He had to have been alive in the first place for him to be dead now.
In college I had a friend whose father was a producer for the movie God's Not Dead. My friend was even in the film. Speaking part and all. It was pretty neat, actually. To have a friend who was in a movie.
The friend was obviously a Christian and I was obviously an atheist but we're good friends anyway. Mostly because neither of us are jerks and we are able to be friendly without having to accept each other's belief system. Surprising, I know.
When God's Not Dead came out, I went and saw it. This isn't a review of that movie. I don't need to review it. If anyone with half a brain saw it they knew right away how fictitious and ridiculous it was.
But, now they've made a sequel.
The sequel's premise is even more outlandish than the first one. A teacher (played by Melissa Joan Heart-- say it isn't so, Clarissa!) is brought to trial because she dared express her Christian faith in a classroom in Arkansas.
A teacher. In Arkansas. Who is religious. Being sued for expressing her religion. In Arkansas.
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
This truly is the work of some Christian nightmare. Complete fantasy. And, the only way they can make other Christians feel persecuted as well is by making up this story. I guarantee you there is a black screen at the end of the movie saying "This has been happening all over our Christian Nation. Don't let the liberals/democrats/atheists/ACLU win." or some other garbage.
In the 7th grade in Brandon, Florida I had a history teacher at Mann Middle School that would tell us daily about his love of god. He would tell us to read our bible. He insisted that he was a good Christian because he never let anything be on top of his bible. He brought that damn bible to his classroom and had it on his desk in plain sight all year long.
Don't give me that whiny bullshit about how Christians are persecuted in the classroom in the fucking bible belt.
You are not being persecuted when the rest of the community finally has the same rights as you do, you whiny, selfish, sniveling, liar Christian community. Grow up. Keep it in your homes and churches where it belongs.
Leave school alone to do its job. Teach your nonsense in your churches.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Columbine is this city but it doesn't define it
I've lived in Denver for four years now. I frequently come up against clashes in culture between what I know and what the locals know. For example, the local weather report recently said that the day was starting out 'warm' at 29 degrees. My poor Floridian heart broke. It's been a long time since I wore flip-flops. I still think of socks as feet prisons.
But, with the release of Sue Klebold's new memoir about her son and his involvement with the Columbine High School shooting, I keep thinking about what I knew about that tragedy is far different than what the locals knew about it.
I've used my high school experience as a testament to how I was shaped by tragedy and the necessity for understanding different cultures, mental illness, and empathy for my fellow humans. My high school career started with the Columbine shooting during my freshman year and the horrific day of September 11th happening in my senior year. I always thought that because of these tragedies punctuating such an important time in my life that I should be more knowledgeable and sensitive to them.
Then, I moved to Colorado.
The city's knowledge of the events that April morning in 1999 are very much different than what I remember happening in a classroom just outside of Tampa, Florida. I remember being scared and confused about what was happening. I remember thinking that bad men must have attacked the school. I remember thinking that something like that would never happen at my school. No one at my school felt that angry. Obviously. (I was pretty naive)
We watched the news coverage in my social studies class. We went home to our parents and asked questions they didn't know how to answer. But, after a few weeks...it mostly faded. As a student involved with extracurricular activities, life just had to move on. This tragedy was sad...but VERY far away.
This city lived it. This was their backyard- their schoolhouse. Someplace that was supposed to be safe. They watched their children, their friends, their brothers, sisters, grandchildren, coworkers kids, etc, scramble for their lives through an army of SWAT teams and police tape. They learned the horror of having teenagers be the responsible parties. They questioned their neighbors ability to raise children. After all, these boy's parents weren't paying attention, how do you know who else is? There was more than a sense of shock, I'm sure. There was a sense of shock, awe, betrayal, disbelief, and a deep deep sorrow. Their city will never be the same.
After I moved to Denver, I started meeting more and more people who had been touched by the tragedy. A coworker who had a cousin at the school during the shooting, a boyfriend who once attended the school, a friend who lost a friend, an acquaintance who knew the shooters.
To them, this wasn't just a media sensation. This WAS their life. This was their community. This was something they all went through together. It's something they still work through, as a city. It's a tarnished spot on their history that they wear. Not with sorrow, but, not with pride. They wear it as a reminder. A reminder of what could happen. What could happen when we don't listen. What could happen when we stop caring about each other.
Is this city warm fuzzies and rainbows? Of course not. But, I can tell you that this city is a tight knit one. They won the Super Bowl and a million people showed up to celebrate. No real issues (save for a traffic nightmare). This city is relaxed, they are friendly...they don't particularly care for all the new people who have moved here after the legalization of marijuana but, they are willing to tolerate you.
