Letter to my unborn daughter part 2

Author’s Note: I’m over the moon excited, but I want to say that this note is more of thanks and a prayer that this little being inside me lives. I can’t wait for whatever this is to kick my ass, for real. So … without further adieu, here is my letter.

Dear unborn daughter,

Thank you for entering my womb, for the Gods have opened it wide. You are someone I have waited for for many years. I found out about you on September 8, and now you’re growing like a little flower, perhaps a weed, inside me. Nothing wrong with being as fast as a weed, but I want you to be at least six pounds or heavier by the time you’re due in a special time of the year in 2023. I’m so poised to throw my energy into taking care of you, it’s not even funny. One day, daughter, son, whatever you reveal yourself to be, I will love you. Forever, for always, I will never stop protecting you because hell, Mama bears do that every day. I’m more than just a Mama Bear, you could call me a lioness, you could call me a mother elephant. You could call me any kind of tiger, a mother tiger. Next, you might ask me, what are elephants like? Well, the matriarch of an elephant herd is the most fascinating animal in all of the greater world. The African and Asian elephants run the family with females on top, because the male bull elephants are a bit boring, and they’re more aggressive. I want to be clear, male elephants are aggressive, not human males. We run our families quite different, but the principle is the same. I could be a lioness watching over her cub, a mama bear, a mama anything that protects a baby. Have you ever looked at a mother gorilla? Yeah, you’ll someday understand how much I want to protect you, how much I want to make sure you have a safe space to find yourself, to know your true self. Please, while you’re inside me, show me who and what you will become. Kick my ass, will you, sweetie?

I don’t care if I hurt badly while you grow, my lower back becomes a hot mess, and then when you exit, my body will have been torn big time. So what? I hope you realize that Daddy and I love you dearly. You have brought your father and I closer together, and he truly wants you, and wants to care for me and you together. I wouldn’t have it any other way. As a matter of fact, I’m about to set things up. I’ve already reported pregnancy to the Denver Human Service office, that way I can feed you while you’re inside me. I’ve done some pretty big steps to make sure you are safe, including but not limited to deciding not to show ultrasonic images of your developing physical body on any social media platform, and I won’t even speak your name here in this piece. YOu will have a beautiful name, and Daddy and I have picked out some names, name possibilities, but you will hear your name when you exit, or sometime before. We won’t reveal this to the public till your six or seven pound behemoth of a body rolls head first into this wide world. WE will welcome you with open arms as I said in a letter before, and your daddy says he’s sorry for having driven Mommy to cry so much, but he says he was angry with her about various stuff he shouldn’t be this angry about. My financials will be used up and life here is expensive, that’s what we have to accept. Daddy is going to get a job, and he wants to do this for us. HE wants to do this for us and the rap album, he’s determined. Driven, he says, he’s so driven and motivated and longs for a day he can quit his job. He needs to purchase office space for his LLC, that’s a company thing that you use to say you have a business and you’ll learn about that when you’re older someday, but you will someday understand your daddy has a lot on his mind. He’ll be at dinner with us almost every day, and I’l kick up some good food, promise you I will, for everybody. I will tell you, I cooked a basic Mac ‘n cheese, but I brag a lot that your dad’s cooking is bombastic and awesome as hell, and his organic ingredients are hormone free and you’ll grow as you should, and he insists on fresh produce and such, what a weirdo. *laughs* But trust me, you’ll thank Daddy and I for putting good food on your plate every day. I’ll have you take a big bite of BBQ chicken, and that totally will beat top Ramen, big time. Sometime in your college days, if you choose, you may meet many people who eat lots of Ramen Noodles in their diet, which though it’s bad, it’s quick and cheap. Don’t fall for it.

My dear child, blessed is the time you will spend in my womb, and I’m grateful every day that you are inside here, preparing to spring forth upon the world. IF anyone says a word about how I should abandon you or give you away, I’m gonna knock the sayer of such on their asses and I won’t let anyone touch you. Trust me, when you begin to feed for the first time on the nourishment I will provide, your daddy will guard you like a hawk, like a father eagle guards its nestlings, and I won’t let anyone mess around. We will fill out paperwork at the hospital or wherever we decide to give birth, which isn’t gonna take much, and I’m determined that your father, myself, and you have a great shot at life. I’m hoping for a girl, of course, because you and I will have a lot in common, maybe you will understand why I won’t just banish you to your room, force you to grapple with emotions alone, I will sit with you and help you process those emotions. I won’t let you cry out while you’re in bed, not for the first couple years, and even past that, if you need us, we’ll be there. We the parents will cuddle you as is our obligation, and if you have monsters in your nightmares, we will spray lots of lavender at those bad boys, and trust me, they’ll be gone in a heartbeat, on the run from whatever they think they can do to you. WE won’t let a thing touch you, and that’s a fact. I won’t let anyone try and steal you from my dreams, my home, my arms. We await your arrival in May, and later on, you will be about six months or so when we celebrate Christmas together. Maybe you’ll sit in an old stranger’s lap and he’ll be dressed as Santa Claus, but for real, I think St. Nicholas has interceded and blessed me with something, a possibility. That would come if I was Catholic, but Nicholas is the patron saint of little kids, children and the like. I asked him for a child, and look what I have. A child on the way, and by a very wise and experienced man. I can’t wait to hold you, dear one, so don’t leave me too soon. Stay where you are, enjoy growing and kicking and throwing yourself in and out of balance inside me, have fun. Have fun making me feel like total shit while I’m in the bathroom every second, every two seconds, sitting on my bladder and making me pee so much. Have fun tearing me up inside, literally, or perhaps gliding outside my birth canal, screaming in my face, “Feed me!” Have fun learning about the world, how to get my full attention, then later how to express emotions, huge ones, like love and lust, loss and grief, so much in the way of emotions you will have to learn to process in a logical manner. Even if you were male, I’d tell you what those emotions were, and you have to understand that processing those is how we cope with things like the death of a loved one, a dog also, the idea that a sibling may enter our circle, the loss of a favorite pet or toy, lots of things, or perhaps you wanna process the elation after you win a basketball game, or after someone steals a book from you. We will help you process what’s in your mind, we will help you as parents even in the Giver are required to do. So before I end here, let me just say you have blessed me just by being your little bitty self, in my womb, where you will become a beautiful soul in the world. Thank you, Goddess of the universe, for blessing me with this beautiful soul.

Beth

Letter to my parents

Author’s note: The following is an open letter, and this is dedicated to all of the young women and minorities who refuse to submit to being fixed or forced to conform to family standards.

Dear Mom and Dad,

So I was visiting my best friend from high school, we hadn’t really seen each other in years. She wants to believe I lived a privileged life in a house on some stupid golf course. Well, she’s half right. But there are problems with the way you handled things, and let’s start from the beginning.

Mom, tell me who my biological dad is. Tell me if he has a cancerous family history, whether he has heart disease and whether he has schizophrenia or other issues in his bloodline. If you don’t, I’ll probably never forgive you for this because doctors need this stuff. If you can’t spit the name out, spit out the medical details instead. Tell me what the dude looked like, tell me what the hell you two were up to. I won’t be the one to make you spit out those details, and if you can’t or refuse to, well you can. For one, I have a very awesome couple of friends, one with much wisdom. I won’t reveal names here in this letter for the purpose of safety and security because you are untrustworthy and have taken every boyfriend and potential suitor and treated him like I was the crazy one and I shouldn’t be with anyone. You said I was unlovable, even from day one, and said I was bossy. Well, bossy my ass. You tried to shrink my leadership positions, make me the most incapable person on earth whether privileged or not so you could get me help, and that’s not the right or correct way to do it. Here’s what you do: you just talk about what needs to be talked about, and stop making me look helpless. You are the most hapless white people on the face of the earth, I’m sorry to say, but you are. You did not spoil me, you sheltered me, two different words. You also wanted a straight girl, and guess what you don’t have? You have a woman who thinks men are jerks, not all of them, but I’m considering dating a woman, but who cares at this point. Romantic relationships are bunk, I can’t tell you how worn my heart is and I’m so weary. My latest partner won’t say he loves me, and claims there are “too many issues”, but what does anyone know at this point? I want my skills back, yes, but I also don’t want complaints from folks suggesting that all my cooking is “unhealthy.” Bullshit, if you want me to cook with veggies and fruits and all of that, first I have to be able to prep food with more produce involved, know how to spot the signs that the produce is bad, etc etc. You hapless humans never taught me that stuff, I had to learn from a fellow blind man. I couldn’t tell you just how hapless and unqualified you both are to even be the parental figures for a disabled female child. You not only would have never supported me if I came out as gay, but you subscribe to a very disaffirmational and rigid religious zeal that doesn’t belong in my kind of world. Roman Catholicism does not have a place in my circle, neither does evangelical Christianity, trust me it doesn’t. I’d rather be queer or bisexual or gay than have to marry a straight white male who sits on his ass watching football all day, and I’d rather work as a team with my partners than have them laze around on my sofa screaming, “Get him” and “Touchdown” at every goddamn second. Oh, and I have every right to say what I wish, so don’t pull the young lady crap on me. One, I would never call my mother a bitch, no matter what she thinks or says, because I know better than that. Second, Dad, no matter how much I despise you and the whole family of guys who practically wish I’d just submit to being institutionalized in a bad place, I can’t tell you how many times there are happy memories, some of which I’ve had to blot out because of your blatant attacks on my human rights. I now have my rights in hand, and I will not invite you to any wedding, and to hell with weddings and romance. Even if a little kid comes into my room and begs me to marry Daddy, how the hell can I explain to my kids that “Daddy doesn’t love me quite enough to marry me.” I can’t explain to your future grand kiddos that unfortunately, weddings are like a transfer of ownership from a woman’s father to a woman’s husband. This archaic tradition, I’d say, your daddy did twice, and fell miserably to divorce twice. I want a spiritual bond, an eternal love that transcends time, so when my beloved man goes on to Heaven, he will watch me like a hawk, and he will do things in Heaven like mend my broken heart. As for you, David, how dare I even consider calling you Father or Daddy, you said I should burn in Hell, blatantly attacked my rights, shoved me around on my floor, gave me rugburns so I’d be possibly reminded to respect a fearful patriarch, worse yet you made me sit in a silent room devoid of music and books, reminded me that I was privileged but trust me, there is no privilege being abused and used for personal parental gain. There is no room for forgiving your whole stunt you pulled with guardianship. There is no room for you to frighten a dog or hang me up a tree. There is simply no room.

My friend asked me to look honestly at my life, and honestly while looking back, I can’t allow people to discuss past things with me in an opposite light. I can’t cast the guardianship, for example, in a sympathetic light because it is, as of this moment, even looking back, a blatant disregard for privacy, civility, and human dignity. IF you had used this guardianship, I’d have told the judge that you were abusive and stupid, I’d have let it all out. You’re lucky I didn’t do that. You were foolish enough to get guardianship and you were also foolish enough to invest too many hours and too much time to boys who would get jobs. You attempted to brainwash me to attend a bogus and disaffirming university called Notre Dame, and who needs that place because Amy Coney Barrett is a complete washout. Call her Handmaid Amy if you wish, but she’s a complete idiot and so are a lot of your professors emeritus in that area. Catholic peoples should not ever impose God or the Bible on people who are clearly not interested, clearly hurt, clearly traumatized.

