  Haven’t we learned this lesson by allowing people to serve regardless of their sexual orientation?  Here is something to consider, United States of America……….there will soon be NO eligible young people willing to serve in the military. If we don’t wake up and accept that our young people have the expectation of being accepted for who they are, our military ranks will continue to dwindle to dangerously low levels of operational readiness.  Good luck dealing with the crazy loon in North Korea!

Let’s talk about what it means when our police take the oath to “protect and serve.”  What does that look like for the citizens who rely on law enforcement?  It looks very different for me as a 50 year old white woman than it does for a 25 year old black man. White men taking oaths to protect and serve making jokes about “only killing black people” when making a traffic stop.  Jokes like that are never innocent and certainly not funny.  That statement tells a lot about the person’s true character and judgement.

Are we a country that truly believes in civil rights?  Well of course we are, right? We settled that a long time ago when we let Black people drink out of our water fountains and sit next to us on the bus.  We white people have done our part.  It’s all good.

Nope.  Not even close to being a country that actually CARES ABOUT ALL PEOPLE.  People who enjoy their civil rights are still actively trying to steal them from others.  My civil rights are far more important than your civil rights.  If you get more rights, mine will be diminished.  You will steal mine so I’ll make sure you just don’t have any in the first place.

BS BS BS!!!  Civil rights don’t run out like milk and bread the day before a snowstorm.

I could go on forever, but I have to end soon or you will stop reading.  One final thought, knowing this last paragraph is directed mostly at people outside my community of  truly compassionate friends, so share widely if you would……

Keep your teddy bears, keep your canned goods and diapers, keep your cash and blankets and clothes you’ve dug out of your closet.  Don’t fly the flag in your yard.  Don’t bother placing your hand over your heart during the National Anthem or singing the hymns in church on Sunday. Don’t bother “giving until it hurts” unless you have searched your heart and find compassion for ALL human beings, love them for who they are rather than who you want them to be, are more concerned about their well-being than what you can get from them.  Keep all your gifts given out of some false sense of patriotism and compassion because it’s been proven time and time again that none of that compassion, concern, and love for your fellow man lasts for long.  It’s temporary to make yourself feel better.  It flies out the window the next time somebody refuses to serve a gay couple because of deeply held beliefs, or an unarmed black man is shot for walking down the sidewalk at the wrong time of day, or a statue of slave owner is moved out of a place of reverence.

I hope some day I can stop calling BS.