#i don’t really understand this push to divide each other in our own damn communities

[theghostofashton]

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[kirstinmaldonado]

CHAPTER TEN 2.0

I had a horrible migraine Monday night. It was one of those that you feel after holding back tears all day, or letting it out all day, it was centered right in-between the eyes on the upper bridge of my nose. My eyes sweltered under discomfort. The icepacks or a cool touch to the head, something my mom would always do (she always has cold hands), couldn’t even console me. I didn’t feel feverish at all, but the pain was sharp and pulsating like a nervous heartbeat, over and over, until I couldn’t concentrate on TV or anything anymore I just had to go to bed and hope I could fall asleep. 

I rarely get those kinds of headaches, that placement and severity. I’m usually fortunate to pass with dull, achey, temple headaches; and even my hangovers are never so pointed and jab-like.

My mom on the other hand, has dealt with migraines for years. I remember her pain as a kid, waking up in the morning wondering where she was, only to find her in the dark in her room, barely able to speak sometimes. I was always so sad to see her in such anguish, all alone in the dark. Silent. Still. While her head throbbed as if a brass band was playing “The Music Man” at too loud a decibel.

We watched a lot of horror films, my mom and I. In contrast to all the Disney films, I grew up on Jeepers Creepers, Scream, Final Destination and all the Freddy, Jason, true horror classics (yes, and all seven billion of their sequels). When she would be in bed, in the dark, we’d joke that she was a vampire needing her rest and that she needed to stay in the dark unbothered, and that lightheartedness to the situation made us smile and contented us.

Monday, Ben asked if migraines ran in my family, and though I told him about my mother’s constant battle with them the last couple years I was hoping mine felt more situational as opposed to genetic. Fingers crossed on that, and kudos to mom and those who get migraines for sticking it out cause they can be a big B-I-T-C-H.

I say situational, because it’s been A WEEK to say the least, with big things and confrontations happening in the public eye and in my own private life. The last two weeks have been incredibly eye-opening, painful, uncomfortable, moving, you name it. An entire rainbow of emotions (Happy Pride, by the way, cuties, I haven’t forgotten about you all).

I feel as if I’ve transformed into a new person with big, wide, new eyes, shedding some old skin that felt a little naive and a little out of touch with how the world, not should work, but how it’s REALLY been working. I’ve been talking to my black friends and fans, talking to my Hispanic family and hearing their stories, and talking amongst my friends and respected mentors. I’ve been doing some soul-searching and digging through memories of my own cop experiences (one, for example, at 17 with two white males [we were pulled over and eventually surrounded by 4 armed cop cars that got us out of the car, surrounded us, and wouldn’t tell us why] and wondering but knowing how that situation could have been if they were black), my jokes of being white-washed or assimilating in to white culture and not focusing on my own, and me coloring my hair blonde and wearing colored contacts not MY brown eyes for so much of my life and wondering what the intention of it all was for. Was it genuine or was I doing it to fit in, did I think it made me prettier, or more likable? Did I think or know that it would get me roles, because many ingenues or leading ladies at the time didn’t look like me?

At a point, at multiple points, all the things I’d uncover or watch in recent news had my stomach hard and in knots. Every new clip made me feel like I wanted to throw up, but I couldn’t stop now that I had SEEN.

I was confused. Hurt. Believing what I’d seen, but needing other facts as if I was missing something completely because it all did not make sense to me. How COULD it?

I apologize for all the reposts and rants, but I hope it’s stayed in line with being something you should SEE, regardless of if its uncomfortable or not, so that you KNOW what is happening, while also trying to call action to addressing the issue but moving FORWARD towards a solution. I don’t want violence on my page. But now it’s hard to turn a blind eye.

The organized BLM LA protest on May 30th changed my life. After the speeches, we wanted to continue marching, moving, using our freedom of speech and combining our white, brown, black, and all colors in-between of voices so that we could be ONE VOICE UNITED to be HEARD. 

I don’t think I went to the front lines because I was white-passing and felt safer, or because I was a woman so could be “less a threat.” I went because my black allies, who I didn’t even know, asked us to because the front was starting to get unnecessarily violent. I went because I had done nothing wrong and planned on doing nothing wrong. I went, in a way, to be an innocent. Because if I was in the front with no bad intention, the people beside and behind me would be okay.