Because of your traumatic attacks on me, I’m going to give you no forgiveness and because you are on the side of antiabortion and antiwoman for god’s sake, I will not let you attend my babies’ christenings, birthdays and other milestones. You won’t be getting photos or videos of baby saying their first word, only the supportive few will. For one, my partner and I will be living separately, but I think it will be good for us to do that for a while, maybe he’ll miss having me close beside him and cuddling him and all of that. Perhaps we will make love on some days when we feel like it, and I’ll call and say, “Hey baby, wanna come over for the weekend?” We’d take walks, and I’d prep a meal and such, and then we’d pop on up to the bedroom and have a lot of fun with one another. He’d do the same for me. I so wish I’d get a house, but certainly, that house has to be serviced with pest control and contractors to fix broken stuff, all of that fancy stuff. David and Mom, you guys won’t be allowed in my house without promising to not observe any wrongs you feel I’m doing. Do not bring your stupid crucifix into my property, and don’t even bless your stupid meal. I don’t wanna hear that unless it’s not you saying those words. For heaven’s sake, don’t bring your hellfire and brimstone God into the conversation. Think I’m gonna burn in Hell? Actually, for disaffirming people who are different and or sexual minorities, I know who’s going and who’s not. Don’t give me unnatural relationships, I’m defending my partner’s right to play with a guy if he wants. That’s his right. IF he wants a bisexual young lover, it is his right. Don’t give me Sodom and Gomorrah, that bullshit is a myth to keep people in straight relationships. I will never even pray to your dead saints, I won’t even visit you in Florida, and because you ruined my existence everywhere I go, even if you think you did what you thought was right, it wasn’t, I will take all the stuff you said about me being warped and crazy and throw it right back at you. There were memories and yes, we did go to Disney World, but you have made my life much more difficult. Theme parks are not of any value because they’re manmade structures and people get themselves messed up in them. Worse, they do this in Ybor City. Remember my friend from Park Avenue Baptist who was a total drunk? This guy totally lost his brain on five or so beers in Ybor, and he got his probation and such, I won’t speak his name for his personal safety. We were all young and stupid. I get that.

But here’s the deal: I won’t be visiting Florida or Disney until a few things happen. First, you guys need to get rid of Ron and his minions. They are dangerous. You side with white supremacy? You might have just been labeled such because critical race theory affects everybody. White supremacists come in all forms, all levels, all shapes and sizes. Yes, my best friend is mixed, but she being darker I don’t know. It’s not like I’d marry my best friend, a female at all. She doesn’t do that kind of thing. Here I am, looking in to the soft blue eyes of the man I just was intimate with last night. I love him so much, he does not know I’m one day gonna surprise him with all kinds of stuff. He could send me stuff, I’d send him stuff too. Christmas will be a fun filled time for all of us.

AS for you guys, all the memories of so many good things cannot outweigh the horrific attack on my human rights, and the horrific things you will try and do to my partner and me. We’re going to stay friends, friends with a lot of benefits. But one day, I want that love and care to come crashing through. Whether there are issues or not, I still won’t marry a man with any vision or whiteness, I can’t imagine doing so. Men like that to me are trash, and you presented me with small town living in a little old hamlet called Titusville, where trashy people live. I’m sorry, the men were trash. Except for, well, one or two. The man I could have married in town is not allowed even to speak my name, so you think, so I’m gonna just say this. No more sob stories, no matter how many times my partner was making love to women or guys, guess what? I don’t give a fuck how many times anyone slept with me either. I accept and love this man, the one sleeping beside me on my bed, as a full lover and friend, and he is so wise, strong, and true to me. I will always be true to him, even if he presented me with a hundred million sister wives. He’d be pretty bogged down and busy. Okay, even two sister wives I’d throw out because I don’t want to share him in marriage with some sighted women who will take advantage of him.

AS for you believing he takes advantage of me, just go your own separate way with me. Christmas won’t be the same. I know Thanksgiving will not be the same without a loving family, but what is a loving family when you destroyed my self esteem? GEt the privilege you supposedly gave me out of your goddamn ears. Just don’t mention Jesus or God to me and we’ll be fine. Do not judge my partner or me and the kids we have one day by religious vices, grounds or otherwise.

AS for me, I can’t love someone who disrespects my bodily integrity or human rights. My partner held himself accountable for stuff he’s done that hurt me deeply, and I will not stray away from him because of that. HE is concerned about panicking while walking, but that is something he can’t work on with me and that’s okay. Only a professional and a good shoemaker will deal with this. I want a new pair of athletic shoes, period, no ifs and questions. No strings attached, I want me a new pair of good walking shoes, no dressy bullshit from some designer tag. Just a pair of athletic shoes, something that won’t rub my ankles raw. Just send me those and be gone with you both. I have a family to start, I have things to do, and a whole world to conquer and change for the better without you to ruin things.

I have no qualms about saying that neither of you deserved any kind of guardianship, but furthermore, think before you pray to any god on my behalf. Your whole blood will be cursed beyond all the curses I could muster. You might have had Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy, and you really need to reanalyze how you did that. No more of you in my life I guess.

Your 35-year-old daughter,

Beth

Letter to MY Unborn Son

Author’s Note: I am writing this in the wake of the last thing I wrote, but this time, it’s thanks to my newest blog subscriber, so follow My Ramblings on WordPress after reading this. Enjoy.

Dear Unborn Son,

I’d like to welcome you to a broken world. Like I told your potential unborn sister, I want to show you what kind of world I exist in. AS your potential mother, it is my responsibility to tell you what you’ll likely see, and try and help you become the man you want to be. Whether you’re as fierce as Boba Fet fighting off Tuscan raiders in a camp on some distant planet or you’re as rugged as Han Solo on the Millennium Falcon or you’re as upright as the Mando when he’s rescued the Grogu child, well, whatever you become I can’t wait to find out. There is one thing I want to give you a few pointers and advice on.

Please do me one favor when you exit my body and enter this violent and uncertain world. Don’t, play, with, guns. I don’t want to ever see a headline with your name on it as being a mass shooter. IF you see someone committing such horrific things, do what you must, even if it means giving your life. Hey, even Darth Vader gave his life for his son too. IF your daddy isn’t around for this heroic act, well, he just might, you will know him by then. Just remember, when your father pulls off the Darth Vader mask behind the genteel features he possesses, you will notice the man you want to become, the man you should strive to be. I imagine that sons would be more like their fathers, not obviously the opposite. Right at this moment, I’m asking questions, thinking of the kind of person you want to become. As a boy, you will want to swing on the monkey bars, pitch baseballs on a field, and don’t worry, if you have a little or bigger sister, she will be raised equally along with you, and she’ll play ball the same if she chooses. For you, it is your call whether you want to play ball with the other boys in the hood or stand out as someone who actually gives credit to wherever credit is due, and plays ball with the boys not necessarily in the hood. I can’t wait to meet you and see your personality shine through. Perhaps you’ll have your father’s wayward but beautiful locks, reddish blonde in color, his blue eyes, but I kind of wish you would look more like myself. My eyes are brown, my hair as well. My nose is a bit short, so that nose is good on you too. I’d like to think you have a fierce determination, and like Boba Fet, you are determined to get payback for what is done to you. But like Luke Skywalker, you do what is right. Even in the final act of heroism in your life, I will want to see it be that you save your daddy from a world of learned helplessness, hopelessness, gloom and doom. Like Palpatine and Darth Vader, the men I’ve dated seemed like impossible mountains to climb. I’m picking up the pieces from a fifteen years in captivity, and if you’re fighting to get down here, keep fighting, because trust me, you will want to raise your saber high when you grow to be as tall as your father. Unlike Luke Skywalker however, I don’t ever want to tell you that the father who gave you life is dead. Ben Kenobi told Luke Skywalker this in Episode 4, so when you get to be a good age for this, I’ll let you watch that, and you’ll get the point. When Darth Vader rolls into the big paternity reveal, you’ll understand that is the most iconic line in all of history in terms of Star Wars. Your sister and you will not join any such thing as the dark side, and if your father emerges from that funny Darth Vader mask of cold and distance, well, how can I best explain it. There was a time your daddy and I were cold, and I was oblivious to your presence in my body, but trust me, your daddy would probably have thought I should burn in Hell for having you, but when he sees you exit and hears you cry, whether on film or not, maybe he’ll understand that as a man, his son is his life. It’s like that with most men. Men must gage with what they have with one another.

For a time, I thought love was a cruel joke, that is until you came into my thoughts. Perhaps it is not a cruel joke. Your strength and determination to live will probably baffle both me and your dad. It’s not like you will be conceived by the miti kloriets, remember that. I have never heard of but one boy conceived without the touch of a man, and that was Jesus, son of Mary. Even so, your father will be a strong and determined man, wanting to stand on his own two feet in a world that hates every last thing in him, blindness included. I’m also blind. We may both be blind, but we’re not stupid. We know that if you arrive in this broken tattered world, you will be loved and greeted with the same pomp and circumstance as anyone else. Your sister will get the same treatment as you will, and she might be as badass as Princess Leia, and someday there will be a gentle and strong being who will ask you to be their sidekick, guide in life.

Here’s what I want you to know about me and your dad.

I think you should know about him first. For one, he’s had it rough. Forgive this guy, it’s not like he wants to break back and bend you over his knee and whip your body if you misbehave. I won’t let that happen either. Like in the prior thing I wrote, I will only spank you if it’s your birthday, and even then, only in jest. When you mature into manhood, I ask you to do a few things, not too many things, just listen as I advise you because this is going to be tough on any young man.

One, you will have plenty of opportunities to explore your options. IF you see a girl, you like the girl, ask before you embrace or kiss her, and later make love to her. Consent is what it’s all about. You’ll thank me for this pearl of advice, trust me. IF you want to be a father, and your dad in turn becomes a grandfather, don’t impose your will on minor kids and women. Respect your girlfriends’ bodily integrity. Don’t ever, ever ever use force or physical means to tell your girlfriend something, don’t ever create an environment where your girlfriend can’t speak or do things she wishes. IF she is having trouble with money, ask if she wants or needs help. You can only go so far but breaking her heart over piles of banknotes is simply raw hurt. Love her through the good times and the bad, through thick and thin, and show patience. Just as Han and Leia have had their arguments I’m pretty sure, remember that love is a piece of work, and should never be a cruel joke. You will be celebrated not for your hunky looks, your blue eyes, your blonde locks of hair floating about your head, or even your ethnic makeup. You will want to be remembered for your strength of character. I’m determined that you go get ‘em like Han Solo did in his story or like Luke Skywalker facing down his own father, Lord Darth Vader. If you do cross swords with your father, just remember that you must, like Luke did, feel the good in him. You will be determined to save him, but as Anakin says in his death throes in Return of the Jedi, “You already have, Luke.” Unlike the Skywalker saga, however, I hope you don’t have to carry your father’s, my lover’s body to a funeral pyre. I don’t want to see the ghost of him in the air too soon, but I want his dying words not to be just directed at you, like, “Now go my son.” Anakin had the best death words ever, but the saddest. I hope that you will unmask the good in the man who said it would be a cold day in Hell before he loves me again. There is good in him, I see it all the time, but it is mired by trouble from his own family. His blood has been tainted by desire for blood of the kind that is shed for no reason, and his heart is so almost like the Anakin Skywalker at nineteen, but unlike Anakin, this man truly does not need to be going around killing Jedi knights, killing anyone who stands in his way, taking a Sith title and tapping into dark forces. I feel like I’m fighting those dark forces, not necessarily him, every day. HE is a bit grounded at times, but when you cross sabers with him, don’t whatever you do strike him down. Do not surrender, not ever. Take down the guards, the storm troopers in your path, but your father will eventually tell you he wants to see you with his own face, cup your head in his hands and maybe he’ll tear up a bit seeing you like that. Blind people don’t always show affection the same way.

