Open Season

I cover my body
no skin left to see,
Only My face uncovered, the tips
of my Fingers. They peek
just out of my Sweater.

I can’t breathe, the Weight of my clothes
like the weight the Sins
of those who stripped me.
Those who left me vulnerable,
open,
scared.

I was left so naked, alone
Open to all the elements
the world could throw at me.
Open. So open, in fact
It left me
Broken.

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Santa Fe

Another shooting,
Another day.
22 this year,
Its only May.

Its nothing new,
Those kids were not surprised.
Our senators, our congressmen
They won’t fight for our lives.

How many more;
Have to mourn?

I had a nightmare Last Night…

Last Night I had a nightmare.
I woke up sweating, screaming,
Kicking at my sheets. My face pale
And creased with horrifying
Confusion. Why didn’t I say no?
Why didn’t he know?

“It’s not my fault, It’s not my fault.”
I repeat over and over, but
The men at church don’t call it sexual assault.
“You should’ve just kept you legs shut!”
I should’ve said no,
Why didn’t he know?

“Boys will be boys!”

“Boys will be boys.” The lady says as her son throws dirt at the other children on the playground.

“Boys will be boys.” She thinks when she sees her sons eyes glow with excitement as they pass by the video game section.

“Boys will be boys.” Says the lady whose son has been hitting girls at school “to show he likes them”.

“Boys will be boys.” She murmurs when her son comes home with a black eye and school suspension for getting in a fight with another classmate.

“Boys will be boys.” She thinks while her son stares at the cashiers chest, instead of acknowledging her “Good day.”

“Boys will be boys, and dressing like that only suggested that she wanted it.” She tells the jury, sitting in the witnesses chair, defending her sons actions.

Delirious

I walk through the forest at a slow pace, taking in the luminescence of this nature. The leaves are already starting to change color, but haven’t began to fall yet. Brilliant sprouts of light reflect the color of leaves, leaving comet-tail like streams of reds, golds, and greens. I’ve never experienced nature quite like this before, so bright and beautiful. I look around and see a lizard scurrying up a tree, its tail flicking from side to side as it sets upon a bird. The feathers fall down and caress my face like a soft, downy pillow. The trees loom above me so high, holding each other tightly together by jagged branches that arch along the sky and seem to also stroke the horizon, as if tucking the sun in to bed. A rabbit walks across a meadow, while a family of deer seem to hop along the tree line on their hind legs. I fall onto the grass and it wavers beneath me, giving in to my weight ever so slightly and rippling out into the trees. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, letting the light warm my face.

“Hellllooooo.” I hear a tiny voice, like a faeries, drifting through my mind.

“Hi.” I whisper, opening my eyes.

“Come with me, your lost.”

I look around, but see no one. Confused, I stand, and a rush of joy overtakes my body when I fell a tiny hand touch my shoulder. A tiny human, no bigger than a chihuahua flits around in front of me holding her hand out. I take it and she leads me towards the woods, and once more I am captivated with it. She brings me to a bonfire, where other tiny humans dance around this fire, singing songs and passing a pipe around. I am amazed at how tall I stand before them, but they seem to not notice at all.

“Hey, she’s back! We thought we lost you; you can’t run around by yourself out here, especially when your high.”