As we walked through the crowds, their hands on my shoulders, their thanks, flared something visceral deep inside of me and I knew I was here to protect and mediate, and in a way, fighting against hate in whatever form as if I was a newborn Avenger. Someone cried out “I love this, this is what this movement is for!” and that has stayed with me as so many lighter-skinned protesters made their way to the front. Because that IS what this is for. Not to divide, but to unite to fight for justice against those that have unnecessarily been wronged.

I’ll never forget one black man that my friends and I urged to stay back beside us in the lines that had pushed to the front. He was angry. Upset. Hurt. Defiled. I’d never understood the pain the black community felt. But as we tried to reassure him, block him from the batons (from THAT COP), bring him back to the safety of the group, when I was hit in the ribs and the face as collateral because he would have been hit so much worse, the last thing he said as we pulled him back was “I want them to hear me.” And suddenly I felt holding him and consoling him was wrong, like I was a part of stealing his voice from him even though all I wanted was to keep him safe. Suddenly I felt so upset, so angry; although, of course, I’ll never even know HALF of that feeling as a non-black person who, to my knowledge, has never been treated differently for their identity.

I’ll never forget the way he said it. With so much hurt and pain, the anger fading in to just pure anguish and loss.

I felt like I’d silenced someone, so all I could do was get back to the front. It was my turn to be silent and let their voices carry behind me.

I’m sure you’ve seen the video going around, the stillness before the cops were ordered presumably to push the line back. While I can have a whole blog post of levels and steps they could have taken before the cop bashed through my canvas sign with his baton, you can look at the video and see for yourself. People getting hit because they were at the front, with no provocation. The man striking me with a baton, honestly probably because I had said openly to watch out for him, because he was showing a LOT of premature violence, because of how quickly he went after the man we were protecting; yet then only pushing the white girl next to me with his hand, even though she unfortunately was struck multiple times from another officer.

All awful!! All taken a step too far. I’ve never been more in shock. Ben was trying to pull me off the floor so I wouldn’t get stepped on. Our friends were hit by rubber bullets. Our other friends on another street running from tear gas.

The tear gas, the rubber bullets, the bruises and the ache have *I PRAY* started to leave Los Angeles as all the protests have started to become more peaceful and more organized. Since, I’ve been to three and they were all just, beautiful, and moving, each one getting better and bigger as the week went on. I carry a sense of pride and love seeing the aerial footage of all the people Sunday, and I think back to what my May 30 experience was compared to June 7th. I heard it was the largest protest yet. And while I felt like a sardine in a can, it was so packed, it was beautiful and it’s a memory I’ll hold forever!

I sidebar to say, I may no longer be cheering at the literal protesting frontlines with you for a while  — I must return to Texas soon for family so must safely quarantine  —  but know the fight for equality, for justice has not ended just because it’s not trending anymore! I think I’m gonna have to shackle myself to my house so I won’t leave, haha, but know there is so much you can be doing from your home! As my grandma said, after the protests which are the catalysts and the calls for change the REAL reformative work begins!! And the road is long! 

The most important thing, in my humble opinion, is to show up. To not be afraid. To ask the questions. To educate yourself through your friends with their experiences or through history.

Humbly, you must think, but what even can I do to help?

Showing up isn’t JUST protesting. It’s signing petitions. Donating to charities. It’s calling local reps. It’s doing the research and thinking, what can I do to lend my voice to help create a better world for all and doing it authentically if even imperfectly because deep down you also want to right these injustices and demand change! Do it in public. Do it in private. But do it because you believe in it!

I know everything feels a bit dark and overwhelming right now! The amount of times I’ve needed a “break” and then wanted to cry because my black friends and fans don’t get the opportunity to take “breaks” is countless. But your mental health is important for you to be the strongest ally you can be!

And if you’re afraid of backlash, understand that many are hurt. I know many feel nervous to speak up in a damned if I do, damned if I don’t kind of way. But EACH of your voices are, and have always been so, so important. And each and every one of you have an important say and CHOICE/VOTE in to where we lead our country!

Someone told me this week that although sunflowers follow the sun, when it is cloudy and dark, they turn to face each other and share their energy!

I don’t know if that’s a million percent scientifically accurate, but the sentiment brought me to tears. In times of darkness, we should all be able to lean on each other for support.

We can all be sunflowers in the dark. <3

Love you all.

[anniemar]

For the readers ...

