Leave Pocahontas…Alone!

As a long-suffering child of an abusive father…All I knew of ‘Indians’ were slurs, slanted sentences and disgruntled replies.

“Drunks!  Rednecks! Lazy!”   So on and so forth.

In due time, it was slowly revealed…My father had been one half Cherokee.  Therefore, leaving me…one quarter.

imageedit_2_2095918923

Certainly it was evident that dear old dad had heard only what society needed him to hear.  My grandmother, Lulu Rebel, I never met.  The only references to her were terms my father had seen and heard…while pretending to be a white man.

Indian giver

Squaw

How Indian is that bitch?

Therefore, the beat went on and on and on.

I am proud of my heritage.  No matter the dysfunction.  I am Cherokee, through and through.  It did not matter to me the color of my skin.  It mattered to me the struggle that Native Americans must persevere.  The history of a nation that endures a  United States which continues to distort the land and remove pride…from a prideful people.

Pocahontas, Elizabeth Warren and Donald Trump?

What a bizarre and somewhat…drug induced combination!

I would like to set the record straight.  Or, at least, clarify that indigenous persons built this land.  And, if we focused as much time on preserving their way of life…as we do, berating each other…this would be a society to be proud of!

Nicki Minaj posted a photo on her Instagram of three sexualized images of herself as Pocahontas,

Pocahontas is in the middle, breasts exposed and legs spread, while another is kneeling and licking her crotch; a third leans on her, stroking her breast.

This is not the first reimaging illustration that Minaj has posted on Instagram. She’s also included artistic renditions of cartoon characters, including BoJack Horseman and Lola Bunny, but Pocahontas was a real person. Lest we forget: Pocahontas was a teenage rape victim who was forced to marry older Englishman John Rolfe and died at the age of 20 in England. Thanks to Disney, she is also one of the few pop culture representations of Native Americans that most Americans are familiar with. With her post (and the “Hoecahontas” caption that was later deleted), Minaj directly contributed to the sexualization of Native women that continues to put so many of them in danger.

From Minaj’s post to “Pocahottie” Halloween costumes to historical images of Indian maidens eager to be saved by white men, the sexualization of Native women is prominent in American pop culture. Response to Minaj was swift:  Hundreds of commenters posted about violence against Native women and noted that Pocahontas was not a fictional “princess” but a real-life teenager who was raped and victimized. Others pointed out that they didn’t have opposition to Minaj’s original Paper Magazine cover, as it was her choice, but Pocahontas did not have that agency.

imageedit_5_2395739294

Prior to colonization, rape, as well as sexual and domestic violence, were extremely rare in tribal communities. In her groundbreaking book The Beginning and End of Rape, Muscogee-Creek law professor Sarah Deer notes that in many tribal communities, such as the Lakota, colonizers were baffled that women had control over their bodies and that punishments for rape were traditionally harsh, often resulting in banishment or death. Sexual violence became a tool of colonization, and today, about 34 percent of Native women are raped in their lifetime, and 39 percent are victims of domestic violence. For Native girls, the statistics are even more staggering: 92 percent of Native girls who have had sex were forced against their will.

In addition to negative stereotypes influencing how Native women are treated, outdated federal policy dictates how tribes can address sexual violence. The Major Crimes Act of 1885 severely limited tribal jurisdiction and gave the federal government control over major felony crimes, including rape. A 1978 Supreme Court decision further restricted tribal jurisdiction, arguing that tribes would be “too biased” to arrest and try non-Native criminals. Thus, tribes are not able to prosecute non-Natives—even though non-Native men commit nearly 90 percent of violent crimes against Native women on tribal lands.

This changed slightly with the 2013 reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA). Post-VAWA, tribes have the authority to prosecute certain crimes related to violence against women—including domestic violence, dating violence, or violation of a protection order. But it has its limitations: In order for a non-Native perpetrator to be tried, the victim must prove an intimate relationship with the abuser, and they cannot be charged for other crimes taking place (such as child abuse). This fractured jurisdiction leaves many Native families without protection.

Across the United States and Canada, Indigenous women, trans people, and two-spirit people are mobilizing to stop gendered and sexual violence. Pro-bono law clinics are training Native women and community leaders in investigating, trying, and prosecuting domestic- and sexual-violence cases. National campaigns like the Native Love is… challenge the normalization of sexual violence and abuse. In Canada, It Starts With Us is a crowdsourced database of Canadian Indigenous women and trans and two-spirit folks who are missing or were murdered—people whom the government often don’t acknowledge. Ending violence against Native women is one of the most prominent issues in our communities, but it’s overshadowed by the sexualized caricatures of us in contemporary pop culture.

by ##ABAKI BECK

Within this turmoil…a question?

