The Slavery Debate

Let me start this article with stating a fact, one that is going to change the perception of many of you who dare to read this article.  I am a white woman.  What do I know about slavery?

When the word 'slavery' is mumbled within our society today, it is almost ALWAYS associated with the African slave trade by the white Europeans of early America.  But that's only ONE faction, one truth, one piece of slavery, and it's not even the whole picture. Yet this one particular faction has rooted a segregated hate that is very prevalent in our current society, and continues to spread its anger and hate like a cancer through our youth with the access to social media - a place where that bias and hate is spread like a incurable disease.  However, I wish our  youth would use this amazing access via the internet to hunt for the truth and search history on their own.  But, most don't. It's too much work, requires too much time, and in this ADHD society, it costs too much focus.  It's easier to just listen to the lessons of more hate, more anger, and more division in our movies, music, videos, art, pop cultural, and political incorrect insensitivity.  It's easier to let others think for us and tell us what we feel, what we know, and what we should do about it. In ignorance, the issue of slavery has been relegated to racism, which in essence slavery has nothing to do with race.  YES, there was a race of slaves that were enslaved because of their race, but that doesn't make all slavery about race.  In truth, even THAT particular slavery was more about economics than race, yet the hate that was bred, nurtured, and spread came down to race - on both sides of the hate - and continues today in a generation that has never known slavery, only racism.  Lest we forget the millions of Native Americans that were marched out of their homes, across a harsh land in harsh conditions, dying daily along the Trail of Tears was a form of slavery too.

Slavery isn't a black or white issue.  Racism isn't really a black or white issue.  Hate isn't a black or white issue.  Hate is hate. To hate someone, belittle them, think them inferior or less human because of the color of someone's skin, because of their culture, because of their sex, because of their education, because of their status in society -  is simple ignorance. Ignorance breeds hate and fear, intolerance and indifference. Slavery is pure evil.  To own, to trade, or treat another human being as an object, as inhumane, as property, is wrong on EVERY level. To also turn a blind eye to it, is just as evil. Yet, we turn a blind to slavery everyday, often because we are too busy arguing with each other about our prejudice, intolerance, and privilege, or lack thereof.  While we are arguing about how 'unfair' life is -  there are child slaves working 15-20 hours a day in sweatshops and workhouses, there are young girls and boys being kidnapped from their homes and sold to the highest bidder to perverts, there are young girls being married off as young as five and six years old to old bastards, traded like pieces of property, and then raped and beat and expected to accept it as okay behavior, there are millions of women who are not allowed to speak, to be educated, to even be seen, raped and then stoned to death for being raped, and it is culturally accepted.  Yet, I don't see pop stars, rappers, actors, civil-rights activists, or political pundits out here fighting against this slavery. We think it's a problem 'over there'. Young Africans being kidnapped by their own people and sold to the highest bidding white European was at one time a problem 'over there'. Millions of Jewish people led to the gas chambers, stripped of all their dignity and humanity was a problem 'over there'.  A whole village of white Moldovian girls being kidnapped, drugged, beat, and sold to the highest pervert is a problem 'over there'.  A young woman being ganged-raped by a group of men being stoned to death in the streets for being raped is a problem 'over there'. Mexicans trying to escape to a better world and using their last peso to purchase their own enslavement from mules is a problem 'over there'.  Or is it? 

American's don't often realize how much goes on right here in their back yards.  Human trafficking is a big business, and our society would be shocked if they realized how many humans - black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, European, child and adult, are transferred through our safe American streets on a daily basis. We're too busy hating each other over an atrocity that happened a hundred years ago.  Yes, African slavery happened.  Yes, it was wrong.  But, what Black America seems to forget is that freedom came at a cost.  There was a high price paid for that freedom and that price was paid by people who believed what was happening was wrong  - and that included a LOT of white people.  Slavery isn't a race issue, it's a bondage issue.  Ignorant racists don't hate black people because they were slaves.  Ignorant racists hate black people because they're ignorant and believe they are superior by their white genetics.  Ignorant black people don't hate white people because their ancestors were enslaved, they hate white people because of the racists acts that have been inflicted upon them and by them.  My Jewish ancestors were slaves many times, but I choose not to hate Egyptians, Germans, Americans, or even Africans because of it.  I hate slavery, period. I hate intolerance, period.  I hate hate, period.