So can we talk? I feel like we need to talk. (fistbump if you watch Rich Lux)

I’m about to get personal because I’ve been noticing a few things over the years and I’m ready to talk. 

I’m a writer. I support other writers. Veteran writers and also would-be writers. But I’m also a big reader. And I support the readers too. The fans. I see a lot of entitlement going on with writers sometimes, and I’m here to remind you that yes, writers make content, but readers are the lifesblood of fic. 

I kinda took a break from fandom as a writer and then recently, slowly, made my way back to it. I’ve written here and there over the past two years, but nothing crazy like I used to. There’s a lot of reasons. Life gets in the way. Muses go on the fritz. And sometimes a fandom you’re a part of seemingly goes off the rails, a dustbowl moves in. 

When I wrote my first fic I had no expectations, just posted into the void of cyberspace. I’d spent a year just reading. I wasn’t really a part of fandom yet, I was a lurker. I posted on ff.net, not quite understanding how to work AO3, and most of the fics I’d read were on ff.net anyway. Tasertricks was my jam, after exhausting all North & South fic, and a little Vampire Diaries. I had zero fandom friends, no tumblr interaction, and only communicated with readers through DMs on ff.net. 

When people began to comment on my first fic I was stunned. I didn’t expect anyone to actually read it. I was just practicing, mostly. That’s what it felt like. Posting my Tasertricks fic into the void. For the hell of it. 

And then I got readers. I got readers who commented on every chapter. Some of them left long ones, others just a few words, but I cherished all of them. I read them over and over again. It really did fuel my writing sometimes, and I’d find myself writing a paragraph and thinking “hmmm ... i wonder if so-and-so will like that line”. And even if some chapters got less comments than others, I still kept going. I was writing this to get better. 

I eventually finished that fic, it’s one of the things I’m most proud of to this day. Manic Taser Dream Girl, my first child. It taught me that I could write a book if I wanted to (and I want to). I made some dear fandom friends, hung out on Tumblr, switched to AO3 and now I can’t imagine spending all my time over on ff.net. You evolve. Fandom evolves. 

But sometimes I think back on my first experience with fic and think about the purity of it. I had no expectations, I was writing because it was fun and I loved the source material, and the people who commented were so dear to me. 

It gave me a push. It also made me realize how important comments can be to a writer, so I made a conscious effort to make sure and comment on every fic I read, especially if it’s current. I might not comment on a fic that’s 5 years old with 4,000 kudos and 1,000 comments, but a current one, I always try to. I understand the struggle wholeheartedly. 

And fandom for the most part has been amazing, it’s kept me going at times, brought me so much joy and cherished friendships. It’s been a beacon of light through depression and anxiety, addiction. A comfort when all else failed. It’s led me to people I have SO MUCH in common with. True friends. 

But then on the other hand I observed how other people sometimes come into fandom as an agent of chaos. Divide and conquer types. Energy and muse vampires. I never understood it. I always stood back and mainly watched. I watched my beloved MCU fandom turn into something weird. It wasn’t fun anymore. People drifted away. 

It happens in fandoms. People just get interested in other things, it happened to me. I started to write in Vikings. Found a beautiful community there, more dear friends. Stretched my legs. I wrote a fic for The Alienist, even though 10 people watched that show. I wanted to write for smaller fandoms because I wanted to get back to actual writing. I didn’t care about the kudos or the comments anymore, I just wanted to go back to that purity. Me and the void. I don’t know anyone here. I want to post this thing because i love these characters SO DAMN MUCH and they’re in my head. If anyone wants to read it, even better, I love you. 

I recently wrote a fic for Stranger Things. Again, no expectations. I could have received 5 kudos and zero comments, I didn’t care, Jopper got in my head. I had to write it. And I FINISHED IT. I was so proud of that. I finished it. Because it was about the love of the material. It was the love of the characters. And there were a few dear sweet commenters that took the time to send me nice words on every chapter, dear sweet people who left kudos, dear sweet people who gave me a hit, and dear sweet people who I’m sure just skimmed through it and clicked to another fic. It’s all good. 

I go back to the MCU more frequently now because I truly miss it. I’ve never stopped being a fan. I’m still in the movie theater seat for every MCU film at the first possible viewing. But in fandom I’ve noticed that things are different. Fans are less vocal. Afraid to have opinions. Afraid to comment. Afraid to interact. Scared to have an unpopular opinion. But I tell you, it’s okay to have that unpopular opinion, because someone else out there has it too. And this is how we find each other. 