Are we being forced away from our heritage?  Overly concerned with our looks?  The color of our skin?  It seems that current day we have spent less time embracing the miles traveled…in our own personal milestones!  We have turned back towards verbal, physical and sexual violence.  How is this making…America Great, Again?

Misidentified with Art

hqdefault

A Distant Resistance

Are not they all,

out-cast by their own demons?

Some curious curios paying from a penal’s penance.

Admittedly, a life’s work destined for resistance.

Is but a man’s world.

With a woman’s embrace.

An androgens fare?

Or, deliberate dexterity for those imprisoned there?

Our history is yet to be complete…as many, grasp for women before.

Subversiveness not a weakness, something more.

 

 

 

 

Freda Laughton

Now I am a Tower of Darkness

As a child I knew
How, beyond the lamp’s circuit,
Lay the shadow of the shadow
Of this darkness,

Waiting with an arctic kiss
In the well of the staircase,
Ready to drape the bed with visions
No eyelids can vanquish.

Now I am a tower of darkness,
Whose windows, opening inward,
Stare down upon tidal thoughts.
And in this responsive bell,

Hollowed by the silence of the eyes,
The mind swings its clapper.
And life resolves into relationships
Of cadence and dissonance.

Freda Laughton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rape…Don’t Ask Don’t Tell

There had been a girl/child/woman…from UNH. New Hampshire’s very poor attempt at looking like it can belly up to the debate table with the other big league state run universities.

hatred breeds hatred
hatred breeds hatred

She had been raped. Assaulted. Abused and used. She also had been discouraged from making any further noise about the whole sordid situation. It had been an Ambien Not So Sober Situation in her Adopt-A-Mother’s eyes.
I choked at the disgust that welled up within my throat as this conformed by dumbed down generations upon generations of not ‘making waves’ sutured up on sedatives twenty something spoke of her drunken state and how…’it really could have been her fault.’
That the beating and the bruising from within and without could possibly had been stopped had she known how to stop drinking so much.
She still drinks heavily to this day. Pops pills. Avoids the obvious intrusion of men on the female psyche. She is of course, Traveling with Annie the C., Grace and her not so proper friend, Beckett Couvillion.
What seems to be the current problem?
This seems to be the current problem:

Official seal of Steubenville, Ohio
Official seal of Steubenville, Ohio (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When prosecutors in Steubenville, Ohio, were dragging their feet in the case of a horrific rape and cover-up, it was national outrage — fueled by the public release of photos and video showing high school football players carrying the victim in an intoxicated state, and laughing about the incident — that finally pushed them to action.

But now, the person who helped expose and publicize the pictures and video from that awful incident in Steubenville, and forced authorities to prosecute the rapists, could get 10 years in prison for his role in bringing this evidence to light. Shockingly, this is a longer sentence than will be served by the convicted rapists themselves.1

This is an outrageous miscarriage of justice. Tell the Department of Justice: Don’t prosecute Deric Lostutter. Click here to sign the petition automatically.

Four months after the Steubenville rape, it was clear that police were dragging their feet with the investigation. A blogger forwarded Lostutter pictures and video of the rape, and that’s when he became involved.

By posting the images online and helping them gain recognition, Lostutter — and those he worked with — increased awareness of the rape allegations and brought to light an apparent cover-up by local authorities. And the result was progress in bringing the rapists to trial.

But Lostutter was recently targeted by an aggressive FBI raid for his participation in bringing that evidence to light. A dozen agents with weapons confiscated computers belonging to Lostutter, his girlfriend, and his brother, while putting him in handcuffs outside his home.2

'tis only the truth that shall set us free'
’tis only the truth that shall set us free’

How and why do we make it so difficult for society to view woman as anything other than a male prosthetic…a part of his anatomy that he can do with as he pleases, disregard as he sees fit and put on when the shoe fits and take off when it seems he needs no leg to stand on?
I suppose the two above mentioned stories are just that…tales of woe  from the women’s not so sunny side of the street.
Closets whether metaphysically suited for homosexuality or conformity still hold only one true purpose:
‘Closets can be shut to hold the clutter away for only we know of the mess we live in. Closets, however, really are only a means in which to hide our dirty laundry.’