Whatever you become, I’m delighted to know which side you’ll be on. Another piece of advice you will need to survive in this world is to know your true enemies. You will need a lot of tools to equip you for life. Don’t ever address women as “bitch”, for example. The next time you do that, well I won’t ground you but I will give you a good scolding and you will get a lecture on the true definition of a bitch. That’s a female dog, not a malicious woman, and calling every woman a bitch is disrespectful, no matter if she is or isn’t. Respecting women is a big tool in your box you’ll need so you don’t get blacklisted for jobs and other things. When you get a supervisory position in your office as a man, please don’t advance on your employees because it’s unethical. Create a place where your underlings can talk about what they do, and without consequence, say no to a male underling’s advances. Treat every being on this planet, not only the women, with reverence and respect, even if you don’t think they deserve it. IF someone you feel causes drama, or you feel is draining to them, think about what you do to contribute to this.

MY son, there is one more … I can’t say too many more things I want to give you that will help you get here immediately. Come here for a few moments, if you are an angel, and speak gently to the man you want to become. Do not try and deceive anyone and don’t mask your feelings. It won’t help you in the long run. IF you ever need to cry, unlike conventional males, just do it. Go to your pillow, lock the door, and silently or whatever volume you want, just let it out. You will have friends one day who will listen without judging you as a crybaby. My dad did this to your uncles, your future uncles, and it was painful to watch.

IF you want to know who your father is, unlike my mother and me, you will know who your daddy is. He will have to visit you, and when you are being born and on your way to this world, I will make sure your father lets me hold his hand, bite a rope, whatever it takes to get you into this world. Unlike Padme Amidala, I promise you i’ll be here to raise you, not your father’s family, not even an ex. Unlike any mother, I promise you the moon, and if you feel this world is too much for you, please don’t leave it and your body behind. With your brilliant mind, perhaps you can build a rocket ship that travels light years away, and take the whole family on a million light year mission to explore new worlds like Captain Kirk. We would encounter the stars, many alien civilizations, hell we’d get lost in space. Your father and I will marvel at your work, and we’d fly to the moon and back with your help. I want him and I to step on Mars together, perhaps fly past Saturn and explore beyond Pluto. There has to be another system beyond Alpha Centauri we can explore, carve out a life for ourselves. We will be a great dynasty of sorts, and with your help, we will all soar above the sky. Your daddy is a rap god, and if luck has it, he’ll be releasing an album highlighting his hunger to succeed in all the things he wants to do. I wish for him and you to have a strong bond, not at my expense. REmember the thing about bad words directed at women? NEver ever disrespect your mother, not ever. I want your father to respect me not just because I’m a woman, or because I’m all together or anything else, but because I care deeply for him. IF you float along the tracks above our heads, just let your father know I love him. I care too much to let him fly off to the painted desert and mock me in front of a bunch of guys at a bar, calling me the same words I entrust you won’t. Son, you will have a name, and that name will reflect on your courage, heroism, and strength as well as your ability to fight. Your sister may have the same thing in her name, we’ll just have to see.

Son, if you truly want to make sure your daddy doesn’t mess up my and another woman’s life, all you need to do is go all Karate Kid on him too. One other piece of advice, if your daddy and you are crossing sabers and he’s mocking me, calling me names, all of that, turn the other cheek for me, and tell your father that in his heart of hearts, he must stay with me and go back to me and tell me he’s sorry. IF there ever was a rift between us, like Luke had with Anakin Skywalker, just stand your ground. IF Daddy says you will have to beat up girls, destroy women’s lives, that if they don’t bow down to your wishes, blah blah blah, just say it like Luke. “I will never join you.” Luke had and always has had determination. This all boils down to this. What would a good Jedi master do? You don’t have to do things like Yoda, being that there is nothing but do, not try. Grand Master Yoda had a lot of good tokens like these, but try to be as noble as Mace Windu, and as giving as Anakin Skywalker, but not as compulsive should we say. You will be a fine Paduan in the game of life, and I am delighted to write this in your honor.

With love,

Your future mother,

Beth

P.S. The force will be with you always.

Letter to My Unborn Daughter

Author’s Note: The following came as a result of a major crying spell. It’s been a week since I’ve been heartbroken over a myriad of things, but a vision of a little girl with reddish blone hair and blue eyes appeared in my mind, invading my thoughts. I thought I’d write her a letter here, and you all are welcome to join me on this journey while I’m writing this. Please read the following.

Dear unborn Daughter,

First of all, I just want to say I am the one who could become your mother. I want to welcome you to a world without certainty, without security, with a lot of bad things such as war and poverty. There are, however, a few good things in the world. You invaded my thoughts, and thinking about you just brought tears to my eyes. I could see a vision of your golden hair, and my oh my you look like your father. You have your father’s beautiful blue eyes. He can’t see that, but though I’m blind, for all I know, I have inner sight. There was a Greek blind prophet Tereisius who couldn’t see anything, just like me, but he could see the future within his mind. That’s what happened here. The prophet I speak of appears in Oedipus the King and several other things, but you won’t read those till you’re older, my daughter. IF only I could tell you what I am seeing now, but alas, you are only but a thought within. IF you come into this world, promise me this, you won’t forget me. IF they take you from me, if they tell you that Daddy was evil, which isn’t the case, if they tell you Mommy can’t and won’t be able to take care of you, again not the case, when you see my picture on the TV, don’t forget the name. Your father is a gifted rapper, and he made such beautiful beats, and he cried out through one, “I want to know what love is.” Well, I loved him. He probably didn’t love me because I mismanaged money, but he just overstepped a boundary or two, and things didn’t get the right way between us for a time. There was a time the father in your life was cold to me, but then you appeared, a thought bubble in my mind. This is why I’m writing this.

For one, I love your father. HE had the most gentle heart when I first saw him. He was very strong, is still that way and he had a daughter in his home state of Iowa. Well, you don’t realize you have a big sister there. One day when you are older and able to travel in this big world, you will meet her. You two are always on my mind, even if Daddy says it’s not right for me to think about that. We want to make you out of love, not violence, and when you only know violence, uncertainty, and misinterpreted viewpoints, that’s all you can know. It’s a thing in psychology called “learned helplessness.” I think Daddy is helpless to get out of this vicious cycle, and I just want him to get out of it, rise above this, and say he cares about me. That’s all. I could only picture your tiny voice at the door of my bedroom asking if I’m all right, the sweet innocence piercing the air.

The one thing I don’t want to have to deal with is postpartum depression, and that’s because I don’t want you to bear the sufferings I’ve endured. I want you to be a happy little lady, playing on the floor with your Legos and just imagining a world you’d like to build. Your Daddy might cry a little, he might just lose it seeing me rock you to sleep, sing to you and even when you get fussy, I won’t stop till you laugh and get quiet. IF you get colic, I’ll make sure it goes away, one way or another. Come Hell or High Water, you will have a mother, and your life will be the best it will ever be.

I will tell you, there won’t be violence in your home. I won’t let you watch Top Gun, for example, without making sure you don’t have to enact the things that Maverick sees. I don’t care if you try to watch that movie, but besides that, I will never let a guy or any being enact violence upon you. When you exit my body you will find a world where there won’t be a chance for myself even to commit abuse or violence on you. You will never know a spanking, except for birthday spankings. I will sing Happy Birthday to you, and when you turn six, for example, I will give you birthday spankings on your back, not your bottom. I’ll gently slap you six times, and give you a playful hard one to grow on. That’s all. You will not know the pain of injury due to discipline, and you will not have to spend fifteen years of your life in captivity because of some lie your parents doled to a court of law. You will be allowed to date a man, and I will be nothing but honest with you about the man’s character. My character is good, and honestly, I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, Daughter, because I want to not only have you, don’t tell Daddy about the bio clock thing, that’s a minuscule reason he’s here in the first place, but because you are someone I could tell so much to and you will become wiser than I have been. I want to undo the damage between me and your potentially awesome daddy. He will have released his rap album, and I want to see it chart. I don’t want anyone to doubt his skills, and I want him to get a good coach who can help him improve, I mean everybody needs improvement. I want to improve my singing, and when you enter the world, Daughter, I want to hear you sing. I will sing for you, and in turn, I hope you hear the golden notes of my voice and pick up what I’m singing. You will one day receive a piano in your home, and your Daddy and I will probably end up paying for lessons so you know how to make music on the piano. I took my first lessons when I was five.

Your daddy I want to say a few words about. First, I get the learned helplessness, but sometimes there is a silver lining. I want you to be that silver lining, and I’ve never seen so many opposed to your life, but when you finally enter my womb, I want to hear “Congratulations.” I want Daddy to write on social media that his queen is pregnant, and you, Daughter, will be my little princess. I want to pass by your bedroom door every night and say, “Goodnight, Princess.” Your daddy will probably cry really hard because when he looks at you, he will not see the craziness of the past week and a half from a past you will never know, but. he will see hope for a future for all of us. He will say, “Goodnight, Princess. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.” I have deeper respect for that phrase as you will never know the bite of bedbugs, if I can help it.

One thing I want to promise you is this. You will never know the biting sting of abuse. I won’t do it, Daddy won’t do it, nobody is going to do it if I have my way with it. We will protect you as best we can, given the circumstances under which you are born. When I hear you cry for the first time, trust me I might cry too. But you will enter a world of gadgets, including smartphones and tablets, and you won’t believe the apps out there that will remind me to feed you every four hours. When you turn four, I’ll start teaching you your alphabet, your name, and I will also teach you about black and gay history, and someday you will learn about Stonewall and all the rioting and the way the NYPD could have been a lot worse but the gay folks taught those NYPD people a lesson. Do not ever make people give up who they love. IF you want to, you will be able to talk to myself or Daddy. IF you are transgender, Daughter, do not be afraid. I will make sure you belong anywhere, if that means we have to move states, move countries, or god forbid take a rocket ship off to Neverland just to give you a safe place to be yourself, that’s what you will see. I will take Daddy and myself too on the rocket ship, and we will explore new worlds together, find alien civilizations, and do many things with the stars. IF we move states, it will be because the hate toward LGBTQIA+ people, particularly the T people will not persist. We will make sure you will have a place to do sports, trans or not, without some guy or doctor seeing your genitalia and I won’t let anyone touch you without consent from both of us and then, only then when you turn eighteen and get married later on. It is your body, yourself. You own your body, not anyone else. You will never have to face the choice of abortion to save your life or having to die of childbirth. I will fight for you, and even if Daddy doesn’t want to be with me or have anything to do with you, no matter what his feelings are, you will be the number one priority. IF I have to celebrate Mother’s Day without support or compassion from him or anyone else, so be it. I know that when you turn eight or so, with maturity, you will walk into my bedroom and squeal happily, “Morning, Mommy, happy Mother’s Day.” You will one day hand me a couple bouquets of flowers, all manner of flowers present, and someday your daddy will understand why you are the priority, but he will present me with a tray of cinnamon rolls, bacon, and so on but if not him, I could let my friend Barbara over and she’d be there and we’d all go out to someplace and eat. Good times is my friend Barbara’s favorite burger joint. Your daddy will never forget when I say something about the time we were in Arizona together, and his hands and hips were gently against mine. We made love for the first time, and if you wonder what making love is, I’ll explain, little one, when you are old enough to understand. But even so, I will only say, the act of making love is the best thing in the world. When his body was on top of mine, I was transported somewhere far beyond. That is all.