The thing is, from what I've seen with news reports and stories, they do not tolerate bullying. When something happens at a school they take no chances. Lock-downs happen. Sensitivity training happens. All inclusiveness happens. Respect Life is a frequent motto that I see around the city. It's on license plates, billboards, and painted on the side of walls.
I can imagine that many locals would rather Columbine NOT be the first image that outsiders think about when they think of Denver. But, it's there. When the theater shooting happened in Aurora a year after I moved here, I got phone calls from my mom and sisters at 5am asking if I was OK. They immediately thought of Columbine. They told me that the city was dangerous. I'll admit to being nervous for a while.
Personally, I now think of Denver as a beautiful, mountain flanked, friendly city with so much to offer. I think of it as my home now. (Guess I'll have to get more used to socks)
This is going to sound awful, but, I wish more cities had something like this that would rock them to their core. I don't want cities to have tragedies. I just wish that more had a unifying experience- something larger than a Super Bowl win. Something that would bring them together to work as one.
Unfortunately, I see tragedies that bring a city or country together.....to hate another group (Thinking of 9/11). Or, they wallow in their suffering and never quite move past it (Looking at you, NOLA- Katrina was awful but we need to move on now).
Colorado has taken the tragedy and learned from it. That is truly inspiring. I hope to one day be able to call myself Coloradoan and be worthy of the title. Until then.....freaking socks.....
But, with the release of Sue Klebold's new memoir about her son and his involvement with the Columbine High School shooting, I keep thinking about what I knew about that tragedy is far different than what the locals knew about it.
I've used my high school experience as a testament to how I was shaped by tragedy and the necessity for understanding different cultures, mental illness, and empathy for my fellow humans. My high school career started with the Columbine shooting during my freshman year and the horrific day of September 11th happening in my senior year. I always thought that because of these tragedies punctuating such an important time in my life that I should be more knowledgeable and sensitive to them.
Then, I moved to Colorado.
The city's knowledge of the events that April morning in 1999 are very much different than what I remember happening in a classroom just outside of Tampa, Florida. I remember being scared and confused about what was happening. I remember thinking that bad men must have attacked the school. I remember thinking that something like that would never happen at my school. No one at my school felt that angry. Obviously. (I was pretty naive)
We watched the news coverage in my social studies class. We went home to our parents and asked questions they didn't know how to answer. But, after a few weeks...it mostly faded. As a student involved with extracurricular activities, life just had to move on. This tragedy was sad...but VERY far away.
This city lived it. This was their backyard- their schoolhouse. Someplace that was supposed to be safe. They watched their children, their friends, their brothers, sisters, grandchildren, coworkers kids, etc, scramble for their lives through an army of SWAT teams and police tape. They learned the horror of having teenagers be the responsible parties. They questioned their neighbors ability to raise children. After all, these boy's parents weren't paying attention, how do you know who else is? There was more than a sense of shock, I'm sure. There was a sense of shock, awe, betrayal, disbelief, and a deep deep sorrow. Their city will never be the same.
After I moved to Denver, I started meeting more and more people who had been touched by the tragedy. A coworker who had a cousin at the school during the shooting, a boyfriend who once attended the school, a friend who lost a friend, an acquaintance who knew the shooters.
To them, this wasn't just a media sensation. This WAS their life. This was their community. This was something they all went through together. It's something they still work through, as a city. It's a tarnished spot on their history that they wear. Not with sorrow, but, not with pride. They wear it as a reminder. A reminder of what could happen. What could happen when we don't listen. What could happen when we stop caring about each other.
Is this city warm fuzzies and rainbows? Of course not. But, I can tell you that this city is a tight knit one. They won the Super Bowl and a million people showed up to celebrate. No real issues (save for a traffic nightmare). This city is relaxed, they are friendly...they don't particularly care for all the new people who have moved here after the legalization of marijuana but, they are willing to tolerate you.
The thing is, from what I've seen with news reports and stories, they do not tolerate bullying. When something happens at a school they take no chances. Lock-downs happen. Sensitivity training happens. All inclusiveness happens. Respect Life is a frequent motto that I see around the city. It's on license plates, billboards, and painted on the side of walls.
I can imagine that many locals would rather Columbine NOT be the first image that outsiders think about when they think of Denver. But, it's there. When the theater shooting happened in Aurora a year after I moved here, I got phone calls from my mom and sisters at 5am asking if I was OK. They immediately thought of Columbine. They told me that the city was dangerous. I'll admit to being nervous for a while.
