Uggh, If One More Person… #AuthorToolboxBlogHop #Writer

If one more person asks me how to be an ally, I’m gonna…

I’m gonna help.

So how can you be a better ally to people of color as a writer or creative person?  I’m gonna give you the same answer I keep giving every other person who asks:  Listen. Be considerate. Be open to learning more. And remember, it’s not about how you FEEL, it’s about THEM.

Photo by Jumana Dakkur

If you feel uncomfortable right now, then you’re doing it right. If you don’t know what to say, what to write… good. I don’t say this to be cruel but I’ve been uncomfortable for most of my life, so if you’re finally feeling uncomfortable about racism, you’re probably on the right path. We’re all mostly on the same page now.

Honestly, being an ally just means being a good person who cares about other human beings. Period. But I get that it can be a scary and confusing time for people. All people. I’m here to help. 

Maybe an example can clarify this for you. Hear me out.

When marriage equality was an issue for the LGBTQ+ community, I didn’t sit back and wonder “how can I be an ally?”  It didn’t even dawn on me to ask the question. I didn’t call up every person I knew who happened to be Gay or Lesbian and ask them, “Is there something I can do to help?”  I’m not part of the LGBTQ+ community and I have no real idea what they’ve gone through as individuals – but I’m sympathetic because I value them as human beings fully and completely. I have much empathy for any LGBTQ+ person being treated badly or wronged in any way. Even if I don’t understand all of the complexities of their particular “ism” – when I SEE hurt, I understand it as PAIN and I react accordingly.

So, why is it so easy for me to relate to the LGBTQ+ community and act as an ally when it may be hard for White folk to know what to do during this horrible time in our country regarding police brutality, Black folk and race relations?

Well, part of the reason could be that I grew up around people who were gay and lesbian. I was a dancer as a kid and most of my instructors and dance mates were gay or lesbian. I was comfortable around people who were not “heterosexual”. I also frequented many clubs as a dancer. Transgender folk didn’t scare me probably because I didn’t understand it fully and Drag Queens were performers to be envied and revered. I didn’t see them as “other” or less than me – not subconsciously or ever.  When you know different people, it makes it harder to dismiss them for any reason. 

But still. It’s hard to know what to do to help. Especially if you don’t know Black people or people of color in general. Even if you do know — it’s a tough time. I mean, I get it. I completely appreciate the want and the need to know. So, here’s what I did.

Photo by Shane Aldendorff

First, I listened. Listening to people is always a good place to start. As writers, actors and creative folk in general, we’re observers, so listening is easy. And when I didn’t understand something like the plus (+) sign or what the “Q” means at the end of the acronym “LGBTQ+”, I used Google to figure it out. So second on the list, is research. When I had a question, I first tried to learn what it meant on my own so I didn’t burden my friends who were going through a difficult situation. Timing is a thing people!  There is a time and place to ask questions – be sensitive and choose wisely. Again, don’t make it about you and what you need. Instead, observe, listen, learn and research. When people are crying and protesting over the murder of George Floyd, it’s probably not a good time to ask what you can do. Instead, just be supportive. Listen. Listen. Listen.

The most important thing I did to be an ally was to make sure other people in my circle were aware of my standards regarding the subject regardless of how intricately I understood the subject. These are common things I said during the whole California “same-sex marriage” time period in 2008, to people in my life. Family and friends:

“No, you will not use that kind of language to talk about Gay people like that in my house.”

“No, we cannot be friends if you have a problem with Gay & Lesbian people.”

“If you don’t like the idea of a Pride Parade, you don’t have to go to one. I don’t go to the Tournament of Roses parade and I don’t make loud announcements about it. I just choose not to participate.”

“Are you sure you want to use the Bible as your evidence for why two men can’t marry?  Okay. But do me a favor and watch this clip. It says it so much better than I ever could – but if you still want to argue your discomfort with the Gay community by using Bible verses, let me know. I have twelve years of Catholic school under my belt and like Martin Sheen’s character in this West Wing scene, I’ve read my Bible from cover to cover so…we can go there if you want too…let me know when you’re done.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what being Gay has to do with raising a child. I was raised by a single mom till 11 and then raised by a neighborhood of people that included gang members, teachers and coaches. I turned out just fine. But clearly, you’ve never met a foster child who’s been in the system, have you?”    

