humanity
Humanity begins at home.
I'm biracial, damn it
I'm black, I roughly have the same shade as the two arms on the left. I'm in between. When I was growing up, my mom and dad are the same shade as me but one thing didn't sit right with me by the time I got a little older, my grandmother and my sister are lighter than the rest of us including some of my uncles so when it was time to look into my family tree for a school project, I found something intriguing. Other than the fact that my great grandfather was a WWII veteran, he was white and for years, I've always gaped if that changes things for me but my stepdad was always telling me and my siblings that we're 100% black.
By Don Anderson II6 years ago in Families
I Will Write the Rest
The earliest memory I have from my childhood is of my father dropping me. I can't recall his face. I don't know whether my mother was there or how old I was or what I was wearing. I can only remember the pure joy of looking out of the huge window, over the city lights, as he held me high above his head and as he laughed with me. He wanted me to see this sight whose beauty he knew I would not understand until much later. But he hoped I would store it up and think about it when I needed reminding that the world is a good place. He wanted me to feel his happiness, if only for a moment, fleeting like his own. And I did. Until his arms, unsteady from all he'd had to drink so that he could forget these foreign thoughts, faltered. And his hands shook. And he let me fall right through them.
By Heather Richmond6 years ago in Families
Welcome to your new home
Welcome! I’m so happy you picked this house. I don’t know who you are or where you’re from, but I’m glad you found a home. I know you don’t know me, and for all you know I’m just a person behind a keyboard. Well, I grew up in this house. I wanted to share some stories about the house. You have no idea what the walls would say if they could talk, but I do. I lived it.
By macy darcie6 years ago in Families
Remove Holiday Stress by Removing Toxic People
The season is upon us again. Now is the time of year when you’ll be bombarded with countless articles offering advice on how to deal with unpleasant relatives at Thanksgiving and Christmas. How to keep the peace between MAGA-hat wearing uncle Roy and vegan cousin Andrew. How to avoid all-out war over deep-frying the turkey or going traditional roasted with stuffing. And exactly how much gin it takes to muffle the worst of the impeachment debate.
By John Teehan6 years ago in Families
Offshore Explorer Stories (Pt. 3)
I have been accused of having a story for every circumstance by my dearest friends. I believe they think I am making the story up. I felt cut off and cut down not because they didn't believe me, but because I couldn't tell the story. The truth is that real storytellers see the world of circumstance and immediately put what seems like scattered facts into a cogent story. This is how storytellers organize their memories. It also helps to have a great memory for these kinds of facts.
By Scott Dodgson7 years ago in Families
Feel Your Emotions
Do you ever feel like you're traveling on a road that has no end in sight? We've all been there. Unfortunately, life doesn't come with a manual. We are all living our own journey. So how is it that some people make it look so simple? Let me let you in on a little secret. Everyone has struggles and misfortunes. Some things we can handle on our own and some things take a village of resources that we have to rely on. The important thing is that we recognize that how we handle these struggles and misfortunes is what determines how we get to the fork in the road that allows us to change the path.
By Jacinda Bulatovich7 years ago in Families
Dear Abuser, I Am Done Forgiving You
Abuse. Never a word I thought would apply to myself, no matter how many times I read and reread the definition of it from the yellowed pages of the dictionary given to me. But for almost fifteen years, I lived my life in a weird suspended state of consciousness. Numb, deaf, and mute. The sum of the entirety of my life was simplified to one word- silence. Silence. Plainly described as a complete and utter lack of sound. That was how I lived. In silence. It was only interrupted by the momentary loud bursts of skin breaking under a violent hit. The muffled screams hidden behind the closed doors. The quiet whimpers escaping between locked lips. The overwhelming and consuming sense of loneliness and isolation. The cold floor as it turns out to be the only comfort at the end of the day. Abuse. Silence. Hand in hand. A duo of trouble.
By Bailey Theismann7 years ago in Families
