Happy Juneteenth

What? You didn't realize today was a holiday? Well, it's not officially, except in Texas. I'll be thinking today of how we can celebrate the end of slavery and the beginning of freedom for black people when we have such a long way to go until we are truly free. I'm taking a class called gender and ethnicity that is causing me to look at systems of oppression and the institutionalization of racism, classism, sexism, ableism, etc...

When I was a child, I remember wondering why black folks were still treated so badly when it was white folks that had done us so wrong. It made no sense to me why I had to worry about prejudice when I was clearly the innocent party. Then I grew up to understand that fairness and justness is subjective. That whites were still mentally enslaving whites with their doctrine of (covert) supremacy. It was just more subtle now, almost imperceptible.
Some folks will say that we should move on from the past, that what's done is done and we need to forgive and forget. But there is residue from that past which lives inside us. It is the legacy of slavery that people of color live with the mental side effects of the institution of slavery.

The writer Shelby Steele talks about the development of the "anti-self" in black people that has resulted from years of internalized oppression. This anti-self is "... an interal antagonist and saboteur that embraces the world's negative view of us, that believes our wounds are justified by our own unworthiness, and that entrenches itself as a lifelong voice of doubt." When I think about this concept of the anti-self, it is easy for me to see why so many of our black brothers and sisters end up in jail, on drugs, or both. Why many can't seem to lift ourselves up, but instead break ourselves and each other down. It is hard to be hopeful in the face of such devastating oppression. So, when someone tells me that racism is no longer a problem and they don't see color I just can't believe them. People of color live with the reality of racism every day. We are still fighting to have our voices heard and our experiences believed. We have a long way to go.

Check out more on juneteenth at:
http://www.juneteenth.com/

Letting the light in

A few months ago, we decided to cut down a huge laurel tree between our house and the neighbors. What we didn't know was that there was a blue jay's nest in that tree. As the last few limbs were cut, four featherless baby birds came flying out of the safety of their nest at my face. I ducked and they hit the gravel, squaking for their parents, who were perched nearby watching. To make a long story short, Brad gathered them up with gloved hands, placed them back in the nest, secured the nest to wire mesh, and relocated it to a nearby (leafless) tree. At least a few of them were sighted weeks later attempting to fly. Happy ending, right? Yes, but it is not always so...

The other morning we awoke to chainsaws snarling a few feet from our bedroom window. The neighbor is cutting down the biggest (over 100 feet?) doug fir on the block. We think he wants to build a deck and the tree is too close to his house. The neighbor's missing limbs (they haven't felled the entire tree yet) let more light seep in to the understory of our yard.

A few days after the chainsaws started, a block away, a swath of trees seven acres wide was clearcut in a matter of days. There is a hole in the sky that lets in more sun than we ever thought we'd get in our shady back yard.

This as me wondering what we value more: light or trees? The developers who are going to build tract homes on the now barren wetland probably haven't asked that. I hear we need more homes- Olympia is growing. But I just can't get used to driving by where there was a whole ecosystem and now there's what? Piles of logs and mud. Seems like a shame. But once there were more trees where my house sits.

Last night I dreamt of Grovey- remember the lizard who escaped? Maybe his wildness was in my consciousness, his determination to be uncaged and uninhibited. Perhaps this is what we lose when the trees come down. Then again, it is nice to let the light in.

Weather Report

Spring is here, birds are chirping, the honeysuckle vines attached to the wrought iron on our house are blooming toward the sun, and it is, of course, raining.
Not just raining, but cold- brrrrr....
I heard on the radio we haven't had such low temps in June in 20 years. Wow! I don't hate the rain, though. At least not at this moment. I love how it waters my plants for me, cleanses everything- especially my incredibly dirty car I've been meaning to wash for weeks.
The South African acapella band Ladysmith Black Mambazo sing about rain:

Rain rain rain rain
Beautiful rain
O come, never come
O come, never come
O come to me
Beautiful rain

Granted, they're singing about drought- you always want what you can't have- but I love the idea that rain is beautiful. Those who have read my musings on northwest weather are probable scratching your heads, but I have what you could call a love/hate relationship with the rain.
I love it when I haven't seen it for a while and I'm in that pensive (somber?) mood that rain elicits and when it serves a purpose (doesn't it always?)
I hate it when it sticks around longer than I want. In the beginning of summer, say, when all I want is to feel sun warming my skin.
So, it's spring and I feel like I can't complain about the rain because that's what spring is about right? Showers...

If they haven't stopped by the beginning of July, I might feel differently.