Personally, I now think of Denver as a beautiful, mountain flanked, friendly city with so much to offer. I think of it as my home now. (Guess I'll have to get more used to socks)
This is going to sound awful, but, I wish more cities had something like this that would rock them to their core. I don't want cities to have tragedies. I just wish that more had a unifying experience- something larger than a Super Bowl win. Something that would bring them together to work as one.
Unfortunately, I see tragedies that bring a city or country together.....to hate another group (Thinking of 9/11). Or, they wallow in their suffering and never quite move past it (Looking at you, NOLA- Katrina was awful but we need to move on now).
Colorado has taken the tragedy and learned from it. That is truly inspiring. I hope to one day be able to call myself Coloradoan and be worthy of the title. Until then.....freaking socks.....
Thursday, January 7, 2016
Easy There, Feminist Warrior
Something got my back up yesterday afternoon. And now I'm wondering if I reacted too hard.
I do a weekly podcast with a dear friend of mine. I adore this guy. He really is a good person. Very intelligent and caring.
Sometimes I feel like I have to remind him that I'm not an idiot.
He went through something traumatic, yes. He was involved with Scientology. It's a HUGE subject for him. It's his livelihood now. It's how he is getting his name and expertise out there.
I get that. I totally understand.
But, when I'm around him and the topic goes to Scientology.....I blank out. I don't contribute to the conversation anymore. How can I? I didn't go through it. I used to know nothing about it. Now I feel like I know more than the average person, thanks to him. Which I'm thankful for. Honestly. I really, really am happy to know more about it and him.
I'm so over the conversation though. I just wait until the subject is something else so I can once again be a part of it.
And, that's also my fault. I need to be more engaged so I can bring up other topics to which I can contribute.
But, here is where I got 'upidy', as my mother would put it. We're hosting a guest this week on our podcast. I'm excited about it. The guy is a cult extraction expert. That's freaking cool! My friend sent me an e-mail with an outline for the show. Sweet! (he's never done that before- he typically has one made when I get there and I only barely see it)
He then asks me to regulate him so he doesn't get too caught up in the conversation with the guest and I can make sure the verbiage stays plain. "Since you are not as familiar with this material as I am and can help rein me in if I get too interested in something (guest) is talking about and we lose track."
Not familiar? Dude, I've been studying cults for years. I took classes on them in college. Hell, I was technically in one, too. My former religion may not be considered a 'cult' to many because it's been the accepted religion for 2,000 years but that doesn't mean it's not a cult.
We had different experiences, yes. Your's was WAY more controlling and scary, yes. But, that doesn't make my experiences less important.
Perhaps this is my fault. I let this guy talk about his experiences every time we are around one another. I know more about his life than I think he knows about mine. But, I think he needed that. I've been out of my cult for several years now and I've got a good support system. He only left Scientology a couple of years ago and is still building healthy relationships with people outside. I was happy to be a friend for him. Still am.
But this constant idea of his that I don't know what he's talking about is getting really frustrating.
Is this just the leftovers from my experiences reminding me to be a good girl and just listen? Get over it, girl. He doesn't know my knowledge because I haven't been broadcasting it.
That ends today. I've studied for this podcast and this guest. I've got notes. I'm putting on my big girl glasses and dropping some knowledge on this bitch.
And, then I'll go explain to my friend why I got upset. Because being able to talk like adults is what stops all the damn drama.
I do a weekly podcast with a dear friend of mine. I adore this guy. He really is a good person. Very intelligent and caring.
Sometimes I feel like I have to remind him that I'm not an idiot.
He went through something traumatic, yes. He was involved with Scientology. It's a HUGE subject for him. It's his livelihood now. It's how he is getting his name and expertise out there.
I get that. I totally understand.
But, when I'm around him and the topic goes to Scientology.....I blank out. I don't contribute to the conversation anymore. How can I? I didn't go through it. I used to know nothing about it. Now I feel like I know more than the average person, thanks to him. Which I'm thankful for. Honestly. I really, really am happy to know more about it and him.
I'm so over the conversation though. I just wait until the subject is something else so I can once again be a part of it.
And, that's also my fault. I need to be more engaged so I can bring up other topics to which I can contribute.