As writers we need to remember what it was like when we were first lurkers and readers, who gradually worked up the nerve to comment, then to interacting on tumblr, and writing our own stuff. It takes time. If we put too much pressure on readers to comment, the readers won’t stay. If we give them too many rules and regulations, they’ll just move on. It’s not a job for us writers, yes, it’s free content, but it’s not a job for them either. 

We need to cool it these these “how to comment” manifestos. In the end they’re meaningless and do more harm than good. 

If readers feel like they can’t interact, it’ll have an effect throughout fandom, they’ll just stop commenting on everyone’s fic, afraid of displeasing the author with the wrong kind of comment. It might make them not want to write their own fic, dip their own toes in. 

You never know what a reader is feeling. It might take everything they have just to log on and give you a little heart, and that has to be enough. Or a kudo. Or someone who’s writing that comment who’s first language isn’t English, and they’re afraid of using the wrong words. What must that feel like? I speak conversational Spanish and I’d never feel confident enough to leave a comment on a Spanish-language fic. But I could leave a heart. 

In the end, there’s no right way to do this. There’s only “don’t be a dick”. Don’t be a dick to writers, of course, but also ... don’t be a dick to the readers. The commenters, the people who have been around for years and years and also the ones who are new and still working up the nerve to hang out. To come out of that lurker stage. And hell, even if they never come out of lurking, that’s okay too. We need to give readers and commenters room to get comfortable and to evolve too. Just as our writing grows more comfortable and evolves. 

And criticism? 

I think I’m in the minority because criticism doesn’t tend to bother me. I know it’s a big issue with a lot of people, many are sensitive about it, but I have a pretty thick skin. Sometimes it’s even easier for me to take criticism than compliments. With a big compliment sometimes it takes me awhile to respond because it’s too big for me, I need time to deal ;-) I need time to stop crying lol. 

I haven’t had too many problems with criticism. If anyone tells me about a typo it doesn’t bother me. I’m usually like, THANKS MAN, because I’m dyslexic and words get jumbled up for me. I have to edit and reread my chapters in different fonts to try and catch everything and I still don’t catch stuff. And sometimes I don’t have my work beta’d because well, on one hand I’m impatient sometimes and on the other hand I keep strange hours. 

I think some of the worst (and funniest) criticism I ever got was over mentioning Kanye West in Manic Taser Dream Girl, and whenever the commenter complained about it, it just made me want to use Kanye in the fic more ;-) You have to be able to brush that stuff off sometimes. And the mean stuff? Mean comments say more about the commenter than the writer. I’ve always just tried to leave a “hey, thanks for reading anyway” and left it at that. It’s all you can do, really. 

I’ve written travel articles for New Orleans publications before and I’ve gotten some really hurtful and nasty comments, under my real name. That will thicken your skin. I don’t mind if someone tells me to knock off the Kanye West  references after I’ve been called a yankee carpetbagger libtard who needs to move back to Ohio. I posted a red beans and rice recipe once and you would have thought I personally led General Sherman through New Orleans with the amount of nasty comments I got lol. 

It comes with the territory. And I want to write, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What I’m trying to say is, if you get a negative comment, don’t let it stop you from writing. Keep going. Keep learning. Keep getting better. Don’t let the terrorists win. You can always say that you don’t want critique in your author’s notes, but I’d recommend that eventually, you want to just let it go as you evolve as an author, because if you want to ever get to a point where you’re publishing original content, you’re going to need some practice handling whatever comes your way. 

Because if I gave my readers a bunch of rules and regulations, or a manifesto on the “right way to comment” (when there is no right way) ... they’re just not gonna comment at all. Fic is not a job for the writer, it’s not a job for the reader either. 

The only rule should be “don’t be a dick”. Don’t be a dick writer. Don’t be a dick commenter. Don’t be a dick fandom agent of chaos. Just don’t be a dick and we can have this beautiful thing of fandom and community and support. And laughter and good feels. Everyone feeling as if they’re a part of something awesome. Even the lurkers. They’re at home reading shit and they give that silent fistbump, and I can feel those good vibes even from here. 

