Dixie Darr

Archive for the ‘Resistance’ Category

Deny, Defy, Resist

In Resistance on January 18, 2018 at 6:17 pm

You may have noticed that I have lately stepped away from political rants. Don’t think it’s because I no longer feel strongly about the way #45 and the Republicans are destroying our country or that I no longer consider myself part of the resistance. Sometimes I just need a break from the intensity. I don’t watch the news much, and when I do, I mute it as soon as the orange shithole appears. Pardon my language. I do still listen to Rachel Maddow every night. (I don’t have cable, so I can’t watch the show, but the audio portion is available as a podcast.)
I like to think I’m keeping up at the same time I’m keeping my distance. I just can’t live a life of constant fury, so I focus on more pleasant things.
I’m ashamed that my generation of baby boomers is largely blamed for putting this nightmare regime in office. Most of my friends are boomers and virtually all of them agree that this is one of the darkest periods in our nation’s history, so we’re not all doddering fools. I’m happy to hear that the number of millennials of voting age now outnumbers baby boomers. Now if they will get out and vote, maybe we can begin to turn things around and return to sanity and reason and, yes, hope.
That’s as much of a rant that you’re going to get from me, at least until the daily accumulation of awfulness overwhelms me again and I just can’t help myself.

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A Few More Days

In Christmas, Church, Resistance on December 27, 2017 at 10:03 am

I’m not quite done with Christmas yet. After all the preparations, I’d like it to last a few more days, please. Another day of relaxation and savoring the hope, peace, love, and joy of the season. This is a nice time of year. People are nicer to one another.
In many ways, 2017 was a disastrous year, and yet I’m not quite ready to turn to 2018. In the midst of a truly horrible year came some sweetness, affirmation that not all is lost. The first taste came on January 21 when hundreds of thousands of women and men all across the earth took to the streets to demonstrate against the monster in the White House and his regressive, idiotic ideas. When I saw a picture of two of my favorite men wearing pink pussy hats headed for the demonstration, it made my day.
It was a great year for my church with several projects started after a highly successful capital campaign. We also decided to fly our “freak flag” for all the world to see in the form of our big banner proclaiming that we believe science is real, love is love, women’s rights are human rights, black lives matter, and many more things that wouldn’t have seemed the least bit controversial a year ago. Even the massive hail storm that took out our roof and several stained glass windows couldn’t dampen our spirits. We observed Pride month with more banners and with the biggest Methodist contingent at the gay pride parade. In October we celebrated our 125th anniversary.
Personally, my world turned upside down when my first boyfriend from 51 years ago re-entered my life bringing unexpected joy and making me look at things from a whole new perspective.
I just want a few more days to relish all the wonderful things that happened even when all seemed lost. These lines from a poem by Dinos Christianopoulos sum it up nicely, “what didn’t you do to bury me / but you forgot that I was a seed.” Like all the other seeds, I’m comfortably canoodling with the earth, preparing to burst forth again soon.

We All Shine On

In Christmas, creativity, Resistance on December 9, 2017 at 10:40 am

My Secular Advent, Day Seven

The first week of Advent celebrates hope. We rest in the darkness waiting and preparing for the glorious event that we know is coming. Jan Karon wrote in her latest book, To Be Where You Are, “Advent for me (is), the expectation that something wonderful will happen” Unfortunately, in most of life, we don’t know what’s coming, and we still must wait and hope.

Our much-loved former President Barak Obama said, “I have always believed that hope is that stubborn thing inside us that insists, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us so long as we have the courage to keep reaching, to keep working, to keep fighting.” We need these words now more than ever.

We need to continue to forge forward, believing that this is a time of darkness but not despair. Look up at the night sky and see tiny points of light breaking through the darkness. Untold millions of them. And that’s what’s happening in this bleak midwinter here on earth. No one has the answer to what will finally bring peace on earth, good will to all people, yet millions of individuals perform daily acts of kindness and integrity, becoming beacons to those unable to speak or act for themselves.

Belief in a brighter future requires action to realize our hopes. As Maya Angelou wrote in her poem, Still I Rise

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.”

In bitter times like these, maintaining hope is difficult, but it is our nature. We are, after all, made of stardust. We rise and we shine.

It’s what we do.

Dancing With My Cat

In Learning, Resistance on October 4, 2017 at 8:24 am

Most mornings Radley and I perform a ritual clash of wills. He decides I need to get up at, say, 4:45. I demur. He pats me, claws extended. I push him away. He tries to sit on my head. I pick him up and drop him to the floor. He launches himself back on the bed and tries to claw my leg. I pull the covers over me and he, lacking the necessary knowledge of object permanence, thinks large portions of myself have disappeared. He wanders onto my bookcase headboard and attacks a box of kleenex. I take it away and hide it under the covers with me.

Repeat.

Occasionally he will let me catch a few winks before he starts the sequence all over again.

This continues for maybe as long as an hour before I give up and get out of bed, at which point Radley meows piteously at me. He’s probably berating me for making him work so hard. He always wins, partly because I will always eventually get up and partly because he never gives up.

At some point during this daily dance, I realize that I’m only fighting him out of habit and a need to assert my dominance.