Daughter, your image is so palpable it is there to stay. I did say you have your father’s eyes, and I want you to have your father’s eyes, maybe the blue eyes you have will look at me once and say, “Mommy, you’re crying.” I will be happy to explain, the crying will never stop until I can find a resolution. Within myself, I don’t feel that love was kind enough but only to create you. What made you wasn’t an extraparanormal deity called Jehovah or God. It was an act between two consenting adults, Daddy and me, and we made you in good faith. He said he wanted me to get my heart checked, but because I hadn’t noticed it, maybe I should. The heart checkup could be because my own biological father, your biological grandpa, had a history of heart attacks and such. LEt me tell you a little story, maybe a big one for such a tiny thought in my mind, it may be a huge story, maybe inappropriate for children, but you are just an angel wanting to fight her way down here, so let me begin.

I was the product of a Catholic mother, but she never told me who the dad was. Later, I was adopted by a David Taurasi, who I guess didn’t want me to know who the bio dad was. David wasn’t a bad person in the beginning, but in the end, I don’t know how to feel about him. David and my mother, Patricia, got guardianship of me at seventeen years old, presumably because of blindness, but they might have abused me for years, and it wasn’t too physical but it was more mental, verbal and emotional. See, abuse is damaging to everybody, but you’re immortal and an angel, so you don’t have to worry right now about abuse or damage because of such things. So back to my story. David and Patricia never told me who bio dad was, so I thought my ex boyfriend Trenton, would be able to give me a DNA test, but alas, it would cost a lot. The Human Service office was closed and as I type this, still is because of a pandemic. You may not have a physical body, but you do need to know that pandemics can rip a body apart. I indirectly witnessed a chorus mate’s p-parents both die one at a time from this virus. I was almost attacked by that virus, but alas, got better. I had a ceremony with my ex shortly after, but honey, I think my voice sucked. DAvid and Patricia weren’t invited, trust me I won’t ever let them hear of me getting married, but Daddy and me? Well, it’s obvious he doesn’t understand I want a joyful moment in my life. I might have written something or two, but Daddy just has to work out his own inner demons, and mental illness can spring from the abuse of body or mind. It’s not something that can be changed easily without a professional.

So when you ask me, “Do I have a daddy?” You know what I’ll say? “Yes, Daughter, you do.” I will tell you his name, and you will smile and look at me in wonder. You will want to know what jobs and things he’s into. I’ll tell you, his album will give you a sense of who he is. He wants to see and feel love, so part of this composition is about that.

He does have love but for me, well, I love him, and I love him dearly. I want him to stay with me so he doesn’t have to do this to someone else. I can’t explain what happened without crying, but you are an angel and you don’t need to look too far down here to see what happened. Some things are best left unsaid. This man is a powerful advocate of the blind community, yet nobody in that community cared any for him. IF you ever pass down here, and float upon your wings, Daughter of heaven, tell your father to be that you are waiting for him. Tell him I love him, that all I want is to be loved and accepted, that he doesn’t need a deity to believe in angels. Angels exist, I believe that much, and to see you troubled by my crying and all of that troubles me too. Sit upon that man’s shoulder, give him tranquility and peace, and speak to him if he so wishes, if you so dare, whatever. Just tell him he has someone in this room, in this house, that loves him dearly and I want the pieces of my heart to be fixed. He hugged me one day, and on Sunday, we listened to a Juneteenth concert and he just picked me up off the floor with both strong arms, seasoned by years of weight training, and twirled and carried me around the room. I want him to do that to you. Daughter of Heaven, shine down on your father, tell him things will be all right. He is someone I want to be my anchor, my rock, and I want my friend and lover to love me forever until time and eternity. I promised him time and eternity, and I would be willing to forgive him if he just doesn’t mess up again. Forgiveness is not, as an ex of mine would say, a free pass to do bad things again. He isn’t my ex. Daughter, if you should so much as enter my body, enjoy your time in it. Don’t kick me excessively, but if you need to kick, fine. Just when you exit, we want to hold you and fawn over the body you have presented to us. When you blossom into a woman, Daughter of Heaven, we want you to be the best advocate for yourself, the people in your life, and the big wide world. Your father will be extremely proud of you. When you come here, whether it’s an Arizona desert or the Colorado mountains, you will be welcomed with open arms. You will be celebrated by us, the parental units, as a good option and a great achievement and a milestone long since overdue especially for this girl, who was released from guardianship just two years earlier. I am trying to pick up the pieces of freedom in my hand, but you, Daughter of Heaven, are my light and my salvation to no end. You will be the person that nobody will expect. Your name will be able to appear whenever it does, but furthermore, you will be a shining example to me and your father. We may both be blind, but we will forever be that power couple. We’re going to knock the world over, not fight with each other. As you are an angel, you might have watched the things unfold, but if you truly are an angel, not a demon, please bless my dear love with all the blessings and especially your presence. Get him out of the cycle of violence and abuse and into the house of David, king of Israel, or better yet, get him a house of peace beyond all understanding. I threw up yesterday morning, and maybe you’re waiting to grow in my womb, but if you are, great. Stay right there, and when you come into this troubled world, please let me see your light in that troubled world, and let me hold you while you feed, when you cry, and when you laugh. When you get too big to hold, feel free to play in the park, we’ll run around together, and throw a ball further than any boy. You will someday dance as you do in the Heavenly Realms you reside in, and maybe you will wear ballet slippers. Perhaps you will be a Swan Princess, and Daddy and I will enjoy the waltz as Siegfried and the Princess dance down stage, pirouette after pirouette and catch after catch, every move in grave detail described and you will come out to us in your dressing room, your ballet outfit all glitter and lace. Your pointe shoes will have been rosened but after your stellar performance, we will give you hugs every day. You will practice every day as if you want to practice, placing your slender legs on the ballet bar, stretching them out. You will have beautiful hair, I suspect you will have your father’s reddish blonde, but everybody will say, “What an angel.” When you walk into a room, or perhaps you will dance your way into the living room, your daddy will smile and say, “Ready to go to dance class already?” I will nod and we’ll watch you dance but what will surprise me is wen Daddy goes and dances with a bunch of forty something guys, Daddy ballerinas all dressed up in girlish costumes, but trust me, the dance will have a good effect on him. He would dance the waltz across the stage. When the old men are finished, all of us will clap. I can’t, however, get the Swan Lake scene out of my mind. If they choose you to be the Swan Princess, we will jump for joy. I will hope that your Siegfried the prince will have much good dancing ability and will be as strong and tall as your father. Perhaps my Siegfried does not understand that at seventeen, I will have been a caged swan. He doesn’t understand taht deep down inside, I am a princess, no, a queen. Swan queen. IF I was a free swan, I’d gather him up in my tallons and fly him off to my castle, and I am not going to be rescued.

There’s one more thing I want to say here in this letter. You are a wanted by happiness child. I also want you to know that not all men are monsters. He is not a monster, not at all. He’s just a bit off because of the violence he was subjected to. I just don’t want the cycle to continue, and I want him to see your big sister, but furthermore, I never said I hated men. I don’t hate men. I never will hate men. There is a good man behind the monster that possessed my apartment, screamed in my face, and said he wanted nothing of a love with me. Well, I am even more dedicated to making sure this doesn’t turn into any monster. He is not a monster. HE has never tormented me in my bed, but the few times he did, he said I was crazy but I don’t think he gets it. PErhaps the Prince Siegfried would think the same if the swan Princess was in a cage, her wings clipped so she could not fly. When she transforms into the human so beautiful Siegfried could kiss her, she would fly like the wind on her feet to him, but I didn’t want Daddy to see this stuff. It reminds me of Lord Farquad from Shrek, but please, don’t tell anyone his name should have been Fuckwad, but yeah, that guy wanted to lock Fiona the princess up because she transformed into an ogre at night. Guess who took her hand and loved her through that? Shrek, the ogre. Shrek and Fiona are a reason for believing in love, but yet I don’t see a real life Shrek anywhere willing to love this Queen Fiona. I will make this one thing clear. Daddy isn’t Lord Farquad, he is nothing like that. HE might even be Shrek, for all I know. Shrek said he was troubled by the way people treated him, grab your torch and pitchforks, and the Beware and wanted signs all over the place. I will tell you, Shrek was understandably angry. I mean, who wants to marry a big “stupid ugly ogre?” He even confronted Fiona about that, but Fiona learned that this man/being loved her with all his heart. Thanks to Donkey and Dragon, Lord Fuckwad did not marry Fiona for real, and when Shrek kissed her, she took his form, but furthermore, the two lovers learned that love does not have looks on its mind. Love knows no bounds, and my love for you and Daddy will always continue. Even without him around, a piece of my heart will go with him, wherever he decides. Daughter of Heaven, you will always be my daughter, you are the one I want to create and it is you who will succeed, do better at life, perhaps you will undo the damage between all the guys and me. But speak to Daddy, fly to him, and if he wakes up with tears in his eyes, if he doesn’t understand you, make him hear you. Angels are like that. I’m drained, I feel like an empty paper bag. I want to go straight back to bed, but when I wake up in the morning, you might have been there. But you invaded my thoughts, but trust me I welcome you as I will when you exit the sacred spot in my womb. I can’t wait to push you out, Daddy being kickass enough to say, “Push, push, push, that’s right my queen.” He will push my hand toward him, and I might have hormones and bite him or I might not. But when you come rolling into the world, your slimy body bathed clean and bundled in blankets and diapers, we will celebrate your arrival, champagne and all. YOu will cry like all babies, but it won’t be a scream as if to say, “I hate you. Why’d you bring me into this world?” I will connect with you and when you arrive, your whimpers will only serve to say, “Mommy, Daddy, feed me.” That’s what happens. All beings of the living sort are born hungry. I will hold you tight, and there wil be lots of cuddles, hugs, kisses and blankets and toys for you to play with. I will rock you to sleep and put you gently in a crib beside my bed. I will be awoken and will be able to nurse you to life. I will hold you tight even when you are sick, I will calm your fevers, rub your back when you are in pain, give you medication to calm you down, give you a spoonful of sugar so that the medicine isn’t so bitter. I will make sure every doctor gives you the right medication if you have maladies of any kind. When friends come to play with you, you will have many I hope, I will welcome you playing with those friends forever. YOu might lose a few in middle school, but when you reach high school, there will be a few handsome and good looking beings in your life you could end up dating and loving. I will never tell you that boys are bad. They aren’t. IF you kiss a boy, at least you will have more opportunities than I had to kiss boys. YOu will one day experience the lovemaking I mentioned earlier. I will tell you though, when you become thirteen or older, you will likely need a lesson or two on safe lovemaking and such. Someday, you will marry a great person, man or woman or nonbinary being, but whichever being marries you, that being will be proud to have you as their wife. Your sister will be flower girl, and you will have many relations and friends at the wedding. I hope you will die an old lady warm in her bed, not now, not before you are born, not before I can redeem myself.

I want to be with your daddy, but to see you in my mind was a pleasant shock. Thank you for coming to me in a crazy vision, but albeit a crying spell. IF you have to be away for a while, I’ll just say I would miss you lots. I will miss Daddy, and if he widows me too early on, you will know his name and we will lay a rose on an altar for his spirit every year. His spirit will glide its way around, perhaps he will sit by and touch my shoulder. I will love him no matter what physical state he’s in.

Goodbye, Daughter of Heaven, and be well. I hope your mission wil be a success. I love you, and I will never forget you. Psssst, I hope you look like Daddy.

Your future mother,

Beth

The Sins of Who?: Plain Communities Under the Microscope for Sexual Misconduct By Males

Dear readers,

Has anyone heard of the Amish? Okay, has anyone even seen the Amish at work? Behind the picturesque horses and buggies, the farmers working the land, there is a deep dark pit of evil and despair lurking. What is this evil we speak of? You’ll find it in a recent Peacock original docuseries called The Sins of the Amish. Now, let me just explain what the hell I’m talking about.