To all my readers, thanks for all of it. Every single thing. Even those mean Kanye comments. I cherish everything. The kudos. The hearts. The incredible well-wishes from people who are nervous about writing in English. The people who leave comments on every chapter, who follow my work to other fandoms, all of you. Please, never be nervous to interact with me. Ever. I am always ready and willing to cry over our fave characters. Or to help anyone with their work. To give advice. To listen to whatever is going on. If I don’t respond immediately, it’s only because I’m busy or I’m a human disaster and don’t see everything right away. 

Thank you, dear readers. For answering when I post things into the void ;-) 

I love you. All the hearts. 

[fallen029]

A House Divided

A house divided can’t stand.

They taught the concept in school though, honestly, the majority of us probably lived this every day. Because no one’s parents are truly happy and, even for the ones that don’t stick it out for the kids, usually at least one parent is around in the end. And even when this isn’t true in each and every situation, we saw enough of the taped and misshapen monstrosities that were enough of our relatives and friends relationships that we get it. It’s shoved in our faces from an early enough age that it’s hard to miss. We’re all miserable. We’re all sad. We all wish that things could be better.

But they can’t.

And they won’t.

Because we float on this weird line of realizing our lives are all shit, but being unable to change them due to the impact of seeing others careening towards this unclear end goal from the time we’re young. You’re supposed to work and work and work at the impossible in hopes that one day it is possible for those that come after you, though you know this can’t be true, it can never be true. We know this because it hasn’t lined up in all the centuries the world’s slowly developed and, you know, we’re just fucked.

We’re fucked.

Because we’re taught that a house divided can’t stand. And it goes beyond the relationship aspect. It’s ingrained into us when we’re young that we’re all working towards the common objective, from the familial, communal, and even broader standpoints. Subjective viewpoints, though they bubble under the surface, should be cast aside for the common wealth of the people as whole. Because isn’t it worth it? Everyone doesn’t have to agree, but everyone has to see that it’s better to ignore the differences and focus on the similarities that we all share. And if someone in that group refuses to do that, you’re expected to pick up their slack. You’re expected to look past the fact that they put your shit on blast every single damn day and it never changes. You think it will, but it doesn’t.

Because a house divided can’t stand.

And if you understand this pure fact, you know that above all else you always have to be ready to sacrifice yourself. The others won’t. You know who I mean. The kind that only have their best interest in mind and really only care about their own kind. And even if they try to exasperate the differences between the two, you still gotta stay true to the goal that’s been fed to you since your birth. A house divided can’t stand and no matter how little you can deal with the person on the other side and the way they judge you from the outside, you still have to stand next to them. Because you’re the bigger person. You’re the bigger man, woman, child and you’re smarter than them, aren’t you? To not be caught up in the prejudice and vile racism that consumes them. They can hate you, spit on everything you hold dear, but at the end of the day you gotta find a way look them in the face and say that you can get past all that. Because the house is divided, but you want it to stand.

Don’t you?

Fuck no.

Maybe we did, but now? Fuck no. And fuck you for asking. Fuck you for thinking that it was appropriate to bring it up to me. That I should see further than they can see. That for some reason, I’m supposed to be a better person. That I’m supposed to fight along side this other human who wouldn’t spit on me if I was burning. Things aren’t the way they were before. It’s not that we can’t deal with it anymore. It’s that we don’t want to. Could help them? Could I save them? Could I suck it all in the animosity I feel towards these people whose sole purpose in life seems to be to shit on anyone who calls them out on their hypocrisy. They can’t see that life is about things deeper than the skin, but I’m supposed to ignore the person they are within? I guess ultimately you’re asking me to thinking just like  them. Aren’t you? But whereas anyone who looks even a slight bit different to them is the enemy you want me to make every single one that looks the same my friend. Because they ignore my insides, I gotta ignore theirs. Because I’m more intelligent and I’m more astute. And I understand the things that we have to do to make sure the path stays straight and that we don’t stray too far from the common objective. Even if theirs seems to be to destroy me and my kind, mine has to be to further humankind.

Because a house divided can’t stand.

But damn, did you every think about asking me if we even wanted to? If we even wanna help them, much less you? If we even want help our own damn selves? Or do you take it for granted that we all have this commonality in mind to find a way to, no matter how small, to keep it all in line? And fuck me probably, but maybe, just maybe, I never wanted to be a part of your plan. Our blood might bleed the same as yours, but maybe we’re having thoughts you haven't had before? Or maybe we’re having ones that you push away. Or are the reason they spend each and every day hating what we could be. They hide it behind other things, but is that what it really is? Do they know that as well as you and I that this dream we’ve all held inside has been different all this time? Are they afraid that we’ll wake up from ours and force them from theirs to recognize that the thoughts have only multiplied. It’s alright though. No really, it is. Because you’ve awaken something in us too. Something that has always been true.

