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Public Celebration

I went out this weekend.  Not to a dance club, but I did go out.  Karina and I were celebrating her birthday. We had a lovely dinner.  We had a lot to drink.

Two women out alone.  We were aware of our surrounding.  We were sensitive to our impact on the other diners.  We got home at a reasonable hour.

We were not afraid.  Not really.  Not any more than any other night out.   It was a nice night for a walk.  At 8pm when we got there walking from the car would have been fine.  When we left?  We chose valet parking, because we had the choice.

But there are no “good choices” that protect people from haters, predators, terrorists, rapists, abusers, gunmen.  That kind of protection needs to come from the culture.

People who live their lives in love, acceptance and celebration of who they are are not “sick”.  It is the people who go out of their way to make someone else suffer who are troubled.  It is the people wanting to impose their sense of right and privilege, by force if necessary, who need help and healing.

The people killed in Orlando were no less innocent than the children of Sandy Hook.  They weren’t causing trouble, or making “bad choices”.  They were out, celebrating.  They were living their lives in love and acceptance.

Apparently that’s not enough.   The culture needs to change.

These are the victims of the Orlando massacre



Deer medicine includes a great capacity for compassion.

I like to hang out with all different kinds of people.  I have used the term queer to describe myself because I am comfortable with people who see themselves that way.  I feel like I fit in with GLBT, Pagan, Multi-ethnic, counter culture fold.  I am comfortable being myself in environments that tend to be inclusive and nonjudgmental.

I recognize what it feels like to be alone in a class and discriminated against because of it.  I was bullied mercilessly in Jr. High School.  I have experienced discrimination as a woman, because of my weight, and in relationship to my special needs child.  I have had nasty and rude comments directed at me because of all of those things.  I have also traveled enough to have experienced being the only white, only tall, only large female person in a culture where I didn’t have either the language or the cultural background to really get by.  And I have been treated in such cultures as “not quite civilized.”  I’ve been excluded from groups I could have contributed to simply because I didn’t have the appropriate credentials, regardless of my experience.

"What are YOU doing here?"

I also know privilege.  I take advantage of doors held open and offers to carry my bags.  I have been moved to the front of the line to accommodate the wheelchair.  I have been accepted into business establishments because of the color of my skin and the way I carry myself, rather than being watched like a criminal.  It is not infrequent for me to have extra space, because people are reluctant to squeeze in past me or next to me.  I know I have an easier time with social services for my son simply because of my class and education.

Motherhood is held in common even when parenting styles are not.

I have an advantage because of my broad travels, reading, education and olive toned skin.  I can pass in places many white urban Americans would be less than welcomed.  People often assume that I am “one of them” and if they are not explicit in asking I do not correct them.  This holds true not just in ethnicity, but also with “shop talk” in specialty careers.  I have been mistaken for a nurse, a teacher, a social worker, a psychologist, an artist, a musician and before I had kids a parent.  I fit in, and if I really don’t I’ll often bow out.   I’m not trying to fool anyone.  I just “get it.”

I appreciate being with people who “get it.”  I know talking parenting is different with other parents of special needs kids.  I know talking about medicine or life and death issues is different with other cancer survivors.  I know that being with other women is different than being in a mixed group.  Even being with a group of women “of a certain age” is different than being in a multigenerational group.  Talking spirituality with other Pagans is different than talking spirituality with Christians or Jews or Muslims.  Shared experience does count.

So how do we graciously allow ourselves exclusive space?  When is exclusion appropriate and when is it objectionable?  How do we determine exactly how exclusive we need to be?

Hibiscus, a gentle beauty with no strong emotional meaning attached.

I expect I’ll write more on this, but I’d really like to encourage you to leave comments, and to pass the word to anyone you might know who would like to get in on the discussion.

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