Even Brown Girls get the Blues

Crying Brown Woman wears Hope
Crying Brown Woman wears Hope in her hair
(Photo credit: EverStock)

I am an Optimist. It’s the role I chose for myself even before birth, and I do my best to maintain that balanced level of keeping positive and keeping it real. Sometimes it’s difficult because this Optimist also owns a temper. When I was younger, childless and without the wisdom I have now, I often didn’t care; I let it go, let that temper fly and soar and strike hard, instant annihilation of a target. In the aftermath, rarely did I feel remorse as feelings are raw and true and one can’t take back the truth. One can try to hide it, act like they don’t see it, but the truth is always there.

Then as I aged, became a mother (four times over), I was blessed with new wisdom, new understanding, more experience, and – probably most amazing – gifted with something I hadn’t had before: Patience. Not a lot of it, let’s be real, but for me to have any is a big improvement. I am a much better person now than I was; I have evolved, and continue to evolve and work hard to transcend. I’ll never understand those people who say they wish they were younger. I am so very glad that I am not; that those rough years are in my rearview mirror. (It is not easy being Indigo.)

As I work towards the goals I set for myself, I try not to be negative, certainly not to keep things that hold negative energy around, especially thoughts, views. However, I may be Indigo, but my skin is Brown, and as such, certain negative aspects of life find me. It isn’t at all difficult as I live in a small and beautiful town that is Montana’s center, and have for nearly a decade. I’ve lived in the state for 20 years. And in that 20 years, I learned to juggle.

Gambling with Emotions

You’ve got to know when to hold ’em
Know when to fold ’em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run

Or maybe I should say “gamble” because when weighing dealing with race issues and the color of my skin against maintaining some semblance of peace and anonymity for my children, I always have to revisit the roots my father planted when I was a little girl dancing the 2-step with her Dad by standing on his feet.

This time, I took a gamble on Facebook. Yesterday morning, after reading about the extreme and blatant race-skewed sentences given for rapists with equal proof but not equal skin, I wrote the following and posted it to my Facebook page:

You know… Sometimes the pain is too excruciating to bear when my desire to put forth nothing but Positive Energy out into the Universe clashes with my equally strong desire to check and school impossibly stupid people about being Brown in Lewistown.

The passive-aggressive bullshit is what really gets me: What are the odds of working someplace in this town with openly racist people? I mean, I get the “keep your enemies close” concept, but really? That’s acceptable? Talk about the potential for a hostile work environment.

Or, one of my favorites: Giving kids the day off from school on MLK Day but rationalizing it by calling it an instructional “PIR” day.

I’ll delete this post once I’ve calmed down (again) as it decidedly not my most positive energizing effort and I am a believer that one gets back from the Universe what one puts out, and because I generally feel the need to remain chill for the sake of my children.

This is why I take in news in small doses… And hearing about the prison sentence given to Corey Batey compared to the mockery of a sentence given to his fellow douchebag rapist, Brock Turner (and yes, I am sneering right now) just set me off.

And no, I don’t feel that Batey should have a lesser sentence. I have children; if anyone messed with my kids, I’d string them up in my basement and make Hannibal look like a Teletubby. And I have a special hate-on for rapists. That said, it is fucked Turner isn’t facing the same time for his crime. See how his tender little self would like it.

Equality, people. Why is this so difficult?

I was hoping it would open up dialogue in my community. Yes, I only am friends with people I actually know in real life on Facebook and therefore you’d think would be preaching to the choir, but I wanted to hear what that choir had to say about my post. I even admitted that I’d be deleting that post from my page later because I don’t like keeping “negative” stuff up on the internet, out in the Universe.

Love-Loathe Relationship

Only one friend – a woman who used to live in my town but moved to one of Montana’s larger “cities” years ago – commented in a positive way. Zero likes. No choir, but a soloist. One brave white girl, and bless her heart, for I did appreciate her willingness to put herself out there with me. Yet after I deleted that post, and then added one thanking her? Five people “liked” that one. WTF?