I could go on and on…

My point is this:  as writers, as creators, as storytellers, you have the sensitivity and the ability to be an ally just by being compassionate. Then, you can use your voice loudly to be an advocate. You don’t need to walk in my shoes or know my every emotional thought about the President, the protests, the murders, the police, etc., to be a good and decent person – to be an ally. You don’t have to write about Black people or develop new characters based on something you don’t know – that would go against that one principle of always ‘writing what you know’ and probably turn out pretty bad.  My question would be, why don’t you know more people of color?  It may be where you live, it may be part of your upbringing, but then do THAT – change THAT!  Get to know people of color. Do your research.  Ask questions – yes, at the appropriate times. Read books and articles from artists who are NOT like you!  My goodness, if you can’t name at least 10 authors who are people of color, then yes, you have some work to do.

Being an ally, just means being a good person. That means, understanding that you may have possibly never valued Black life as much as your own. It’s nothing you did wrong, it’s just part of a systemic angst our country was built on. No one is blaming you personally or hating you for being White. No one. What we are screaming about is that by doing nothing about the systematic racism and oppression that exists in our country and even at times, denying it’s truth (even when you have video proof), yes you are contributing to the pain of so many people – and that, we will no longer allow. Its just not in anyone’s best interest. It really isn’t.  

Look, I’m here. I’m happy to answer whatever questions I can. I may not have all the answers and I’m certainly not speaking for all people of color, but I’m listening and learning too.  One of the most recent things I’ve done is reach out to White male friends and ask them questions about what’s happening right now, and seeing how they’re doing – honestly, I think they’re stunned that someone’s asking. But yeah, we’re all in this together. And the only way we’re going to get through it, is if we keep having the conversations…

My book Canela, is at its core a book about people being “allies”. Remember, being an “ally” is just the new trendy way of saying, loving thy neighbor.  When we can see each other as worthy and precious, taking care of your fellow human being, standing up for them when they need help and valuing them, becomes real easy and natural to do.

I may not know much, but I still have faith in the best of who we all can be…

Thanks for stopping by. This has been a post I’ve included in my Author Toolbox Blog Hop. If you’d like more information on this writer’s group please visit:   

This Little Light Of Mine

First Days in LA

It’s always comforting to look back and see what you’ve been able to endure. But while you’re going through it – whatever it is in the present moment, it really does feel unbearable.

There are gut wrenching moments like the break-up of a “true” love or when someone close to you dies unexpectedly like a parent or a friend. Those moments are deeply painful and seem impossible to get through while you’re in it.  Of course, once we muddle our way through and a little time passes, we realize it was “bearable” after-all.

I moved out to Los Angeles right after college. I came to the City of Angels not knowing a soul, having no place to live and exactly $800 dollars in my pocket. I remember counting the crisp 100 dollar bills over and over again right when I got off the plane – somehow hoping there’d be more if I kept counting. The fear I had in my belly that crept up to my chest was intense, but there was also a tinge of excitement. The move from Boston wasn’t just an adventure, it was a much-needed life change. In my head, I was reclaiming a life that had been ripped away from me for so many reasons. The most important reason: I was supposed to be a dancer but instead went to college. Moving to Los Angeles was compensation to finding my way to where I was supposed to be anyways. Righting a wrong sort of speak. That scary time in my life was about leaping into a new world to make myself whole. Mission accomplished by the way…  