The Amish may seem like a hardworking people, born of service to a church or whatever, but there is rampant male entitlement, rampant sex abuse, and rampant child abuse as well. Let me summarize. In the Sins of the Amish, we meet a group of Amish women who were discounted repeatedly for filing police reports on their brothers, husbands and fathers. Here’s another thing. Forget the why’s and ways of the Amish culturally. Think about why the plain community of such is so far behind. LEt me tell you why. Take a train or time travel trip back with me to the 1800s, and look at a sexual education book. It suggests that girls be submissive unto their husbands, sound familiar? “Wives, submit to your husbands as they do unto the Lord as Christ is the head of the Church.” This was written in the book of Ephesians, but for crying out loud, this never applied to modern marriages in my humble opinion. I only feel better about this submission thing because I do it every day, not in the sense of abuse, but in the sense of I can give myself freely to my man without his judgment of me as sickening, sexually unattractive, things like that. The Amish girl who does not listen to her father and keep her brother and father standing tall is a rebel, usually put in an institution as in the nineteenth century, treated like total trash.

If you wanna see just how behind the Plain communities, which include Amish and Mennonites are, just look at the sex ed books they use. Girls are expected to marry at nineteen, sometimes younger, otherwise, like in the old days, they are considered old maids. This is not even about the card game, folks. This is the reality of unmarried Amish women.

While my sympathies are in some way with the Amish, all they care about is work, no play, and the farming communities have also been known to sell puppies illegally bred from puppy mills. Some Amish and Mennonite farmers have been themselves puppymilling around in Pennsylvania and other states where puppy mills are born. They’re everywhere, and the Amish farmers are not helping the problem.

While I was at Amish Acres, a museum and farm in Indiana, I was forbidden from using my mobility aid, a white cane, on the stairway and my parents forced me to follow the rules. I want to say to those folks in charge of Amish sites in Indiana and other places, do not even bother opening a place if you’re gonna do a big injustice toward your blind clientele. Please cater to folks with disabilities, and include the blind in your thought and planning of any touring and such. Please tell any blind person they can use the cane on stairs, on the floor, anywhere because it is required. Blind people in your facilities must also be allowed to use a guiding or service dog of any kind. Usually, guide dogs are trained in helping the blind up and down stairs, through doors, around things, all sorts of stuff awaits a guide dog handler and the dog themselves. If you’re one of those Amish or Mennonites, chances are you’re not reading this, but if you’re on the outside of such communities, know this. I have no qualms about turning the Indiana Amish in for discrimination against me and other blind tourists.

The Amish have had many sinful things done to each other and other people. I think more than the women they mistreated, and trust me that’s important too, but the dogs and the blind tourists and the wives of some if not every Amish man should know that there is a big wide world outside that protects women from these insular practices. While Carolyn Jessop was fighting for custody of eight little lives, Merrill Jessop, her good for nothing jerkish husband with a bunch of other sex toys to play with was demanding the same. Why did Carolyn win? Because she was smart, independent, sick of the sister wives being bratty with her and the kids. All but Betty ended up staying with her. Why did Flora Jessop get out of the FLDS too? Because she knew the world would protect women and such, and she had a very supportive husband and family of her husband. The other problem here is that plain communities are stuck in the past, not willing to move forward. Stuck in the past could be an understatement, but most religious groups that are not Amish or Mennonite are now going face down in piles of sex abuse scandals. There is no way that I would ever want to join a Plain community, and perhaps Weird Al wasn’t too far in making fun of the Amish. Yes, the song itself called Amish Paradise is rather comical, but the Amish and their sins are a reflection on us, the United States. What can we do to curb all the stuf going on in insular communities?

  1. First, could we revise the First Amendment to include you can have opinions, freedom of speech and the press and assembly which is safe and peaceable? Yes, peaceful assembly at all levels is great, but when the purpose of a group of folks is to do what the Heaven’s Gate nutheads did to those victims they encouraged to kill themselves, you got a problemo.
  2. Houston, if there’s a problem with a certain religious sect, one must be able to report it to a government task force set up for this purpose. While I value freedom to have and practice religions, practicing one’s religion should also mean that hateful thoughts and actions don’t mix themselves with the teachings of a deity or Jesus or Buddha or anyone else. Religions should be about freeing, not controlling mankind.
  3. If you want to see hate groups on a map, the Southern Poverty Law Center has a whole big map full of these such groups, including Neo-Viking, NeoNazi, Neo-Vulkish, and many others. In Colorado, there are a few underground hateful groups. Unfortunately, I’m sure Malcom X is rolling in his grave because the Nation of Islam is listed in Colorado as a hate group for being and speaking Antisemetic. I can’t stand antisemitism as much as the next big black guy can’t stand racism, but shouldn’t we include the Plain communities on a certain level of a hate group registry? See next item.
  4. Let’s say you’re browsing a group database thing so you can find something to be part of, you’re a new person to this country, or you’re new to the state you live in and you’ve been American all your life. LEt’s say you got swept up in a group, and you found out the group doesn’t like your gay son or your lesbian daughter or your transgender grandchild, your blind relatives, etc etc. Things like this happen a lot. So here’s the skiny. Level 1 registered hate groups should not be allowed to receive government support and funding, should be taxed for hate, and should be told how to operate safely because people can die from such groups. These level 1 groups would include terrorist orgs like the KKK, NeoNazi groups, and a lot of your white nationalist orgs as well. I’d also classify America’s alQaeda groups as level 1 and add terrorist to the label as well. This would be classified as code red level 1. All groups in this tier would get a red bar code symbol to place next to their name. So let’s see how this would work. Level 2 groups would be all of level 1’s criteria, but no violence would be pinned on it. Such groups might include, sadly but accurately, your Neo-Vulkan groups, some of your anti LGBTQI+ churches, including the Westboro Baptist Church and some of the Pentecostal churches that preach only to include cis males and cis females, think about it. These churches would also have to be taxed, and would not receive government funding or support, and did I want to say the Word of Faith Fellowship should get a level 2 on this registry? The big bad reports of abuse would go here. There have been incidences of violence and isolation of cult members, and this is a dangerous cult status group we’re talking about, but WFF really should be a place where politicians are barred from. They should not be part of this organization if they want to govern our country. WFF has been noted as abusive and not following the word in its entirety, using scripture as a means to abuse kids, all that stuff. The ax on this church will be because they won’t be able to run in a whole county in North Carolina.
  5. Continuing from the previous item, the Amish would be a special case, level 3. Level 3 groups would be the groups that have been known to be abusive, are everything but racist. The Amish don’t like disability, don’t like gays, so they’d probably fall under this category. There will be a little orange dot next to those groups. Level 2 groups, btw, would get a yellow thing next to their names because you know what yellow would mean right?
  6. There would be a green dot to the proximity of groups that do the following.
  1. Green coded groups would welcome all people in its ranks provided the criteria for joining the club can be that you may be interested in a subject, golf for example, or you have a like mind with the club’s members, ham radio for example.
  2. The clubs in the green category don’t hate people based on protected class status, including disability, sexual identity, sexual preferences, and many otyher combinations of protected class.
  3. The group would accommodate people with disabilities. All materials should be made into formats we can read, including on the Internet.
  4. Recruitment is not aggressive or some marketing tactic.
  5. No way will I join a group that lovebombs its potential recruits. Jim Jones and his people did that.
  6. Green coded groups would exhibit the ability to bring people together, get awards, and do good acts of service that can be demonstrable in getting grants. Examples, Soar Youth and Adult choir, though I can’t be part of them anymore, has a good habit of inviting all manner of person to their choir. Foster kids and others share a meal, and it’s fun. I hope that someday I will go back to Soar. They’ve been instrumental in helping me realize my dream of maybe fostering and adoption. I’m not sure about that though given discrimination against blind folks in all countries, so if I did adopt, I bet it would be domestic.
  7. Green coded groups would encourage, not discourage talking to outside folks.
  8. The group with green on it would also not exhibit scandalous activity.

These databases and ideas are not meant to necessarily impede on freedom of speech, but I want to see more protections in place for former cult victims, victims of folks like the FLDS and the Amish and such. Thank you all for reading.

Beth

A World without SSI and Food Stamps: Don’t Breathe but Imagine It

Dear readers,

I was given a scenario to ponder, especially from a Pakistani immigrant from Karachi, family support and all. HE said the following, “I’d love to drop Beth off in a country where there is no SSI and food stamps.” Well, here’s what would happen if the U.S. had none of these safety nets and social programs for disabled and low income individuals.

  1. The patriarchal system of survival would set in. This would include the neglect and abortion of female babies, especially by poorer mothers, and it already happens in the third world. When a female baby is born blind, as in most of the third world she is considered useless. The mother is encouraged to “replace” her. Doctors would probably also encourage a midwife to do away with the baby in cases of vilicide and infanticide put together in a dreaded package of death.
  2. If the baby makes it past infanthood, and goes into girlhood or toddler stage, this baby would likely be malnourished, we’re talking a female blind baby, and that malnourishment would happen because the mother has to prioritize based on ableist and patriarchal values which child should get nurtured. Likely, in places of the third world, boys will be nursed to full adulthood and manhood, not girls. If the female is lucky enough to be part of a richer family, she might look forward to a negligent diet and neglected education standards such that she could not read or write, Braille being scarce as it is and all that. The female child who is blind could die before the age of five, barring diseases but mostly malnourishment. Prioritizing boys over girls would be so rampant that female babies would still bring about sorrow in these families. It already does in the Pashtun families, where the birth of a boy brings a guy to your window and a rifle is fired in celebration of his birth, but the girl brings misery and the family is blessed not with celebrations and gifts, but with only a domestic worker in their house. The girl is reared in subservience, but a blind female would be reared in death before age five, but here’s what could happen if she goes beyond five.
  3. The female third world blind kid could also look forward to a substandard of living incomparable to that of the first world. She could be sold as a sex slave in a place such as Thailand, Malaysia, or even China. She could be sold in marriage to an older groom to spell good food for the family, this including places like Somalia, parts of Africa, Saudi Arabia, all these other places too. If she didn’t die before, she may face death by childbirth pains, and if that doesn’t kill her first, the husband’s abuse could. Sight supremacy doesn’t just hurt those who are blind and without 20/20 vision. It also encourages superiority and malice of sighted males toward blind females, and blind females in the third world should watch out for men who are abrasive, angry and abusive toward the blind spouse. With an illiterate female, this potentially dangerous husband could say things like, “Don’t go outside the home. Cook, clean and sex when I say cook, clean and sex.” This is a problem magnified by the fact that the spouse being subservient in this case is a blind female. She can expect to stand about a foot shorter than her first world peers, can expect no help and guidance in employment, or perhaps she could end up on the streets like Eliza Dolittle, the My Fair Lady character, selling odds and ends, but not getting what she’s worth. Oh, a blind vendor should get what they are worth. Even males who are blind in the third world who don’t have the privilege of emigrating to the United States should expect the same outcomes if they hadn’t died before their prime.
  4. IF a female can make it past years of being pregnant, nursing, or both and many childbirths later, the same blind woman in the third world can look forward to getting sick repeatedly, not having attention she needs in the medical department, or worse, having an untold number of kids. Some women in polygamous third world society end up having something called “putting out to pasture” done to them when they are through and say they won’t give birth anymore. Women 35 and older are at this risk, and especially when they turn 45 or 50, but when menopause sets in, a guy can sit there and put her aside to make room for a young maiden he wants badly. This girl could be insipid, unwilling and uneducated like her cowives. This is a very serious problem and is why the first world has it right in banning polygamy in some areas for some reasons, but I do believe polyamorous relationships should be legal, recognized, and allowed here in the first world, especially in a line family as in the Moon is a Harsh Mistress by Robert A. Heinlein, so read that book and you’ll understand what I’m saying. I wouldn’t mind sharing my partner with other women, only I should have the same freedom to share myself with other men, and of course, with the blessing of my partner, I would share myself with others freely and without any problem. I do think I’m open to polyamory, but the polygamous third world society brings wives and husbands together not based on a shared love of each other, but oftentimes you have marriages based on taking care of the less able or most vulnerable spouse or spouses. In any case, you might have for example, a husband with sixteen wives, one with five, some with six, but the Islamic limit is four. The four wives in an Islamic family don’t have a chance to spend a lot of time to themselves, they being repeatedly called to go have sex with a man who could be twice their age, a jerk, or someone who doesn’t know what to do about justice between wives. That’s a whole other topic I could get into, but Muslims who wish to have polygamous marriages should consider justice between wives, and this coming from Deq, my ex fiance.
  5. When a female who is blind reaches menopausal age in the third world, her health could decline significantly, and as with most elders, she could expect to die at some point. However, life expectancy in the third world could be between 45-60, depending on the age of the mother, social status and many other factors. IF the woman gets pneumonia, in the third world, she could easily have died. Without food stamps, she could be forced to beg on the streets, born blind or otherwise. HEr milk could go dry so her babies could die. There’s a whole lot of death involved in places where food safety and security programs are not present.