Catharsis

I sit in my local Starbucks, scrolling through twitter and sipping on my mini white mocha frappaccino, as one slightly preppy, middle-class white girl would. I see a post on twitter that reads, “Got beer. ne 1 wnat to party?” I sigh just low enough that no one will hear me over the coffee machines and late 2012’s music, can’t people find a better way to let off steam than drinking and using drugs? I put my phone down and silently observe the people sitting around me, looking out the window every so often to make it seem as if I’m waiting for someone to show up. Of course no one is actually coming, but I wouldn’t want someone to just assume I’m being a loner. I notice a middle-aged dude directly in front of me fiercely tapping the keys on his computer; to the left of me is a group of 3 older women talking about their child’s latest achievement. One of them looks pretty normal, with a t-shirt and jeans. The other one is wearing a tank top 2 sizes to small with a bra 2 sizes too big, and the other with hair piled on top of her head so high it could be mistaken for a beehive. “My daughter was just nominated to be class president.” The beehive lady says. She has a smug look that says,I raised my daughter better than all of you.  The lady with wardrobe issues says,”Well, my son is being nominated for home-coming king.”
“My daughter made honor roll this year… Again.” Says the fairly normal looking one.
“That’s wonderful!” Says the beehive lady, “but my son is being offered a position in the NHS. Do you girls know that stands for? N is National, H is for Honors, and S is for Society.” She says this last part slowly, like the others were 5 and didn’t know what an acronym was. I look away, slightly annoyed that these women think they’re kids were the shit compared to every one else. They probably have orgies and do drugs when you’re not home, I think to myself, rolling my eyes. My eyes finally land on the chubby worker who just sat down diagonally from me, in front of the 3 ladies. He immediately grabs his phone from his apron, furiously scrolling through his social media like there might be some very important news in one of the posts. He has 3 drinks in front of him, a water, a frappaccino, and an iced coffee. No doubt drinks that were messed up, and not able to be given to the customer. He also has a blueberry muffin that he hurriedly picks at with his left hand. He can’t seem to stop shaking his legs and frantically snapping his left hand fingers after every bite he takes. He must be OCD. Or possibly have social anxiety. What other explanation is there?
After a while I stop looking at him, the most interesting thing he did was switch his phone from his right hand to his left. I began to daydream, thinking about what my future apartment would look like, what my next dogs name should be, what was on my to-do list that day, nothing extremely important or interesting for that matter, when I noticed that there was another low groaning sound that sounded like a chair was being drug across the hardwood floor. I looked up to where they make drinks, but everyone was just standing around talking. I looked around slowly trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. Was it a flushed toilet? But no, it kept going and going, getting louder by the second now. Something was different about my surroundings, I was sure of it. I looked at the people around me but no one seemed to notice, or care. HNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG. It was really loud now, and people were starting to look over their shoulders to see what the noise was. There, seated diagonally from me, was the chubby barista who had now stopped moving all together. His head hung low, but i could see that his lips were parted every so slightly and eyes squinted as if straining. People were starting to freak out, wondering if this random guy was mentally retarded or having some kind of episode. The lady with the beehive hair stood up and walked over to him, no doubt trying to act like the good citizen that saves the day.
“Honey, are you okay?” No response.
“Do you need some air? Or some water?” Said the fairly normal woman, but again, no response.
The noise had risen now, almost a scream.  People were starting to crowd around this guy, wondering if they should help, but never would out of fear of being “That person”. I stayed back, slightly scared, but I wasn’t going to leave because I wanted to see what would happen to this guy.
All of the sudden the dude jerks his head up and stares straight at the ceiling, he stops screaming but says in a faint voice,”Finally free.” His whole body relaxes, urine soaking his pants followed by a foul smell. There was a small squeak from the back of his throat, and then there was blood splatter everywhere. A small chunk of flesh with what looked like half an ear and some hair hit me right in the chest falling into my lap. Another piece flew into my cup, knocking it over. This one covered by hair completely. These chunks were everywhere, in the beehive lady’s hair, on the laptop of the fierce typist… just everywhere. When I looked up at the guy, his body was slumped against the table, only his entire head was missing. There was only a hole where his neck used to be. It was almost as if a bomb had gone off inside his head, ending all his frantic emotions for ever. That is, unless, he believes in reincarnation.

“Equality For All (Enter race, sex, or sexual orientation here)”

Anonymous At 16

Join hands for peace. Join hands for peace.

Let me start off by saying this: equality for a group of people, does not mean their social status should be “higher up the ladder” than anyone else. Equality, by definition, means, “the state of being equal, especially in status, rights, and opportunities.“; and if you don’t know what equal means, it is when “a person or thing considered to be the same as another in status or quality.” You learn something new everyday!

Now that we got that out of the way, on to the issue. I just read an article about “Straight Pride” and why homosexuals are furious about it. Now i’m not saying every single gay person in the world is angry about this, but the select few who are, shouldn’t be. Many people who are homosexual, feminist, and yes even African Americans, claim to be proud of their…

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Stereotypes are good, people are bad.

Stereotypes are annoying and sometimes offensive. They can present the wrong idea about people and cause many problems, but are stereotypes actually the root problem to racism or sexism? Many people might think so, but there is a lot more to them than you think.

Stereotypes are actually, in most cases, good. Stereotypes are our brains way of being able to make split second decisions. Without stereotypes, we would hardly be able to make decisions or survive like we do. You may not believe me quite yet, but lets look at some situations where stereotypes are good and bad, but you have to remember stereotypes are oversimplified generalizations about someone or something.

Soda can Gen

Here we have blank cans. Now I ask you, what  are these cans used for?

 

Many of you might go for the seemingly obvious answer, “To hold drinks”, but what if I told you that is not in fact what they are being used for in this picture? They could be being used to hold soup, or dangerous chemicals, or as a vase for hand-picked flowers, but how would you know that just by looking at the outside of the cans? Now, if you saw a picture of a beaker with a mysterious liquid inside, you might say that it was being used to hold dangerous chemicals. All of these assumptions are mostly made by past experiences and you make general assumptions about these objects, i.e. the cans hold a drinkable liquid, while the beaker holds dangerous chemicals. These assumptions are oversimplified generalizations of an object. What is a different word for oversimplified generalizations? I can’t seem to think of one, but its on the tip of my tongue… Oh, wait! I think I remember, it starts with a S I think… Sterilize? Stereo? Oh, I remember now, stereotype. Now apply these situations with the beaker and the cans to real life situations and you might just get the point I’m making.

Although stereotypes can be good(see above), they can be bad. You can assume that the girl you saw wearing an oversize sweater and drinking Starbucks is dumb or “basic”, when she may very well be a rocket scientist. The black guy applying for a job that is wearing Jordan’s and has his pants sagging could be at the top of his class, graduating valedictorian.

