Cultural Stew

You wouldn’t know it to look at my face,

martha 271

but I’m part Native American. No. Really.

You would probably guess I’m German or English. And you’d be right on either count. I’m probably a lot of other things as well. I really need to do that spit test.

My grandfather’s mother was full-blooded Native American. Chickasaw? We think. No one knows for sure. She’s not listed on any census and I can’t find her in the Native American registry. But she existed. So that makes me 1/8 Native American. Something that I’m proud of. I don’t know why, but I am. It’s never been something to be ashamed of. Maybe because I look white and no one ever treated me in a negative way (racially). I had other factors though that called attention to being different. Overweight. Artistic. Sensitive. Not much money. And I was made fun of for those things. Minor compared to racism.

I wonder, in the late 19th century when great-grandma met great-grandpa and married, and had several children, did they encounter racism? Disapproval, bias, difficulty? I hope not. But probably. In Oklahoma at the time, maybe it was more common to see mixed couples? I don’t know. That story is lost to our family. Unfortunately.

My family came to this country for opportunity. They were allowed in. The other part of my family was already here! There have been mistakes on all sides, but the American government killed the Native Americans, ground them into dust and pushed them into tiny groups. In fact, our country has a pretty bloody history. Not one to be proud of, IMO. Not all of it anyway.

My family left Germany before the war. Danke Gott! But some extended family may have stayed, don’t know, probably. Know where they came from before Germany? France.

All that being said, I can’t imagine excluding someone because they need a place to go. Or especially when they were born in America or were brought here at a very young age. Jesus didn’t hold people at arm’s length. Jesus loved sinners, Samaritans (considered dirty foreigners by Judeans) and people of all kinds. I understand there are limited resources and other considerations, but IMO the politicians setting policy that don’t consider immigrants as people are not Christians.

God included everyone in salvation. Not just Israel. Where would we be if He built a wall around the Promised Land?

Some of the nicest, hardest-working, finest, most moral people I have ever met have been immigrants. So why is this an issue now?

Advertisements

make stuff

Andy Warhol said:
Don’t think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it’s good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art.

But he also said:
Art is what you can get away with. LOL


I have to remind myself. Make what you like. Write what you like. Don’t worry about whether people like it. Just keep going. It’s not up to me. The questions to ask IMO are:
Is this real?
Does this help you or someone else?
Is this positive?
And for me, what would God say about what I’ve written? (I don’t think God cares if I say naughty words. *shrug* He cares whether or not I love people. And some people deal in naughty words. lol IDK!)

Here’s an excerpt from a piece I wrote at the beginning of this site,
Dog with a Blog:


Through some pretty painful thoughts, my epiphany rose. Your writing is the voice you always wanted. And you just want to be heard because you felt like you never were. Same with acting, art, anything. Your hands and mouth and mind won’t stop, even if you tried. They’ve had their freedom. You were the 4th child of a crazy family who wasn’t big on sharing, feelings or truth. Your voice was lost on that sea of insanity. You don’t want to be ignored. You have something to say.

But, it has to be more than that. Because everyone has that story. What God is leading me to is this.

GOD: If I gave you a voice, it was to use for me. Not to heal your broken heart. Not to sermonize. Not to exorcise your demons. Not to psychoanalyze your issues. But to work for me. And I have taken care of you. I will continue to do that. You show my power in your weakness. Stop worrying about money. I will not let your voice drown. Like the boat that I was in and kept tall on the waves that I stilled, I will raise your voice for those that need to hear it.


I hesitated years ago to start a blog. But I’m so glad I finally did.

Keep going. You don’t know where you will go unless you move.

I’m No Angel

Print
Angel wings and halos
Aren’t always what they seem.
Perfect teeth and tits
Are nothing but a dream.

This body gave life.
This belly gave birth.
This face has laughed.
These hands do work.

My breasts have fed
A tiny baby girl.
This mind has created
a from-scratch, new-found world.

I wouldn’t really try
To change a bleeding thing.
After finding my own voice?
I’m totally gonna sing.

Why not?
So what?
Wear
Think
Do
Say
Go after
Pull down
The things you want.
No one cares.
No one stares!

And if they do?
Chalk it up to hate.
They’ll have to answer for that
Portion on their plate.

I’m too busy living life to wonder what small-minded people think
about this big-hearted person.

HEEEY! *snap* bye. *flap, flap, flap*


YOU! bettah. work!