So if anyone wants to call me entitled for even suggesting food be safe to eat, think again. What programs should the third world have in its grasp? Let’s see for a few moments.

  1. First, a good country, third or first world, should have a good network of midwives, nurse midwives, OBGYN doctors, and many other good medical personnel who can tend to all women’s needs within their offices. For the blind female or the mother of someone who is blind, a good nurse midwife or OBGYN is a crucial first step. In the first world, we have programs like Medicaid, transportation being covered for doctor visits and other things, which I would use for prenatal visits. A doctor at the women’s clinic would give her patients prenatal vitamins because this is essential for a woman in any place in the world. Prenatal vitamins are a blessing, and they have folic acid, which can help prevent lots of childbirth complications, help the baby survive, and so much more. Just as a new mother should take prenatal vitamins no matter where, she should be able to see her doctor. There are spots in the world where that isn’t possible without UNICEF and other programs called nongovernmental organizations (NGO’s) which have mobile clinics, which can serve as educational hubs for females who need it. So let’s move on.
  2. Time for the ultrasonic images. When a female in the first world finds out her baby’s not going to make it, I know it may break some hearts, but at least she’d be able to have options. Abortion is for the most part the number one legal option, especially if the birth of some babies could kill a female right then and there. If I had a baby that was missing essential organs, that decision to abort would be between me, my partner, and doctors. It would be a heartbreaking decision to abort, but saving the mother’s life is a crucial thing to make a country good for kids and moms alike. IN the United States, we currently have a mindless debate going on about Roe V. Wade, the abortion decision, and we know the consequences of not having safe and legal abortion. There are countries that don’t have abortion because of religious policy, and it opens a big door to childbirth deaths among young women. In Ethiopia, for example, many young brides die from giving birth, some who survive having been a mom end up with fistula complications. This requires surgery, sometimes even a colostomy, which then results in the potential mother being fitted with a bag that drains out her wastes, both liquid and solid. There are places in Africa where rampant misuse of females as weapons of war is commonplace, so fistulas must be repaired more frequently. In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, this is the case. There is no food stamps, SSI of any kind, or even the freedom to walk down your street safely at any time of day or night. You could have been kidnapped sometime ago in Sudan by a rebel group that wanted to break it apart, based in darfor of all things. Talk to survivors of the rwandan genocide. You’ll understand more.
  3. If a female with a disability wishes to live, that’s one thing. But a good country has good food distribution, security and safety programs. IF I have a baby within the next year, since I’m a first world citizen, I have access to food and water, I have access to opportunities. I have a good mental capacity, and it’s nothing about my blindness. My blindness might have presented buriers, but not to life itself.The buriers were to things like jobs and marriage prospects, but still these buriers need to be taken down. Sighted and able bodied people have jobs, lots of jobs and opportunities to apply for such. My partner and I being blind need the protections of a blind parent bill like this one in Colorado. Colorado families with blind parents can expect a boatload of protections, and there will be protection in my home for children. IF a child is abused by a blind parent, as the NFB pamphlet on such states, then the parent is held accountable just like with sighted parents. That’s how it should be. There are many blind people in Colorado with children, and they are amazing kids. One parent has a genetic condition that her son inherited, but still, he has learned to be a better person because of his mother. The mother is particularly proud of her son for learning empathy. Should we all be learning this at some point in our lives? In the third World, this Colorado mother would have been dead by the time her baby turned four, or her baby might have died before his first birthday due to neglect, lack of education on the part of parents, or the baby might have been removed in certain places because the parents are blind or physically disabled. The first world has it right in protecting parents with disabilities, and there are ultimately lots of resources on blindness and parenting. I’m slowly getting my confidence back in the kitchen, and it’s thanks to the strength and determination and the wisdom of my blind partner in crime. I couldn’t ask for better.
  4. If you think first world people are spoiled, I’m not in the least. I know that a good country also should have laws in place protecting females if they are trafficked, married too young, and much more. In the Third World, religion takes priority and the pleasure of deities such as Allah take first and ultimate center stage. Allah says this, so a policy is put in place to acknowledge. Examples of antifem policies in third world countries include the minimum age of marriage laws being that the girl can be as young as prepubescent age like eight or nine to be considered a bride. Thankfully, in the first world, we do have laws in place but not enough. The Ayaan Hirsi Ali Foundation, the AHA Foundation, is working on political and legislative priority to end child marriage in the first world such as here in the United States. There is a rampant issue with such because of religious priorities of families, and children who are married off before the age of eighteen do not have protections such as domestic violence shelters should the older spouse be abusing her. Imagine a blind female in the third world who learns she can’t escape her abusive marriage. Not every woman or girl is lucky. One Indian able woman said that the arranged marriages in India was “state sanctioned rape.” It is, and in India, love marriages are frowned upon. Parents think they can make decisions about their child bride’s future, but this only makes things worse for her. The cycle begins again.
  5. A good country in any world should include a stellar education system, where kids are bussed to the school for free, or there is a way to transport kids in unsafe neighborhoods, and the education of all children is considered. Afghanistan banned girls from being educated beyond sixth grade, and the Taliban will only make it worse. Pakistan could end up doing so, but moreover, blasphemy laws are in place to prevent critical thinking about Islam. Why? The education of humans should include the skill known as critical thinking, and this helped me question and eventually debunk all sorts of mythical crap about Catholicism, which I was born into. Both myself and my partner are just about Atheist, but goddesses are a special thing. For me, I know the power of fellowship, prayer and thanks to some things, but I don’t think the male god in the scripture should be allowed primacy or to exist. This god is jealous, in some areas wrathful, and in other areas quite sexist. There are portions of the biblical and Qur’anic scripture that specify what a woman does, how she dresses, what she eats and what happens during her menstrual cyclees. Inheritance laws are another challenge to overcome. There is a lot to unpack here.
  6. A good country should have compulsory domestic abuse laws. The country should have safety spots for young vulnerable and elder vulnerable people so that if an elder is abused, they can be placed in a safe place. If a child’s been sexually abused, it shouldn’t be that she’s doomed to marry her rapist. She should be allowed to put justice before the man’s desires. IF a man rapes a girl, he should be punished, and the girl should be paid up for therapy and restitution should be given to her in any amount, including millions of dollars if her resulting child is special needs/disabled. The birth could be a trauma for her because she could find that her baby is the rapist’s mirror image. In some states, rapists have custody of the kid. This should never be the case, and my partner has never done this to anyone btw. He is a loving and caring personality, and all I care about is his happiness, helping him get to a point of peaceful living, helping him be a better person and father to kids one day. HE is sweet, cuddly, and has a beautiful deep laugh. I love it all.
  7. A good country has social programs for the disabled person and has ways to protect their education, welfare, and social acceptance. Haiti thinks, for example, it is unacceptable to be blind, and the white cane … or the cane we use to navigate is seen as a beggar’s badge. In many third world countries, blind people beg. It’s through no fault of their own, it is the fault of the society for not protecting blind children’s rights to education and safe housing. In Tibet and parts of africa, if my partner or I were born as we are now, the families of both of us would have tossed us into the hills to die as in ancient Sparta in Greece, and Spartan living conditions abound in Laos. I kid you not. In India, education of disabled kids is a debatable issue. Well, I’m here to say that education is and should never be up for debate. Neither should marriage equality, the rights of transgender youth and adults, or many other things. Human rights are not up for debate. In the third world, religion is sacrosanct and central to most laws and policies about gender roles and family life. In most Latinx countries, Mexico and Chile and others, women can’t seek abortion, but that is slowly changing. In Islamic countries, women can be hanged for having a love affair. Why are these policies allowed to exist? Because religion is so central it is sacred to those who write and craft such policy. Examples of religious zealots may include a Jordanian who was quoted in one of Hirsi Ali’s books, and he said something to the effect of, “Whether we like it or not, women are not equal to men in Islam.” I’m here to call bullshit to all political ploys to put women out of office.

Any good country should be run by people who get it. I could go into other ways countries can change, but the third world is an absolute mess when it comes to who lives and who dies, particularly when it comes to gender selection and able bodied versus disab disabled folks. Pleas stay tuned.

Beth

My Moment of Triumph

Dear readers,

I did a thing today. I want to say this blog is going to make me a famous writer, perhaps. I applied for a writing job, but couldn’t get the lessons job, and most of the teachers jobs require a B.M.E. or Bachelor’s of Arts (B.A.) in music education or equivalent work experience. Under no circumstances am I going back to college. Here’s a few things I want to say about college:

1. It’s a waste of money, and you have to pretty much have no life but the homework, and it’s rare you get a professor who actually gets it.

2. There is no way in Hell I’m going to FSU or any college in Florida, and if I do college, maybe it should be in writing. Creative writing would be great, and I could try my hand at writing poetry and fantasy or romance. Or both fantasy and romance, but I want to write prose so bad.

3. IF I get this job, part time, yes, but it will help me in the end to support myself with the profits. I have needed any incentive to even get a job, but jobs that require me to move around and travel might have a blindness liability attached, and it’s not my fault. The lessons jobs were all like, “You have to be willing to travel to homes.” Well, some homes are outside the horrific and much needs to be done RTD bus system here in Denver. So public transport is not an option in some areas, but luckily, there’s more.I just want to say that Clayton may try to clean up the public transport system, make it more reliable, and all of that.

Another thing, I hope the attorney at Colorado Legal Services sees something in the attachments I sent her. It’s a woman, but yeah. I want to thank my good buddy Stephanie for recommending that job listing, and I want to thank my beloved Clayton for at least believing in me when nobody else does. I also want to announce that I’ll be promoting my Tee Spring store, but I have at least one thing to do. I need to take a selfie of me or a head shot of me in my crown, and put those on my phone cases, T-shirts, mugs, and a 16 oz pint glass. Now I’m gonna probably watch Titanic, I’m kinda out of it. We’re all out of it.

Beth

Tribute to Ray Khan

Author’s Note: The following contains some references to drugs and rehab, mental health issues, sometimes even guardianship abuse. Reader discretion is advised. Also, this is a sort of tributary note to Raymond Khan, a young man I knew from way back in 2006, both of us were jailed, sort of, in rehab. LaAmistad should be ashamed of itself for its ableist and controlling approach to rehabilitating substance and non substance use peoples with mental illness. You put up a big fight with me about relationships, and I need to be able to forge connections, not forget them. I want to say a few words I should’ve said to Ray, and I want him to know that things are going good, but without further adieu, here it is.

