A cousin of mine is a small town girl, living with her family in southern Ohio. Not too long ago she woke up, and found the front of her entire house covered with maple syrup. Windows, walls, gutters, everything. Hateful words were scrawled in chalk along her driveway, her parents’ cars covered in syrup as well. My grandparents were called in a panic, and had to help clean up before the syrup caused permanent damage. Why syrup, I couldn’t tell you, but the group that attacked my cousin’s house did it because my cousin had recently openly announced her homosexuality.
On November 27, 1978, Harvey Milk, the first openly homosexual man to ever be elected into California public office was shot and killed. The killer, Dan White, main defense? That he didn’t kill Milk out of cold blood, he had just not gotten enough sleep, eaten bad food, and was frustrated. White was given a very simple sentence to serve by a sympathetic jury, and riots ensued. Protesters ate Twinkies in the streets to mock White’s defense, and to metaphorically show that they could get away with what occurred during the riots.
Matthew Shepard was viciously beaten on October 6, 1998, by two men that said Sheppard “came on to them.” Shepard died a few days later. All because of his sexual orientation.
As part of an evolving community I find that tolerance will no longer make the cut. Tolerance is described as fair, and permissive, however fairness will not protect those who are persecuted, will not set the confused on the correct course. New, higher levels of respect must be instated, with compassion included rather than plain tolerance. People that go against the “flow” should be accepted as individuals, rather than ostracized as strange.
What does it take to make our community compassionate? Education for one, with teachers/parents telling their students that words like “gay” are not synonymous with “stupid.” Another way is to adopt an open mind. Not for five minutes, saying your life is forever changed, then reverting back to old ways. Rather, pick up your life from where it is, accept it, and be kind to those in need of someone to listen. That is a lifelong change. Never be quick to judge, listen to all sides of the story before you send out a mass text to your top twenty friends.
I understand that homosexuality is not embraced by all people, I be writing this then. Even if your religion, family education, political views, et cetera, refutes homosexuality, never forget that the person you are judging is a person too. They put on their pants one leg at a time, like you.
When people as me why I, a completely straight person, fight for gay rights, I remember my cousin, and know that is what this fight is all about.
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Thursday, 9 April 2009
I BelieveWords by Ron PopeMusic
by Zach Berkman, Paul Hammer, and Ron Pope
The sun comes out from a sea of clouds,I shed my disguise, we laugh out loud.I am sure that some day soon,We'll all be just fine.I hear a choir of angels on a dead end street,The faces of children make me believe,That some day, some day soon,The dark will subside.We're calling out answers we don't know,Calling on friends we thought we'd lost.We all have to see what we've become.Waiting on chances, so far gone,Hoping our answers light the dark,Praying some day soon we'll understand,As we search for the promised land.I see a holy host of sweet confusion,And we all bleed, but some men choose,To stand up, stand up straight,When there's something to lose. It's not armies at war, a search for the truth.The questions we ask leave us more confused.There's nowhere left to rest,So what can we do?So we're calling out answers we don't know,Calling on friends we thought we'd lost.We all have to see what we've become.Waiting on chances, so far gone,Hoping our answers light the dark,Praying some day soon we'll understand,As we search for the promised land.I swear I believe,I said, "I swear, I believe."I said, "I swear, I believe."I said, "I swear, I believe."We're calling out answers we don't know,Calling on friends we thought we'd lost.We all have to see what we've become.Waiting on chances, so far gone,Hoping our answers light the dark,Praying some day soon we'll understand,As we search for the promised land.I swear I believe,I said, "I swear, I believe."I said, "I swear, I believe."I said, "I swear, I believe."