But, here is where I got 'upidy', as my mother would put it. We're hosting a guest this week on our podcast. I'm excited about it. The guy is a cult extraction expert. That's freaking cool! My friend sent me an e-mail with an outline for the show. Sweet! (he's never done that before- he typically has one made when I get there and I only barely see it)
He then asks me to regulate him so he doesn't get too caught up in the conversation with the guest and I can make sure the verbiage stays plain. "Since you are not as familiar with this material as I am and can help rein me in if I get too interested in something (guest) is talking about and we lose track."
Not familiar? Dude, I've been studying cults for years. I took classes on them in college. Hell, I was technically in one, too. My former religion may not be considered a 'cult' to many because it's been the accepted religion for 2,000 years but that doesn't mean it's not a cult.
We had different experiences, yes. Your's was WAY more controlling and scary, yes. But, that doesn't make my experiences less important.
Perhaps this is my fault. I let this guy talk about his experiences every time we are around one another. I know more about his life than I think he knows about mine. But, I think he needed that. I've been out of my cult for several years now and I've got a good support system. He only left Scientology a couple of years ago and is still building healthy relationships with people outside. I was happy to be a friend for him. Still am.
But this constant idea of his that I don't know what he's talking about is getting really frustrating.
Is this just the leftovers from my experiences reminding me to be a good girl and just listen? Get over it, girl. He doesn't know my knowledge because I haven't been broadcasting it.
That ends today. I've studied for this podcast and this guest. I've got notes. I'm putting on my big girl glasses and dropping some knowledge on this bitch.
And, then I'll go explain to my friend why I got upset. Because being able to talk like adults is what stops all the damn drama.
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
"I'm not going to answer that and I'll forgive you for asking"
This is the best response I have ever heard when someone is asked, "When are you going to have a baby?"
This past weekend I was at the Secular Hub and got into a conversation with two other women about the decisions we have made about whether or not to have children. The other women both had decided to have children, one right away and another several years after she was married. The woman who waited spoke about how often she was asked about having children. Her husband, she said, was asked maybe once or twice about it but she was asked frequently. She developed the response of "I'm not going to answer that and I'll forgive you for asking."
It's beautiful. Not only does it firmly state that my reproductive decisions are none of your business, it points out that it's rude to ask and I shouldn't have to apologize for your rudeness.
I decided somewhere around middle school that I didn't want children. They were loud, sticky, time consuming, and expensive in my eyes. And, now that I'm in my 30's, that sentiment hasn't changed. Even though so many people have told me that it would change, it hasn't.
Hell, my boss told me I would change my mind in a few years when I first started working for her. (About 3 years and 6 months ago....no change)
I'm not financially stable enough for children. I'm not married. And, damn it, I don't want to.
Even if I WERE financially stable and married...why on EARTH would I want to have a kid? Add stress to my life? Potentially have a child with special needs that I'm not prepared for? Never travel again? Never again have a moments peace?
Just so I can have a little carbon copy of me? No thanks.
I even went to a gynecologist a few years ago and asked for permanent birth control. A procedure that would make it impossible for me to ever have kids. They told me to wait a few years before I made any 'rash decisions'. What if I got married and my husband wanted kids?
Then I fucking wouldn't have married him, you twat! I still want the damn procedure.
Okay, I get it. Children bring joy and happiness to their parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. I have two nephews and I adore those kids. For the people who have always wanted kids, they are blessings and something that they can't imagine their life without. I totally get that.
It's not for me. And, I always thought that was a responsible decision on my part. I don't want them. I can't afford them. Isn't it better that I don't reproduce? One less kid that has a hard time in life?
One of my sisters had a REALLY hard time becoming pregnant. It took years, money, time, and stress on their lives before they were able to have my nephew. He's perfect. But it took a lot for him to get here. My sister would LOVE to have more. Her and her husband are wonderful parents and would be able to provide for more.
Do I feel bad that, if I were to try, I would be able to have a child easily? Yes. I would give her all my healthy lady bits so she could have more. Does she think badly toward me for choosing not to have children? Of course not. My sister understands that having kids is not for everyone. Many moms that I have spoken with have said that it's not something that someone should do halfheartedly.
So, why do so many women get the third degree when it comes to popping one out? Perhaps it's because for eons our species has hinged upon multiplying to carry on our genes? Maybe it's because so many people are religious and, at least in the bible, it says that we are to go forth and multiply? We all want to be Norman Rockwell paintings with the house, yard, dog, 2.5 kids, and a happy marriage?
Screw that. I like my apartment. I like that I can sleep in on the weekends. I like that I can decide to take an overnight trip last minute without having to worry about a dog; much less a kid. It's 2016. I don't have to be married to be happy. I don't have to have a house to be stable. I don't have to have offspring to have a fulfilling life.
