A black man being pierced with a American flag poll by whites. A photo. I didn't like the image then, I don't like the image now.
A fag tortured, tied to a fence, then killed. A while back. I didn't like it then, I don't like now.
A little girl running, in my mind as if alive, on fire, screaming running down the road. Vietnam. I should of never seen it. She's a doctor now. I hope a good one.
A woman slammed against a bathroom wall repeatedly, beaten, and clothes thrown to the street. I didn't like it then, I don't like it now because I didn't call the police..." because they are bad." Her name was Carmen. I was a teenager then.
A finger thrown at me by a classmate. Refuted, interrogated, the experience twisted against me with a belt in hand. My mother told to be quite. After an hour, it was my fault, so said my father. Problem solved. To this day I see the result of it's outcome in my environment.
A saint bernard beaten with a broom, the wooden handle broken, then beaten again. All awhile listening to a rant of "discipline" and how ' something ' needs to be beaten down." I don't remember the rest, just under the covers. Blazing hot. That house by the freeway was always hot.( Today it has a has a white hand on it, palm reading. Late summer 2007 I went home, ' children's voices where with me when I left Abq. and I stepped up to the door of grandfather's printing company, American Printing. I approached the front door and looked through the glass, I heard " I made you." I stopped at a hospital and looked for my brother. I should of looked for my father. On the way back a large red flatbed truck, wrecker, new, played games with me, on the road and I realized my life was in danger. Staking me from behind, then ahead all the way back. I finally took action. I charged the truck from an angle. It then left and I never saw it since, it sped off. The children's voices were with me upon my arrival in Albq. I found out later Dad had heart surgery about that time. I called every hospital when I was there, just the wrong family member.)
A maid, Rebecca, pulling us by the hair, dragging us, hitting. Punished...belt? Does it matter. We were children. Of course her side taken. She was fired latter on. Mom's only victory.
Having to hold in pee, because Dad didn't have the key to the bathroom in his office complex because he was a mexican. A friend of his gave him one later. I definitely didn't like that.
The owner or prior owner of the house in the lower valley, shooting at trees in the front yard before we moved in. "Don't worry the bullets are rubber," he said. " Bart, go inside," my
mother said. I moved back a bit, until I could move.
I was " a good pod," according to my friend across the street, Brian. I now know that meant chile pod.
Tabasco put on my fingers because I chewed them. It hurt at first, but then I told myself it didn't. I didn't like it then, but what is pain? I was about ten or eleven. I remember that now. I saw it over three years ago in another ' interrogation.'
My brother, for some reason, was sicker than hell. I would ask my mother about him often.
Later, when he was a little older, he rocked himself to sleep by banging his head against the headboard. Mom was always giving him medicine. The MD's and Phd's always knew best.
My mother would talk to my sister's as they slept " You are good girls." I guess she did that for us all. I asked my mother once " would we still be your children if we had a different dad?" Just after he had left. She said " Yes. " After calming herself.
Before she died she said my oldest sister would be the one who could take care of herself. She was going to make something of herself. " I'm proud of her," my mother's few last words.
She tried so hard in the hospital to try to tell me who was going to try to" kill me." I signed the right to die papers with her, four to five minutes later a nurse gave word that she won her lawsuit against my father for back alimony. She died less than a month latter.
I wrote so very little down for a reason. Evil begets Evil.
My brothers are darker skinned than me.
The maid was darker skinned.
The neighborhoods at that time, when I was young were all white. Just like me.
My father fought the evils of the world, left for two years, spent a quarter of his life in bars to ease the pain. As my mother borne the weight of our families soul till her last breath, on earth.
Evil is a lack of parenting and parenting. I was born white skinned in a world that followed " the rules " of an era.
What do young men and women do when one or more parents are ' missing? ' They find comfort with each other. They even try to raise each other.
When I first went to ' those ' bars, I was in the company of young women. I'm not sure if we were of age. The beer was ' free.' At least for me.
The bar was a refuse for societies untouchables and those who sought favor of them by any currency including violence. For me it was loud music and alcohol.
I will never forget a man of our circle called by family members to a truck, they were men. He was hesitant, but went to them. We tried to make fun. When he came back, eye's filled with tears he said, " they would of come to my house anyway." When asked by ' baby ', a friends nick name, there was no answer. One of us bought drinks for all of us.
Baby was choked and picked clear off the floor by a police officer for some reason. I was asked to bail her out of jail and did.