Stereotypes are not bad, they are in fact good. It is how you use them that really matters.

#AllLivesMatter

Police brutality and abuse of power is a problem. Police brutality and abuse of power against a specific race is also a problem. You know what else is a problem? Its a problem that when an officer approaches you (and you’re black) you automatically assume that they think you’re up to no good, when most of the time they were called out there by someone who thought you were being suspicious. That means that they are doing their job. When you are found actually doing something illegal, and then you resist arrest because you think they only approached you because you are black, THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT ALRIGHT. Racism is still a problem with some people, but it goes both ways. When a police officer asks you what your name is and what you’re doing, just tell them. Why would you resist and get defensive if you’re not doing anything wrong? 

Now, I know some people are going to say something like,”Well, if i’m not doing anything wrong, and they don’t think I’m doing anything, then why did they even come over here?” Well, for starters, it could be completely random, someone could have asked them to stop you, maybe you fit the description of someone caught on camera and they are just making sure. I have been stopped and stared at by the cops, even when I was doing absolutely nothing. Yeah, it made me feel weird and like I was doing something wrong, but when they did stop me and ask me what I was doing, I told them. No problem, no confrontations, everything ended up okay. I had friends who were black that had the same thing happened to them and again they had no problems and no confrontations.

The reality is, cops do abuse their power, but sometimes when something happens, they were provoked. There are two ways, that I can think of, to fix this:

1. All cops should have to wear a camera on their uniforms. and,

2. People should stop acting like the cop is stopping them because of their race or gender, and just comply with the officers questions.

The video in this article shows you that some cops are just doing their job, and even they think the situation is ridiculous.

#AllLivesMatter

A Shout Out To Everyone Who Thinks Racism Is A One-Way Street

*WARNING* There will be graphic language and opinions you will strongly disagree with, it is also a very, very angry rant.

 

Okay. First of all, I am a white girl who grew up in a middle class home with parents who strongly encouraged us to pursue education and to be non-judgmental. That doesn’t mean that I don’t understand what its like to be poor or that i don’t understand what its like to be constantly judged on your appearance, because guess fucking what? I do. You know what else I understand? Being judged because of the color of my skin. No, my ancestors were not slaves, but even if they were, which they totally might have been, I wouldn’t use that against the color of whoever owned them because I don’t know if you’ve heard but there is no more slavery. Being judged on the color of your skin is not just, “Well he’s black, so i should probably hold my purse closer.” and, “This white guy with his hood over his eyes is really creeping me out. I’ll walk the other way so I don’t get raped.” Being judged on the color of your skin means some opportunities won’t be presented to you, it means people will look at you funny, it means you will automatically be put into a stereotype, and a lot of the time people will be rude to you. Yes, I do understand that black people do get more shit about it, but white people also get a ton of shit too, its just not as out in the open. For instance, if I were to say,”That guy really needs to pull his pants up, its not classy at all.”(About a black guy) People would call me racist and say I’m too judgmental, but on the other hand, if a black person were to say, “Gosh, white people are so stupid. “(Which i totally just made up, but i have heard black people say numerous times.) Could someone please tell me, WHY THE FUCK THIS ISN’T CONSIDERED RACIST? Come on people, the first sentence would be me pointing out a random dude that has his pants so fucking low i can see his junk and his ass, even though i’m not even looking at the color of his skin, because lets be honest, anyone who does that has a big sign on them saying,”LOOK AT ME I’M TRYING TO BE A THUG.” The second sentence on the other hand… Like, what the fuck? If I were to say “Gosh, black people are so stupid.” I would probably get shot in the fucking face by somebody. Also, I absolutely hate having to fucking explain myself to people about how the comment I made was not racist in anyway or form, but black people? Honestly where I live, its like they can say whatever the fuck they want to, no matter how fucking racist it is and get away with it.

Yeah, you guys are probably tired of this rant, but i’m not stopping, and why should I? Another thing is, black people are NOT the only people who get “the look”. Yeah, I’ve gotten that look by both white and black people. Be it because the way i was dressed that day, or how I talk, whatever the reason may have been, I still got that dumb-ass slack-jawed look that makes me want to punch them right in the face. I have also experienced people talking down to me, because I was WHITE. Yeah, they talk to you like they’re better than you, like they have better things to be doing, and its just ever so apparent that they don’t like you because you’re white. So next time you say “white people don’t understand”, and then treat them like shit because they’re white, think about this post.

My point here is, LETS STOP BEING JUDGMENTAL DOUCHE BAGS TO EVERYBODY AND JUST ACCEPT THE FACT THAT EUROPEAN PEOPLE DECIDED AFRICAN PEOPLE WERE THE BEST TO DO SLAVE WORK AND THAT EUROPEANS WERE ROYAL FUCKING ASSES AND THAT THIS HAPPENED SO FUCKING LONG AGO THAT IT SHOULD’NT BE THIS PREVALENT IN TODAY’S SOCIETY. (This goes out to everybody. Literally everybody. I’m not dropping hints to any specific group of people. So don’t take this too fucking offensively.)