A Love Letter To My Fellow Humans

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Featured Review on this writing by Dr. Acula


Let’s start a hi-five revolution!


Look around us. Look at the masses divided on race, religion, gender, class, ethnicity, sexual orientation, marriage, healthcare, education, abortion, the economy, the environment, the military. Awaken to the calamity. Stop the hate, the divisions. Embrace our common ground, our humanity. Band with me to celebrate our gorgeous similarities. To ignite a hi-five revolution.

Let me make it clear — I am not religious. I am spiritual. I am an empath. I am a rule breaker. I am a free-thinker. I am a questioner. I am a pacifist. I respect many different faiths. I believe in a creator, in my path of tolerance, patience, acceptance, generosity, forgiveness and love. Like objectivist, Ayn Rand implies in her novels — The Atlas Shrugged, We the living — facing reality and defying norms inspires true equality. Like visionary Vishen Lakhiani declares in his book, Code of the Extraordinary Mind, “We live in a culturescape dictated by bullsh** rules or brules,” as Lakhiani coins. I request permission to use his word, brules as it certainly defined my past.

See I grew-up suffering my first nineteen-years under horrific abuse, under the tyrannical rule of three mentally ill parents who shoved Jesus into my spine, a rod of discipline that almost paralyzed me. My father terrorized me, a precious five-year old girl with threats of eternal damnation so I would get saved and baptized. He strangled my conscientious with orders to stay pure and righteous before Christ. I worried daily whether I would lose my salvation, whether my repentance for my sins was good enough, whether Jesus would allow me into heaven or curse me to hell. Was enough trauma to knot my stomach until I literally vomited.

My parents forced my sisters and I, young innocent girls, to attend Jesus-camp every summer. We drove hours to sit days amongst thousands of other families crammed in huge lecture halls. With arms flailing and voices whooping, the congregation wailed praises to an oppressive Jesus-God who only accepted those who obeyed His commands. Vicious brules that encouraged my father to Lord our home with an iron fist. To belittle females, heathens and minorities. To favor prayer over medical treatment. To assault my mother. To molest and beat my sisters and I. Agonizing beyond measure, knives still hammered in my chest. Somehow I survived. No thanks to our pastor, an evil dictator almost as maniacal as my father. Pastor glared from the podium, shaking his finger at us every Wednesday and Sunday, screaming judge-mental, racist, manipulative and Hell-fire messages while his flock threw their last dimes into the offering and shouted, “Amen! Christ is coming! Turn or burn!”

They sipped up his toxic-filth, inebriating themselves while I stood staring at them, wondering why? Why do we believe this garbage? Why do I have to stay in a suffocating box and drink this spiteful kool-aide? I quickly decided, perhaps by age six, that I wanted no part of such hate. Maybe that’s why my father picked on me, nick-named me Satan’s child, robbed my voice and pitted me with constant abuse. He knew I didn’t buy into his cultist brules, and he used this against me along with his anger at me for not being born the boy he wanted. 

At age nine, I spurred my father’s removal from us. He was diagnosed with Schizophrenia and wandered in and out of psychiatric hospitals. Throughout my adolescence, I was plagued with panic that any moment he could swoop in and ensnare me. My mother, an emotionally stunted and crazy-making neglector, let him return at one point. He raped me, in the dead of night, a trauma I repressed for decades. Shamed and ignored, I sank further into myself and masked my true identity from everyone including my mother. 

She remarried when I turned fourteen. No surprise that her new husband was another abuser. My step-father constantly criticized my opinions about life, philosophy, religion, and whatever else he deemed foolish. Anytime I set out, he stormed behind me, scrutinizing and micromanaging the way I raked leaves or shoveled snow or mowed the lawn or unloaded the dishwasher or cooked dinner. He called me a nasty, stupid-bitch while my mannequin mother nodded in agreement with her usual flat smile. Neither of them listened to me. So I stopped talking again. I sought answers in my teachers and my youth leaders. 

