i don’t want to be a racist

i grow
but it is not
enough
i evolve
but i still have
a million years
to go
i check my thoughts
my actions
my reactions
who am i
i am not
who i am
i do not embrace
change
for the popular
or the political
i embrace change
because
it is
the right
thing to do
to grow
to evolve
to be ready
to work
a million more years
if i need to.

i grew up in an extremely racist area of illinois. a sundown county. my parents were rarely blatantly racist, but it was there. subtle racism right alongside the subtle sexism & homophobia.
my town was white white white. in high school i had a biracial classmate, and we all thought he was very exotic.
i am grateful for things like sesame street and fat albert for showing me worlds other than my small town at a young age.
but it wasn’t enough to stop the programming. the racist thoughts from rooting in my brain.
because, even though i abhor racism, i still have racist thoughts.
i used to use it as proof that i was a bad person, but then i read that what one is programmed through upbringing, culture, & society to think is one’s initial thought in a situation. the thoughts that come after, is that person’s efforts to rewire the programming.
and those little voices are loud & persistent. they don’t tolerate my racist programming at all.
yay for that.
but, holy crap, when will the programming go away? will it ever go away?

the programming also pops up with sexist and homophobic opinions, which i find especially weird since i identify as a bisexual feminist. i guess i shouldn’t be surprised that i was programmed to also hate & judge myself.

i mean, after all, hasn’t this art journal project been all about exorcising those demons?
but i am so incredibly uncomfortable writing about this and sharing it with whomever reads it. i feel like such a bad person.
but i will continue.
it is one thing i can do.
i can change.

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outside the box

i feel
stuck
in the ground
rooted
a tree that longs to run
a dandelion
watching her fluff
on the wind
so badly wanting
to be fluff
on the wind
i want to squat
in a church
or an abandoned warehouse
some place where i can ride my bike
from room
to room
or steal a paddle boat
and learn the river ways
i want to dig my own
hobbit house
go to bed
under the stars
because i haven’t built a roof
yet
i want to teach my kids
show this world
how to live
literally live
outside
the
box.

escaping my escapism

for the first time
in
forever
i am not looking
for someone
to rescue me
no
not like i’m some fucking damsel
in distress
though i’ve tried
i’ve never managed to convince
anyone
i am a damsel
in distress
but still
always
in the back of my head
is the thought that someone
a certain someone
not just
anyone
but my hero
on his white horse
would soon ride in
& whisk me away
from all this…
except
the thought
is
gone
i somehow
escaped
my own
escape.

i’m in brand new territory, y’all. if i was still in therapy, i would be having a “breakthrough.”  but it’s just you & me here…watching…waiting…wondering.
and here we are.
brand new territory.
what now?
you know what?
what happens next will happen next.

meanwhile, i have started that queer week of my every month where i am a mother with no children. i mean…they still exist, but they are in wisconsin with their dad. and i am here, waiting…watching…wondering.
is this a week where i blossom & explore…or a week where i wither & mourn? it often goes either way.
but this time…
i think it is going to be the former.
don’t tell the minions, but after i left them with their dad–i felt a certain weight had lifted, & i could breathe again. yes, i will miss them…but in the meantime, i will revel in my perceived & temporary freedom from motherhood.

letting go

i like this one.
i wasn’t sure.
but i do.

i spent a lot of time
during inking it
to not-so-gently remind
the minions
that i do art to relax
and, for the love of god,
please stop bumping my elbow.

when you do art
to stay sane
it’s kinda counter-productive
to have four busy minions
buzzing around you as you do it.

letting go
i’m trying to let go
of my control issues
of my anger
of my patterns of misery
trying to let go
and remember why i am here
if there is in fact
any reason for me to be here
surely my minions figure into that
pretty big
and loud….

i like these chaotic inkings
the ones with god knows what
going on in them.
these are the ones that i find little treasures in
the weird little details.
these are the inkings
i learn the most about my self with.
these are the ones
that i surprise myself the most with.

i rely on instinct
zen art & ink stains
i let my brain go
and look for what i
normally
might not see.

ps. ink stain & yesterday’s work on this inking:

change in the wind

this website that has never really settled is going to become my main website for my art and comics.

don’t worry, i will still blather on about my
my minions
relationship problems
homesteading
saving the world
being pagan
it will all be here…plus!

art & comics!

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