I hate when I hear white racists try to justify their hate.  I hate when I hear black racists try to justify their hate. I hate when either of them try to placate their hate in a joke.  I hate when they spew their bullshit in public and want a pat on the back for their stand - but what are they standing for? Civil rights activists that marched across those bridges were not ONLY black. Civil Rights isn't only a black issue, yet I am literally told almost on a daily basis how I don't belong or don't understand, or that I too am a racist because I'm white. No, it's because I call them on their bullshit. Suck it up whiny babies.  If you want to do something to change the hate, then get off your lazy whiny asses and start doing something.  There are programs and organizations out there in the world that are currently fighting against slavery.  BTW - our welfare system is another form of modern slavery.  It promises aide, but it comes with a cost. There are programs that are helping free and rescue victims of human trafficking going on TODAY. There are organizations out there fighting for women's rights around the world, not just here in the United States.  There are people of all color, sexes, and cultures DOING something about slavery besides spreading hate. If you're doing NOTHING about it, then shut up. Shut your hateful spoiled mouth. I don't want to hear your stupid angry songs about how 'unfair' life has been.  I'm angry about it NOW. I'm angry about what happened in the past, what's happening now, and what's going to happen in the future.  I have had nightmares hearing victims tell of their plights, learning how children are suffering today, knowing that when I put my head on my comfortable pillow at night they are in pain, alone, scared, and living in conditions I can't even imagine. I have looked into the eyes of a young girl that has been rescued from human trafficking and THAT is worth fighting for. I didn't care what color skin she had, only that she had been freed. I understand bondage more than you'd expect. I have lived in bondage, been beat, abused, raped, held captive and forced to do things I knew were wrong and didn't want to do, and I'm a white girl living in America. So, excuse me when I don't think your racist song or joke is funny, or when I get upset when I hear someone who had an opportunity to bring people together instead want to cause more division, more separation because they are 'angry' about unfairness.

Life is NOT fair, but ALL life matters.  Not white lives, black lives, blue lives, brown lives, yellow lives, animal lives, or sea life that matters.  ALL life matters. Slavery is wrong.  Hate is wrong. I don't need a religion or a law to tell me that it's wrong.   It's WRONG, period.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Change

Change starts with the individual.  If we set our eyes on our neighbors proclivity for/against change, it will skew the changes we dare to make within ourselves, and therefore prevent any true change from occurring. 

I'm sick... I mean, I'm literally sick of the boxes we put around other people.  We see a victim and a terrorist in every box.  There is no right side of hate/anger/victimization/terrorism. It's all hate.  Hate is the true offender. 

I'm so sick of the violence committed in hate. I'm also sick of the repercussions committed by victims of hate, who now in hate, commit the same acts of violence. 

I'm so sick of the ignorant white community who think there isn't a race problem in this world, not just the United States, but in many different countries, involving many different races.  Blacks are not the only victims of racism.  ALL races, including white, have both victims and terrorists.

I'm so sick of the ignorant black community who think there's no compassion or action in this world against the violence committed against their race. Whites are not the only ones who commit racial hate crimes, and blacks are not the only ones standing firm against them. 

I'm so sick of religious and class wars, racism, sexism, human slavery and trafficking, drug abuse, sex abuse, child abuse, animal cruelty, waste, environmental and corporate greed, gluttony, poverty and disease. 

What can I do? We will never be free of these plagues, the evil and hatred  we humans commit against one another.  I can't save the world.  I can't change my neighbor's mind. ALL I can do is love my fellow human being.  Love them as I love myself.  Love them regardless of their color, their sex, their status, their religion or their heritage.  Grieve with them, fight beside them, show them mercy, love, and compassion.  I'm not talking about letting someone hurt or walk all over me, because just as much as I will love them as a fellow human being... I will also fight against their hatred and anger - no matter their color/religion/sex/status.