It saddened me. Deeply saddened me to see just how much people in my town do not like disrupting the status quo. Saddened, but not surprised. Saddened on multiple levels of my being. I won’t ever forget what one so-called “friend” said to me:
“I’m a white man. I don’t see how my speaking about it would help you.”
My mind stutters over that to this day, for that would have been exactly why it would have helped me, not to mention his own not quite white children.

And I just loved hearing of how another white man in this town – a supposedly devout Christian Catholic – tried to deny me, a biracial woman of color, that I even knew what discrimination was. According to him, he was a professional “equal opportunity” discerner for his federal office and therefore he was capable of determining what was discrimination against Blacks and people of color and what was not. And according to him, I was just being overly sensitive.

People in this town, in this state, in this Nation, seem to think that because they agree with something, they don’t need to speak out and voice that agreement or otherwise reflect or shot it. And that’s a damn shame because I know that there are so many good people of all colors in my community that do agree with me, whom are my friends because they recognize my Awesome, and not because they want to claim me as their “Token”.

Choose your moves wisely
And for those fellows of my community who keep their mouths shut for fear of retribution (whether they’re Muslim, Mexican, Jewish, Black, Asian, or other) I understand why. Please recognize though… Unlike some of you, while I can pick and choose which battles I’m going to fight – and I often do for I think of how it may or may not affect my children first – I cannot pick and choose the color of my skin. I can wear a shirt that says “#BlackLivesMatter❤️” and take that off at the end of the day… the next, wear a shirt that says “#AllLoveNoHate?” and take that off at the end of the day… the next, wear a shirt that says “#JustBreathe – Clean Air=Clean World?” and take that off at the end of the day… But my visibly Brown skin is 24/7. There is no “end of the day”.

And sometimes… I get tired.

My Facebook post (above, no longer on Facebook) represented one of those tired times. I’d hoped to get an emotional boost by seeing some form of visible support. But I didn’t. Save for one.
I hold hope for this town, because I have to: Anything else is unacceptable to me. I live here. I raise my kids here. I work here. I have friends here. I support local businesses here: My money – while sometimes stretchy – is just as green as everyone else’s here. This is an absolutely beautiful place to live and raise my children and I recognize just how lucky I am.

To my Peeps here, especially those of my own generation (because we are the Most Excellent of all generations)… Silence may be Golden, but it can also be deadly. Please, don’t be afraid to speak your mind, share your thoughts for positive change with our community by writing in to our local newspaper. It needs your voice. And there are those of us who would greatly enjoy feeling your support, self included. ?

I hit a wall, I thought that I would hurt myself
Oh I was sure, your words would leave me unconscious
And on the floor I’d be lying cold, lifeless
But I hit a wall, I hit ’em all, watch the fall.

You’re just another brick and I’m a sledgehammer

All or None

Sooooo… I’m beginning to notice that my blog posts are reading like a Pearl Jam “greatest hits” album. LOL… ? This isn’t my fault. I place blame wholeheartedly on PJ’s collective stage. It isn’t my fault that Pearl Jam creates music that relate to emotions that I don’t even realize I have (until I hear them in the songs.)

PJ 2016 Tour Schedule
Pearl Jam 2016 Tour Schedule
So yeah, absolutely passing the buck on this one. Literally, since I do buy PJ’s albums, even some merchandise (love my PJ bumper sticker on my car! Heehees ?) — although… Still waiting to be able to buy concert tickets since there’s a distinct lack of Montana dates on Pearl Jam’s tour schedule. ??

Anyhoodles… “All or None” came to mind yesterday (after I’d already texted the lyric, “If nothing is everything, I’ll have it all” to someone – from Gone, off of the Pearl Jam album) after an encounter with my Twin Flame. It was the first time we’d “spoken” to one another since the beginning of June (when black holes were created in the way only Twin Flames can create.) And I realized something. It wasn’t a new thought, yet it nudged right up against how I’ve been feeling lately, and kind of busted that truth wide open within me, that perhaps I’d been trying to hide or ignore:

Radiant Rider Waite Ace of Cups
The Ultimate Cup of Care
(Radiant Rider Waite)
I cannot do half-assed with people in my Cup of Care.