I think the seemingly interminable clashes between the left and the right are a little like dancing with a cat. We think they’re evil; they think we’re weak. We think they will someday, miraculously start paying attention to facts and logic. They simply refuse to recognize such things. We try to do the right thing for society as a whole. They do what “feels right” for themselves. We each get used to performing our ritual steps without either side acknowledging the other.

We aren’t cats, of course, and the stakes are much higher than what time to get up in the morning. How on earth can we get past this standoff? Sometimes I wonder if there is anything at all that we can agree on.

As Water is to Fish

In Learning, Prejudice, Resistance on September 27, 2017 at 6:46 am

The painting shows a tiny black girl in a white dress walking resolutely to school, eyes straight ahead, surrounded by U.S. Marshalls. The wall behind her has the N-word scrawled in rusty, running paint. The famous Norman Rockwell painting is one enduring image of racism. What it doesn’t show is the gauntlet of white parents screaming and spitting and throwing things at the little girl.

In normal life, they were probably perfectly nice people who paid their bills and waited politely in line and helped their neighbors. The thought of an innocent little black girl attending their children’s school, however, turned them into snarling lunatics.

In 1960, Ruby Bridges became the first African-American child to desegregate the all-white William Frantz Elementary School in New Orleans. It didn’t go well. Somebody had to be the first.

The other lasting impression of racism for me is the devastating song, Strange Fruit, by Billie Holiday.

Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swingin’ in the Southern breeze
Strange fruit hangin’ from the poplar trees

Pastoral scene of the gallant South
The bulgin’ eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burnin’ flesh

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the tree to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop.”

You should listen to it.

When other white people tell me they don’t believe in white privilege or institutional racism, I think of the meme that says, “Racism is to white Americans as water is to fish.” And I think of Ruby Bridges and Billie Holiday.

We have to stop this. We white Americans have to stop this. The first step is acknowledging that it isn’t somebody else’s problem. It’s our problem. We’re the problem and we have to fix it.

Far Out, Man

In creativity, Learning, music, Prejudice, Resistance, spirituality on September 26, 2017 at 9:40 am

Peace, love, and rock ‘n roll is how I like to remember the 60s, and I expect envy from younger generations when those of us now mostly in our sixties wax nostalgic.

Of course, we didn’t really have peace although we demonstrated against the war in Vietnam endlessly in protests that remind me of the repeated protests today. We did have the peace sign.

Love? Yes and no. Free love was never on my agenda, and that was about sex anyway, not love.

Rock ‘n roll, yes indeed. Not only did we have the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Chuck Berry, Janice Joplin, and Aretha Franklin, we also had the early 60s girl groups and doo-wop and Motown. We had the best music.

Peace, love, and rock ‘n roll were always set against a backdrop of neverending war, vicious racism, and unchecked violence.

It’s why, when a friend asked me to go to the exhibit titled 1968 at History Colorado a year or so ago, I said, “No thank you.” I remembered the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy and thought, “I can’t go through that again.”

It’s why I won’t watch the current PBS series, “The Vietnam War.” The creator, Ken Burns, is a genius, and I’ve enjoyed many of his previous documentaries. Not this one. People tell me it’s wonderful and they’re learning so much that they didn’t know when it happened. Many can only watch it in small chunks without feeling overwhelmed. I had to watch it on the news the first time around. I don’t want to go there again.

For me, the quintessential song about the war is Country Joe and the Fish “Feel Like I’m Fixing to Die Rag.”  “Be the first one on your block to have your boy come home in a box.”

Maybe I’m sticking my head in the sand (or a box, if you prefer) when I choose to remember the good times and forget the bad. I’d rather listen to Give Peace a Chance than the Eve of Destruction. And I have to wonder, in fifty years, what we’ll (well, you’ll) remember about 2017.

Knee Replacement

In Learning, Prejudice, Resistance on September 25, 2017 at 7:03 am

If you know anything about me, you know I support the athletes and others who are taking a knee to protest racial discrimination and violence against African Americans, especially by the police. I hate that the national conversation, if we can call it that, is about whether or not the action disrespects the flag, or the military, or the man in the White House.

It’s not about the flag.

That flag should symbolize respect for all Americans. As long as police across the country continue to kill innocent, unarmed black people in record numbers, we absolutely must protest. Law enforcement officials have killed at least 223 black Americans since Colin Kaepernick first began to protest. Is that okay with you?

My two favorite quotes about this come from an actor, Jeffrey Wright, who said, “If a knee in Freddy Gray’s back upset you as much as a knee on the ground, this would all be over” and a 97-year-old WWII vet who took a knee and said, “those kids have every right to protest.”

What I hate is that the stupid arguments over whether or not the protests disrespect the flag have deflected attention away from the injustice against African Americans that they are protesting. If this administration is good at anything, it’s deflecting attention away from real issues, including the very real danger that the idiot in the White House will start a nuclear war with North Korea, or that Congress will take health care away from tens of millions of people, or victims of disaster that need our help, or the investigation into 45’s collusion with the Russians to steal the election. Etcetera.