Dear Ray,

Things have been crazy since you last saw me. I think about you sometimes, although the times I thought of you were very hard ones. When I thought of how you almost lost yourself to crystal meth, how you almost killed yourself a few times, maybe more, my heart went and stopped in the middle of everything. Ray, you really are someone I cared about in 2006, and yet a piece of you stays with me every day. I have at least a few things on my mind I wanted to straighten up with you.

First, I should have never been forced to end relationships and not forge a connection with you. I loved you, and what any nurse or doctor should know is that forging connections helps and stabilizes an individual’s treatment by a long shot. Undoing all the person’s health and well being by disconnecting them from everybody in the world doesn’t help. Ray, I loved you dearly, but I tell you, I have a partner and a good life ahead of me. The guardianship’s been discharged, and you can tell everybody that you and I could have been freed from this had Florida not fucked up and gotten me in trouble at seventeen, and nobody believed that my mother was capable of slapping me in the face. I would love to charge my mom with assault if she ever pulls shit like this again, but no, I won’t. Why? Because there’s. more stuff she did that I could tell you and you wouldn’t believe me anyway.

The guardianship was abusive, I had to stay in loveless or unromantic relationships because of the possibility of being abused at home. Orien, a young man I knew in high school and who’s grown now, will not have anything to do with me. Trust me, not that way. We’re friends again on FB, but trust me on this, my parents deserve a lawsuit and jailtime for committing probate fraud. I didn’t even know what the fuck probate was, and trust me, you would think I was nuts if I told you. Guardianship is evil, it destroys families, it tears apart lives. It did so to me, and did you hear about Britney Spears? She’s out of Conservatorship.

Ray, I hope you are there somewhere in the ashes of my existence, dancing on a cloud, or perhaps you’re alive on Earth somewhere far beyond. Canada? Maybe. But have you watched what’s going on in America lately? Please tell me you’re not cooped up in some prison cell lamenting on drugs, being on drugs, etc. I wanted you to be strong and try and be someone that you can be, the best version of yourself. I cried today thinking of the stuff I should have said to you, but it got worse. When we were in the so called catapult ceremony, the one where we pass the coin and say our goodbyes to the people leaving the treatment center, I was a wreck. You remember right? I told you I’d be the lead actress in your movies, whatever they were to be. Ray, I tell you, I felt the whole time that I was not the lead actress in my own story, not until recently. Ray, if I could only tell you that Clayton Jacobs, the man I call my boyfriend, is the best supporting actor in my story. HE gets the Oscar nod and perhaps he wins Best Supporting Actor in. my personal story. Why? Because Clayton heard your name and your story from my lips, and he understands greatly. Clayton has held me while I cried, kissed me when I was sad or happy, and has made love to me through all kinds of stuff. We’d always had each other’s backs, even through some rough stuff we both had to deal with. Ray, we’re coming up on some currents in our lives, Clayton and myself, and trust me, I am always the lead actress in my personal story now. I changed my bank account, I changed my direct deposit amounts and info on it, and my dad will soon have to close the account. I’m not going to have him sit there and say he can have his name on my account, which he will no longer do. My mother and dad think they can tell me who to be with, but because the guardianship was abusive, I had it discharged. My parents woke up only halfway. They won’t define the guardianship as abusive, wrong, and fraudulent. Probate fraud should and will always be one day against the law, but I want guardianship to be a federal goddamn crime. Why? Because it tears apart families, rips people’s lives to shreds, and for disabled women, sometimes we have to sterilize because in the minds of the government, we are less than, inferior. Ray, I’m sorry to say you weren’t the love of my life, and I didn’t exactly get the chance to give you the flower of my virginity. I don’t care. What virginity?

It started with a Dallas, Texas convention I was coerced into attending by the center in Littleton, Colorado Center for the Blind, and they required everybody to fly to Texas for this stupid conference while you had National Federation of the Blind (NFB) people sitting there praising the god of their own, Kenneth Jernigan. It was a motley crew of idolatry, sexual misconduct, and more. I lost my virginity to Deq Ahmed and Mosamil Yahya or someone like that, but we’ve had to mull over such things. Clayton would never have cared, at least, that I had to break it off with Deq Ahmed because his clan and family didn’t approve of him marrying a blind American woman. I would have argued that the clan had no right to Deq because of blindness and because such honor is antique. No, the word here is antiquated. I would suggest at a clan meeting that we move forward and modernize and recognize the right to choose one’s own mate. Period, point blank, end of story!

Ray, when I was with a man named Jason, the whole time things just didn’t work. Jason was abusive, and he was pro on the case of my guardianship, he wanted to say I needed it. What a very inglorious bastard. He liked the reactions of folks when he said, “You’ve signed your death warrant for being friends with Beth Taurasi.” I call bullshit. Death warrants are for murderers, Aileen Wuornos included, or perhaps Ted Bundy. But not me, I didn’t kill anyone, I didn’t do it, and if I did, it was an accident. I have no capacity to see where I’m aiming that stupid gun, and where I’m going to aim it is anyone’s guess. Jason had almost killed my friend Trenton’s current girlfriend, and furthermore, Jason wishes all his exes dead. Oh wait, Jennifer died. I can’t believe she did, and that bastard wants me to forgive him? I can’t forgive myself for even loving the guy. But thinking back, Jason was a big turning point into why I hate almost 80% of guys, not all guys, but I kinda don’t like a lot of them. IF a guy suggests that a woman’s place is beneath him, where she submits, etc, he isn’t for me.

When I dated Blake, things got hairy. His mom said I was “psycho” and should not date Blake. Blake lost his brother to gun violence, of course, but I’m not a fan of the woman who did it, although in some ways gun control might have stopped the murderer from ending the brother’s life, and the mother blames me? She didn’t have to blame me, she didn’t have to justify Clara Deitz dating Blake for the short time she did, and the impression was fake. All of it, fake. Clara should not have broken Blake’s heart in front of the world, and she did. Blake I wish as punishment should “take a wife of whoredom” as in the Bible, Gomer was a whore who went with Hosea, her husband, even when she was being bargained for and such. Hosea brought her back, but they had two kids together, I forget the names. But if Blake wants to try and mess my life up he can’t. Our friendship is rocky because of his mother’s prejudice against psychological diagnostics, and she doesn’t realize I have PTSD. Not quite as bad as a guy Blake knows, but not as bad as my cousin, Robert Zemcik, a veteran in the army who’s survived many many occasions I can’t go into. Zemcik’s experiences in the army should not be forgotten, and neither should those of other vets, Afghanistan and Iraq war vets included. I donated money to the wounded Warrior Project years after Blake’s breakup, but alas, I don’t know where it all went.

Trenton is my current latest ex, after Joey who was a bad boy. Joey tried to mess with me, tried to egg me on, and a troll tried to fuck with me while I was just getting started with Trenton. I was frequently accused of whoring around, told to get a proper marriage, all that. But now, Clayton is probably the only man I could say is doing it right. I can’t believe he would know me for five years, would let me into his life, would hold me the way he did, and would make love to me the way he did. Ray, if you only saw my face when I found Clay at the airport, I was overjoyed. He was sitting there waiting for me, and I ran forward to give him a big giant hug. I wanted to love him right there. We got back to his place, and lo and behold, his hips got close to mine, and his face. Oh, his beautiful face. Ray, Clayton can’t see as I don’t, but trust me on this, he is a good man. Clayton treats me like a beautiful queen, honors me the way men should honor the women in their lives, and in turn, I want to do nothing more than honor him. Like in Gladiator, I will honor Clayton, and because he’s honored me, I will do what is right. I’m behind him 100% of the time, and trust me, he is for me as well. Ray, if you only knew.

IF you only knew the way things were back in the day. I still can’t get a job, can’t do things without verification, oh so they wanna believe I’m not who I say I am? Bullshit. I am Beth, the girl you once knew, and I hope you will always remember me. I hope you will remember me, and it is because I remember you that I can’t forget. I can’t forget the time we were walking around, and we kissed somewhere outside of staff eyes. All this and other bullshit, I just wanted to kiss you again. YOu really do have a lot to offer someone, and I hope you found a beautiful pair of lips to kiss, arms that will hold you, and a pair of eyes to stare into. My eyes, god forsake me, are blind. You never understood. You never wanted these eyes. These eyes cried for you, and my heart beats every day regretfully for all the times you had to stay ten feet away. I’m done, I’m done trying to cry over this spilled milk. I love you dearly. I don’t know what to say. But Clayton is my true love, not you, because you don’t seem to get it. Ray, my pain is great, but my heart soldiered on for years knowing you were out there somewhere.

Ray, if there’s one thing I should have said to you, it was this. Clayton is the right man for this undertaking of loving me because he’s blind, has the same eye condition, and we’re on the run with all the love we have in our hearts. We love one another with such passion it isn’t funny. Ray, contact me if you dare. If you read this, you will be rewarded for your trouble. The water of time may stand between us, but for Clayton, he has ferried himself over the waters of space to me, and has offered me his heart. Ray, this truly isn’t goodbye, not forever. It is a new beginning. Perhaps you will understand if you see this blog and understand what kind of person I am.

Sincerely,

Beth Taurasi

My Fight for Housing Fairness, Denver

Dear readers,m

Imagine you’re in danger of being evicted, all because your former boyfriend is living with you and you can’t just move out. My former boyfriend could steal and or take my place away from me. This is unfair housing, and furthermore, the management at my building refuses to accommodate a blind applicant, so we’re going to have them cut him away and in front of everybody else because they violated in gross negligence the Fair Housing Act and they did it willfully and knowingly, so we’re going to mediate if possible with the courts involved in any case if that’s what it has to be. The building refused to convert documents my boyfriend, Clayton, needed and dropped a bombshell on him about a 3.5 year waiting list that is unfairly administered, and we’re hoping that we’ve got company here. We’re going to make sure that the snitches and bad residents get evicted first, if anything. I can’t be evicted from my apartment because, for one I’m female, blind, and at risk of rape and pregnancy by rape especially if it’s a bad person who wants to put their stuff in me and not my boyfriend, Clayton, who wishes to have his family with me. I don’t want anyone else’s kids, or someone to go, “Oh, I wanna meet my son/daughter,” and then go as far as ask for custody. Some damn sadistic men are like that, and I don’t want any sadistic assholes touching me. I know Clayton would protect me at all costs, but I can’t go back to Florida at any rate because of white supremacist culture, white supremacist and antigay legislation, the attacks on Disney and such, and all other things wrong with the state. Anyone who suggests I let my own family coddle and or make decisions for me should go hike off a cliff because my family is white supremacist, whether they like it or not. The attacks on Disney are clearly a sign that my family and other white folks like it that way. Disney is woke, and the family and other people in my life don’t respect that. Disney is also within their rights not to support a governor who is gangly and dangerous, who is nonwoke and not able to discern the anger coming from the gay community. LGBTQIA+ individuals should not be running scared, and Clayton himself knows this all too well. He’s strong in advocating for black folks’ interests, and even after Trenton, so am I. I’m going to continue the work, even if it makes me sick to have to tell my family they aren’t my family anymore. I have to cut them off because Clayton and I don’t want them messing around with our kids, our grandkids, etc etc. I can’t have people who have the audacity to create and orchestrate an abusive guardianship and keep it for years having anything to do with kids of the same person they victimized. It is disgusting to me that fair housing doesn’t wanna investigate our claim. We need the fair housing complaint to be investigated soon as possible, and the mediation needs to happen soon. For one, I’m not going to risk being evicted, and not have a stable address. For two, this building’s 3.5 year wait list is a testament to the level of discrimination it is having for seniors and blind and disabled adults alike. Clayton and I want to be able to forge a life together, and if anyone says we should not or can’t, just shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about, doing, etc.

