Using Lady Liberty to Help Others

I am aware of the no one cares, history months.  The black history, the white man history month(which happens 365 days of the year)…and, the women’s history month.

I do not have the proper wordy etiquette and focus… to write about history.  I cannot place the words in such a way as to, pique a reader’s interest.  For that matter, my grammatical errors are enough of a turn off that most, English connoisseur’s go running from my blog.

That being said, this writer is very much aware that she cannot and should not focus an abundance of time informing others on the importance of world events that surface around us.

After much thought, I have decided there are a few items that can be written about.  Some of them being: politics, women and uprisings!

I am a woman.  Most likely, categorized, a feminist…as I often don’t care if I have a bra on and/or if my legs are newly shaven.

Being in the business of volunteering for an array of charitable scenarios.  And, after a long and exhaustive run for local office.  Most who do not know me would categorize me as a…political, earthy…animal freak.

Given my herstory, my marital situation, my need to speak loud and proud; I have what they call a ‘rap’ sheet!

Therefore, I will not let this month past!  It (Women’s History) is something I know a little bit about.

Today, of all days, we must rise up!  As American Women, we need to step out of the shadows.  We, with all of our female parts, need to; write, read, stand up, walk out, point fingers and…force others to hear us!

We Are Not Assured of Any Rights.

Rights over our bodies.

Rights over ageism and the female mystique.

Rights over our minds.

I dare all to read up on women who have and/or are changing the world!

I dare them to march.

To make phone calls.

To write letters to the editor (typically male) of the local newspaper.

 

To start the ball (no pun intended) rolling:
I have provided the following reading material of a heroine, many have not heard of!

Who is Aung Sang Suu Kyi?

Burmese politician, diplomat, and author who is the First and incumbent State Counsellor and Leader of the National League for Democracy. She is also the first woman to serve as Minister of Foreign Affairs of Myanmar, the Minister of the President’s Office, the Minister of Electric Power and Energy, and the Minister of Education in President Htin Kyaw‘s Cabinet, and from 2012 to 2016 was a Pyithu Hluttaw MP for Kawhmu Township.

Daw Aung San Suu Kyi has been a major voice for human rights and freedom in Burma (Myanmar), a country dominated by a military government since 1962. Born in Rangoon and later educated at Oxford University, she became politically active in 1988 when the Burmese junta violently suppressed a mass uprising, killing thousands of civilians. Suu Kyi wrote an open letter to the government asking for the formation of an independent committee to hold democratic elections. Defying a government ban on political gatherings of more than four persons, Suu Kyi spoke to large audiences throughout Burma as secretary-general of the newly formed National League for Democracy (NLD). In 1989 she was placed under house arrest. Despite her detention, the NLD won the election with 82 percent of the parliamentary seats, but the military dictatorship refused to recognize the results. Suu Kyi has remained in prison almost continuously since that time, rejecting the government’s offer of freedom as it would require her to leave Burma. In 2003, she was moved from prison and again placed under house arrest, which has been repeatedly and illegally extended by the junta. She remains a living expression of her people’s determination to gain political and economic freedoms. Awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991, Suu Kyi has called on citizens around the world to “use your liberty to promote ours.”

Please be aware, as artists, poets, readers, writers, we are all obligated to care.  With the current discord in America…we must

‘use our liberty to promote others!’

##http:www.humanrights.org/files/Aung-San-Suu

the Difference between Bread and Roses

 

Sitting and thinking of what can be done?  No different than pulling a shade to a knife fight in the street.  Turning a back to a homeless person with a hand out.  Seeing that change is needed and responding with…

michael

 

“It is remarkable, that persons who speculate the most boldly often conform with the most perfect quietude to the external regulations of society. The thoughts alone suffice them, without investing itself in the flesh and blood of action.”

― Nathaniel Hawthorne, the Scarlet Letter

Radical ’89

 

As she sat  banging away at the keyboard.  Sitting in front of the forever writing device…always allowed her to think of the ‘days’.  The flashes of time that were many; dangerous and stringy with a writer’s thoughts.  College days!  Four years of higher minds and the banging out of ‘Baby Dyke’  autobiography.