And when did this subject become a regular thing to ask people? Why is reproducing a public conversation? Perhaps because society used to be WAY more reliant on one another. Our species has never grown out of this. I'm assuming this is also why abortion and birth control are so public. It just can't be something private because others refuse to butt the hell out.
So, when you ask me when I'm going to have children and I respond with "I'm not going to answer that and I'll forgive you for asking" please don't think I'm being a bitch. It's really none of your business. And, if I do explain that I don't want them, please don't assume you know better than me about my choices. I've thought about this. Believe me. I've HAD to think about this.
This past weekend I was at the Secular Hub and got into a conversation with two other women about the decisions we have made about whether or not to have children. The other women both had decided to have children, one right away and another several years after she was married. The woman who waited spoke about how often she was asked about having children. Her husband, she said, was asked maybe once or twice about it but she was asked frequently. She developed the response of "I'm not going to answer that and I'll forgive you for asking."
It's beautiful. Not only does it firmly state that my reproductive decisions are none of your business, it points out that it's rude to ask and I shouldn't have to apologize for your rudeness.
I decided somewhere around middle school that I didn't want children. They were loud, sticky, time consuming, and expensive in my eyes. And, now that I'm in my 30's, that sentiment hasn't changed. Even though so many people have told me that it would change, it hasn't.
Hell, my boss told me I would change my mind in a few years when I first started working for her. (About 3 years and 6 months ago....no change)
I'm not financially stable enough for children. I'm not married. And, damn it, I don't want to.
Even if I WERE financially stable and married...why on EARTH would I want to have a kid? Add stress to my life? Potentially have a child with special needs that I'm not prepared for? Never travel again? Never again have a moments peace?
Just so I can have a little carbon copy of me? No thanks.
I even went to a gynecologist a few years ago and asked for permanent birth control. A procedure that would make it impossible for me to ever have kids. They told me to wait a few years before I made any 'rash decisions'. What if I got married and my husband wanted kids?
Then I fucking wouldn't have married him, you twat! I still want the damn procedure.
Okay, I get it. Children bring joy and happiness to their parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. I have two nephews and I adore those kids. For the people who have always wanted kids, they are blessings and something that they can't imagine their life without. I totally get that.
It's not for me. And, I always thought that was a responsible decision on my part. I don't want them. I can't afford them. Isn't it better that I don't reproduce? One less kid that has a hard time in life?
One of my sisters had a REALLY hard time becoming pregnant. It took years, money, time, and stress on their lives before they were able to have my nephew. He's perfect. But it took a lot for him to get here. My sister would LOVE to have more. Her and her husband are wonderful parents and would be able to provide for more.
Do I feel bad that, if I were to try, I would be able to have a child easily? Yes. I would give her all my healthy lady bits so she could have more. Does she think badly toward me for choosing not to have children? Of course not. My sister understands that having kids is not for everyone. Many moms that I have spoken with have said that it's not something that someone should do halfheartedly.
So, why do so many women get the third degree when it comes to popping one out? Perhaps it's because for eons our species has hinged upon multiplying to carry on our genes? Maybe it's because so many people are religious and, at least in the bible, it says that we are to go forth and multiply? We all want to be Norman Rockwell paintings with the house, yard, dog, 2.5 kids, and a happy marriage?
Screw that. I like my apartment. I like that I can sleep in on the weekends. I like that I can decide to take an overnight trip last minute without having to worry about a dog; much less a kid. It's 2016. I don't have to be married to be happy. I don't have to have a house to be stable. I don't have to have offspring to have a fulfilling life.
And when did this subject become a regular thing to ask people? Why is reproducing a public conversation? Perhaps because society used to be WAY more reliant on one another. Our species has never grown out of this. I'm assuming this is also why abortion and birth control are so public. It just can't be something private because others refuse to butt the hell out.
So, when you ask me when I'm going to have children and I respond with "I'm not going to answer that and I'll forgive you for asking" please don't think I'm being a bitch. It's really none of your business. And, if I do explain that I don't want them, please don't assume you know better than me about my choices. I've thought about this. Believe me. I've HAD to think about this.
Monday, December 7, 2015
Why I Deface Money
Ok, here's the deal. I deface money. I WISH I was creative enough to draw neat faces and turn Lincoln into a Hipster Lincoln....but, I'm not that cool.
No. I deface our currency by marking out 'In God We Trust' on paper money. Believe me, if I could take it off coins easily, I would.