Graduation Day

Another vivid time in my life where I remember being scared was years ago before online dating was the mainstream thing it is now. I started talking to a guy on yahoo personals. Yaaaas, it was THAT long ago. The site no longer exists. This was before everyone had webcams – instant messaging was the “cool” thing – and yeah, back then, online dating was an embarrassment. No one admitted to using it.  Honestly, I’m still amazed I was on the site myself back then. I’m a lot of things, being a “trailblazer” is NOT one of them. But online dating was new and I remember deciding to take the leap and agreeing to meet this man I’d been talking to for months. The thing is, I had to fly to another state to do it. Even as I write that I realize how fearless I was. Or stupid. Stupid is probably the right word there.  I’d taken every precaution necessary and controlled the situation as much as I could – and yet, I remember that fear too. It was the fear of putting myself in a dangerous situation with a stranger who could have been a serial killer mixed with the possibility of meeting “the one”. In my head it was that stark:  He’d either be a bad person or the one.  Ha!  Well, fast forward to him clearly not being a serial killer. But I remember that gnawing pit in my stomach – that incredible fear in my belly as I made my way to the airport to see him. Luckily for me, he turned out to be a decent guy, a good man. We’ve worked together over the years – but the dread of thinking I’d made a mistake getting on that plane years ago to meet a stranger…I still remember that gut-wrenching knot of uncertainty like it was yesterday.    

Dread mixed with uncertainty. Moving to Los Angeles on my own and yeah, meeting a stranger in another state. In a lot of ways, it’s the same feeling I’m having nowadays during this Covid time. And yet, it’s something deeper – more painful…

Even with things that were out of my control or bigger than my personal decision making, like 9/11 or the Challenger Disaster, straight up fear and dread is crippling. Not being in control of what’s next is hard for most human beings.  9/11 touched me personally in that I lost a college friend – Cesar Murrillo – in the twin towers who I’d just spoken to on the phone a week before.  And although I didn’t know anyone personally on the Space Shuttle Challenger – I was a teenager and remember exactly where I was when it happened. I’d just gotten off a bus in downtown Boston and everyone was talking about it. I’ll never forget the panic faces. The tone of sadness in everyone’s voices. Collective despair.  Again, that familiar fear of dread. Unknowing. No control.   

We’ve all been in challenging and scary situations at one point or another. And each time although it may be a different circumstance, that belly fear is the same.  While we’re IN IT and no matter how many times we experience it, it’s uncomfortable and confusing. You’d think that being scared on a semi regular basis would make us less prone to reacting to it the way we do, but no. Fear, unlike confidence, is not a welcomed feeling to the human spirit. We never get used to it no matter how many times we experience it.  And that’s a good thing actually. Fear helps us know when something is wrong, gives us an ability to reassess and re-consider things.  And yet, fear still sucks. Straight up. I don’t care how important and unavoidable a feeling it is to the human psyche – I hate feeling like this!     

The one thing I do know for sure about all of these fearful moments is We Do Get Through It. We endure. We get to the other side. This damn little light of mine keeps searching through the darkness always looking for the light. That has always been my super-power. No matter what comes our way, no matter how tragic, no matter how disappointing or dreadful, we persevere. The human spirit survives anyways. 

One of my favorite quotes that I’ve written way too many times is by Winston Churchill. It’s simple, but so tangible especially in this particular moment:

If you’re going through hell, keep going.”

Don’t stay in one place, keep moving forward, find the light – it’s the only way to get out – keep walking through to the other side…

Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to see the light or positivity especially when we’re lacking leadership, people are losing jobs, there’s no income, no end in sight, and the death toll is an everyday occurrence in mind-numbing numbers. Being isolated doesn’t help either… and yet, we can do this! We can get through this. Together.

Finding Old Friends Again – Robert

I find joy in the littlest of things.  The kindness of early morning walkers waving to say good morning because masks cover their smiles. The act of people clapping on their balconies at 7pm at night to honor those on the frontlines or people being kind to cashiers and delivery people – it’s good to finally see, all of us finding our way to being nice to one another. 

I take joy and much needed comfort in reconnecting with old friends on zoom, by phone and the like – and yes, even that “man” I  flew to meet long ago named Robert on Yahoo personals who is still a friend today. Finding happiness in little moments daily against the large dark clouds feels insignificant as I write it, but all you need is a little tiny light in a dark room to brighten the entire space. I’ll continue to take the little moments and shine anyways…

We’re going through a difficult time. Yes, it’s scary. I’m not pretending it’s an easy trek. I’ve never been down this road before either. Personally, it’s a combination of dread, loss of control and an adventure I don’t want to be on. To be honest, I fall twice a day and cry every other – but when the tears let up, I get back up on my feet, wipe my eyes and look for hope. That’s the light. Choose to hold onto that. We will endure.