If ALL you can see is the hate and the differences between us - you are blind.  That anger, even as a victim, will take root and the result will be just another strain of hate.  You will become what you currently despise. 

I hate what this young man did in Charleston.  I hate it with every fiber of my being.  My heart hurts for those victims.  This young man committed this terrible act of terrorism in hate.  Don't let your own hatred, your own anger, your own prejudices, your own hurt make you bend to his level and become the next instrument of hate.  Because YOUR actions will either lend toward furthering the divide that already exists or else serve as a healing balm to breach the gap. 

Choosing to love and not focus on color, isn't ignoring the race problem.  It's helping create a human solution... one individual at a time. Before you hit the streets, before you make your signs of protest, before you start lopping every person you know, and many you've never met into one box or another - stop. Close your eyes.  Stop being black, white, victim, or crusader - and then open your eyes and be human - no matter if your neighbor does likewise or not.  You change YOU, and then YOU will affect the world around you. Hate will NEVER change hate.  Anger will NEVER bring about peace.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

I Love You, But I Hate You Too

I’ve wasted so much time on you, most of it waiting …waiting for you to call, waiting for you to text, waiting for you to think about me, waiting for you to choose me. I’m always waiting.

I check my phone a thousand times a day just to see if you’re there. My heart skips a beat every time I hear the message notification or see the green blinking light. Every time when it’s someone else I feel my shoulders slump and a lump of disappointment tighten in my throat. I’m always checking.

I try not to think about what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, or what’s got you preoccupied. When I feel you crouching on the edge of my consciousness, I remember your smile, your laugh, the sound of your voice from the moments we’ve already shared. I can’t help but smile. I’m always wondering.

I’m trying so hard to live my life without you, because you’ve left me no choice. You stole my heart and never gave it back. I love you, but I hate you too.

I hate the way your words move me, push me outside my box, and make me think of things bigger than me. You challenge me. You don’t just let me say what I want. You question my motives, my core believes, but not to argue – to understand, or to get me to understand a different way. I don’t always agree, often disagree, but I don’t doubt your sincerity. You’re not indifferent. I’m always pondering.

I hate how you know the perfect song, the perfect word, the perfect story, the perfect game for me, ones you know that will touch my soul, make me cry, motivate me, or make me think. You also share the things that move you, giving me a peek into your heart, your emotions, and your passions. Many times I’ve cried many tears listening to the beautiful messages, melodies, and meanings. I’m always listening.

I hate how I shiver when you touch my hair, how my stomach flutters when you look at me, or how I feel safe wrapped in your arms. I hate it, because each time you do those things I betray myself and all the promises I’ve made to hate you. You unravel me and melt my resolve. I used to think I was strong, having bravely walked away from impossible situations, hard choices with even harder consequences. Why can’t I walk away from you? I’m always returning.

My world can be in chaos, flipped upside down, falling apart, but one message from you, one word, one look, or one touch and it suddenly shifts, rights itself, and I feel emboldened, strengthened, and calm. But as time goes by in your silence, in your absence, my world starts falling apart again, and after a few days, a few nights, I can feel the tattered shreds and the pressing walls. I hate that you have that power over me, because you don’t deserve me. I’m always falling.

You don’t deserve my good mornings, my good nights, my dreams, my thoughts, my hopes, my wishes, my musings, my time, my attention, or my love. I’m not yours. You’re not mine. I would have followed you anywhere, but you chose another. You chose a path I cannot follow. You say you took the safe route, the sure path, and perhaps you’re right. I’m not safe. I’m not sure. I wander down the unexpected, the odd, the complicated, the bold, the quirky, the wild, the open, and the honest paths. I am the hard way and I never stay still. I have scars. I have imperfections. I have fears. I’m always running.

Part of me dies a little every day without you, but another part of me fights to live, and every day I fight to breathe. I love you, but I hate you too.

