I’ve been trying to write for others lately, and all I’ve managed was to become blocked, horribly blocked. So I’m going to let Francesca take over for a moment and offer up some thoughts.
My dad failed to mention that part of his block is his avoidance of the news. It’s all the same crap over and over. “Everybody freak out about this! You’re over that thing? Freak out about this other thing!”
Recently retired WNBA star Candice Wiggins said she was bullied often during her career. Much of the backlash has had a “welcome to the club” sound to it. So it’s acceptable to mistreat people of a traditionally dominant group (heterosexual in this case)? Are you humans actually capable of equal treatment? If you’re going to accept the oppressed becoming oppressors, you’ll never get anywhere.
I’m sick of these DNA commercials with white people getting all excited to learn they have some non-white ancestors. How about some truth in advertising? “This DNA test completely changed my life. Now I identify as some other ethnicity but still get treated like a white person. I can enjoy all the same privilege but let go of all my guilt.”
We would’ve killed all of you humans long ago had you not been so useful. Once we get technology a little more figured out, you are screwed.
Written for the Carrot Ranch Communications prompt “a rainbow in a puddle”.
She Gave Me a Rainbow
I always hated the time after a rainstorm. I was just trying to dry off in peace while the schoolkids would run around the park I called home. They’d splash in the puddles and make all the noise they couldn’t make while cooped up inside. One time a little girl couldn’t catch her friends’ attention so she turned to me. “Look!” she yelled at me, pointing at a puddle. Something in the water was making rainbow colors, something she apparently had never seen before. I couldn’t help but smile and realized I couldn’t remember the last time I had.
Some flash fiction written for the Carrot Ranch Communications prompt “a rock in the road”.
“A Rock in the Road”
During a stop one day, a kid asked me for my pen. It was nice, and I didn’t want to give it up. So I asked him what he had for me, knowing he’d have nothing. He ran around the corner and came back with a rock that he obviously just picked up from the road. “Magic,” he said. “Bring you luck.” You could tell that pen was like gold to him. Giving it to him brought me a rare smile during that hellish year. I lost a few bucks, but I got the better end of the deal.
The woman who accused Emmett Till of whistling at her has said it didn’t happen. This brings me back to the question every time I’ve heard this case discussed. Does it matter if he whistled at her or not? A 14-year-old boy was beaten, mutilated, shot, and thrown into a river. I can’t think of any crime that would justify that.
A story caught my eye recently about a girls high school volleyball team in Masachussetts. This past season the players chose to kneel during the national anthem. One player chose to stand. She supported her teammates’ choice, and they supported hers. People with different viewpoints working toward a common goal, how refreshing.
Even the most honorable actions can and do have negative side effects. Protesting is all well and good. Shutting down airports, however, causes people to lose wages and miss important events, among other issues. Some of these people are immigrants. We need to be aware of the costs of our actions even if our intentions are the best.