Apologies For The Absence

I’ll try to have a post up this weekend. I even have a little reminder on my iPod for it, I promise. I’ve been very busy as editor of our school newspaper, and these past three weeks have been nonstop work. Journalism and news-related posts are probably going to start getting a lot more common thanks to the fodder of having a Race & Gender, and a Mass Media class. ;)

Again, apologies.

Unborn & Born Children

I’ve written before on the rights of children, who as I stated, I feel are one of if not the last great oppressed group in the world today.  Let’s recap why, with some added points, as well as take a look at the hypocrisy of those who claim to defend the rights of the unborn.

No other oppressed group seems to stack up to the number of children: 2.2 billion, 1.9 of which live in developing countries. And this figure is from 2005. The real figure? Probably more like 3 billion, which considering the world population is currently estimated to be 6 billion, puts children at roughly half of the world population. Holy shit.

The reason I say this is because I want to avoid any whiny bitching that may come from other oppressed groups who feel somehow they’re worse off and bigger. No, you’re not. Let’s make this very clear: yes, there are very small groups around the world that are pushed around and slaughtered for no good reason. I get that. But oppression against them is not as widespread. They are not defenseless. They are not dispersed. And someday, the oppression will probably end. Yes, I feel terrible for these people. But compared to what half of the world’s population goes to with no one speaking up for them, it’s hard to.

Don’t believe children/minors are oppressed? Consider this.

Across every population, in every country, and every generation, the conditions don’t differ very much—only what extremes are socially acceptable or unavoidable (ie poverty or genital mutilation). Children have only the most basic human rights, if any. Corporal punishment, indoctrination, slavery, mutilation, etc, are all illegal when performed upon adults. When performed upon children? Totally fine. “Even in America” (a phrase I dislike) it’s completely socially acceptable and legal to punish one’s child (physically, emotionally, socially, financially, etc) for not agreeing with and conforming to the parent’s religious, political, and social views.

Why do we think this is okay? The buzz phrase is “parents’ rights”. Well, okay. So we have this idea in every culture that parents have absolute authority over their children and how they are raised. And really, aside from occasional inter-parent bitching over which methods are best, we accept that without question. It’s considered barbaric, egads, even communist to interfere! Of course the subject is taboo.

So essentially, oppression of children boils down to this: children across the world lack basic rights which any adult would receive and which there is no logical reason to deny. Children are considered the property of their parents, especially in past generations. Children, especially as they grow and become adults, bear the burden of their parents’ and past generations’ decisions yet have no say in these decisions, whatsoever: this ranges from having to suffer environmental damage to having to obey drafts and death penalties when they had no vote in the matter. Especially unborn children.

Now, I think all of the above are pretty straightforward, clear, and indisputable. Indoctrination, for example, is inexcusable and we know it—and there’s no reason children must have it. But the absolute worst, the one that really pushes my buttons and is completely wrong? That children and future, unborn generations must pay for our mistakes, allow us to deny them rights, and carry us into old age. And as for the last one, that still applies no matter how emotionally or physically abusive a parent was. Not only this, but a parent’s choices determines how a child starts their life out. Parent made bad choices and is raising you in a dumpster? Good luck on that education. Parent made the excellent choice of being born into a wealthy family? Welcome to the good life! Really, is there any sort of logic behind that? Aren’t we supposed to be a meritocracy?

Now, here’s the promised Christian-bashing part. Yup. Well, actually more general conservative American types, but you get the idea. I’m looking at you, “pro-life” types. Now, I can understand hating abortion, hey, I do too! I really do. But when you go and try to make abortion illegal for other people, claim you’re defending the rights of “unborn children”, then turn around and (not only worship a god who takes pleasure in slaughtering both born and unborn children) support policies which directly harm future generations which have not been born yet, because you believe in this mythical bullshit called “laissez-faire”? Really? Come on.

Sources

1. The state of the world’s children 2005, UNICEF

Returning

I apologize for my long, sudden, and unexplained absence. I became lazy, tired, and annoyed at politics (especially over Michael Jackson’s death making everyone forget about Iran’s problems), something I’m sure everyone has experienced at least once. Now that classes are back in session, I’ll only be able to post on the weekends or Friday (if I have the time) but I will make a point of posting again.

On that note, any book suggestions that are affordable? I feel like buying something.

RNC’s Bullshit Letter

So my mom, has gotten a cute little letter from the Republican National Convention begging her to support her party and her “conservative values” (yea, right) by donating money and answering a “study” that will “prove” America supports them. Apparently the ballot box in November didn’t count.

I couldn’t even begin to call this a study. A study requires at least a little interest in the facts. This letter and questionnaire is obviously intended as pure propaganda. Let’s take a look at some of the questions asked.

Are you in favor of reinstituting the military draft, as Democrats in Congress have proposed?