I once asked a pastor, “If Jesus and God are the same omniscient and omnipotent entity, then why did this Jesus-God punish humanity with Noah’s flood? Why did this Jesus-God say in Genesis six verse six that He regretted making man-kind? Doesn’t regret suggest a mistake was made, that He miscalculated His decision to breathe humanity into existence? How can one who has faults be considered an all-knowing and all-powerful God?” The pastor offered me no answer. His silence fueled my theory that Jesus was an imperfect human like all of us. 

Of course my theory pegged me as an outcast in my family. I yearned for a father-figure, a mother-figure. Someone to understand me, to banish the void gnawing at my bones. I found a mentor, when I turned fifteen, in the man I called uncle. Even he betrayed me. He sexually assaulted me, left me so devastated I nearly killed myself. 

I pushed on. Fled my home after my stepfather kicked me out at age nineteen. I entered university. Earned my teaching degree with honors despite my Complex PTSD. Despite my depression. Despite having few supportive family members — besides some aunts, cousins and my younger sister. I fought for her escape as well by courageously writing to CPS in her defense. My older sister was so vexed she shunned me. My mother cruelly accused me of tearing our family apart. She condemned me with vile e-mails, never acknowledging her neglect or apologizing for her abandonment. 

The gaping hole in my heart bled through my chest and into my life. Defeated and spent, I dragged myself along until one day I met my future husband. My heart began to mend in the weeks and months as my soulmate and forever friend danced with me beneath the stars and asked me to do life with him. Fifteen years in a loving marriage, we braved infertility, we made a miracle baby, a peaceful home and beautiful family. Yet I desperately longed for my mother’s compassion, to fix the loss, the emptiness, the loneliness inside me. 

She baited me once more when she invited me to a ladies seminar, along with my then Bible-thumping younger sister. Thinking I might finally have a chance to bond with my mother, I foolishly accepted. Not my proudest moment. I failed to research the holy-roller seminar she cluelessly chose. Discovered later the facility was located near a KKK den. 

Here I walked into a pit of White supremacist she-snakes. A pious female-minister with nose snubbed in the air and a smirk on her lips, traipsed to the stage. 

“I hope you call your kids little sinners.” She proclaimed. “Cause that’s what they are. Little sinners. Spank them. Train them up to obey.”

How disgusting! Those she-snakes bowed to that serpentine pastor. They clapped her on, giggling, showering her with praise and gifts as she condemned every child of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, children precious in His sight.  

“Let them come to me,” He stated in Matthew nineteen verse fourteen. “For theirs is the kingdom.”  

This nauseating minister completely defiled scriptures and negated her own religion. More nauseating, she represents a multi-million dollar company driven under the guise of Christ-like devotion. With slogans evangelicals often use like, “What would Jesus do”, “Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve”, “Kill rapists not their children”, “Spare the rod spoil the child”,  “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” “Cut off the hand that offends,” and “Pray and tithe so you can thrive.” 

Yet less than one-percent of her company’s annual proceeds goes to helping those in need. The rest is pocketed by her and her conniving colleagues to fund salaries and vacations and bonuses and third homes. Their demented sham is no novel concept. I’ve seen this con-game repeated in many other so-called Christian corporations. 

Believe me, I ran from that shit show. I do not condone such evil that rips society at its seams, that sparks wars, that breeds mental illness and human oppression. Brules to the max. American evangelicals, in particular, have become weapons of mass destruction permitting leaders to steal dollars and dignity from the poor, to preach prosperity to money-hungry herds, to instill racism in the minds of the impressionable, to empower predators to prey on the most vulnerable in society.

We have flung ourselves to the wolves. We have allowed hatred to grip our country, our government, our justice system, our schools, our companies, our healthcare, our hospitals, our communities, our homes. We battle on twitter when we need to join hands against the pervasive darkness. 

