ERA,
Let me tell you a story. I grew up spent my elementary school years to high-school in Texas, Houston and near Galveston. Like most children growing up I could not really understand racism, bigotry ect... It was in my later years of high-school looking back at my life did a larger awareness for the world we live in, begin to sprout in me.
I looked at the Major events in my life up to that point; my parents divorce, moving from Colorado to texas, living with my grandparents. One event though defined who I was, my moral stand points in life. It was 9/11.
I was in second grade when it happened, I still remember it like yesterday. My mother, like all mother, came and picked me up from school. It wasn't until the next week that things started to change, my name was changed to Josh, I didn't understand at the time.
AS I looked back through the years, I began to notice social interactions that I did not understand. My grandmother once told me, "I love you, you are one of the good ones. Even if you don't look like me." As a child I thought that was an innocent statement. In my later years, I realized it was a form of oppression and racism. I realized that my name was changed because it wasn't a white name.
In high-school when people called me a sand nigger, is when I truly started to understand. That was what I was a detestable existence.
From then on in my life my goal became to escape my upbringing and start anew. I had my chance with college, I changed my name back to my given name in Arabic. I reclaimed my identity and dignity as a person that had been stripped away from me as a child.
One summer I visited home, and was watching the olympics with my Uncle, and a comment that should not shock me but did was said, "Look at those monkey's running.". It was a race with black people in it. I was timid at the time in my views and my voice, but I called out my uncle, and I asked, " What do you think I am then, a Terrorist?" He said, "No, you are one of the good ones."
It has been 6 years since that day, and I have not spoken a word to my family. I gave an ultimatum change your ways or I am gone. I have stayed gone, they've attempted to reconnect over the years. I remember during the election, I was curious at how they voted and browsed through Facebook. Clearly I did not make a mistake, they will not change their ways.
To this day, I am grateful to my experiences in life It has shaped who I am as a person, and I believe made me a better one for it. Though sacrifices were made.
The moral of the story is that if family losing a loved one over their horrible views and morals will not change them then their is no need for tolerating hate, to be nice to the other side.
I lost my family over race, but at least I had a choice the children Trump has thrown in cages have not.
Fuck your civility.
Let me tell you a story. I grew up spent my elementary school years to high-school in Texas, Houston and near Galveston. Like most children growing up I could not really understand racism, bigotry ect... It was in my later years of high-school looking back at my life did a larger awareness for the world we live in, begin to sprout in me.
I looked at the Major events in my life up to that point; my parents divorce, moving from Colorado to texas, living with my grandparents. One event though defined who I was, my moral stand points in life. It was 9/11.
I was in second grade when it happened, I still remember it like yesterday. My mother, like all mother, came and picked me up from school. It wasn't until the next week that things started to change, my name was changed to Josh, I didn't understand at the time.
AS I looked back through the years, I began to notice social interactions that I did not understand. My grandmother once told me, "I love you, you are one of the good ones. Even if you don't look like me." As a child I thought that was an innocent statement. In my later years, I realized it was a form of oppression and racism. I realized that my name was changed because it wasn't a white name.
In high-school when people called me a sand nigger, is when I truly started to understand. That was what I was a detestable existence.
From then on in my life my goal became to escape my upbringing and start anew. I had my chance with college, I changed my name back to my given name in Arabic. I reclaimed my identity and dignity as a person that had been stripped away from me as a child.
One summer I visited home, and was watching the olympics with my Uncle, and a comment that should not shock me but did was said, "Look at those monkey's running.". It was a race with black people in it. I was timid at the time in my views and my voice, but I called out my uncle, and I asked, " What do you think I am then, a Terrorist?" He said, "No, you are one of the good ones."
It has been 6 years since that day, and I have not spoken a word to my family. I gave an ultimatum change your ways or I am gone. I have stayed gone, they've attempted to reconnect over the years. I remember during the election, I was curious at how they voted and browsed through Facebook. Clearly I did not make a mistake, they will not change their ways.
To this day, I am grateful to my experiences in life It has shaped who I am as a person, and I believe made me a better one for it. Though sacrifices were made.
The moral of the story is that if family losing a loved one over their horrible views and morals will not change them then their is no need for tolerating hate, to be nice to the other side.
I lost my family over race, but at least I had a choice the children Trump has thrown in cages have not.
Fuck your civility.
