I wake up everyday and dread getting out of bed. I feel like my mind will shut down or break down any minute. I’m irate and irritable. I’m lost and confused. I’m drowning, sinking into this emotional abyss. I’m angry at the world we’re living in, where hating someone because of the color of their skin, or the fact that they love someone of the same sex, or because a woman is fat, or because a man shows emotion, or because you don’t look, think, speak or feel like I do.
Diversity, is beautiful. The way you wear your hair, the cost of your clothes, the value of your education doesn’t make you better or worse than anyone on this earth. The light you give, the love you give, the soul you share with others . . . that is what matters; that is what counts. I love fair skin and freckles. I love smooth dark skin. I love olive tones on some skin. I love Blue, Green and Hazel eyes , all the same, but beautifully different. I love men, I love women.
Someone in the grocery store today gave me a look. I fall into several diverse categories. I’m a woman. I’m of Latin descent. I’m obese. This man looked at me with disdain, nausea, disgust. Then he heard me speak. I’m 5 generation American. My English is impeccable and without accent. My Texas Southern Twang long gone since living in Florida. He looked away, huffed and rolled his eyes. The feeling in my gut at that moment was something I could not hold back.
I asked him if there was a problem. HE ignored me. I laughed. I was livid. So I asked again, at him directly to his face, “Sir, Is there a problem?”. My husband would say I’m problematic. FUCK THAT! This fat white bigot and all his trump-loving cronies are the fucking problematic ones. His answer, “Nope”. I smiled. “I didn’t think so”, I replied. Picked up my cheese and walked away with my head held high.
2 aisles down . . . Woman asking her son to tell her what something said (in Spanish). Her son struggles to read the label. He has to be about 6. I stop next to her and in Spanish, I ask what she’s looking for. As I’m speaking to her in my again, non-accented, impeccable Spanish, the man walks past. Staring at me. I smile and wave. He decides to look the other way. That’s right fucker, I’m a Spanish, Mexican, Native American mutt. I’m proud of it.
FUCK you! FUCK TRUMP! May the Gods, (old, new, many) bless this nation with peace, love and respect. I’m losing my patience. I’m losing my cool. That can’t happen.
Diversity is beautiful. Diversity is life.