One day I’m going to be okay without you, my heart will once again belong to me, and I will hold it, and I will heal it, and I will make it whole again. Because I’m not afraid to love me, and walk down the unexpected, the odd, the complicated, the bold, the quirky, the wild, the open, and the honest paths. I embrace my scars, celebrate my imperfections, and fight through my fears. I’m worth it. I’m never giving up… on me.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

I Hate You So Much

I hate you so much.

I still ache for you.

I hate you so much.

You still invade my dreams.

I hate you so much.

You still take my breath away.

I hate you so much.

I can still feel the sweet brush of your lips.

I hate you so much.

I can still smell the dizzying scent of you.

I hate you so much.

I am still transported by all our songs.

I hate you so much.

Your name still falls from my sleeping lips.

I hate you so much.

I still can’t breathe.

I hate you,

But I can’t stop loving  you.

~T.L. Gray

No Beauty in Indifference

I clearly remember the day when after years and years of running, I finally stopped, turned around, and faced the God I feared, the God I hated, the God I loved but was certain hated me. I was 24 years old and had already lived and survived three lifetimes, I knew hell, and hell knew me.


I remember the moment I put my nose to the carpet of a little country church, warm tears dripping from the tip, darkening the fibers as they fell. I sincerely prayed for the first time since I was a little girl. I didn’t ask for blessings, or prosperity, or health, or love, or proof of existence, or even a miracle. With every fiber of my being, I asked God to open my eyes and ears, so that I could see something different in humanity. All I could see was the ugliness. All I knew was how to survive monsters, to look for the danger in their words and actions, to assess my risk, to read the body language of liars, crooks, thieves, and predators. I needed to believe in goodness, gentleness, kindness, trust, and love. I needed to see the good potential in people, to be able to see God.


There wasn’t a flash of light or the sound of a trumpet call, but somehow over the years I began to see and hear differently. I still saw the ugliness, the risk, the danger, the lies… but I also saw the potential for goodness, the motive between the lines, love colored with hope and sewn with faith. I begin to love humanity even as we writhed in the midst of our ugliness.


What breaks my heart is how cruel we are to one another. Cruelty doesn’t always come from monsters. The greatest cruelty I’ve ever experienced didn’t come from the hand of a violent predator, but the gentle hand of indifference. To not care, to not feel, to not fear, to not love is a great cruelty. It’s just as cruel as being overbearing in narrow-minded views, excluding those who may think differently or outside their boxed ideas – this includes all religious, political or social mediums. The way humanity treats each other is both great and tragic. I see and hear the good and the bad, love and hate, and the cruelest of them all is indifference. There is no beauty in indifference.


Love me or hate me, but at least feel something. The cruelest act I’ve ever experienced is to simply be forgotten. I seem to be easily forgotten, dismissed, passed over as if I don’t exist. God tells us to love one another. That doesn’t mean overlook our ugliness and blindly cling to false truth and allowing the people we love to continually abuse us – but to see both our sins and our goodness, to see the truth and the lies, and then in the face of that truth choose to love, choose to hope, choose to see the potential for greatness. Forgive. Not forget… never forget, and sometimes walk away if needed, but forgive.


The thing I love most about my friends are not what they do, or what they have done, but what I know they’re capable of doing and becoming, and their capacity to love. We all have sins, failures, attitudes, hurts, triggers, scars, and walls. ALL of us. None are perfect or perfectly good. But with love – all things are possible. That is why I choose to love, to hope, to believe what my natural eyes can’t see or my ears can’t hear. It’s why I still hope when people push me away or put up their walls to block me out, and continue to love them even when they stop loving me. Yes, I walk away, but that doesn’t mean I stopped seeing them for the beautiful creatures, the beautiful, complex, deeply layered human beings that they are comprised.


My faith in God has been shaken, especially these last few years, and especially facing mortality. While I can’t always see and hear who, what, where, when and why… I am still that same young woman with her nose pressed in the carpet and opening her heart to her god, wanting something real, something more and bigger than what she was capable of doing on her own.