by Zach Berkman, Paul Hammer, and Ron Pope
The sun comes out from a sea of clouds,I shed my disguise, we laugh out loud.I am sure that some day soon,We'll all be just fine.I hear a choir of angels on a dead end street,The faces of children make me believe,That some day, some day soon,The dark will subside.We're calling out answers we don't know,Calling on friends we thought we'd lost.We all have to see what we've become.Waiting on chances, so far gone,Hoping our answers light the dark,Praying some day soon we'll understand,As we search for the promised land.I see a holy host of sweet confusion,And we all bleed, but some men choose,To stand up, stand up straight,When there's something to lose. It's not armies at war, a search for the truth.The questions we ask leave us more confused.There's nowhere left to rest,So what can we do?So we're calling out answers we don't know,Calling on friends we thought we'd lost.We all have to see what we've become.Waiting on chances, so far gone,Hoping our answers light the dark,Praying some day soon we'll understand,As we search for the promised land.I swear I believe,I said, "I swear, I believe."I said, "I swear, I believe."I said, "I swear, I believe."We're calling out answers we don't know,Calling on friends we thought we'd lost.We all have to see what we've become.Waiting on chances, so far gone,Hoping our answers light the dark,Praying some day soon we'll understand,As we search for the promised land.I swear I believe,I said, "I swear, I believe."I said, "I swear, I believe."I said, "I swear, I believe."
Friday, 3 April 2009
How can you explain?
High school is wonderful, but that isn’t all of it. It’s grades and pressure and dances and love and gossip and dreams and friends. High school is an adventure; high school is straightforward. High school is amazing; high school is appalling. High school forces you to grow up; high school lets you remain a child. Sometimes, the truth is made of lies.
It can be stated that high school is pure misery, but others argue that it is pure joy. No matter what is said, there is nothing like walking down the hall, seeing all the people mold into one. You see the labels: goth, cheerleader, drug addict, brainless, geek. You stop to listen what is playing in the halls, if you don’t like it, you reach for your iPod. It’s not beautiful, precisely. It is surprising; there is no way to be ready for all it has in store. It rules you.
You despise it, you wish to break into nonconformity, but for some reason you give in. To attempt to explain the true meaning for high school is like trying to explain love. There is no reason for it, yet we become attached to the feelings it gives us. Everything you learn in high school is lies; everything you learn in high school is real. At the center, another name could be given to high school: experience. It’s like after a test, you are filled with contentment or distress.
High school fills you to the brim with such intensity; it’s almost as if you leave yourself behind in search of another. You want to grow up. You want to live. You want to die. You want love and pain and dreams to come true. You want all the things you have never cared for before. High school rips you to the core; it is there that you begin to define yourself. You realize your true friends. You discover what loyalty really means. You come to love yourself, and love others, and love the world.
Late at night you type away on that last term paper, and you look out at the stars. As you find yourself studying the stars, thinking of what is to come; you are filled with such a desire. A desire that these days will never end. That these days will go on forever and the planets will align and that you will finally reach complete and utter satisfaction.
High school is wonderful, but that isn’t all of it. It’s grades and pressure and dances and love and gossip and dreams and friends. High school is an adventure; high school is straightforward. High school is amazing; high school is appalling. High school forces you to grow up; high school lets you remain a child. Sometimes, the truth is made of lies.
It can be stated that high school is pure misery, but others argue that it is pure joy. No matter what is said, there is nothing like walking down the hall, seeing all the people mold into one. You see the labels: goth, cheerleader, drug addict, brainless, geek. You stop to listen what is playing in the halls, if you don’t like it, you reach for your iPod. It’s not beautiful, precisely. It is surprising; there is no way to be ready for all it has in store. It rules you.
You despise it, you wish to break into nonconformity, but for some reason you give in. To attempt to explain the true meaning for high school is like trying to explain love. There is no reason for it, yet we become attached to the feelings it gives us. Everything you learn in high school is lies; everything you learn in high school is real. At the center, another name could be given to high school: experience. It’s like after a test, you are filled with contentment or distress.
High school fills you to the brim with such intensity; it’s almost as if you leave yourself behind in search of another. You want to grow up. You want to live. You want to die. You want love and pain and dreams to come true. You want all the things you have never cared for before. High school rips you to the core; it is there that you begin to define yourself. You realize your true friends. You discover what loyalty really means. You come to love yourself, and love others, and love the world.