Well, no. And that doesn’t mean I support the RNC. And guess what? Democrats in Congress haven’t proposed a draft. One has, and he hasn’t gotten any support from his fellow Democrats. Very sneaky, RNC. Very sneaky.

Do you support Democrats’ drive to eliminate workers’ right to a private ballot when considering unionization of their place of employment?

Waaaaait a second. This sounds awfully familiar. Isn’t this what Republicans have been saying about the Employee Free Choice Act, which does no such thing? Is that what they’re talking about?

There were some other fun claims, which were so absurd I didn’t even bother to look up. Like that Democrats want to completely eliminate any school standards. Uhm, somehow I doubt that.

We’re sending it back, with the lovely addition of some notes and a little cat poo. Yes, cat poo. We have a kitten who’s apparently a Democrat.

References

1. Rangel to introduce military draft measure, The Hill.
2. Employee Free Choice Act, Politifact.

Our Words Are Contagious

In a list of freewrite prompts, one asked me to write about my first experience with death. It took me a while to remember but this is what came of it. I decided to share it because of it’s relevance to the subject matter of Blue Linchpin: the God, country and family lie.

    He had taught me all the tricks of life that you never learn in school or hear from parents. Don’t tell anyone what you’re wishing for, they’ll only laugh. Smile at everyone, even the people you don’t like. Keep your head up when you walk and talk to people who don’t. Decorate your room exactly how you want it, no matter how girly or nerdy. Read books. Don’t lick your lips all the time or they’ll get dry and you’ll look strange.
    Mom called him a stoner, dad called him a "troubled kid" and the neighbors hissed that he was an atheist. His sister didn’t let him near her kids, she wanted to raise them to be Godly. She kicked him out when he took down the poster on her kitchen wall that told children to never question their parents. He didn’t wear black but everyone bought him black clothes with skulls and thought it was funny. He wore hand-me-downs, thrift store bargains, gray and brown and green. His mother picked his name from the Bible but slept with men whose names were mysteries.
    He hated her, hated her red nails and blond hair and thin frame. She was a sinner with the good book in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Couldn’t stand his sister for the way she never saw past her mother’s bullshit. Avoided my dad and his pseudo-philosophy. Politely nodded to my mother for her tolerance.
    I was his favorite. I was shy and skinny then but growing fat and awkward. I didn’t believe him about a lot of things then. I thought he was evil and I was terrified of him, even when he skipped getting high with mates to talk to a cousin half his age. I listened but shook my head and repeated everything I’d been told, half-believing. We’d sit on my back porch and he’d pull his hair and want to smoke but he couldn’t stop talking.
    "It’s all bullshit. It’s just all bullshit."
    I didn’t know half the words he said. I’d cling to my cross to ward those frightening unknowns off, mirroring the gesture always made when he spoke. Men and women twice his age feeling the same fear I felt, the same uncertainty, the same anger at him for speaking at all.
    When he died, they put it down to suicide. Case closed, no investigation needed. Stabbed through the heart and no questions asked. You can’t live a life without God were the words spoken over his grave, all heads nodding in agreement but those he was close to. He never gave answers, or confronted what we believed about gender and God and country. His existence alone challenged what we thought and I think we all gave a sigh of collective belief when they lowered him into the dirt and hid him from the worms. He rotted and decayed and was never allowed to become part of the collective decay we rely on. If he’d been allowed the natural burial he’d always said he’d wanted, he’d have become part of the world, contaminated it with his doubt. He was an infection, and they quarantined him.
    I forgot about him soon enough. The world continued to turn and decay and grow, myself along with it. I sprouted and evened out, wandered and tried to find myself and ignore that doubting voice I’d smothered dutifully. Eventually I failed and the world began to open as an eager virgin for me, rich with untouched mysteries but soiled by the ideas of those before me. I looked with wide eyes at everything, I questioned, I lost belief in everything but gained the world and found a voice. I turned to journalism and, so many years after he’d been quieted, it was only chance that he returned. An old birthday card signed with love by a cousin I couldn’t remember the face of. I turned journalist: asked questions and found sullen half-answers. Wanted to remember everything. With every fearful glance at his name I’d remember more the fear he brought.
    Joshua taught me all the tricks of life you never learn in school or hear from parents. We feared him and hid him away forever, covered him up before he could infect anyone else and made ourselves forget. I can’t forget now. His sister’s daughters are growing every day and wondering why that tiny voice of doubt in the back of their heads is such a sin. But not to worry. I’m their cousin, and I have so many tricks of life to teach them.

I feel it necessary to point out that while in general this is non-fiction, a few details were filled in by imagination, not someone’s memory. Some were pure fabrication but in the spirit of what he said (my memory is not good enough to remember someone’s words when I was six!), for example his dialog. The exact color of his clothing and other finer details were filled in based on general memories. The spirit of what I’ve said, however, is true. I hope. My memory fades fast.