There are many people with whom I share a friendly acquaintanceship, and it’s comfortable. By unspoken agreement, we keep our “visits” to social media and running into one another at the store or other public places. We smile, we inquire about children and others, share what’s new, talk about how we totally have to hang out one of these days, then part (sometimes with hugs and smooches, sometimes with a smile and wave) and move on in our merry way, fully comfortable in that friendship status. We don’t text, call or otherwise associate and that is by unspoken design. And we completely enjoy it as such.

Then there are those friendships that sink past your skin, thread into your bones. These are the friends with whom you share mutual respect, consideration, love and affection. You guide and teach and learn from one another. Some of these friendships are fleeting, others last years spanning decades. These are the friends you talk to on the phone, in person, you text, you visit socially in real life as well as via social media (if you’re the type.) They accept you even if they don’t get you.

silver birch
Silver Birch
These are the friends you can go for years without actually speaking with, yet you know that should you ever need them (or they you), they will be there. And you also know that if you’re ever in their neighborhood without stopping by or at least calling – even if it’s been 20 years – they’ll kill you and vice versa. Some are there just for a flicker in time, like a leaf in the wind; there with you for a while, but leave (ha! leave! I made a punny, didn’t even mean to, lol) once their tasks are complete. Sometimes you are that leaf for someone else. And it’s All Good. These are Soul Mate friends in the tree that is you.
(And one of these days, I’ll need to go in-depth about what constitutes “soul mate” and what it all means and how it relates to the individual and those around said individual, but not in this post. ?)

For these friendships, endings are rarely acute. Most simply fade with time, yet always remain within you on some level. Others are disrupted through jagged life lessons that generally require time and healing before the friendship is over or reabsorbed (usually transformed into something else as what causes the rift, ends what was there before.) Sometimes it’s smooth… Often, very painful.

Then there is your Twin Flame, if you’re lucky enough to find and reconnect with that soul.

Infinity Sign Always
Twin Flame is Soul Mate to the Nth. And when you hear your Twin Flame say the word “Always” to you, it resonates within you, vibrates in a humming sound along your bones. Because that’s what the two of you simply Are. It doesn’t even matter what the two of you are even talking about. That word… It’s like The Ultimate “Safe Word”. It’s the reminder that you found Home.

Now, how does all of this tie into the title of this post?

In my experience, it is impossible to go from any type of soul mate relationship to “friendly acquaintances”. While one could turn a “friendly acquaintance” into a soul mate relationship (it’s simply a matter of mutual agreement, for example, I met a soul new to me a few years ago, and she told me that she liked how I parented my children so much that she asked if I would be her mom next lifetime. I said, Sure. And with that voiced agreement, a bond was formed and she and I successfully expanded our friendship from friendly acquaintances and now have a soul mate friendship.)… I have yet to experience going from something as deep and mutually abiding as a soul mate relationship to “hi’s and bye’s” on the street. In my heart, I don’t think that’s even possible. And in my soul, the thought of reducing such a powerful connection to something so mundane as “acquaintances” makes me cringe and recoil on an instinctive level.

You don’t believe me? Try it.
Go ahead: The next time you (try to?) end things with a special friend, a soul that Matters to you, see if you can do the casual “Hello” with that person.
Once you’ve experienced that, imagine doing that with the soul that is Twin to your own.

Uh huh.
That’s what I thought.

I tried it, for I believe that when there are no hard feelings, one shouldn’t behave as if there are, meaning, when someone who shares a Connection with you greets you as you’re walking down the street, you should return the salutation accordingly.

It’s a hopeless… situation
And I’m starting to believe
That this hopeless… situation
Is what I’m trying to achieve – All or None, Pearl Jam

One might try for the “It is what it is”, but in truth, all that means is that it is what it is because it isn’t what it should be. (Thank you, A! ?) “It is what it is” is one half-assed declaration, and I hope to never – ever – hear it in regards to any relationship I am ever in… Ever.

