Love is a terrible thing to Hate

Posted on by serenitisparkles

This blog is an inspiration from my best friend who has not only taught me what love is, but that as long as it’s love its LOVE, period. Think about your first love. Think about the many or few after that. Bring yourself back to the moment you met them. Bask for a moment in your first kiss with them.

Doesn’t it feel amazing? Isn’t this feeling one of the things that makes life worth living? Aren’t these moments the ones we cherish and hold onto for our lifetimes?

We all want love. Most of us want it to last forever.

Now imagine that because of this love, you were ostracized by others. Imagine being tormented online or in the streets for nothing more than WHO you love. Imagine not being able to marry your ONE TRUE LOVE.

What kind of life would that be? Living in love in the shadows. Being undeniably attracted to that person and not being able to share it to the world.

Moments cherished in hiding.

This is what so many endure in the LGBTQ+ community. There are still many places in the United States where people are treated obscenely. Places where love is treated with disgust or hate.

Can you imagine? What it would feel like to have finally found love in a world full of hate, only to have to deny the full potential of that love because of others.

Though we as a country have come a long way, we still have many states, cities, schools, apartment communities, housing districts, and neighbors that want to rid the LGBTQ+ community of their human right to love. Let all of our voices be louder than theirs.

Let us stand for love, because if we are lucky enough to have found it, no one should ever be able to take it away.

What Can White People Do?

Posted on by serenitisparkles

What Can White People Do?

I keep hearing the same question as if it seems so difficult to come to the answer.  What Can White People Do?  What can WE do?  What Can I do?

We’ve known the answer all of our lives.  We have lived the answer with every breath we take.

Did you grow up in a world with the comfort of stable food and shelter?  Were you able to walk in any door and know you would be treated with dignity and respect?  When stopped by the police, did they just take your ID and send you on your way?  Did you see many cop cars patrolling your neighborhood?  Did the police seem like they were always there to care for you and protect you?

If your life was like this, then I am speaking to you.  Your great-grandfathers sins do not rest on you, they live in you.  You get to live in a world that is fair and equal.  You get to feel as if the law is on your side.  But your brothers and sisters of color, they, do not.  They suffer from unlawful arrests and sentencing, harassment, and brutality all at the hands of power.

It is not that ALL police are bad and ALL lives don’t matter.  It is that there are lives of our fellow citizens that have been roughed up and taken by a system that is built to sustain it’s power.  White Power.

If you are like me, you don’t believe in White Power or what it represents.  But unfortunately for you, you are the beneficiary of such power.  And it is because of that that you were handed a responsibility.  A responsibility greater than any you have ever had and will ever have.  Use your voices, your money, your hands, your words and speak to that power.  Make sure they listen.  Call your representatives, gather in peaceful protests.  Be the change you want to see in the world.

This is dedicated to all my Black brothers and sisters.  The ones who treated me like family.  The ones who are still by my side to this day.  This is our fight.

Living on the “White” side of things

Posted on by serenitisparkles

No, I did not say living on the “right” side or that white had any other influence in my soul than the color of skin I was given.   Colors mean something because we have allowed them to separate us.   Groups, placed by the few powerful, to separate all of us from our greatest strength, ALL OF US.

My daughter inspired me to write this because she has been affected by this “group” she is associated with.  She is a half white, half Colombian little person just beginning to understand the barriers society has placed on us.

She came to me the other day and said, “Mommy, the worst thing anyone ever said to me was, white girl white girl white girl.”  She said it wasn’t because of what they said but how they said it.  The girls taunting her were young black girls in our neighborhood.

We lived in a neighborhood where she was the only white girl.  She and I believe in rich culture.  Money didn’t define us,  our relationships did.  We were poor, but making it through.  Like everyone else in the neighborhood.  We understood what it felt like to go with bread and eggs in our refrigerator because her father was not providing financial support.  We understood what it felt like to have to do laundry and walk a mile to get to the laundry mat just to save money on washing clothes.  But in the eyes of our peers, we were White.   My daughter looked up to those girls.  They were a part of her home.

I grew up, up north, in Rhode Island where everyone was blended and the beauty of mixing cultures was ever so prevalent.  My best friends were triplets mixed with Native American, Black, and White.  I moved to the south at 16 years old to live with my mother as my father had gone to federal prison.  I moved to a southern town, dated in its appearance to the time before the south had lost.  Every culture was there, yet separate.  Every cafeteria table was a different “group”.  I wasn’t raised to see the differences.  I was taught to embrace the similarities.

At that time, 16 years old, I was also poor and my mother was sick.  I didn’t want to live there, I didn’t want to go to that school.  I didn’t want to be “grouped” with others because of what they believed I represent.  I let music decide what I would do next.

I was very much into Hip Hop as I was a beat away from NYC where it was flourishing.  When I got to the south, I began to hear the sound of Trap Music and Caribbean vibes and fell in love.

From that moment on, I would stand in the culture and break the stereotype.  I would teach my daughter to learn people from the inside out.  Celebrate the beautiful differences and though many will only see you as the color of your skin, remember that we are more alike.  Not understanding each other is one thing, leading with blind prejudice is another.  Whether you are black, white, asian, or any other race, we shouldn’t judge each other by the one thing in life that we didn’t choose; the color of our skin.