Juneteenth

Today is Juneteenth. I don’t remember when I learned the meaning of it, but it hasn’t been long. I think that’s shameful I never learned about it in school. In fact, during my entire 12-year experience, we never got past the War of 1812, although Robber Barons (1890s) sounds a tad familiar from ancient American history twelfth grade.

Slavery is our nasty sin no one wants to talk about. We fought a civil war over it. President Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. The news spread quickly enough in most states and the Thirteenth Amendment, basically ending slavery in the US, came into being earlier in 1865.

News traveled slower than molasses in Texas. On June 19, 1865, some Union soldiers came to Galveston, TX as a part of the Reconstruction. In Galveston, TX, they discovered Black people who were still enslaved! So, the commanding officer broke the news to everyone that they were free and had been for two years. Naturally, the newly freed enslaved celebrated.

When did I learn this? I’m embarrassed to say it’s only been in the last few years, ever since the controversy began over the book 1619. I read it and, in many places, my hair about stood on end and I felt like I was going to throw up. Yes, I felt uncomfortable. I also wished I’d learned about Juneteenth earlier.

I read Juneteenth by Ralph Ellison.

I wanted to read other books, too. I wanted to learn what I hadn’t in school.

I read:

Across That Bridge, by former Congressman John Lewis

Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

A Way Out Of No Way by Sen. Raphael Warnock

The Hate U Bring by Angie Thomas

Punch Me to the Gods by Brian Broome

Didn’t Nobody Give A Shit About Carlotta by James Hannaham

The Sweetness of Water by Nathan Harris

These are books related not just to the Black experience but also to the experiences of marginalized, mistreated groups.

I mentioned that as a kid and teen, most of what I learned about what went on in history was from reading books.

I learned about Jim Crow and racial discrimination from To Kill A Mockingbird

I learned about ongoing racial discrimination from In the Heat of the Night and a boatload of other books.

I learned about Christian missionaries wiping out the native Hawaiian population from Hawaii by the ideas and diseases they brought. From the same book, I learned about Japanese Americans interred in concentration camps.

I learned about the slaughter and decimation of the Native tribes from Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee

I learned about the Holocaust from Exodus

I wish I’d learned these things in school. As I read, there was no guidance. There was no teacher to help explain more of the history and the whys of it all. There was no one with whom I could share my shock and grief that these horrible things really happened.

Especially when you are a child (and I mean right through the teenage years), learning historical facts as awful as these are “discomforting” and that is ever so true. But feeling uncomfortable can be a good thing in the right hands of a teacher. These are events in our history and to learn them doesn’t mean we have to feel uncomfortable or guilty. It just means that we admit the wrong and take responsibility for it. In that way, we don’t keep repeating the wrong.

I am still learning more historical moments I didn’t know before, and I have to say I was today old when I learned it. I can live with the discomfort. I wish half the country would say the same.

 

Not So Shiny Or Happy

 

One of my big frustrations about blogging is how easily I’m distracted from the subject I want to write about. In this case, I’ve been wanting to write about Bobby Kennedy, the REAL RFK, and not the very pale copy, Junior. Instead, life and the news keep happening. I still intend to write about Bobby and maybe the delay is okay because I have still been processing my memory of him and how much I wanted him to live.

Ok, so the whole world is all about tRump being indicted on 37 different charges related to obstruction, careless care of documents he wasn’t supposed to keep, and possible espionage because he showed sensitive documents to people he ought not to have. I don’t want to write about that because, frankly, I’m tired. Even after reading the indictment and seeing pictures, most of the Rethugs in Congress still support him and want to go after the DOJ/FBI.

In fact, one clown from Louisiana sent out a coded message which was interpreted to mean: get ready, insurrectionists, we move on Tuesday (when tRump has to appear in court) and we block bridges and hey, let’s have a civil war. 45 supporters on craven social media sites are drooling over the idea of civil war.

It's the Upside Down, that reality. Truly. And it’s exhausting.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t care and that I’m giving up.

As rumors of the indictment began flying last week, I saw a FB message from someone close to me about a series called “Happy Shiny People”. She was going to watch it with a glass of wine and a box of tissues. A couple of people responded by saying they had no idea things were that bad for her, and she replied no one did. You could never tell in her church who was following IBLP and who were just regular parishioners.

IBLP? Ted was familiar with it but didn’t know much about it, and so we decided to watch it.  If you’ve seen the 4 part series, then you know how insidious it is. If you haven’t, pull up a chair.

IBLP is an acronym for Institute in Basic Life Principles. It’s a non-denominational evangelical Christian hydra of ministries once headed by a minister named Bill Gothard. Gothard, who never married and never had children, gave sermons on how families were to behave. The father in the family was the absolute ruler and had to be obeyed by everyone. The mother also had to be obeyed but was subordinate. The children in the family had to be perfectly obedient, no questions asked. The children were to be home-schooled.

There were all kinds of rules restricting sexuality and it was applied most to the girls. They were expected to dress and behave modestly, wearing long-length dresses with bloomers underneath. The mothers were supposed to produce as many babies as their tired bodies could give.