Let me speak plain:
If the man I’m with refers to our relationship as being “it is what it is”, then I am clearly with the wrong man.

I don’t care if that man is a soul mate; obviously (to me), the connection then is one of lessons to be learned and experienced gained rather than one of genuine true love and care. Cause damn. Just… damn.

I’m just glad that it wasn’t in reference to me. I certainly don’t envy the woman who’s part of that glowing, waxed-poetic pairing. Ouch. ?
*stage-whispers* Half. Assed.

If I can’t have a real, mutual, communicative friendship or deep love relationship with the soul I feel so connected with, I’ll go without altogether, than be reduced to something that feels so viscerally wrong and false to me.

Me, I’m going for this:

It’s all or none … All or None.



Last I checked, the word consisted of 7 letters and not 4, yet from the reluctance people show when it comes to using it? You’d think Support was a 4-letter word (and no, the word is not “G-L-A-D.”)

Support can be given in a variety of ways: Verbally. Physically. Spiritually.
It can be shown in something as grandiose as sky-writing or as simple as a text, “How you doing?”

It takes very little time out of one’s day to show care to another.
It can be as subtle as choosing wisely when confronted with more than one option (for a First World example: 2 Women, A & B; 1 Facebook, C. Which one should you give up? If you chose C, Facebook, you’d be correct. After all, Facebook doesn’t have feelings. Therefore, no chance of it being hurt by them. And if you’re among those who don’t really enjoy or care to use Facebook? Makes the choice kind of a “no-brainer.”)

Big Red Truck
Big Red Truck
Or it can be a red truck as grabbing the person into a bear hug and exclaiming, “I love you!”
(Keep in mind that a restraining order is determined by one’s level of attraction, so remember this when wondering whether or not to pull the bear hug move. When in doubt, a genuine smile that shows in one’s eyes speaks volumes and is R.O. safe. LOL. ?)

I wrote a small article for our local paper on Loving Day, a day that celebrates Interracial relationships and marriage, a day informally dedicated to letting Love rule… Yet some douchebag did his best to destroy it in Orlando, Florida. I couldn’t let that go in the small town in which I live without comment. So I did. I tried to keep it short, keep it focused, and end it on a loving, caring note. It was published in that Wednesday’s paper.

As yet, not a single response.
No show of care.
No show of agreement.
No show of support.
Not from the community or any one person in this community.
Yet I know for fact that what I wrote about matters on a personal level to many in this community.

However, as of this blog post, mine is still the only voice speaking out from that long, skinny branch of our local Montana tree.

Not surprising. It’s really nothing new. Same thing happened here in 2012 when Blackface was permitted in the elementary school’s wax museum… at the exact same time it was happening in Colorado Springs. Yet apparently the only person who had a problem with it was me. Even inside my own family.

Sadly, depressingly, it wasn’t the first time I’d received little racial support within my own family, nor the last. That lack of support hurt me to the very marrow of my being. Worse, when it was suggested to me to “remember, they’re just kids” and “maybe you’re being a little sensitive about this”… It’s almost better to have none. And even though 4 years has passed since then, it still hurts. It hurts daily.

Being told to “Let it go” only adds salt to the wound by revealing the complete disconnect and lack of understanding between individuals, which is also painful, because it feels like the other party simply doesn’t care enough about you as a human being to even bother with wearing your shoes for just a moment.

I tried mentioning it, asking for support from those I’d thought would be happy to stand beside me, and hoping it’d offer a better understanding of me. Mentioned how that lack of support when so needed was so much more than a slap in the face… And was told, “I don’t see how a white man can help.” And, “I’m a pacifist.”


So was Martin Luther King, Jr. So was Ghandi. So was Jesus Christ.
Yet they still got shit done.


Another 7-letter word.
Interesting, considering that 7 is a number considered sacred by many.

We need more of both.

Double Rainbow (June 2016)
Double Rainbow (June 2016)

And he still gives his love, he just gives it away
The love he receives is the love that is saved
And sometimes can be seen a strange spot in the sky
A human being that was given to fly
Given to Fly, Pearl Jam