While the DC dotard calls Nazis and the KKK “very fine people” and peacefully protesting athletes “sons of bitches,” I have no doubt that history will call Colin Kaepernick the new Rosa Parks.

We should take a cue from Stevie Wonder and all be on our knees praying for America.

Dream On

In Friends, Prejudice, Resistance on September 7, 2017 at 10:53 am

Every single one of us is the descendant of a go-getter. Of dreamers and of believers.” That’s one of the few things Marco Rubio has ever said that I agree with. The dream crusher in the White House must have realized how unpopular his decision would be because didn’t have the huevos to announce the end of DACA himself. Instead he sent well-known racist and KKK sympathizer Jefferson Beauregard Sessions to do the dirty deed, serving up a whole batch of lies to justify the action.

For the record, DACA did not grant legal status to recipients. Instead, it gave them a temporary reprieve.

It did not contribute to the surge of unaccompanied minors at the southern border.

It did not allow recipients participation in Social Security.

It did not deny jobs to hundreds of thousands of Americans by allowing illegal aliens to take those jobs.

The facts show that dreamers cannot vote, receive any federal benefits, like social security, food stamps or college financial aid, or receive amnesty.

The backlash was swift and widespread, coming from business and religious leaders in addition to elected officials from his own party. More than 70% of Americans think dreamers should be allowed to stay.

The criticism even seemed to penetrate 45’s obliviousness. Initially, he passed the buck to Congress, and later tweeted that if they couldn’t reach an agreement, he would revisit the subject. He also tweeted that he would take no action against dreamers for six months. Both of these statements would be welcome if anybody actually believed anything he says (or tweets).

We can’t relax and trust him to take care of things. We have to make this happen. These young people grew up here and are just as American as any of us. We need them as much as they need us. Right now, we’re all dreamers.

Sing with me now. Dream on until your dreams come true.

Sweet dreams are made of this.

Making Things Right

In Learning, Resistance on August 25, 2017 at 6:14 am


The latest polls reveal 45’s approval rating continues to drop, now at a new low of 34%. Clearly, some people who supported him have come to their senses.
I had only a few “friends” and relatives who voted for him, enthusiastically or otherwise, and I haven’t spoken to any of them since. Luckily, my close family and friends all agreed with me because they are smart, rational people, so the few I lost were no sacrifice.
Now, however, I wonder if any of those I lost now regret their choice. What if one of them came to me and said, “I’m sorry. I was wrong.” Could I forgive them and welcome them back into my tribe?
I’ve written before that forgiveness is not my strength.  I could accept their apology without forgetting that they are still responsible for the mess the country is in. No, Donald, you didn’t inherit a mess; you created one, maybe the worst American has ever seen. He’s still in office wreaking havoc.
What would my imaginary friend have to do to get back into my good graces? That is the question.
When Dr. Phil counsels couples, he tells the one who did wrong that one apology won’t do it. They have to earn the other’s trust over and over. They have to do it until the wronged partner finally believes it, however long that takes.
Those reformed Trump supporters have to do the same. They will have to take action that shows they repent. They will have to find ways to atone for the damage they caused. Participating in demonstrations, writing letters and making phone calls to elected officials would be a good start in making things right. Volunteering to help marginalized groups would be even better.
As a recent op-ed letter stated, “We deserve better than Donald Trump.” Even those who voted for his sorry ass deserve better whether they know it or not.
They need to fix this, and I don’t believe they can.
Prove me wrong.

Darkness, Darkness

In Learning, Prejudice, Resistance on August 21, 2017 at 5:40 am

Can’t say I’m excited about the eclipse. We’ve had too many dark days this year. A friend gave me a pair of the glasses, so I’ll probably put them on and go out to look at the sun for a few minutes. I’ll also keep off the roads because if people will be looking at the sky while driving, it just seems like a good time to stay home. I did have fun yesterday afternoon putting together an eclipse-themed playlist.
You may have seen the mock letter “Dear God, If you want us to impeach Trump, give us a sign. Like, blot out the sun… Anytime in the next week. Thanks, Americans.” Actually, I think God has already given us plenty of signs, if only we (and by we I mean Republicans) were smart enough to recognize them.
Trump’s appalling defense of white supremacists, neo-Nazis, and the KKK last week was a tipping point for many people. On Saturday I attended a Call to Action for White Allies workshop. Organized at the last minute by Indivisible Denver, they expected about 40 people to attend. Instead, nearly 1,000 showed up.
Of course, racism is hardly a new problem in America. You might argue that it’s one of the foundations the country was built on. I have a hard time separating racism from sexism, homophobia, ableism, xenophobia and other prejudices. They are all phenomenally stupid and cruel, and I and millions of other people are simply fed up.
Another popular online meme says, “The good old days, when women and black people knew their places – and queer was just the dirty family secret nobody talked about are over. Welcome to the 21st century.”
Astrologers tell us that eclipses tend to usher in sweeping change. Like most rational people, I think astrology is nonsense. This time, however, I hope they’re right. I want to believe that a couple hours of darkness will cause people to renounce their bigotry.
Against all logic and experience, I long for them to simply wake up and proclaim,
“Now, I see the light.”