RandomwordbyRuth wasn’t even a zit on liberal’s ass…in those times.
Course, the autobiography would not be entitled, Baby Dyke!  It was to be given the simple listing as…the Cancer part I and the Cancer part II.  But when you are fresh out of a cluttered closet…the two are one in the same.
Twenty some odd years ago, the times they were a changing.  The college had decided that being single sexed…was not a profitable idea.  The student body of 1/4 feminist in training…felt that having a college president who’s morals were filled with corporate ideas…had been a selection poorly made.
Current day, the times were still a changing.  The keyboard had gone from a Royal Fleetwood ’72 to a, still in training, Chromebook  ’14.
The world had grown, immensely, and that had been, a most significant…revolution!
Our ancient times, college grad., was tallying polls, volunteers and/or anything else that moved and voted.
“How different?  How unique to see these persons…these albeit strangers…come together from homes, that were villages apart, and stand for a common cause.”
Children of preteen years, holding hands with both Mom and Dad…while heading out the doors of the staging location.  Inter-racial couples, two women who had married not days before, elderly men and blue collar workers!  All uniquely qualified to stand for a REVOLUTION!
Bernie Sanders had not only been the honoree to this vestige of canvassers.  He had also brought about something that many had never witnessed.
However, Mr. Sanders, stood for something, that a few, had sensed before.
She, the ancient college grad., started her own coo, back at that typewriter. Many years before.  Banging out the lyrics to, I Am Woman!  Preparing to take matters to the next level, if need be, the moment her school choose to go co-ed.
None of that went over well with her parents.  Particularly when a picture of her in torn up jeans…smoking a cigarette, vowing to sit out classes, showed up on the front page of the one and only state wide newspaper.
Today, yesterday and all the pages in between, didn’t really matter in the grander scheme of things.  Change was change was making a difference meant getting off the fence and standing up for things you believed in.
 There had years of volunteering to help combat the A.I.D.S., misconception.  Years spent helping recovering addicts.  Glimpses into times and tribulations of the abuse of animals.  All relative forms of service to the community.
Sitting back, now, I listen to 3 or 4 avid constituents of unconventional political party discussing… radical change.
Friendly arguments, civil humorous spats over the state of the state and the perishing world; the atmosphere is none different than twenty years ago.
 Most likely, other than decor and clothing style…no much has changed from those progressives sitting around a wood-stove.  Liberals that traveled for days to a little shack way north of the Mason Dixon line.  A tiny little cabin that would house the ideals of a hopeful few.  A hopeful organic cluster of people wanting to do away with slavery.
Course, being several years beyond my term at college, the ancient graduate that I am.
I just watch the prophets and the forward thinkers and wonder…
“If we all sat back.  There would be nothing in front of us that would be worth getting radical about.  Nothing should remain the same but change!”

 

Blindsided by Complacency

homeless

Though we all struggle with our own demons.  There is no evil presence such as, complacency.

What a relieve to wallow in my own shit?

Well, no, not really.  It does me and anyone I know, very little good if I do not get off the cross and take a walk around…gather in what small acts of kindness can do.

Occasionally, I will go down to visit some friends that I have made.  Society calls them homeless.  I call them too easily disposed by the powers that be.

I had been homeless once.   And, though, the climate had been warm, I will never forget the ‘look’!  The ‘lack’ of a good conversation.  The way passersby turned their heads ever so slightly.  Just enough to not acknowledge my presence.

Course, those days are over…for good?  Only the Goddess knows and she ain’t telling.

With due course, refugee’s will be coming by the masses.  Most likely, with struggle and condemnation.  I do not disagree in holding out a helping hand to those who only want…what I take so, lightly.  I do have a qualm with the continued lack of respect and acknowledgment that our society hands to it’s impoverished forgotten disposable beings…that most likely, just want the warmth of a good conversation.

“How can there be so much life and death intertwined?  The bottomless depth of emotion’s cascading course!  I walk with bloodied hands.  Knowing I am no better.  No stone cast forward from my shadow’s grace.  No closed door within my house…that hadn’t been there without my force.  True as the winds dimish and the sun wanes…my walking stick unwittingly becomes…judgment’s cane.”

 

michael
MIchael and Ginnie: holding a picture of Junior. Junior ended up being surrendered. As Michael puts it, “…the winter outside…ain’t no place for a dog!”
jonathan
Jonathan: loves to serenade you with tunes from the Righteous Brothers. He gets a little edgy when he hears voices. He will be evicted next month.
jethro
Jethro: Claims to be a career criminal. Claims he’d rather freeze outside than to be back behind the wall. He is currently homeless.
helping hands
If we continue to sit in the calm of our comfort…we will miss the abstraction of giving.

Hey, Ricki

hey ricki 2

Hey, Ricki,

As I stood on the marble floors, staring up at the gothic figures of New Hampshire history, many repetitive thoughts filled my flawed mind.

Of course, as a writer, you cannot get rid of those thoughts.  Constant ideas, the beating of compulsive thinking, as though, it were a living being.