This little light of mine…

It’s always about the Joy.

#30 Days Trying to Find Joy Challenge – Day 15 (Final) My Epic Success and Failure

Friday, March 27th, 2020 – 6:24pm – The Ending Of my Challenge.

The good news is, in so many ways, my 30-day challenge, that I only ½ completed, was a great success. It pushed me to write at times I’ve never written before. That was huge.  Breaking out of my systematic way of writing by hand and then transferring written work to a digital format was/is time consuming. I feel comfortable in saying, I don’t need to do that anymore.   Don’t get me wrong, I still prefer to write with pen and paper, especially when it comes to my journal or writing the first draft of my second book, but I’m not against writing straight from keyboard anymore. In that sense, mission accomplished!   

My failure is that this coronavirus situation in our country and world has done me in something fierce.

Emotionally, I’m an absolute mess. I’m keeping it together, mostly for my friends and family. I have family who work in hospitals and clearly we’ve all heard the horrible circumstances they’re dealing with just not having enough of the basic equipment and gear (PPE’s) to do their jobs.  But there’s also a mental toll they’re taking on. Watching people die. That’s hard at any time.  Sure, it’s part of their jobs but it’s never easy. It’s made even harder because it’s continuous. And, I’m sure, some people would not die during this pandemic if we had been more prepared.  If our government… 

I can’t even go there. This is not about THAT. My point is, being there for my friends & family on the front line as best I can – listening to them when they finish a shift, is what I can do to help them.  But hearing them vent and just watching the toll it’s taking on them has been heart-wrenching to say the least. I don’t let them know I’m crying, I want to be strong for them. But inside I’m dying. And when I finish the call, I cry. Deeply.  And then I move onward.   

I have friends – mi familia – with young children who’ve never had to spend this much time with them regularly. In one way, it’s very funny.  I remember these friends wanting so desperately to have children. And of course, they love their kids, but yeah, damn!  I couldn’t spend that much time with a 6 year old either, let alone 4 of them.  I’ve done my best to answer every call and be the “Auntie” who’ll talk to the kids for a bit on WhatsAPP or Skype or Zoom just to give mom or dad a break.  I mean it’s not much, but it’s what I can do to help. Again, I don’t share how bad I feel for them – but after I’m done, I say a prayer for all them. 

I have a couple of friends whose marriages were on the rocks to begin with but now this situation is making it even worse in a lot of ways.  Relationships are hard always. Harder when you’re basically in quarantine and your responsibility is to your kids.  So… I’m happy to hear them vent too. One of my friends shared a glass (or bottle actually) of wine over Zoom.  I literally watched her get drunk via video cam, all while she complained about her fiancé.  Yikes!  

I’ve also had to revamp my own job/business. Like everyone else, I’ve been considering long-term changes to my own industry and possible job/client loss and adjusting accordingly. It’s tough.  I’ve seen major businesses get stuck in this and I’ve heard small business owners and CEO’s cry because they had to let their staff go and can’t pay them anything because they have no sales to cover the costs. Better to let them file for unemployment…  It’s been sad to listen too and yet I continue to do my job as well – even though I know I’m not getting paid either. It’s the right thing to do. 

My epic failure, if you will, is not being able to finish the challenge because by the time 9pm rolls around and I eat my dinner and think about my writing challenge, I end up falling asleep – lately on the couch, with the TV on, watching some show I was sure to start binging, humming in the background.

So, I’m okay with finishing my 30-day challenge today.  I didn’t complete it, but I accomplished my goals and for that I’m so grateful. 

More importantly, I’m so blessed to have so many friends and family who feel comfortable to talk to me or reach out to me when they need a hand. I wish it were like normal times where life was just doing it’s thing and we were all hanging out together because that’s what people do – but this works too.  Our true character is tested not when things are easy, but when things are hard.  And so far, I think I’m doing okay. 

I hope you are too.

Much love & thanks for stopping by.