So, yes… I’m peculiar, strange, different. I’m a sinner like anyone else. God granted me my prayer. I can see and hear beyond the image, the masks of flesh we project and think protects us, covers our sins, hides our vulnerabilities, and colors our beauty. It was so much easier to hate humanity. Loving them is the hardest of all. Loving them when they don’t love me back is downright cruel. I wish I could close my eyes and cover my ears and go back into the darkness. Instead, Beautiful… these tears now fall for you. I wish you could see what I see and hear what I hear and know… what a beautiful soul you truly are. My last hope is that my god sees me in like manner.


Till next time,


~T.L. Gray

The Image We Project

I really need to stop looking beyond the projected image, because it gets me in trouble every time. Most often it just gets me hurt. I suppose I do it because I have this insane idea ingrained into my head that if I treat others how I would want to be treated it would just magically happen in return. It’d have to be magic, right? Because, seriously, who else walks around thinking about how they treat people? Who spends the time to peel back the layers in an attempt to really get to know someone? Who looks beyond the skin, the image, the resume, the labels, the skills, the talents? I tell myself all the time… “You do, surely there are others.” Well, the magic hasn’t happened yet. I don’t know why I keep getting surprised and hurt, but I do.

I look at the world around me, and I see example after example of a culture and society that can’t even get beyond skin color, much less any deeper layer. We’ve got riots going on all over the country because of racial bigotry and hate (and that’s not aimed at only the ‘white-privilege’ community, but the ‘black-oppressed’ community too). Hate can’t see past the outer shell and it sure as hell don’t solve anything. I don’t want to hear one word on either side of this debate – because at this point all I see is hate, and violence, and stupidity. Whatever efforts were made to open up a much needed dialogue, to peel back another layer, has been destroyed when the fanatics took over and started robbing, looting, burning and acting like dumb-fucking idiots. This whole situation has become lost and out of control and the ones fueling it, stirring it up, are the biggest hatemongers of them all. (No, I don’t want to debate, talk, or discuss it in anyway. Don’t respond to this post with anything to do with this whole issue. I’m done with it. Seriously, I’m done. I won’t engage and you’re wasting your time.)

Want to know how someone feels about something or someone, get them angry. It is how a person responds to adversity that you see them for who they really are, what they really feel, what they really think – things they’ve suppressed, hidden, and pushed down. It doesn’t mean they can’t change their minds – and once felt, always felt is a myth. Feelings change. Thoughts change. Responses change. That’s why forgiveness is so important. Don’t hate them for how they feel at that moment – try to figure out why and then work on changing it. But it does reveal a part of the truth, most often things they don’t want to admit even to themselves. I know it helps me see what I sometimes can’t recognize within myself. When I get angry, I begin to look around to see if I can recognize what hurt me, because 99% of the time my anger is a result of being hurt, most often me hurting myself.

Do I always succeed and rightly recognize my triggers? Hell no. I’m often just as wrong in those assessments as I am in trying to understand the motive behind someone else’s aggression. I’m a hot mess and I know it. I can’t help but wonder, surely there’s others like me. Does everyone have all their shit together, but me? Does everyone else always know the right thing to do, the right way to feel, the right way to respond, the right way to diffuse and understand the situation, except me? Does anyone even give a damn to find out what’s beneath this outer layer? Can they see the eyes behind the mask, or just the shiny glitter on the outside? Can they see the pain behind the smile?

I just want to close my eyes. I want to be like a turtle and hide within my shell. Most of all, I want to stop feeling, stop caring, stop hoping, stop loving. My cruel blind father introduced me to many of the evils in this world, but he also taught me how to see it differently – not with my eyes but with my mind and my heart. My invalid mother with MS taught me the cruelty of guilt, but also by taking care of her the beauty in sacrifice. My weak brothers taught me the stark reality of betrayal, but also what it meant to protect. My indifferent husband taught me the pain of being unloved, but also the pride of being faithful and dutiful and the strength to love myself.