A house divided can’t stand.

And at this point, which of us want it to? I’d rather see it tumbled to the ground, buried down beneath the all tears that have filled our wells for these past few hundreds of years and even further, quite honestly. Because we’ve all suffered so horribly that sometimes it’s easy to forget that it’s all been done before. And every other time they’ve knocked the towers down, they’ve mistakenly built them back up again thinking that this time it will be better. This time we won’t be duped. We have new gods and new thoughts and new kings to bring about a new age, but no matter how good it sounds, rarely ever does it change.

I’m disillusioned and I’m not asking for a lot, I just want you to fuck stop telling me all about how this master plan has me somewhere fitted in. I want you to stop telling me that I should just be quiet and let it go because, yeah, I know I can’t change it, but so what? So what? That means that I have to help them hold up the house that they built off the tattered backs of others? Just stop trying to get me to fall in line with your asinine ideas of how great it would be if I could ignore the simple fact that they hate me. I’m not going to hold my pillar up knowing that the ma two rows over would gladly put two between my eyes simply because I exist.

I can’t.

And even if I could, I wouldn’t.

A house divided can’t stand. And it shouldn’t. You can only use so much stucco and glue because it all comes undone and we’re racing towards a war that can’t be won. I know in the end, even if we rebuilt from the ground up the earth would still eventually open up and take every single one of us of us with it. But I still rather spend the time I have before that watching you try to dig your way back up from the rubble that you’ve made us carry for so long on our backs.

Fuck you. Fuck your house. And fuck the large crack that’s only getting bigger now. A house divided can’t stand but I swear to you that I’d rather be caught up under the rubble too than every fucking stand with you.

[feverbrain]

Some more observation about our current situation:

(idk how to do a cut on the app)

I really actually feel bad for the people who are lashing out about Covid-19 restrictions. Not in a condescending way, though. I didn't realize until today how my anger towards them could be just as destructive as their anger, no matter how misplaced I think theirs is.

Misplaced or not, anger is understandable. It is true that I believe they should be aiming their anger and protesting at the people within our government who are pushing for the economy to re-open for their own interests, who are trying to brainwash us into thinking guidelines are enough safety *to* reopen, but I'm starting to realize their anger and fears are all based on the same things as "the other side":

1. They're angry at the government. Which is completely understandable. We can all agree on that base regardless of our political affiliation.

2.They're afraid just like everyone else. Also completely understandable, but there are a number of things getting in the way of us all being able to agree on that front, one of which is the fact that we've somehow created this culture way before the pandemic, where having feelings or struggling with them is somehow a character flaw or somehow makes you weak. This has led to widespread denial of mental health being considered legitimate health issues before the pandemic. But now it's being widely recognized as an important health factor so the old normal shouldn't be standing in the way of creating a new normal which consists of more compassion and understanding and hopefully making changes to the way we view and handle our previous mistakes.

No matter how much people lashing out try to deny fear by outright saying they're not scared or refuse to take precautions for their own sake and the sake of others because they're trying to flex about how proud they are for not being sheep, they're scared. Denial is most definitely a symptom of fear and grief, which is something we're all going through. Fear is not a character flaw and it especially isn't during such a terrifying time.

3. There are actually people in power standing in the way of us being on the same page by actively invoking discord in order to benefit from our distraction and possibly being able to be used as a megaphone for their own needs. That was our normal before this, and now it's being amped up. That is a fact no matter what political party you belong to, and no matter how you feel about it. There is clear factual evidence. Especially from the president and his tweet record. The thing is, while politics affect just about everything in this country, that doesn't mean everything is a political issue. This virus is not a partisan issue, it affects all of us. It's a human issue. Even if some people are hit harder by it than others, it doesn't negate everyone else's struggle. Especially when the struggle is exacerbated *by* the government. But anyway, a virus doesn't give a damn about who you support. The only way the government should be using the pandemic is if it's to help us combat it and keep us safe while we fight it. On either "side". That's what we elect them for, that's why we give them power, and that's why we pay taxes.