Blogger Hemant Mehta, of the Friendly Atheist, posted a blog post this afternoon on his Facebook page. He has been referencing articles from the past few years. One from 3 years ago was about a person who blacked out our ill-gotten motto then used said currency at a local bakery store in Louisiana. The bakery then gave the defaced currency as change to another customer. The customer who received the 'corrected' currency had a shit-fit online and tried to make others join them in never return to the bakery. This made the bakery have to issue a statement that they had nothing to do with the defacing.
If that made no sense to you here is the story from The Friendly Atheist:
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/friendlyatheist/2012/12/07/when-godless-money-hurts-a-business/
Anywho, I made a comment on the Facebook page saying that I am originally from Louisiana and I've blacked out 'In God We Trust' on currency for years and this may have accidentally been my doing. (I'm almost positive that it wasn't me as I refuse to schlep all the way to Shreveport- bleh) I commented because I wanted to make a small point that taking the quote off the currency should in no way hurt anyone, it's not illegal, and I feel I'm fixing a wrong by doing so.
Some of the comments on the thread are arguing that blackening out the words is 'childish' of us (atheists). One commenter even called me as much and told me to 'grow some cajones and actually do something about it instead of just breaking out my crayons'. I was even told that, by doing this, I'm 'cowardly'.
Really? Cowardly?
Would they rather me get into a banker's face about it? Yell at the cashier at the grocery line for handing me 'religious money'? The hell?
Wanna know what I really do about it? I vote. I petition my congress people about it. I sign petitions. I get off my ass and try to get this motto changed.
I also take a big black Sharpie and cross off the damn words off currency. I don't need to grow balls. I've got brains, asshat.
No. I deface our currency by marking out 'In God We Trust' on paper money. Believe me, if I could take it off coins easily, I would.
Blogger Hemant Mehta, of the Friendly Atheist, posted a blog post this afternoon on his Facebook page. He has been referencing articles from the past few years. One from 3 years ago was about a person who blacked out our ill-gotten motto then used said currency at a local bakery store in Louisiana. The bakery then gave the defaced currency as change to another customer. The customer who received the 'corrected' currency had a shit-fit online and tried to make others join them in never return to the bakery. This made the bakery have to issue a statement that they had nothing to do with the defacing.
If that made no sense to you here is the story from The Friendly Atheist:
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/friendlyatheist/2012/12/07/when-godless-money-hurts-a-business/
Anywho, I made a comment on the Facebook page saying that I am originally from Louisiana and I've blacked out 'In God We Trust' on currency for years and this may have accidentally been my doing. (I'm almost positive that it wasn't me as I refuse to schlep all the way to Shreveport- bleh) I commented because I wanted to make a small point that taking the quote off the currency should in no way hurt anyone, it's not illegal, and I feel I'm fixing a wrong by doing so.
Some of the comments on the thread are arguing that blackening out the words is 'childish' of us (atheists). One commenter even called me as much and told me to 'grow some cajones and actually do something about it instead of just breaking out my crayons'. I was even told that, by doing this, I'm 'cowardly'.
Really? Cowardly?
Would they rather me get into a banker's face about it? Yell at the cashier at the grocery line for handing me 'religious money'? The hell?
Wanna know what I really do about it? I vote. I petition my congress people about it. I sign petitions. I get off my ass and try to get this motto changed.
I also take a big black Sharpie and cross off the damn words off currency. I don't need to grow balls. I've got brains, asshat.
Monday, November 23, 2015
I'm the Worst Liberal Ever
So, this week is Thanksgiving and I will be going home to Louisiana for a traditional celebration with family.
Last year I was not able to go home or visit family at all so I hosted a traditional dinner at the Secular Hub. It was such a success we decided to make it a tradition at the center. This year, since I am able to go home, I won't be hosting. I did, however, have a hand in the planning of the event.
I was able to find a few people who are willing to host the dinner for 20 something people. Turkey has been purchased, ham has been ordered, attendees have been given their food assignments. It's going to be a great day at the Secular Hub.
However, last week the Hub MeetUp message board received a message from a new member asking us about the event. They wanted to know if we were going to be hosting an inclusive 'day of mourning' in lieu of the traditional feast. They went on to explain that the day of mourning was to be a protest of the traditional Thanksgiving celebration and commemorate the atrocities of the Native American people at the hands of the white pilgrims.
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?
Okay, I get it. We need to remember that the Europeans came here and massacred the Native Americans. They deceived and stole from them. The Native Americans got a raw deal and continue to have hardships from this. I get it. We all get it.
There is no way in fictional hell that we are now going to have a fasting, march to a memorial place, and mourn the shameful acts of others. No.