Seriously! Where is our unifying grit when our own president minimizes and commits serious injustices. When terrorist attacks loom and perpetuate massacres and shootings. When politicians split the masses and squash voices of reason. When the National debt spirals and Whitehouse staff flips faster than our GDP. When hijabs frighten hate groups and evangelicals king miscreant lunatics. When races spit on other races and bigots decree who one can marry. When the incarcerated stay incarcerated and dealers sell laced drugs. When police officers abuse their authority and handcuff their victims. When females cower beneath the veil of sexual assault and work for less beneath under-qualified males. When child-molesters and sex-offenders lurk in the exact boardrooms that CEO’s negotiate. When public figures flaunt their sexual conquests and are rewarded with shoulder pats. When lobbyists berate planned parenthood and strip a woman’s choice. When health insurers reject the sick and charge the healthy an entire pay-check. When the FDA accrues billions off anti-depressants that keep people numb and lethargic. When the severely mentally ill gain gun permits instead of medical assistance. When cheap burgers increase child-obesity and carcinogens taint our food. When global warming is considered a hoax and oil lines burst through National Parks. When hurricane survivors receive little assistance and taxpayers fund presidential vacations. When childcare costs a year’s salary and preschool teachers make a hair above minimum wage. When educators drown in bureaucracy and squeeze kids past Common Core. When inner-city schools test budgets and prep schools test IQ’s. When students slouch behind brick walls and kindergarten recess and art is cut. When college grads owe the government for decades and the unemployed swarm to menial jobs. When single moms struggle to do it all and stay at home dads are considered drains to society. When parents helicopter over their children and pedophiles and felons live next door. When the impoverished stay frozen beneath the thumbs of the wealthy and hard-working immigrants are deported. When the homeless line our sidewalks and beg while the rich stride by. When generations young and old stupor over their devices and mute the outside world. When hashtags and memes replace real conversations about our dire issues. 

Tell me now, this is the future we desire to leave for our children, our grandchildren! 

No. Cover your eyes, your mouth if you must. I refuse to. I envision something brighter, better and beautiful. 

A world where children of every background run together as sisters and brothers. Where communities gather like families to support the needy, lonely and hungry. Where citizens wake to the chaos and stand as one against the vile giants. Where benevolent leaders emerge and display diplomacy, integrity and a heart for humanity. Where nations forge cordial alliances, trade agreements and global prosperity. Where nukes and terrorists fade into Yoga rallies. Where massacres and shootings become old news. Where the war on poverty and drugs is our highest priority. Where healthcare is legislated as a basic right. Where the mentally ill receive the same non-judgmental treatment as those with other illnesses. Where free education marks the rise of intellectuals, innovations and inventions. Where educators teach the student not the standards. Where classrooms meet outdoors and kids meditate over paint easels. Where those with special needs reach their goals. Where green farms grow clean food to restore our health and nutrition. Where National Parks and the environment take precedence over corruption and greed. Where robotics, solar energy, autonomous transportation, remote technology and NASA drive our economy. Where love is love and marriage is marriage no matter gender or sexual orientation. Where females choose what happens to their bodies and grasp the exact opportunities as males. Where maternity leave is a guarantee not a burden. Where sex-offenders and child-molesters atone for their crimes. Where miscreants and deviants are sentenced with compassion. Where the incarcerated obtain career training and role models. Where honest and industrious immigrants find refuge for a new beginning. Where all religions, races, genders, and sexual orientations, exhibit tolerance, kindness, respect, and tree-hugging. 

Utopia without brules. Without classifications. Without the constant jibber-jabber of who is right and who is wrong. What matters is truth about us as a collective species. Life is not meant to be lived in loneliness, in fear, in separation, in oppression or in a zombie stupor. This is my love letter to you, my fellow humans. Sisters and brothers around our globe. Our similarities are greater than our differences. Our spirits, our imperfections, our humanness make us equal and strong. Together we can achieve the extraordinary. Join me to spread hope, change and love one hi-five at a time. As John Lenon sang, “Imagine. Give peace a chance.” 

 


Submitted: January 21, 2018

© Copyright 2021 Joy Shaw. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Dr. Acula

You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one :D
Really like this, very much.
Its sad that we could be there now, but instead, we are here...
Hi-5 !

Mon, January 29th, 2018 2:19am

Author
Reply

HI-5 right back at you. I don’t know you but I love you from one human to another. :)

Sun, January 28th, 2018 6:21pm

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