So we should be able to be on the same page about the flaws in our government, but we're not going to be able to do that if we continue to let people divide us. We are capable of thinking for ourselves and we're capable of productively communicating with each other, but the first step is to admit how you're feeling or going through and what's causing it in order to relate so we *can* unite, because we're united already in just going through this major life event and we're always united in being human and being capable of mass change that helps our entire country.

I don't expect my empathy and understanding for why people are behaving the way they are to change minds in a big way, because if it's already difficult for people to admit their feelings, making a change will likely be extremely difficult for some people, but I really hope people will start to understand themselves and why they're behaving the way they are so we can come together and view our government objectively. As a united front, as humans rather than as our respective political affiliations who happen to be human. Because we've already lost too many people and risk losing even more if we don't come together and go all Karen on those in our government who have the ability to help keep us safe and make lockdown more bearable, but are just choosing not to because they just want us to serve their best interests by somehow convincing some of us that our best interest is to risk death for the economy.

[oselatra]

Capi Peck’s “eternal optimism” for the future of Little Rock

City Director Capi Peck, who represents West Little Rock’s Ward 4, wants to consider a change in the way the board is elected, as does Mayor Frank Scott. But unlike Scott, who wants to eliminate the election of at-large directors to the board, Peck would like to seek a blended ward structure and term limits for directors. City Director Capi Peck, who represents West Little Rock’s Ward 4, wants to consider a change in the way the board is elected, as does Mayor Frank Scott. But unlike Scott, who wants to eliminate the election of at-large directors to the board, Peck would like to seek a blended ward structure and term limits for directors. Under Peck’s plan, each of Little Rock’s seven wards would elect a director. But Peck says at-large positions “serve a purpose,” and she would propose that wards would combine — perhaps two or three together — to create “super wards” to be represented by an at-large director. Having at-large directors is “what that prevents is turf wars,” Peck said. “I’m not [this] way, but some of the city directors, they’re really not interested in projects unless it directly benefits their ward. “One of the most important things that’s going to happen in the next few months is creating a way for us to have a community-wide, very thoughtful conversation and study about the at-large directors,” Peck said. Peck, 65, is one of the board’s younger directors. She said the aging board, and the ensuing decades-long tenure of some of its directors, is evidence of the need for directors’ term limits. “I hate that we look the way we do,” she said. “I get how that would piss people off. Get them out. I get that. … I think we have a lot of challenges. I think we all do share something, all of us. We want Little Rock to be a better place for everybody, I just think that there’s a tactful way to go about doing that, and so I hope we proceed with a lot of consideration and patience and respect for each other, even if we don’t agree.” Peck said she supports a time frame of 60 or 90 days for a study with citizen input on the at-large positions, followed by a special election to determine a course of action. “I think that the people selected [for the study] must represent our city,” she said. “I think if we’re 42 percent African American [as a city], I think we need to have 42 percent African-American representation. We need to have some young people and we need to have some older people. I’d love to have a Hispanic person [and] there needs to be equal gender representation. It needs to be a true reflection of our city.” Peck added that she believes Scott is “determined” to deliver on his campaign promise of a more transparent City Hall by the time he gives his state of the city speech, which he must complete by March 31. She said one of these campaign promises manifests in the creation of Scott’s transition board and the citizen-led subcommittees each board member chairs. The subcommittees — on finance and administration, education, mobility, economic development, public safety, inclusion, quality of life and transformation and government reform — will meet with each corresponding city department, board or commission and make recommendations for Scott’s four-year plan for change. “I think that the mayor has given himself a very daunting task to get all of these pieces in place by the state of the city address,” she said. “There’s so many moving pieces, and his vision is grandiose. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it, but I mean, [there’s a] learning curve.” Peck said she supports Scott’s embrace of the strong-mayor role, and with his recent move to take on direct supervision of six city departments (police, fire, finance, human resources, planning and public works), she said Scott’s hiring of the new police chief will be a crucial decision. “I just hope we don’t get all distracted and bring somebody in that’s maybe had a great history someplace [else],” she said. “I just think it’s so important to find somebody invested in Little Rock, that already gets it. … I just hope we hire a homegrown person, I really do.” Peck said Little Rock Police Department Assistant Chiefs Alice Fulk and Hayward Finks, who have applied for the chief’s job, are qualified for the position. She added that among the responsibilities of the new chief, an external investigation of the LRPD’s no-knock search warrants should be a top priority. “I think it’s very disturbing,” she said. “I think it’s super disturbing. I think that is something we need to move forward on immediately. … I think an internal investigation is BS. I’m sorry, that’s ridiculous. That is ridiculous. It’s very disturbing. I mean, it’s a paramilitary organization.”