Rape another don’t ask don’t tell for the history books!
Tell the Department of Justice that enough is enough: Don’t prosecute Deric Lostutter. Click the link below to sign the petition automatically:
http://act.credoaction.com/go/928?t=6&akid=8162.6380211.XNCd39

Stop Making Sense

the human heart...will keep beating long after the soul is gone

the human heart will keep beating long after the soul is gone
the human heart will keep beating long after the soul is gone

Social Media has done nothing for me. Facebook has betrayed me once again. And, it will over and over and over, fuck, tagging!
I, as many my age do, have a vast array of ways to communicate via cyberspace, broken English, fancy electronic devices with no real meaning to them…Same as their owners!
Therefore, to turn the tables a Facebook Non Fan page should be set up.
Not one blowing smoke up some parent’s ass about how wonderfully conforming their child is while volunteering to change America. No one that possesses every detail, angle, lightness of being and season of the NH White birch and Gracing Photography widget and word that I can find!
No this one would be different.
Warning! Beware! Use Caution! Call the authorities! Make a citizen arrest if you have to.
Then a picture of the deviant in question: a tall blonde, older in chronological age but not noticeably so by outward appearances. Athletic in build and egotistical to the touch with a hint of serenity in the air that looms above her.
A further description would follow said picture.
Has been known to set up romantic interludes in order to promote sense of self and publicize her books and writings. She typically will seem harmless though she will tell you, she is an asshole and never claimed to be nice.
Do not, I repeat, do not, fall for that line. Everyone captured under the spell of her illusions and gift for flirtation will believe her to be…just joking.
This tall dictator blonde with a black widow’s soul will throw her victims off track by offering up a lack of sexual prowl-ness. A need to find someone that understands her. She will most likely trick you into believing you are indeed, her, only love one.
In the depths of her deprived soul she will leave you little tidbits semi unmasking her true meaning.
The countless affairs, the sobriety, the conversations about needing to never be alone and again, most young victims will be left with no choice but a wanting to believe.
To believe that this vixen will change, after all these years of unadulterated sexual romps in the woods, just for them, the new victim of the week.
At the bottom of the Not Fan Facebook page a long list of previous fools that fell under the spell will be scripted and a reward of retroactive karma will be offered if this bitch is captured in her native habitat.
In ending, her native habitat will be given a locale. New Hampshire, little whole in the wall room, books covering the ceiling to the floor and a blonde posed poetically in thought.
The thought being? I never said I was nice.

B.A. (Bachelor’s of Assault) UNH

A sexual assault awareness poster.
A sexual assault awareness poster. (Photo credit: Official U.S. Navy Imagery)

To be assaulted sexually, twice, before the age of twenty can really fuck you up.  Inside and out, backwards and forwards, it leaves the soul with a void of unhealthy remorse.

In boarding school, New Hampton, it happened because I had been asking for it.  It happened during the coming of age and drinking.  It happened with someone I had known and still do.

I was released from the bondage of self, stamped healthy and told to ‘hush up’ by my mother.  The bruises healed and there had been very few repercussions, physically.

In college the Frats and the drinking games called my name, I had been reborn.  I had convinced myself I was not scarred nor was I gay.

My assailant again had been someone I had known.  Someone I had dated.  Someone who took me back to his dirty little dorm room, me drunk and him with a hard on for an easy lay.

The bruises took longer; the healing process never really arrived.  Medically I had been released from the bondage of self once again, given a pregnancy test and my mother had been asked, ‘will there be any charges pressed?’

She spoke for me, she always does.  Under the rug went the boy, the drinking, the rape and the opportunity to right a wrong.  The shame still follows me like a dark spirit waiting to claim the bad Ambien Grace.

Shame?  What a notorious word for rape and its victims.  Who have I put at risk by avoiding my mother’s shame?  What of these up and coming victims?  The girls raped by football teams.   Towns torn apart by shame.

Most women, even girls, have the courage to know what the right thing to do is.  They know that indeed these men will strike again if women’s ignorance remains bliss.

There is no heightened sexual experience for me.  It reaches to close to the point of shame.

The white houses that dot New Hampton and the civically minded tenors that echo off the historically antiquated classroom halls are filled with shame.  The UNH’s or Plymouth State’s or Anywhere University, USA, are filled with shame.  A mother’s remorse, a mother’s rising star daughter fallen to ash.

What is the risk of remaining ignorantly not blissful and ashamed?