Just..... No...... (basic white girl moment) Seriously, I can't even.
It's moments like these that remind me that I am, actually, from the south. The land of, "Fuck that. Go cry somewhere else."
I HATE this nonsense. I feel like if I disagree with this person's suggestion of a day of mourning it makes me into a bad progressive. Same as when I disagree with a feminist's idea that it's wrong for a woman to choose to be a stay-at-home mom, it makes me feel like a bad feminist.
The spirit of Thanksgiving was to be a coming together of different cultures to break bread and be mindful of community and what you have. That's what it's all about now. It's one of those special times of year (and sometimes only time) that people are able to come together to be with their friends and/or family. Personally, I only get to see my father maybe once a year. This is that one time for us. I'm going to celebrate it.
Did the pilgrims do a terrible thing against the Native Americans? Yes. Should we remember the past so that we don't repeat it? Absolutely! Am I going to feel shame for the rest of my life for something my ancestors did? Hell no. And how dare you try to make others feel bad for being happy about the holiday.
Thanksgiving is about stuffing your face, watching football, seeing your family, ducking questions about your future marital plans, and figuring out your game plan for Black Friday.
Go be mournful somewhere else. I'm too stoked about turkey to have you be a damn wet-blanket.
Last year I was not able to go home or visit family at all so I hosted a traditional dinner at the Secular Hub. It was such a success we decided to make it a tradition at the center. This year, since I am able to go home, I won't be hosting. I did, however, have a hand in the planning of the event.
I was able to find a few people who are willing to host the dinner for 20 something people. Turkey has been purchased, ham has been ordered, attendees have been given their food assignments. It's going to be a great day at the Secular Hub.
However, last week the Hub MeetUp message board received a message from a new member asking us about the event. They wanted to know if we were going to be hosting an inclusive 'day of mourning' in lieu of the traditional feast. They went on to explain that the day of mourning was to be a protest of the traditional Thanksgiving celebration and commemorate the atrocities of the Native American people at the hands of the white pilgrims.
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!?
Okay, I get it. We need to remember that the Europeans came here and massacred the Native Americans. They deceived and stole from them. The Native Americans got a raw deal and continue to have hardships from this. I get it. We all get it.
There is no way in fictional hell that we are now going to have a fasting, march to a memorial place, and mourn the shameful acts of others. No.
Just..... No...... (basic white girl moment) Seriously, I can't even.
It's moments like these that remind me that I am, actually, from the south. The land of, "Fuck that. Go cry somewhere else."
I HATE this nonsense. I feel like if I disagree with this person's suggestion of a day of mourning it makes me into a bad progressive. Same as when I disagree with a feminist's idea that it's wrong for a woman to choose to be a stay-at-home mom, it makes me feel like a bad feminist.
The spirit of Thanksgiving was to be a coming together of different cultures to break bread and be mindful of community and what you have. That's what it's all about now. It's one of those special times of year (and sometimes only time) that people are able to come together to be with their friends and/or family. Personally, I only get to see my father maybe once a year. This is that one time for us. I'm going to celebrate it.
Did the pilgrims do a terrible thing against the Native Americans? Yes. Should we remember the past so that we don't repeat it? Absolutely! Am I going to feel shame for the rest of my life for something my ancestors did? Hell no. And how dare you try to make others feel bad for being happy about the holiday.
Thanksgiving is about stuffing your face, watching football, seeing your family, ducking questions about your future marital plans, and figuring out your game plan for Black Friday.
Go be mournful somewhere else. I'm too stoked about turkey to have you be a damn wet-blanket.
Monday, November 2, 2015
Why are you so obsessed with me?
An Arkansas pastor has gained media coverage for something asinine that he said. (big shock) His sermon on Sunday morning revolved around something called 'theological dualism'. A claim that the soul and the body are separated. This allows for religious people to go to church on Sunday and purify their soul but their body is an earthly thing and it does not matter what they do to it.
He referred to 1 Corinthians 6. This chapter says that our bodies are temples and God owns us. He shamed people for overeating, abortion, and pornography. Somehow, doing things like this is 'offending our body'.
He then said that women do not have the right to their own body. He never said that men do not have the right to their body. Sure, it was implied that no one owned their own bodies but, he only deemed it necessary to specifically say that women had no claim to their own body.
Here is the story from Raw Story with a clip of the pastor:
http://www.rawstory.com/2015/11/arizona-pastor-if-a-woman-thinks-she-has-the-right-over-her-own-body-no-thats-not-true/
Why do so many church leaders seem to make sure women know they are less important?
