In the Beginning

 In the Beginning.

100 Trees - Day 4

Chalk in hand, the girl drew a line.  “You say on your side, I’ll stay on mine,” Eva said to the boy.  She traced the line again and again, widening it each time.

“I don’t want to be on your side anyhow,” the Edison retorted.  “It’s ugly.”

She drew the line thicker, “My side has a beautiful tree, delicious fruit.  I can climb it and spy on you.  All you’ve got is bushes and—“ She froze as she saw a friend walk by.  “Abi!  come join my side.  It is beautiful.  Besides, all Edison’s got is a dumb bush.”

Eva handed Abi a piece of chalk and the two drew together.  When Kade walked by, the children called out to him, begging him to join their side.  Abi promised it was paradise with her and Eva.  Kade didn’t join a side.  Instead he drew Abi away.  Neither of them came back.  

When Zeth walked by, Edison called louder, promised grander and gained Zeth’s loyalty.  Eva was angered.  She was down, two against one, but she didn’t give up.  Others walked by, and she kept calling them over.  Some joined her, others went with Edison.  None were allowed to stand on the thick divide.  Those who tried were pulled one way or the other.  The degrading comments continued to fly, voices raising louder and the gap grew wider.  Eventually the two sides were so far apart, they couldn’t even see the other’s side to criticise it.  Still the criticism flew.  The criticism could no longer be heard by the opposition, but each side felt better, hearing from their own, about the atrocities of the enemies.  

When Kade returned, he no longer recognised the place.  He stood in the middle and called out to Eva and Edison.  They couldn’t or wouldn’t hear him.  He wasn’t sure which.  He set up a tent, hoping that others, disenchanted, would soon join him.

100 Trees - Face Mask Tree

 A couple years ago I decided to write 100 stories, on a day, about apples.  Well, I've decided to try this exercise again, but this time with a tree theme.  Here is my story for day 3.

From the distance I could see the leaves blowing in the wind; large, symmetrical, pleated.  I walked toward the tree, wondering if I could pluck just one leaf for myself.

“Save the tree!” protesters shouted.  The stood around the tree, holding signs that said, “leaves are for trees, not for me.”  “No leaves leave trees,” and “tree lives matter.”  I didn’t want to hurt the tree, in fact, from what I understood, the tree wanted to give its leaves away, yet those who gave voice to the tree told me otherwise.  

I looked away, seeking other pieces of information, wondering where I got my information from, which news to believe.  I could see it from where I stood, another crowd marching, leaves covering their mouths, but not silencing their cries.  “All lives matter,” they cried, “protect others with leaves,” “Be selfless like trees.”  Caught between the two group, I didn’t know where to go.  If I wanted to join the one, I had to get past the other that blocked the leaves. 

My eyes were first to sense the smoke.  I heard others cough.  People looked in the distance, a flame, ever growing, was coming nearer.  They turned and fled past me, while I stood immobilised, realising the soon fate of this tree. The fire, with a flame for a tongue was coming to devour it.  Only then, with the noise of the protestors far in the distance, could I hear the whisper of the tree, “come, please, take my leaves.”  I rushed to the tree, taking from it its final gift, loving it for its sacrifice.  I wept, wishing my tears could form a river, and oasis to protect the tree.  I imagined a world with just me and the tree and no other voices.  The tears managed only to clean the smoke from my eyes for a moment, long enough to see how close the fire was.  I hugged the tree as I reached for one last leaf, and then I ran.  I ran to safety with both those who had protested “leaves,” and “no leaves.”

Black Lives Matter and I'm Gay

 I saw a comment on Twitter, wondering why Black Lives Matter is supported by the LGBTQ2S+ community.  So, I thought about this.  A thought that resonated with me is that it isn't okay just to not be racist, we must be anti-racist.  The reason I got this, the reason I understood it, was because I could liken it  to my experience with homophobia.  Unless proven otherwise, I often assume everyone is homophobic.  Perhaps this isn't fair, but for me, it is safe.  I have some amazing friends who've invited me to join them at city hall to fight against conversion therapy.  Friends who watched my monologue, and talked to me about it, showing their support.  Friends who knew I was gay before I did, and stuck with me as I figured it out.  Friends, who asked with excitement, to see my wedding pictures.  I have other friends, good friends even, who've never convinced me that they are not homophobic.  They've never opened up about their perspective, never gone out of their way to show support.  Perhaps they don't have to do this.  Perhaps it is asking too much.  Perhaps it isn't safe for them. But their silence leads me to wonder if I am safe around them.  If they don't make it apparent that they are anti-homophobic, I am quick to fear that their anti-gay religious upbringing is still directing their thoughts.

Enough about this.  What am I doing to show I am anti-racist?  How can I be a safe person for BIPOCs?

Identifying as part of a marginalised group helps me understand a little bit what it is other marginalised groups experience.  Perhaps this is why queer folk are quick to support Black Lives Matter, to some extent we get it.  But BLM isn't a queer issue, it is a people issue.  BLM is about people, about supporting our brothers and sisters of colour, This is something everyone should get behind.  

"I might not be the same But that's not important

No freedom 'til we're equal

Damn right I support it" - Macklemore