"You're only as sick as the secrets you keep."

America has a problem dealing with race; That's not an aspect of 
the issue that requires debate. But more pressing that the specifics 
of race (yes, really) is the method America uses to address and 
handle all of its problems;
We don't.

The grand American tradition is to ignore what is in front of us 
(the uncomfortable, squirmy, yucky underbelly of problems!) 
and deny their very existence. We just repeat this practice until 
all of our anger and resentment and crazy has built itself into a 
fever pitch and EXPLODES!

And then--and only then--we'll talk about it. Oh, we'll sit around 
and say our piece and react and stomp feet and cry out. Each of 
us adding our two cents to an issue the majority didn't even 
acknowledge less than a 24-hour news cycle before-hand. 

We will talk rings around it, because there surely is one 
unifying force in effect in this country: We all love to hear 
ourselves talk. The listening? Notsomuch. But we can run that 
mouth like we're getting paid by the syllable. And then, just as 
quickly as the conversation began--it ends.

Now, those of us who were always affected by whatever the 
issue du jour was still have to deal with it in its gory entirety; 
whether it's Flint citizens unable to drink or bathe because of 
still-unfixed toxic water, a mother whose only son was murdered 
by the people sworn to protect him, a child who just heard the
ersatz leader of his country say 'white supremacists' aren't so 
bad, and so on. 

We still have to face the weight of situations that could have 
been long-ago addressed and resolved, or at least improved. 
You know--if addressing and fixing was something we actually 
did here.

Republicans have been adamant about fostering the notion that 
race is not the issue folks are claiming it is. Ignoring their own 
gerrymandering, voter suppression through illegal voting laws
(Texas found guilty again just this last week,) and propping up 
institutionalized racism, they seem hell-bent on either white-
washing reality or keeping blinders on. I'll give them credit for 
being smart enough to simply be evil and corrupt. But I may 
be wrong--they might just be elitist and ignorant.

Today, Rick Santorum and Virginia's Scott Taylor won the 
title of "Most Entitled White Dudes Ever" for their joint 
appearance on Jake Tapper's show. They audaciously 
contended that race does not play a part in the problems 
people face outside of what's caused by the hate-speech 
(and presumably hate-attacks) perpetrated by Nazis and 
'white supremacists' (I can't even write that phrase without 
getting nauseous.)

Translation: 'The whole nation is in favor of hating Nazis 
this week, so for political expediency we'll break with our 
nationalist, racist platforms and party to stand behind that
idea--but don't push it asking us to come clean on the other
harmful ideologies we support.'

There can be no healing of a problem until there is an open 
and honest addressing of a problem. And the idea of coming 
clean about our secrets, our lies, our troubling past, and our 
crimes does not seem to be on any politician's 'to-do list.' 

So we scream at the TV, shake our heads at apathetic 
politicians, stew over the clown that stole our highest office, 
and we wonder what will happen as a result of the continued 
avoidance?

In the meantime, I say we do what we can; Follow our own 
hearts and minds. We don't have to follow suit and be quiet 
just because the men with the most to lose are running scared.

Call them out. 
Speak the Truth.
Hold them accountable.
Make strides to have real talk with friends, neighbors, even 
strangers.

I have started more conversations with people in stores, waiting 
in lines, passing on the street...striving to make connection and 
experience some realness in the midst of a crucial time in this 
country. We all need to know that we're not alone in this fight
right now.

So don't be discouraged by a lack of leadership. Determine to step 
up and provide it yourself, wherever you are and however you can.
We know from experience that one person can make a difference.
Just today we learned of the passing of a great man--Dick Gregory--
who made strides and changes in this old world by refusing to 
accept things the way they are, and daring to reach out for better.

Let's take that example and run with it--all the way into the 
bright light of day. America has a problem with fear of exposure,
and the only way to get over it is to shine that light.
"This little light of mine--I'm gonna let it shine."

Full Disclosure....1/23/2010...The Big Purge

More hysterics.


Everybody wants to know your business.
You want some Honesty and Willingness? Here you are.
Maybe it's just better all around.