Teenage dating was restricted because the belief was not to even kiss until after marriage. There was no hand holding, no necking. When a boy and a girl were of age, the boy would ask the father’s permission to court the girl. A lot of the marriages were prearranged.

The homeschooling materials lacked substance and only reinforced the ideas and rules behind IBLP.

Does this sound cultish? It did to us, especially when the rampant sexual abuse of women and girls was uncovered.

It started with the Duggar family. I remembered them, vaguely. There were on the Discovery Channel, a gazillion children and counting. Because they were presented in a sweet, loving way, viewers learned about IBLP. It looked appealing. Look at how the Duggar parents love each other. Look at how well-behaved those children were. But there were moments when I saw a blankness of expression or sadness in the eyes. I've been in a position, too, of having to pretend everything was fine when it wasn't.

Unbeknownst to Discovery and the viewers, the eldest Duggar son was molesting his younger sisters. That’s what happens when sexuality is taboo. Curiosity blooms. Ugh, it was disgusting. The girls admitted later that they knew it was weird, but they didn’t really understand that it was wrong.

Perhaps that’s because the abuse was so widespread throughout the movement. Even Jim Gothard was a predator.  Women survivors talked about how they were fondled, groped and raped. They couldn't protest because of the rule that men were sovereign. One woman said when she read The Handmaid's Tale, she thought: this is my story.

When the ugly stories came out, the Duggars’ show was canceled and Gothard was removed from IBLP.

IBLP continued, and there was another really disturbing part of their mission. There was a reason the wives were counseled to have a gazillion children. These kids are part of what is called the “Joshua generation”.  These kids are indoctrinated with IBLP principles through isolation and homeschooling.

As adults, they move quietly into the mainstream. They infiltrate churches, school boards, and local and state offices. From there, they move into the FBI, Department of Justice, Homeland Security, and Congress too. Former Representative Madison Cawthorn is an example of the Joshua Generation and how it’s spreading.

In addition, IBLP principles are showing up in military and police training.

A former member of IBLP’s Joshua Generation said in an interview that the idea was for the organization to grow to the point that it could take over the country and then the world.

Does this sound too fantastic?

Maybe, maybe not.

These cults and violent militias do exist, however. Staying ignorant of them is dangerous. That’s how one gets sucked in … or run over.

Want to see for yourself? It’s airing on Amazon Prime. There’s also a lot of information from various sources if you google IBLP.

 

This Book Triggered Me

 I saw Meredith, Alone by Claire Alexander on display as I walked into the library. I was drawn not only to the interesting title but to the cat looking out the window with Meredith.  I looked at the back cover and read that it was “sweet”, “touching”, “funny”, “charming”, and “hopeful.” Just the ticket for me because I’d just read a sad book.

After I got home, I took a look at the inside cover and felt some concern. It mentioned the positive things in Meredith’s life but then said she was also suffering “treacherous memories of an unstable childhood.” Oh, dear, I thought. Me too. I decided to read the book anyway.

The book is sweet in many places. It has uplifting scenes of hope. It does have its charm. It touched me in a way I didn’t expect, triggering memories. I didn’t find it very funny at all.

From the very first page, I recognized why Meredith was alone. Anxiety and depression is prevalent on my dad’s side of the family; my mother suffered from an undiagnosed mood disorder.  I remember answering my phone just before my marriage to Rich.

One of my cousins was on the phone. Her voice was barely audible and husky. “I’m so sorry I can’t come to your wedding,” she whispered to me. “I can’t leave my apartment.”  She added she hadn’t left her apartment in over 5 years. I assured her that it was OK. I understood and wasn’t offended. She was grateful.

I didn’t know she had agoraphobia. I did know that I had panic attack disorder and so I did very much understand the need to avoid things that provoked anxiety.  About a year or so after our wedding, my cousin said proudly that she’d walked down to the corner grocer. I was delighted. She added, somewhat shamefacedly, that she was only able to get there by carrying a cane. It wasn’t for her protection she assured me. It was like her security blanket.  I didn’t care. The point was she could leave her apartment again.

So, Meredith and her older sister Fiona grew up in an unstable environment. Their dad left when they were very small. Their mother seemed to be uncaring and neglectful; perhaps she had a mood disorder similar to my mother’s. She would be a kind mom one moment and a violent or verbally cruel witch the next. That surely triggered me.

This is what really got me: how did the author know so well about these symptoms and issues? I wondered if she was disguising herself as Meredith. I can’t really tell from the articles and biographies I’ve read about her.  She is so spot-on about what it’s like to have these mental illnesses and yet still function.

Trauma can cause or exacerbate depression and anxiety. Meredith had one other trauma that I didn’t experience, and I thought it might be why she was too anxious to leave her home and I don’t give it a second thought. In spite of what I experienced as a child, I never became as reclusive and afraid to leave home as my cousin did.

The hopeful ideas in the book were that having a mental illness doesn’t and shouldn’t define you. The other idea is you can always get better.

I went back and forth between giving Meredith, Alone three stars (because it hit me so hard) or four stars because Claire Alexander made it all so real. I finally decided not to punish the book for triggering me.

I recommend this book with the caveat that it could trigger memories in the reader.