Celebrating the lives, history and strength of those who were never meant to survive.

Heading to the beach in hopes of finally discussing HER aboriginal history with her. Not sure how much is too much and even where to start.
Reflecting on the stories of the residential-school system HER grandaunt shared with me, the separation from her family, everything she knew and the impact it still had on her.
Cherishing my baby's happiness in celebrating a day of her colonizers never sat well with me but here we are:
I'm dragging ass to the beach praying to the ancestors; hers and mines for wisdom, guidance and courage.
Shes smiling and skipping along in a oversize red Canada day hat she was gifted. #lesigh #ohCanada

Shadow

I am the pain on your soul.
You've been: bled, torn open, walked on, brutalized and left to rot.
You can try not to be defined by your past but your history was barely survivable.
I see your smile and I hear your shallow breath when you say you are "OK".
But I know too well the weight of your story, the paralyzing fear that keeps you up at night and crippled in bed during the day. I see your your dreams been flooded by nightmares of not being able to protect your own from a similar faith. And while you are not defined by your trauma you will never be afforded the ability to just walk away.
Do not be fooled... I am with you always, I am your shadow; embrace me. 

*Image by Kevin Sweeney. 

Breaking up with Christianity

When I tell people I was raised very religious a certain look washes their face as a noticeable computation of what that would look like on me and whether to offer a sympathetic ear. 

The truth is I would rather come out a thousand times over as gay/queer before I say what I know in my heart is true ... that I've denounced my faith in Christianity. It is such guarded information that this is actually the first time I've thought it out loud.

The "why", is much longer than I would have time or space to write about or openly process. 
But I can say the "how", and that its been a very long time coming. I can say that Christianity has had a profound impact in my life.


Dear Christianity,

I will refrain from saying "its not you its me" the truth is its mostly you.

I have loved you from before I knew myself, we started this relationship at such an early age that I never really thought twice about the potential of a break up. You have been there for me and with me through some extremely difficult times and I know I wouldn't have survived otherwise. There were times I felt abandoned and ignored by you; when you stood by and allowed my innocence to be stolen, I wondered if you were cheating on me or if you just didn't love me anymore.  Like a naive yet obedient child I thought that I could solve my dilemmas by loving you more, committing to you more, giving more, being more than I ever thought possible. I attended every denominational service I could find, but even that didn't prevent it, it didn't prevent them.

Then you told me to not live by works but by faith, which I can say has been one of the greatest parts of loving you. Holding on to hope, as I barricaded my doors nightly. I prayed that you would see my undying faith, my lack of interest in sin and my commitment you.

After moving to Canada I knew you loved me and I wallowed in your bosom. Forsaking all else I join up, signed in and was baptized, renewing our wedding vows again for the forth time. I led many to you, recruited many for you and remained devoted throughout. I stifled my lust towards my gay female supervisor and fasted harder and prayed every time we were in the same room. I moved in with my other Christian sisters did everything with them and stayed faithfully true to your cause. I didn't know I was in a religious cult, I was blinded by love. And for a very long time I resented you and yet I felt obligated to you.

After leaving the cult I felt lost and so at a very young age I got married, instead of fornicating I lived by your words and was the dutiful and obedient wife and mother you wanted me to be. After several years my marriage crashed, I reflected on the life I've lived and the Biblically flawless choices I made. I slowly I started falling out: out of love, out of devotion out of obedience out of righteous indignation.

I purposely and methodically stripped myself bare, I saw that what I had stifled my whole life was me. I had been so easily lead, manipulated, and confined that I got used to seeing myself as a reflection of you. As I stood up for me, I had to unlearn, I had to start re-living, and re-evolving into the woman I was meant to be, the mother I wanted to be and the warrior I was destined to be.

I don't regret our relationship, I have known and loved you longer than I have known and love myself. And I will openly admit that finding me and loving me has been and probably will be the most difficult challenge in my life. I know there will be hiccups, I know I will falter, and I have, as I am only in the infancy of self love and self actualization.

For the first time I'm starting to see myself whole. I see you, completely and I see your spirit of indoctrination. I now know that you are a Trojan horse given by my colonizers and I see how my history and true self has been systematically replaced.

I do take full responsibility for the choices I've made, and for the person I was and have become and I choose to no longer be apart of this charade. I will choose to be hopeful, I will choose to be loving and honest and true.

I choose me.

Its over and I'm officially and publicly walking away. 

While you sleep

My great grandmother, my grandmother my mother and my daughter are all alive, a precious bio-fact like a jewel I hold so dear. But on nights like these when I watch my daughter sleep I cant help but think of the history of evil that has impacted our lives from slavery, rape, servitude and incest, all four generations of us are all survivors of some of the worst types of evil this world has to offer.

And then I look at her sleep, so delicately peaceful, and unaware that even as a fetus she was called a "mutt" by her white father's white coworker and friend. Then I remembered the 1st time she came home and explained that she wished she lived in Jamaica where people looked like her. And as I asked her to further explain her feelings, it all faded to black as my heart sank. I stood there motionless with every racist encounter I've had flashing thru my mind and body, triggered, angry and speechless.

I focused on her words as she explained her discomfort and her new acknowledgement of the racial divide in authority figures at her school. I remembered mumbling something about our city's history and the need for more diversity and the pace of change.
But really, how do I explain to a small child that as different as she feels she will not only experience a multitude of racist encounters, racist people, racist systems of white idolatry but will also be treated differently because of her light skin privilege? A privilege that must always be checked.

 For now I stand here over her bed watching her sleep, praying to my ancestors, the universe and my black god(dess) that she (my peacefully sleeping daughter) will be as fierce, as brave, as strong, as wise and even more resilient than the five generations of women who have all survived and are all alive, loving her and teaching her the best way we can.

*Image - Family Tree (Limited Edition Lithograph) - Keith Mallett