Staring at Fear

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Madam Fannie Porter stares at fear. (From The Last Bordello)

 

I reminded my fingers to turn the knob slowly, quietly. I crept through the kitchen’s side door and held my breath.

A voice in the parlor. Not one of my girls. I tiptoed into my bedroom and made my way to the far wall. Wiped my sweaty, shaky hands on my dress. Removed the painting.

Only Reba and I knew about the coin-sized peephole Constructed long ago for keeping an eye on questionable customers. Exactly my eye level, as intended.

The voices would be clearer now. I inched the cork from the hole. Fighting for breath, I peered through the hole and into the parlor.

 

 

 

The booming business of hate

Great post about choosing love over hate, acceptance over racism.

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“The timing is not good. We are black. We are Muslim. We are Somali. We are all the negative stigmas.” – Omar Hassan, speaking in reference to the country’s increasingly intensified anti-immigrant and anti-Muslim fears

I believe, with all my heart, that the vast majority of Americans are not hateful, racist, bigots. I do honestly believe this. But we have a problem, a problem compounded by the election of a man who had the support of the KKK and other hate groups that dot our landscape. His election gave these group a voice, a voice that was once faint but one that always bubbled under the surface. That voice is no longer faint. It is loud and becoming louder and I am afraid.

“Racism is taught in our society, it is not automatic. It is learned behavior toward persons with dissimilar physical characteristics.” –  Alex Haley

We like to think that we…

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We will not go back!

This blog post is dedicated to strong women and the men who love us.

In history, although suppressed by politics, there have always been strong women.  In the 1800’s women couldn’t fathom the idea of breaking, or even reaching a glass ceiling. I know. We’re closer today, but…

 

Seventy years after the American Revolution, a different kind of tea party took place. A woman named Elizabeth Cady Stanton was one of the invitees. Here, at this tea in 1848, Ms. Stanton spilled out her discontent on the status of women in America.

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They planned a convention. 

Stanton’s “Declaration of Sentiments” is drafted.

  • Married women were legally dead in the eyes of the law
  • Women were not allowed to vote
  • Women had to submit to laws when they had no voice in their formation
  • Married women had no property rights
  • Husbands had legal power over and responsibility for their wives to the extent that they could imprison or beat them with impunity (see entire list in this full article)

Let’s not forget. African American women had it much worse.

(Today, we have fast-forward buttons- FF>. But in this case, I’ll use FFS> as in fast forward slow. It took us a LONG time to get where we are!)

FFS>  to 1920. Seventy-two years later, we get the right to vote.

FFS> to 1936, a Supreme Court decision declassified birth control information as obscene.

FFS> The Women’s Rights Movement began in the 1960’s

FFS> In 1972, the Equal Rights Amendment, which had languished in Congress for almost fifty years, was finally passed.

It’s almost 2017. We have accomplished much but why have we fast-forwarded so slow? 

This is what  I do know. In this new political climate, WE WILL NOT REWIND AND GO BACKWARDS.

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Raw Journal Kernels – 6

Random journal entry? Yes, except for the top right corner that came from a dream. I was about to step into the water of the  National Mall in D.C. to follow others.

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I looked down at the water contemplating stepping in, when two Marines, one on each side, escorted me through the water. As I got to the “end,” I realized who was at the front, the person I had been following. Rosa parks turned to us, threw her arms up and said, “Point your breasts up to the heavens and dance!”

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Loved this dream!

The Shape of Emma June Crawford

First, thanks so much for liking my “shape” in previous posts.

When I posted The Shape of our Being, I mentioned how experiences shape our humanness. Here’s another example of the “shape” of Carolyn’s Being that shows up in my novels. I’ve posted Meta’s shape from The Last Bordello and Cono’s shape from No Hill for a Stepper.

Here’s Emma June from The Moonshine Thicket.

Kids at school say Scooter’s grain elevator doesn’t reach the top of the silo. That he acts more like a six-year-old than a thirteen-year-old. They don’t know diddly-squat. Scooter might not be the brightest penny in the cash box, but I’ve known him all my life. He has more grain than most of the numbskulls in Holly Gap, Texas and Scooter’s worth more than the whole lot of them. Wherever Scoot skips, bounces or walks, goodness grows in the footsteps he leaves behind. Without Scooter, everything would grow dead. 

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I can’t wait for you to meet Emma June when she finally gets out and about!