jena 6 thoughts

I ran across this news story… and me being a white chick from Memphis-way, I’d thought I’d give a different perspective on it. Before I give my opinion, I want to preface it with the fact that I in no way consider myself racist; and after people got to know me in high school (about 2/3s black), no one really thought I was. Most of my friends in high school were black. My roommate in college for almost two years, and one of the best friends I’ve had in my non-cyber world is black.

So flashback years, oh about 18 years ago or so. My little sister (5 years younger than me, we were 10 and 5 approximately) and I were up at school with my mom during an inservice meeting for teachers. We went up there just about every day that she had to, and helped out around the school when it was just the teachers. Teachers had us doing stuff, anything from cleaning desks, to putting up bulletin boards… you name it we did it. The head of the cafeteria also would bring her boys. However, her boys did the opposite, and eventually she was told to keep her kids at home when students were supposed to be gone. So back to this day in particular. She had brought her kids like she wasn’t supposed to, and they were out being bad, like they usually did. Two boys, about my age a little younger; about my size. They were known to pick on us, so my mom locked the door to her room while she was gone to a meeting.  The boys would peep through the window and bang on the door trying to get us to let them in.  We eventually put a piece of paper on the door saying “go away” over the window so they couldn’t see in.  They still banged on the door, but couldn’t see so at least that was somewhat comforting.  Apparently we had a little cheap baseball video game they wanted.  They finally gave up, or at least we thought.  We were both needing to go to the bathroom (right across the hall from my mom’s room, and we had the key to her door) and were thirsty (water fountain down the hall).  We were afraid, but in pain, so we risked it.  After going to the bathroom and getting water they “ambushed” us as we were going back into the room, chasing both of us around the room with a baseball bat.  They pushed my little sister down, busting out her two front teeth (baby teeth), and bruising her up pretty well.  This was all after they had the baseball game, so they had no reason other than spite to be chasing us.  We never touched them. We ended up having to interrupt the meeting with my little sister bawling her eyes out and a bloody mouth. The principal had left, so the acting principal (black) handled it.  We were told that since the two boys were black, and bruises don’t show up on blacks very well, there was nothing she would do about it. That it wasn’t fair to judge because my little sister and I were so fair skinned (read ghost white) that bruises appeared on us really well.  We never touched them, never called them a dirty name, nothing just wanted to be left alone.  Nothing was done to the boys.

The ringleader of the brothers finally ended up in jail later in life after carjacking a car at Sonic and killing one of the folks inside it.

The point… I wonder just wonder… if I had gotten together with a bunch of whites and beat the ever loving shit out of the little creeps, if it would be considered a “hate crime” or whether people would flock to my defense as people out in Jena, LA are doing for the blacks that beat the shit out of the white guy. If rolls were reversed, would I have 25,000 people trying to defend me? Or would I have a bunch of blacks angry that whites beat up a black kid.

am i really doing this bad?

I gave my counselor the link to my blog.  I wanted him to know stuff that I couldn’t say out loud.  I trust him a lot, it’s just that talking to anyone is hard for me.  Saying some things out loud to anyone is hard, even when I am by myself, saying things out loud is hard.   

I had an appointment with him last night.  He did much of the talking which is fine with me. He suggested I go to this treatment center in Arizona for at least 30 days.  That’s nice and all, but life and bills still go on.  I’ve worked so hard not to let my parents and people at work know about what is going on with my private life.  Something that long would have to be approved by my bosses, and they would want to know what is going on.  I don’t want to be seen as weak in their eyes.  It’s hard enough as I am not only the only woman here, but also the youngest.  I know it’s all excuses, but I’m trying.   

I have felt very few people understand what I am going through.  My grad school counselor I know did.  I think that the current counselor got the pain I am in, which is good I guess.  And so far he hasn’t left me.  I just hope I can open up enough not to totally frustrate him too. 

it’s just me again

Well, it’s me again. Almost made it through another one of those supposedly relaxing weekends. Things still aren’t going so well. I feel so alone all the time. And the worst part is, I don’t know why. Why I feel like everything is so bad. Like I just want to die all the time. Some times I wonder what it would feel like to feel loved and wanted. To actually want to wake up in the morning and go to work. To actually enjoy something. I went to a conference this weekend, got to hang out with an undergrad professor. He was a really great professor, and knew about the depression. He didn’t even judge me for it either. He encouraged me to get into counseling, which I eventually did. He didn’t give me the snap out of it thing, which is unusual for the people I tend to have in my life.Life is getting more and more frustrating. I try to keep from crying, but it is getting increasingly hard not to. I’m so scared and alone. Sometimes I just want someone to talk to, but even so, it is so hard for me to open up to people It’s so hard making friends, sometimes I just wonder if I should not even try.

empty and alone

I’m most of the way through Torey Hayden’s book Tiger’s Child.  It’s a sequel to her book One Child.  The first book is about a six year old (Sheila) that comes to her class alone and scared on the inside, but violent on the outside.  And the relationship she forms with this girl, Sheila, to quell the violence.  At the end of the school year, Torey moves away and loses touch with Sheila, until she tracks down Sheila seven years later.  By this time, Sheila has abandonment issues.  Both from Torey’s leaving her and also her mother leaving her (her mother left her early in life).  It’s so hard reading the book in a way.  Tor and Sheil’s initial relationship reminds me so much of the relationship I had with a counselor I had in grad school.  I was deep in depression by that time.  I remember first moving there that I figured no one in town knew me, and it would be a good time to kill myself.  No one would know to check up on me, no one would know that I was gone until the stench of my body made someone go looking for me. I was well into my second semester there when I finally made the decision that I needed to get help.  Actually one of my friends suggested it.  She knew the counselor and knew that I’d be in good hands.  Though she was such an awesome counselor, I, at some depth wish I hadn’t gone.  I’m not a subscriber to the whole it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.  I’m envious of Torey’s and Sheila’s relationship in that I’ve longed so much for someone to hold me while I cry.  Someone to just let me cry and not ask questions.  I wanted her to hold me so much so many different times.  I’ve longed for a friend that would listen and not give me the I don’t want to be your friend because you’re too depressed.  In a way, it’s hard because all I feel is an intense emptiness that she left, but I remember little about her and the time we spent together.  Trying to push as much as I can out of my mind, but I can’t push the feelings.  I know the relationship between a counselor and client is different than teacher and student, but in a way, I still wish I had been special enough that she would have wanted to call me friend.  But, alas, she probably has forgotten about me and could care less now, which is just as good.