A friend of mine, a young woman I dated who was raped by her father twice, a police sargent, I think, because she looked so much like her mother. We both kinda stopped, damage done. I'll always remember your face.
I was almost killed by a ' cholo ', a mexican a bit older, a gun in my face, knocked down, beaten down three times. A female solider stepped between us and talked him down.
I've been propositioned, I turned the ' straight ' man down. But more importantly I listened. Pedophiles, homosexuality and abuse victims are associated with violence in all cases.
I've been with a swinger and have seen the damage, the breaking of marriages it creates. I've listened to an old man who was once a dancer then computer tech for the military wast away by alcohol. I asked him why he never married the woman of his dreams in his younger years, ' because I'm a fag.' There was something else though, a deep set ' hurt,'...pain. I made a face of Jesus Christ, I found a Dove in the eye. I should not of sold it to him. When I visited him, his walls were bare, all his real art and furniture gone. He was ripped off. Everything gone. I should of given it to him, but I was traveling at the time.
I was visiting my father, living in my car. Traveling, numb, drinking at the time but not driving. Just numb. I was in California months before the riots. Changed hats often. Women and girls said, " better take that off." Rodney King.
I walked around the meter crater in Arizona thinking deep down, what caused this? Why? Saw a ranger (?), an old man on the other side, I thought because I have the right. Traveling back I looked to my left and saw a large rock, I circled it, it was from the impact. There was a sign too I think.
I now know the importance of this, I have always known were I was except when I was young. Something has always been with me. Sometimes. Art. The few good experiences I re member I will never tell, so few, precious with both parents.
I know what causes indifference. It is the nothing. It is an emptiness. When angles are not around.
We pattern our youth not to listen. There is no privacy in indifference, only followers. Some would call this freedom. And they know not why. I'm glad I walked around the meter crater; one of the shots heard around the world. The emptiness and all the life lost by it and the others that fell. The quiet.
I wrote all of this not to condemn, judge or harm. It was hard to write. I wrote it because it is my experience and if I hadn't, then my younger sisters might allow a history of hate to repeat itself. Because of what happened to you, does not mean it will happen again. Some people are just sick and they know what they are doing. I used to know one of them,(I didn't know at the time) when he got angry, he acted as though he was a child. Literary.
In my case it almost happened, I gave my sister, second born, a concussion. We fought often. It could of been a lot worse, I felt almost nothing. Lost. I never accepted responsibility for the household chores after the divorce. I was always looking for something to feel good about. And for what it's worth, I feel based on what I have seen, only about 50% of those I knew and saw are homosexuals. The rest are what society has labeled them and the professionals that endorsed the index that defines there existence and the ' cast 'or category to which they will belong. Feminine men and masculine women. Both patterns are derived from a violent adhesion against women. Some shelter against violence and seek reason in comfort. These people are this way for a reason, defense and dominance ( meaning defiance against aggression ). Both I feel are defensive postures. So they think they are what they have been told they are ( to be ). Not all are homosexual or bi-sexual. And yes some people like the same sex. Alot of this has changed for the good but child abuse might go to further if not reported. The mental health professions protecting and covering for pedophiles based on their natures and, or experiences and desires.
A lot of these people are sick. A lot of hurt. Always remember violence is rape and the violence done to a person or child of a sexual nature will always be violence returned unless checked by responsible adults. Call the police. Go to the station if you have to. Do what you have to do to stop child abuse.---Men and women together should raise children, singles shouldn't, both without violence ( if it can be helped ). My opinion. Also a few churches are asking and telling those who attend that homosexuals are welcome. This is a good thing. Victory America is one.
What is it to submit? What is evil?- To keep your mouth shut.- All people in humankind are equal. To keep your mouth shut when you have had violence done to you is the ultimate evil.
Racism begets Racism. There is no place to hide. Violence is the only ' reward ' you will ever find and indifference. Nothing. Do children even know what child abuse is?
I wrote this and held back a lot. I felt on the surface it might not seem to matter that much to some, but, for others, in the back of my mind I know in truth that we as children and adults are copied. We copy each other. Three years ago in a self imposed state of trance, then later fully awake, I said I had no family for a reason. There lives were threatened. All of us at any
given time may be given the opportunity to fully understand as best they can and try to help family and friends and children. Recognition is the key.
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Try to RISE ABOVE racism and protect your children well. It will END CHILD ABUSE.
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