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Like Ward 3 City Director Kathy Webb, whom Peck refers to as her “partner in crime,” Peck is a graduate of Hall High School and avidly supports the restoration of local control to the Little Rock School District, and like Webb, she said she’s frustrated by the city board’s lack of say so on the issue. “We can continue to talk about that, but ultimately, we can’t do a damn thing,” she said. “Public schools are the backbone of our community, and I think that it’s taxation without representation. … I’m not saying that [dissolving the school board] might not have been necessary [at that time], but by God, that was years ago. That was 2015. It’s 2019. It’s time. The charter schools don’t have to be accountable. Look at some of their scores.” Peck said another important issue the city faces is its tight budget, which she hopes will be helped by state legislation that would require Internet merchants to collect sales tax on sales in Arkansas. Peck has owned and run Trio’s Restaurant since 1986, and said her 32 years of experience in the hospitality industry — including her 12 years on the Advertising and Promotion Commission, which governs the Little Rock Convention and Visitors Bureau — have given her a unique understanding of the importance of tourism to Little Rock’s revenue stream. “The tourism impact on the city had always interested me immensely because of quality of life issues [and] because of the fact that when people come into the city, whether it’s for leisure or for business, we have these temporary taxpayers,” she said. “In our trade, we call it getting heads in beds and butts in seats. You’ve got these folks that are here and we have this revenue stream, and through that revenue stream, after we take care of things like managing the River Market and the Statehouse Convention Center; we think [about] investing in attracting more tourists, because we love the temporary taxpayers.” Peck is the fourth person in her family to be in the hospitality business in Arkansas. Her grandparents, Sam and Henryetta Peck, owned downtown’s Hotel Sam Peck — now called the Hotel Frederica — and that history has shaped her outlook on Little Rock. “[Being] that sort of ambassador, making people feel welcome, inviting people into my restaurant like it’s my home: I have that sort of philosophy about not just visitors to Little Rock, but people who live here, too,” she said. According to Peck, Webb talked her into running for Ward 4 city director when former director Brad Cazort didn’t seek re-election for the position. “My first thought was, ‘I’m not qualified,’ ” she said. “I don’t have a degree in political science, and [Webb] said, ‘Are you kidding me? You’re a successful business owner, [and if] you can run a restaurant, then you can do this, because you’re used to listening to your customers, or your constituents, and being diplomatic and getting answers and putting out fires.’ ” After her election, Peck volunteered to work on the Parks and Recreation, Racial and Cultural Diversity, Zoo and Central Arkansas Library System commissions. In addition to her work with these commissions, she said one of her goals is to develop a senior center for the city. When Carelink Fitness and Wellness Center, a senior care facility and fitness center, closed the doors to its Little Rock location in July because of funding issues, the city was left without a dedicated community center for seniors. Peck said she was part of the push to make the Mayor’s Task Force on Aging a formal city commission. The task force will now work to make Little Rock a more “livable city” under the AARP’s Network of Age-Friendly Communities guidelines. Along with her responsibilities as city director and her duties at Trio’s, Peck is involved with the Hunger Relief Alliance and the Arkansas Homeless Coalition. She’s a member of Congregation B’nai Israel, and she recently helped organize Little Rock Cares, a two-day citywide drive to provide food and care packages for furloughed federal employees. Though she is a self-described “dyed-in-the-wool, blueblood, yellow-dog Democrat,” Peck said she wants to use her nonpartisan position on the city board to help unite an increasingly politically divided culture. “I’m a child of the ’60s, so I’m used to protest, I’m used to speaking out,” she said. ‘I’m a longtime feminist, so that’s not new to me. But this climate that we live in now, will it always be this way? Is this going to be permanent even when [President] Trump is gone? How are we going to heal? How are we going to treat each other with respect and have the patience to have a common goal, which is to better the world and better ourselves and help our fellow man? To take care of people that need to be taken care of?” Peck also calls herself an “eternal optimist,” a perspective she said she’ll need going forward. “I’m a dreamer. I continue to be optimistic,” she said. “Otherwise, I would just be so depressed.” Capi Peck’s “eternal optimism” for the future of Little Rock