I am a gay man. I have had my attractions since earliest childhood.
I learned in my household to fear and appease others, so I shoved
my identity deep inside. I longed and loved in secret, ashamed.
My home, the church, my family, TV and movies, and every friend
I ever tried to have taught me to hate my insides and promote a lie.
I have nonetheless attempted to live truthfully.....except when it
would hurt myself or others.


I do not know what a healthy relationship is. Between one set of
scarred parents handing down biological disorders, and one set of
parents raising me as an isolated prisoner in an insane asylum, I am
a boat adrift. I had no role models. I have no real past relationships
of substance or quality to draw from.


I suffer from bi-polar disorder, borderline personality disorder, and
obsessive-compulsive disorder, to name a few. Yes, there is something
wrong with me. It is not just laziness, or 'weirdness' nor a bad mood.
The person in charge of making decisions is constantly changing; if you
think this adversely affects you, try not being completely in charge of
your own brain and life. I don't cop out and cease efforts; even with the
best possible treatments and lifestyle, there are problems.


I am not a good friend; no one is contesting that. I have learned to
expect nothing and rely on no one for good reason. Between abuse, neglect,
abandonment, betrayal, and all the joys of 40 years of tortured living,
this is what I have to show. I am not heartless; I am defensive. I am
secretive. I am selfish. I am judgmental and hyper-sensitive. I am paranoid.
I am untrusting. But I would also lay down my life for someone I care for.


More often than not, I speak too directly and too earnestly. I share too
much, and wear my heart on my sleeve. Conversely, when I feel connected to
someone I may slip into camouflage mode and pretend to be different; I
don't trust that the real me would not chase them away. I try and say or do
what will make another person happy. I then hide the loneliness I feel at not
having the real me connect with them.


I fluctuate between wanting to take on the world and thrive and excel...
and wanting to become invisible and wither and die. This is not hyperbole;
I am a creature of raging extremes. Forming relationships, getting and
keeping jobs, staying focused on anything is excruciating.


My mind works 'differently' than most people; that's not bragging, trust me.
I see and am made curious by different factors than occupy most others;
trying to have a conversation with me may be like speaking Romulan to
a non-Trekkie. I'm not acting. It's not for attention. It's not superiority.
I'm trying to communicate the only way I know how.


I lie to keep people from getting too close. I avoid people and situations
to hide my pain. I act aloof because I don't want my neediness to show.
I get needy because I fear there will never be another person who wants to
spend even 2 minutes talking with me. I await the 'other shoe' to drop always.
I get indignant to protect myself from your rejection; perceived or otherwise.
I lash out because I only know self preservation. Trust and faith and hope
get you killed in the wrong place and time.


There is nowhere and nothing that makes me feel safe. I do not choose
to be miserable; I am struggling for dear life with every departure from
the house, every conversation, every e-mail, every attempt to reach out
that you may think nothing of. The voices and chatter and shakes never stop.
Never. There are no treatments that I have found to work in 28 years of
trying.


If you ask me "what's wrong?" and then ridicule what I share with you,
please don't act surprised or contemptuous if I never speak to you again.
I dislike having my time wasted.


I'm not oblivious to how difficult it is to deal with me. It tires me, too, even
after all the years of experience. I can look at a letter I wrote on a Tuesday
(with the best of intentions to set things right) and be fully aware on Friday
how insane I was when writing it; but I didn't know it then.


I am so lonely--beyond words or human comprehension--that I would
keep secrets from those I care for. It is the only way I know to keep the
Real Me from chasing away the illusion of connection I have with a scant
handful of people. I am not proud of this; it is survival. And that's all I know.


I have an issue with my heart that has scared me beyond any health issue I have
faced previously. The tightness and pain is constant, and the fear and emotional
surges only serve to exacerbate the matter. Since my doctor visit, I have been
unable to consider anything else.


I want a clean slate if it is time for me to go. I want at least to know I have
put myself out there, regardless of whether or not understanding ensued.
Life is messy, and there is often no closure at all. But if I were to leave now,
I would like the peace of knowing I did the best that I could.


I have tried to live fully. To love often. To risk and care. I cannot control
what appearances may seem to the contrary. I hope the people I have loved
know how much I care for them. In spite of themselves, in spite of me.
I did care.