Carm~  

This just made me feel so good… We all need a little more joy.

#30 Days Trying to Find Joy Challenge – Day 8

March 12th, 2020   Thursday 8:44pm  – My gift, my curse

Well, today was a challenging day. The rain was fierce coming down throughout the day  and I had a client cancel and a project I had to put aside for a while.  I think that’s going to be the norm during this whole Coronavirus thing, but the loss of Michael weighed heavily in my bones as I went about doing things. I don’t want to harp on it too much – but losing someone you love is hard. But it’s also a part of life. I guess for me today it was about thinking too much about some great moments we had – I went and bought some chocolate today too to honor him and I laughed and then cried…  Yeah, I’m so sad he passed away. 

Today was challenging because I had to much on my plate and I’m just finishing up the work on my To Do list. I’ve decided that I really need to make money doing something I love. For real.  I can’t keep working for people who don’t “get” it. People who are mean are one thing, but people who are not empathetic towards other people’s needs are a complete other.  Don’t get me wrong, I hate mean people too. But I hate even more working with people who are so caught up in their own world, so self-absorbed, that they don’t even recognize when they’re hurting people.  And here’s the thing: I can’t help but call it out.  Ugghh.

Now, you might think that sounds like a good thing, but I guess if I had a bucket of money somewhere and I didn’t have to pay any bills at all, then me calling people out on their bullcrap would be an okay thing to do.  But most times, when I have to say something, I resign, or quit or walkway and lost the job, at least on my own footing. 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, principle. 

You know what though?  Being principled has lost me thousands and thousands of dollars.  I wouldn’t change a thing that I’ve done – don’t get me wrong. But it always bums me out when I just can’t keep my mouth shut any longer and have to tell someone, basically they’re an asshole.  Or, they’re a slimey asshole. Or, they’re a cheap slimey good-for-nothing asshole.  I think you’re getting the point. 

Now, in all fairness, there have been people who appreciated the call out.  Some people, in this case an extremely wealthy woman, had no idea she was being a cheap asshole to her staff by not paying them more.  I was frustrated with her for a while, and finally I sat her down and told her sternly,

“You just came back from Barney’s with a wardrobe that includes a White Tshirt that cost over $600. Do you realize that’s more than what you pay your housekeeper for two weeks of work? She cleans your toilets for goodness sake and she’s asking you for $1 an hour raise and you’re having a complete breakdown over it. What is wrong with you?  Just stop it.”

She took it well. She took it like a woman of privilege who had a realization that she had lost her way. 

Yeah, I took some solace in that. 

Truth is, I’ll always be as honest as possible. I’m blunt, but I try to be as kind as I can be, till someone’s behavior is just too much. Then I’ll go off on them. It’s both a gift and a curse, of course. And although I may have lost a lot of money by saying my piece various times in the past and walking away from a client or job, I have no regrets. I can’t work for unethical people. I really can’t be around people who are mean.  And I really hate people who have no no emotional intelligence or integrity whatsoever.  So yeah, no regrets. 

I’m so glad I just wrote that all out — somehow, I feel better. Today, was a good day. Yeah, I like who I am. I wouldn’t change a thing. Not for all the money in the world. And that ain’t no lie.

Well, I didn’t think I would write about that tonight, but there you go – surprise, surprise! I’m kind of loving this end-of-day journaling thing.  Hmmm.

Till tomorrow, I guess.

Carmen   

Gang Form

For the past three weeks, I’ve been lacking a good night’s sleep.  There’s been that one cricket somewhere in a wall, near the doorway to my home that I just can’t find and kill.  What’s worse, I’ve been seeing crickets everywhere since.  In the kitchen, the bathroom, in my damn dreams!  The final straw for me, was the kitchen. Babies crickets crawling up a wall. Uggh.  After trying some home DIY remedies for about a day – “natural” type of things, I lost all hope and decided enough was enough. I called for pest control to come out and do its thing.

I spent the entire day and night elsewhere while they sprayed the space, and when I came home the following day, there were hundreds of dead crickets at my front door and doorway.  Clearly, my man from pest control had done his job well!  Never thought I’d be so happy to see such death.  But yeah, I was looking forward to getting a great night’s sleep.  First though, quick shower and a run to the grocery story…I washed my hair and threw on my baseball cap and ran out the door. 