It’s hopeless. I want to submit, but submission requires trust, and trust is something I don’t think I can ever give. I’ve tried. Damn, I’ve tried so many times. I’ve failed. I don’t even trust myself. My fear, my stubbornness, and my lack of trust – keeps me doing the stupid shit that causes people to get angry and push me away and makes me run. Oh, I run. It’s what I do best. I try so hard not to run, because I know running doesn’t solve the problems, just packs them down deeper so they can surface and cause an explosion that ruins any progress I might have made. Yet staying – staying incites hope, and hope leads to pain. It’s painful to hope for something and then watch that hope die. Faith has you believing you’re something more than what you’re not, and it’s awfully painful when you’re made of aware of how you’re really perceived, what your true standing is in someone else’s sight.

I love myself. I think I’m a beautiful, passionate, loving, faithful and honest person. I love to laugh, and I really love to make others laugh. I’m a natural cheerleader. I truly care about the people I’ve chosen to let into my inner circle, which is small, tight, and something I protect with vivacity. I’d do anything to protect them. Everything I am, everything I have, every gift, talent, and knowledge I possess, I share with them – without hesitation – as long as I’m wanted. I’ve lived too many years giving to those who didn’t want me… I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t. Finding out that I’m no one to those I deeply cared for, that I’m nowhere near as precious to them as they were to me… takes my breath away. I literally can’t breathe. But I will. I will inhale …and exhale …and wipe the tears away …and go on with my day.

Till next time,

~Breathless

Family Feud – Team Hatfield or Team McCoy?

I had mixed feelings last night when it came time to watch the last segment of Hatfields & McCoys  mini-series on the History Channel, wondering how it would affect my dreams and interrupt my sleep.  Though these two families did make their appearance in my nighttime adventures, it wasn’t as intrusive as the night before. 

As stated in my previous blog post, I was a bit wary this story would end without a resolve, forcing my brain and consciousness to provide one, or struggle from its absence. The History Channel didn’t let me down, and provided a partly sad, and partly hopeful, resolution.

 

Through careful determination, I reserved my judgment on either family, knowing this wasn’t a work of fiction, but based on historical facts and real families, until the conclusion of the matter.  I wanted to view this tragic story through unbiased eyes, being grateful I had not already had previous knowledge of the legend.  The only thing I knew before watching this series was that in the television show, “The Beverly Hillbillies”, their famous family feud was based on the Hatfields and McCoys, and that it was the basis for the game show “Family Feud”.  Actually, I had forgotten that last piece of information until my son reminded me yesterday. 

My judgment today:  I think this tale would make a great illustration for several moral principles, such as: sowing vs. reaping, generational curses, righteous indignation, religious hypocrisy, and the cause and effect of faith, grace, love and mercy, and the lack thereof. But the greatest lesson: the effect of hate and who really pays the price.

There are always many ‘reasons’ for hate, and in this particular case, it seems to have started at the end of the civil war with a blue coat amongst a gray coat society and mindset, but there are no ‘excuses’.  Hate is a personal choice.  In this particular environment, hate was prevalent, but it didn’t start with the Hatfields or the McCoys, but long before them both in a feuding country.  This particular feud was the fruit harvested after much sowing. I could literally see the ‘devil in the details’ through the side-line instigators on both sides, shooting their bullets from the shadows, stirring the anger, and fueling the fires of hate.

Who ultimately paid the price? The children.  Neither William Anderson “Devil Anse” Hatfield, nor Randolph “Randall” McCoy recognized the fruit of their hate until it became evident in the graves of their dead children. While they sought mercy, they refused to grant it.  I watched a skeptic turned into a believer, and a believer turned into a skeptic. I observed hate destroy love, and love overcome hate.  I witnessed grief destroy hope, and hope rise out of grief.  This is why this story captivates hearts and imaginations. 

In the end, am I team Hatfield or team McCoy?  I’ve always been partial to a Damascus Road experience - a murderer who seeks and finds redemption.  It’s the foundational concept in my novel series, “The Blood of Cain”.  So, I have to say, based on the evidence and story resolution presented, I’m team Hatfield. 

Till next time,

 ~T.L. Gray