Funny, as I write this, I am close to tears.  Not close enough to be noticed.  But I know who they are…those wet droplets and I hide them close to my soul.

Glancing to and fro, waiting for HIllary Clinton, endorsing her with my presence, seemingly wanting her to come and sign that little document…filing for the New Hampshire primary.

hey ricki 4

Currently, the heart is beating beyond extension.  

I have always volunteered.  Attempted to help those around me.  In some way, in some form, with some respect.  

By chance, during the A.I.D.S., epidemic, the 80’ and the 90’s, I assisted many brave souls to find dignity…Pride in a world that had discarded them.  

Odd, as I searched the crowds yesterday, I noticed, young, young and even younger, L.G.B.T., people.

Back in real time, I know one thing to be true, in regards to homosexuality…As an addict, in recovery, over the past 20 years…I have lost so many friends to addiction, a deadly disease, cunning, baffling and powerful.

Not so odd, Ruth, you may be thinking to yourself.  

Well, strangely enough, at the age of 48.  With all those years of sobriety coming and going.  The ten years I spent with society’s disposable group, the A.I.D.S., victim, still trumps all.  More souls went to rest in that decade than my lifetime of going to funerals.

Ricki, a beautiful man, talented musician, lover of the arts, an advocate to the death…of equal rights for all.

Upon Ricki’s death bed, he one single request,

‘Please have my family scatter my ashes over Mount MItchell.  I want to fly…’

For a man of 89 pounds, skin and bone and heart, his words rang out to all…who knew the ‘reality of the situation’.

What I knew?  As a handful of Ricki’s friends knew…but didn’t have the heart to say…

‘Ricki, we tried contacting your family…they don’t want anything to do with you and your dirty little disease!’

Not an uncommon response.  We heard it daily.  As those around us died.

Ricki died not two days later.  Many gathered at Mount Mitchell.  None of which were his family members.

2015-11-09 12.42.56

I came home last night, asked my best friend, my lover, my wife,

‘Of the three choices, mental health reform, women’s rights or equality?  Which would be the very first reason for voting a particular candidate into office?’

She said, as I knew she would,

‘Mental health…why, what would be first for you?’

I told her my dilema…

As of late, with homophobia still rampant, but certainly not akin to what I and others like me, endured 30 plus years ago.  With equality for individuals still somehow debatable.  I think of Stonewall, Harvey Milk, and yes, Ricki.  Certainly centuries have past, decades before my generation, where gay people and transgenders, have endured more than what I’ve seen.  And, so on and so on, I guess that’s how it goes when you are thought of as different or in the minority.

My answer to my spouse,

‘I don’t know.  I want a woman in the White House…I want you to get the help you need.  But honestly, I have to stand strong to the original fight…’

There had been more conversation…

But I won’t bore, you the reader, with that.

It has come to light…As with Obama, and others, Hillary Clinton, only relatively…recently, came out in support of my kind of people.

I do not take voting lightly.  I haven’t since my partner had her disability payments cut…several years ago.  And, I don’t have to tell you who was in office than.

I guess, it concerns me, as it should…

Am I voting for someone, knocking on doors, badgering people on the phone…for a cause because ‘it goes against the grain of the good ole boys?’ or ‘am I just doing what I always do…bucking the establishment?’

I left Hillary…half way through her speech.  I had to.  I needed sometime to think.  Think of Ricki, wonder if he was watching, pondering,

‘Hey, Ricki, what would you do?

As a small child, I don’t know, 7 or 8, I watch, ‘Hello Dolly’, 38 times!  And, that was back in the day, when there had been no recording device.  Just 3 channels and a constant search for Barbara Streisand.

Was I secretly thinking, I am truly a gay man in love with show tunes?

No!

Do not ask me why, I had an enormous crush on the Jewish Diva with a killer voice.  Honestly, I still do.  Let us not forget, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

However, my mother never asked,

‘Do you have a crush on her?  What gives?’

There had, I am certain of it, never been a thought in my mother’s mind,

‘Is my daughter gay…I should offer her support.  Let her know…she is not alone.’

Today, in this age of openness, I believe the conversation, would have gone differently.

So many have lost their lives, for me to have what I have, as a strong gay woman.  I would be doing all them…particularly Ricki…a disservice, if I did not give my decision deep thought.

Hey, Ricki

Where have you gone

Are we no different

What could have been wrong

Crooked frames upon the wall

MIrror images of a world made small

What will happen of this lot

The Milks, the dreamers…

those everyday beauty seekers

Help us all

Help us all take the pain from the wall

Help to all who refuse to fall

walked a thousand miles  Just to slip this skin.
walked a thousand miles
Just to slip this skin.