For those who do not support myself and Clayton, here’s a hint when saying anything. Don’t. We can’t have anything to hide, but we also have a serious risk of eviction. It’s not fair to me that I can’t just swap roommates and they have to prioritize Trenton and give him an independent place to live, and no they will not make Clayton wait 3.5 years to live with me. That is the problem, he can’t fill out the application independently of help from sighted folks, which is a boon to him. He can’t be forced to take that option, a PDF file being image based. The file should be tagged for accessibility, fillable by accessible means, but no, this management says they won’t convert this. I’m going to have them sit down with us and discuss the issues going forward, and for Trenton, he needs an independent place to live regardless of whether one is available for a senior or a mobility impaired person, in fact prioritize Trenton over everybody else because you violated his rights by making him rely on someone who could be less trustworthy, not that our caregiver is or isn’t, but the risk is there. She’d have taken Trenton’s sensitive and personal information and squandered it or misused it. There are people who will tell you I can’t help blind people fill out paperwork, and that’s a direct quote from a former aid. Unfortunately, this building has targeted me for being blind, depressed, and under a parental guardianship or the victim of guardianship abuse and I survived it. I am no longer spiritually committed to Trenton, and can’t. I can’t commit to someone who isn’t romantically attracted to me, and that’s the fact. Trenton is in bed right now, but he’s threatening to leave, go to Mother, Downing, or a shelter. This is unsafe all around for him, and a lawyer should be there to make sure the building does the right thing by him, and I want him to have a one bedroom or studio so that Trenton can have what he wants, have a good life, and have a roof over his head like everybody else. He can’t earn money, won’t get a job, and I need a stable address to get a job period. IF I raise my money and get and earn enough, I want a houser. Houses are the only place Clay will raise a family, and we’re serious. This apartment building and others will be in deep trouble for violating Fair Housing standards, and this building needs to start caring about who lives here, including Trenton, Clayton, and myself. My good friend art is concerned of course, but everybody is, and the snitches should stop while they’re behind. Police and people responsible for legal eviction should stop and realize what they will be doing if they legally evict a blind person and couple. They will be dealing with homelessness, and nobody will help a blind young couple who’s homeless, they will only toss Clayton in Rescue Mission and me in some women’s shelter, I will not take it. So if you wish to see us evicted, just go. Go yourself. Take a trip to those homeless shelters, look at men who can’t see themselves doing things. I was friends with a homeless man named Eldon, and he was great. He was serious about getting an office job, and he was in an office job prep program with me. The big problem with Eldon was that he didn’t have much to do at the shelter, and had to stay there. He didn’t have a house or apartment, didn’t have stable housing. I didn’t know this, but Eldon was resourceful and able to attain resources. That isn’t always true of homeless people. Trenton is blind and has mild CP, which could make him a liability in some companies’ eyes. It will take more than Clayton’s 3000 applications a year to find a job, especially because Trenton has comorbid disabilities. No charity or church is set up to handle this complicated web of stuff. The only ones who are set up to handle this are creedal churches who wish to make you convert. This is religious suicide. I am a Unitarian Universalist, and there’s seemingly nothing for me as I will be homeless soon. IF this building does not cooperate with us as blind people, we will make sure they pay up monetary damages and do the things we ask, including properly give a one bedroom to Trenton and one to Jay, our neighbor, who is trying to get one but says they rent to people he doesn’t know.

The facts of the case are attached to a complaint that was filed, and the complaint states that the laundry facilities are inaccessible except through visual interpretive services, but Clayton doesn’t follow that philosophy, and furthermore, the locker keys are unlabeled. Some of the keys have Braille labels missing, while the boxes in locker rows are Brailled, but not everything is Brailled. There’s also a plaque missing on Floor number 3, and it should have the print and braile floor number there, but it doesn’t. There are problem areas, all of which deal with blindness, but the discrimination is heavy and needs to stop there while the management is behind. The property manager and assistant manager are about to get something. Something will hit them, and there’s no solution. IF they want their rules, they need to bend the rules because we have a situation with Clayton being independent minded as he is, and he could potentially save the residents. He could save those blind people a lot of trouble, and I am tempted to call the CCB so that they will do what is right and help.

To Clayton, I love you dearly, and keep up the fighting, and we will fight and we will rise. IF these people think they can just toss you in a shelter, fuck Trenton over and all of this, they’ve got another thing coming. I will forever be your warrior queen. Just keep your head up and we’ll stop this mess while it’s creeping around.

With love,

Beth

MY New Life

Dear readers,

I’d like to come forth and tell you all that Trenton, while we’ve split amicably, is still my friend and perhaps he could be a great roommate. Clayton, on the other hand, wants to be my partner, so yeah, I am letting him do this. I will be Clayton’s lover, partner, friend, and loyal supporter. Clayton Jacobs has done something else as well, he’s confessed he loved me, wants to stand by and let me be me. HE looks and acts like the stuff of dreams: he’s sweet, funny, brave, strong, true, loyal, fun to be around, and some aspects of him require a good sense of humor. Clayton is also a very handsome guy, some of my fans here have noticed that Clayton is a handsome guy. Five feet ten inches, very sleek, reddish blonde hair thicker than normal for a typical white guy but that’s great actually, beautiful blue eyes, a big smile every time I notice him and I did so at the airport. His face is beautiful, I’ve even touched it, it’s just pretty awesome looking. His nose is bigger and more prominent than mine, but oh well. Mine is a bit short, but he has this long narrow nose and he has a lovely sense of who he is, and he’s very grounded with what he wants to do.

For those of you wondering, no, I’m not kicking Trenton to the curb the way others do. I’m advocating for Trenton and I to continue being friends, continue being roommates if possible here, but here’s the kicker: Clayton and I want to continue being partnered with each other and stay for life. I just hope this doesn’t break, and moreover, I want Clayton to be my protector, lover, and friend for life. We both want the same things, we both have the mindset to get this done, and he is sweeter than candy. I’ll never forget the night I came home with him from Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport to the town or city of Mesa, Arizona, and we noticed each other. Should I say? Well, his hips are very strong, his whole body close to mine was like being placed in a rocket ship, about to launch into outer space, or deep space perhaps. When we first kissed, held each other, made love with one another, we were soaring high above what was possible for me, especially me, at this time. His life is my life, we are the reflections of each other, but for me, he is the strength I need to get going in life. MY parents certainly don’t need to know what is going on between myself and Clayton, and we’re going to rock this life together like nobody else.

The one thing I want us both to do is heal from whatever traumas but especially for Clayton, I want him to know that there is nothing more awesome than the good things about him. HE has had a toxic and rather violent upbringing, which could have translated to something worse for both of us, I won’t go into details. Most kids from violent homes become violent adults, but not this guy. HE at least has the determination to heal and become someone worth the time of others, to become a strong and best version of himself. I’m proud of him and I’m also proud to say he’s moving to Denver, will obtain a counselor for solo therapy, and eventually we’ll do couples counseling so that we can navigate each other’s particular lives together, heal together, and become stronger and better and break this cycle. I do not under any circumstances want a father, I said, I wanted a guy who would treat me with love and kindness. Clayton is kind, sweet, intelligent, smart, a bit sassy or should I say rebellious? He’s a rebel in all senses of the word, but the best thing about him is he’s willing to admit his faults, and together, we will rise. You know what I mean when I say we will rise? We will, indeed and forever, rise.

I want to let you guys know how we all got started. I can vaguely remember five years ago and I’ve told this story before, but if you haven’t checked out his Twitter space, you don’t know the story. First, I wrote something on Facebook about girls being labeled bossy and boys being labeled leaders, etc etc. Clay supported me all the way, and even if we had fights and differences, he always seemed to come right back around and touch my heart. Five years later, well, it all began with a breakup on his end. He broke up with a prior partner, and this partner wasn’t very close to him in the end because the guy was apathetic toward him. I won’t write down this guy’s name out of respect, but Clayton carried on. I said to him one day I’d give him a lot of affection, love, and all the stuff and what have you he wanted. On Clayton’s twitter space last night, he was all, “I saw her and it was like Bam, she’s the one.” Clayton and I are excited to begin this long and eventually prosperous journey, and I’m excited too because now, I get to kiss the love of my life at New Year’s Eve parties, I get to make love to a guy who has never tried to throw me out, and he understands how the abuse has affected me as well. NOt his, but my own. I have had unhealed relationship traumas because of past boyfriends who were just plain stupid, either they were stupid or unwilling to give themselves to me the way Clayton has done so lovingly. HE has the love in his heart to do things, and he has taken steps to make sure we can have a life together. Clayton and I are very close to being together at last, forever perhaps. I don’t know if there is such thing as till death do we part though, because marriage is fleeting so much so in my opinion, Trenton and I at least did not have a full legal wedding. I was never Mrs. Trenton Matthews, so to be honored with a name like Mrs. Clayton Jacobs, this is a big huge step. I don’t want to jump the gun on Clayton, but he did say he’d marry me, and it was only a matter of when. I’m excited but I’m not gonna reveal any more detail about any such things, not yet.

What I do know is that taking his name would be a big honor, and it would be a bigger honor to carry the little lives that he and I create. It does take two to tango. Furthermore, Clayton has the best personality that matches mine. I am a bit scared of posting this because I don’t know what he’ll think when he sees this. I’ve had people tell me that I shouldn’t be with Clayton, or should be exclusive to Trenton. I was tempted to close the door too, after a young lady from Georgia suggested that mine and Clayton’s relationship should fail. Well, she’s gone from my pages, gone from my phone, I can’t stand this woman anymore.

As for the unhealed relationship trauma, Clayton is one who wants to help me overcome and conquer all the traumatic stuff from Jason, Blake, and Joey. Unlike Jason, Blake and Joey, Trenton is not leaving my side yet. He’s never going to, even when I give birth to child number 1 or 2. Who knows. I don’t want to have more than 2 unless I have money to handle it all. Clayton wants to invest and work and all of that. I can’t wait to start my life with Clayton, and he can’t wait to do this either. We’re going to be a great team, and Clayton is going to be the best teammate and lover and friend I could ever ask for. HE is though wilder than the roses on the prairie in Iowa, he has the gentlest aura and most awesome way of saying I love you in so many different ways. We’re not exactly lost on the Southwest United States and the best cuisine is here in Arizona or colorado. I am sitting in my apartment in Colorado, and Clayton has the best outlook on moving to Denver, he’s going to hang with me and we’ll just have so much fun together. He’s been a tower of strength, an anchor even when Trenton and I were having arguments, fights, and the like. I didn’t want to reveal things because Trenton and I truthfully have a good friendship. We will not stop being friends, but Mom doesn’t think we should even have anything to do with each other. What does she know, however? Guardianizing Trenton was definitely not smart, and he is not a guardianized man, he’s free to make decisions, and Mom should realize that. I have a few things to say now.

Clayton, my beloved one, you are the best thing that’s ever happened, and I wasn’t expecting you to be so up front with me. You’ve been the best I’ve ever seen, heard, tasted, all of that. IF I had written a juicy romance novel earlier, I would have made you my main character. Perhaps I could, but I’m not a reader of romance. However, you are the sower of my plants, the tender of my garden, and many wild roses shall I bring forth to you, many more I will plant too. You and I will blossom into something special, beautiful, and truie. I love you.

Beth

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