When I was 19 I got a tattoo. It's small and I can hide it easily. Just a simple ankh and a number. Like many people, my tattoo is meaningful to me. I'm proud of it. It's on my foot and kinda ugly but it wasn't meant to be a work of art. I love it.
When I got it I was still hanging on to my religion. Hanging on by a thread but, still, I went to church every week.
The first Sunday after I got my tattoo I went to my church's morning services. I remember a deacon (kind of like an elder but on a lower rung) came over to me to say 'good morning'. He had a son about my age so he felt he had an 'in' with the youths. He looked down at my foot and saw my new ink.
I distinctly remember him telling me that the bible says that our bodies are not ours and that making marks on it is forbidden. He didn't yell at me. He wasn't overtly angry. He sounded disappointed in me. And, for an instant, I was ashamed.
I think back to it every now and then and I'm sad that I didn't say something prolific. I'm annoyed at myself for, once again, being silent in church. I'm disgusted that I was intimidated by the deacon. But, I was a girl. In this church, and many others, it's the men's duty to make sure we stay in line. I deserved that talking to, apparently.
What was I supposed to say? "Some guy assaulted me a year ago and this tattoo was to remind me that I'm, once again, in control of my own life and body"? Maybe. That would have knocked the deacon back for a second. But, I bet I can think of how he would have responded. Something about god testing me. Maybe something about how I was assaulted because I wasn't acting like a christian in the first place. Or, two wrongs...something something something.
The important thing I learned from that experience is that women in the church are always being reminded that our bodies are not ours, we have no choice in anything, and we can do nothing about it.
I became a more empowered woman when I left the church. I became a better, nicer, more loving person when I left religion. I'm still saddened when I see so many women flocking and clinging to their religion. A religion that doesn't respect, empower, or give authority to them.
I won't take away anyone's religion. I can never do that. But, I can be disappointed in it. And, I'll be there for those who choose to leave it behind.
He referred to 1 Corinthians 6. This chapter says that our bodies are temples and God owns us. He shamed people for overeating, abortion, and pornography. Somehow, doing things like this is 'offending our body'.
He then said that women do not have the right to their own body. He never said that men do not have the right to their body. Sure, it was implied that no one owned their own bodies but, he only deemed it necessary to specifically say that women had no claim to their own body.
Here is the story from Raw Story with a clip of the pastor:
http://www.rawstory.com/2015/11/arizona-pastor-if-a-woman-thinks-she-has-the-right-over-her-own-body-no-thats-not-true/
Why do so many church leaders seem to make sure women know they are less important?
When I was 19 I got a tattoo. It's small and I can hide it easily. Just a simple ankh and a number. Like many people, my tattoo is meaningful to me. I'm proud of it. It's on my foot and kinda ugly but it wasn't meant to be a work of art. I love it.
When I got it I was still hanging on to my religion. Hanging on by a thread but, still, I went to church every week.
The first Sunday after I got my tattoo I went to my church's morning services. I remember a deacon (kind of like an elder but on a lower rung) came over to me to say 'good morning'. He had a son about my age so he felt he had an 'in' with the youths. He looked down at my foot and saw my new ink.
I distinctly remember him telling me that the bible says that our bodies are not ours and that making marks on it is forbidden. He didn't yell at me. He wasn't overtly angry. He sounded disappointed in me. And, for an instant, I was ashamed.
I think back to it every now and then and I'm sad that I didn't say something prolific. I'm annoyed at myself for, once again, being silent in church. I'm disgusted that I was intimidated by the deacon. But, I was a girl. In this church, and many others, it's the men's duty to make sure we stay in line. I deserved that talking to, apparently.
What was I supposed to say? "Some guy assaulted me a year ago and this tattoo was to remind me that I'm, once again, in control of my own life and body"? Maybe. That would have knocked the deacon back for a second. But, I bet I can think of how he would have responded. Something about god testing me. Maybe something about how I was assaulted because I wasn't acting like a christian in the first place. Or, two wrongs...something something something.
The important thing I learned from that experience is that women in the church are always being reminded that our bodies are not ours, we have no choice in anything, and we can do nothing about it.
I became a more empowered woman when I left the church. I became a better, nicer, more loving person when I left religion. I'm still saddened when I see so many women flocking and clinging to their religion. A religion that doesn't respect, empower, or give authority to them.
I won't take away anyone's religion. I can never do that. But, I can be disappointed in it. And, I'll be there for those who choose to leave it behind.
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