The Scrawl of the Riled: A couple of decades ago when I still thought I'd be the next Stevie Nicks, a poet several years my senior leaned over to his girlfriend and whispered this about me "This girl can spill her guts better than anyone I know"...Best compliment ever. I still aspire to those words. Peace.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Are you a Victim?
My name is Tammy and I am a victim. When I was little my
parents abused me. I need glasses in school and didn’t get them until I was a
teenager because my parents were mean and selfish. As a result, I never learned
to play sports so I was teased and bullied by my peers. There wasn’t money for
me to go to college so I had to pay my own way which was really hard and I had
to work at jobs that were terrible because I am female and I didn’t get paid as
much as men who were doing the same thing. I am a victim of discrimination. Now
I have been diagnosed with GAD and severe sleep apnea. I eat to comfort myself
because of my horrible past and now I am obese. Because I am a victim and
overweight my sleep apnea is chronic which makes me worry and escalates my GAD.
I can’t exercise because every time I try I am reminded of how I was bullied as
a child and it makes me cry. So I go buy a hamburger. I may have an eating
disorder and with all the chemicals in the food that make me crave sugar and
salt and HFCS I am now an addict to processed food.
Life is too hard, so I have decided that I am
going to stop using my CPAP machine because it impinges on my right to sleep
comfortably. When I go completely insane because I am not getting oxygen to my
brain I am going to strangle my child. I’ll tell the cameramen and reporters
that I guess I gripped his neck too hard while disciplining him and I’ll have
free room and board for the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll write a book and make
lots of money and get a law degree because I will be a victim of the system. Or
maybe I will go camp out on the bosque and scare bicyclists. Then the police
will have to come shoot me for no reason and all of you can come put up a
santuario in my memory because I am a victim and no one will help me.
It’s all true you know. I was abused as a child. I didn’t
get glasses till eighth grade. I was bullied and teased. I am female. I do make
less than my male counterparts. I do have GAD, sleep apnea and I am seriously
overweight. I cried yesterday just thinking about doing a Crossfit WOD. And
honestly, right now I would love to wrap my pudgy paws around a double green
chile cheeseburger. I have every reason to check out of society and be
unaccountable for my actions. I’m a free white American. I am entitled. I am privileged.
My situation is everyone else’s fault and you can shoulder the consequences
when I become homeless and sick. Only thing stopping me are four tiny words: It’s not about me…
Truth is, raw emotion is no filter for truth. Truth either
is or isn’t and the truth is we all are accountable not only for ourselves but
for others. When we sound off without fact checking, when we accuse without
applying the litmus test of transparency we are no better than jackals at a
carcass. We the people have championed organizations like the ACLU who quashed
a form of a Kendra’s Law here in Albuquerque that would possibly have prevented
James Boyd from camping out in the foothills in the first place. How does one
propose to assist the homeless mentally ill when those same people are not
required to even partake of one’s assistance? Perhaps we do it by protesting
the very entities tasked to uphold the laws we helped get on the books? Ah yes,
I see that we the free are due to have it both ways because we filter the law
through our situational emotional barometer of personal right and wrong which
may or may have little to nothing to do with truth. Life is precious and James
was sick and cops are mean for using excessive force unless he had raped your
daughter and she’s pregnant then you could shoot him and we can’t possibly
force an unwanted pregnancy on your princess so we’ll terminate that pregnancy.
Cuz it’s its ok to shoot a sick homeless rapist yourself and well everyone
knows that children in New Mexico are disposable before and after birth. That’s
why Omaree Varela’s mom can spout off with a comment like “I guess I kicked him
too hard.” and we can blame APD for that too. Should the officers have used excessive force
on her? Would we then have lit candles for a repeat child abuser? We’re doing
it for a violent homeless man. Oh but mental illness puts you above
accountability. I forgot about that.
Until we register that we are all accountable incidents like
those involving James Boyd and Omaree Varela will continue to happen. We can
yell at our law enforcement all we want. We can put flowers down. We can cry
about taxpayers’ money because God knows we cry about paying taxes again, we
want everything for nothing, but until we determine that we are the ones to
blame, nothing will get fixed. And there’s only so much carcass to go around
before the jackals are gnawing on your prized poodle.
I am responsible for myself. If I choose to play victim, I
will always be fat, anxious and sleep deprived. That is my truth. Broccoli
sucks. I hate Crossfit. And that CPAP machine is of the devil. But my
consequence for my personal discomfort and accountability will be better
health, peace, and emotional stamina to truly get out there and make the
changes for those who really are disabled or incapable. It’s not enough to be
the megaphone for the accuser. We must become the moving hands and feet of
change. Pitchforks were designed for moving hay and excrement not brandishing
at our fellow humans. Blocking traffic, spitting at cops and wearing Guy Fawkes
masks on your head will not facilitate change. Volunteering at a hospital, a
shelter, a food pantry – educating yourself on the LAWS that govern us, paying
your taxes, showing up for life, yeah, those things – those things will
facilitate change. I am not a victim and the truth is many of us do not
understand the true meaning of that word.
Peace. Stuff to google on your own: James Boyd Omaree Varela Kendra's Law John Hyde