When I returned from the grocery store in my car, the end of the alley way was closed off because of construction.  I had to back up and go around the block to get to my space from the other end of the second entrance. No biggy. It happens. 

As I made my way into the other entrance of my alleyway, a white van was parked on the ramp part of the entrance.  I could squeeze on by, but why would someone park right there?  It made no sense.  I waited for a moment and then carefully made my way past the small opening beside them.  As I passed on by, I looked over to see who it was.  I noticed it was a young woman, clearly looking frantically on her phone for what I assumed were directions. On the one hand, I thought it was smart that she pulled over to look for directions. On the other hand, it wasn’t the smartest place to pull over… I went on my way down the driveway.  And then I heard someone scream…

“What’chya lookin’ at, bitch?”

I checked my rear-view mirror.  From the opposite side of the opening to the driveway, this young Black woman wearing a white shirt and jeans was gesturing with her arms and now screaming, “Yeah, you. What you looking at? You have a problem or something?”

When I say it’s been years, I mean it has been decades since I did what I’m about to describe

I stopped my car, put it in park and got out the car.  I walked, almost ran, back up the driveway and when I got face to face to her I asked, “Are you talking to me?  Did you just call me a bitch?”

I was close enough to see the detail in the colorful, but mostly blackish grey tats across her neck, that ended close to her chin.  I stared straight into her eyes and said it again.  “Are you talking to me?”

She seemed startled but stood tough, her several long braids peeking out of her hoodie. “Yeah. What you lookin’ at?” 

I got closer. “First of all, I can look at whoever I want.  Second, I live here  and she’s not supposed to be parked there, my sista.  You sure you were calling me a bitch?”

She backed up a bit, pulling down her hood. “Naah, you didn’t have to get out your car is all.” Truth is, for all her bravado I could tell she was stunned that I was a Black woman and confronting her. I was so mad.

“Clearly, I did have to get out my car! Don’t be calling people names and calling people out for no damn reason because sometimes people will get out the car and confront you.”

Her voice lowered but she portrayed a quiet toughness. “Yeah, but you still didn’t need to get out the car, though.”

I got closer.  “Let me say this again – if you’re gonna call someone a bitch, that someone may actually respond.  So you best be prepared to answer for your words. You hear me?” I said it with such old school gang authority, I honestly don’t know what came over me. I was so angry with this girl.

She still wouldn’t back down. No apology was coming from her – but I could tell in her demeanor she knew she had made a mistake. 

I heard a car horn screech. I had stopped my car in the middle of the alleyway and left it there. Now I was blocking someone else.  A neighbor from across the way. A White guy I’ve never spoken too but have seen several times before. 

The young woman now interjected almost in a gleeful whisper, “Looks like you need to move your car.  See, like I said, you didn’t need to get out your car, ma’am.” 

I was thrown by my neighbor needing to get by. But I seared into the young woman’s eyes and said clearly, “You best be careful who you call a bitch. Not everyone is out to get you. And looking at someone ain’t a damn crime.”

I headed back toward my car but before I could jump back into it, my White guy neighbor who’d been honking his horn to get on by decided to interject: “Why did you even bother getting out of your car? Why would you waste your time with her -she’s crazy?” 

I took a deep breath. “Because. She’s not crazy.  She’s a young Black woman, in a White neighborhood and I was wearing a baseball cap.” He looked at me confused. I continued exasperated, “I needed her to know that I, a Black woman, live in this neighborhood – and yes that she belongs here too.  Not everyone is looking at her because she’s Black.  Sometimes, people are looking at you just because we’re looking.” 

He nodded his head in agreement, but I’m not sure he understood at all. 

I got back in my car and went to my garage. I pulled the car in and sat there for a minute. My hands were shaking.  Two decades later and clearly you can take the girl out of the hood, but the hood is always a part of who she is…  and that’s not a bad thing at all. 

That night, I finally got a good night’s sleep. Crickets no more.