Late at night you type away on that last term paper, and you look out at the stars. As you find yourself studying the stars, thinking of what is to come; you are filled with such a desire. A desire that these days will never end. That these days will go on forever and the planets will align and that you will finally reach complete and utter satisfaction.
Tuesday, 31 March 2009
(IJM)
i honestly can not find the words in my brain to explain what occurred this past weekend. i went with friends to International Justice Mission's GPG (go google it...). rather that feeling guilty for how i live in wealth, while others struggle, my learning was enforced and situations brightened. i got to check upon what i had learned about at the 2008 GPG, and zipped about other nations i was interested in.
out of several choices, i decided i wanted to go to all of the african options. inspired by the fact that 3 out the 4 leaders were not born in africa, i prayed the hardest in these countries. in kenya, the leader broke down into tears, explaining how tough the work was on the staff stationed there. i don't think i'm ever going to forget a 6-foot-some man breaking down, about how his passion is slipping away as he runs to catch it with all he has.
i developed what i like to call "clinical prayer shoulder," which still hurts a tad. worth it.
i found out that i (extremely) dislike folk music, female voices are not to my liking. but i also found out that liturgical dance is what i'm meant to help in with the church. while anyone was singing, or humming, i couldn't help but to tap my foot. Ten Shekel Shirt took the stage on many occaisions, and i found myself dancing about.
i like to sleep among suitcases in the back of a van.
i pray short. to the point. no need for long, dragged out cries. get to the point of what you need, what you want for others, then relax in the spirit. in a few of my prayer groups, there were older women (from the south, unless my accent detector has gone wild) who could pray for ten minutes straight. if they really are that passionate, couldn't they raise awareness, or start a foundation at their home? see now i'm off on a rant. foo.
http://www.ijm.org/
http://www.ijminstitute.org/
http://vimeo.com/3893479
listening to: "trouble" by Ray LaMontagne
out of several choices, i decided i wanted to go to all of the african options. inspired by the fact that 3 out the 4 leaders were not born in africa, i prayed the hardest in these countries. in kenya, the leader broke down into tears, explaining how tough the work was on the staff stationed there. i don't think i'm ever going to forget a 6-foot-some man breaking down, about how his passion is slipping away as he runs to catch it with all he has.
i developed what i like to call "clinical prayer shoulder," which still hurts a tad. worth it.
i found out that i (extremely) dislike folk music, female voices are not to my liking. but i also found out that liturgical dance is what i'm meant to help in with the church. while anyone was singing, or humming, i couldn't help but to tap my foot. Ten Shekel Shirt took the stage on many occaisions, and i found myself dancing about.
i like to sleep among suitcases in the back of a van.
i pray short. to the point. no need for long, dragged out cries. get to the point of what you need, what you want for others, then relax in the spirit. in a few of my prayer groups, there were older women (from the south, unless my accent detector has gone wild) who could pray for ten minutes straight. if they really are that passionate, couldn't they raise awareness, or start a foundation at their home? see now i'm off on a rant. foo.
http://www.ijm.org/
http://www.ijminstitute.org/
http://vimeo.com/3893479
listening to: "trouble" by Ray LaMontagne
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
Tuesday, 24 March 2009
spoken word.
i've entered a contest at one of my service projects. because i like to think i am good at this sort of thing. i don't want to reveal too much, but it's going to be excellent. i'll put blips up here until it's done, then i'll record it to my facebook.
"after all, you're my wonderwall. but what are you going to do when we fall? never even move at all? baby, i crawled my way back to you, through storm and rain and lightening and wind. i thought i would find something more than remnants of memories, bits of my life, blown away in that same wind."
listening to: "lions, tigers & bears" by jazmine sullivan
"after all, you're my wonderwall. but what are you going to do when we fall? never even move at all? baby, i crawled my way back to you, through storm and rain and lightening and wind. i thought i would find something more than remnants of memories, bits of my life, blown away in that same wind."
listening to: "lions, tigers & bears" by jazmine sullivan
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