#like are we forgetting the framed confederate soldiers also

[spurgie-cousin]

honestly if the George Floyd joke the Bates made at a FAMILY gathering wasn't the nail in the Bates Family coffin for you, i have some serious questions. i feel like we don't talk enough about how heinous that was.

like being able to find humor in the slow death of a man who wasn't doing anything to anyone, who was a son and a father, is pretty fucking bone chilling and it's weird to me that so many people (reddit) just kinda write that off

[its-all-down-hill]

Regarding the removal of confederate monuments there are six common arguments made by the opposition. This is my attempt to rebut each one with actual history and commonsense.

The list goes like this:

Argument 1: These are about history not hate.

My response: Monuments are for heroes and those who would fight to keep an entire race enslaved are far from heroic. The history that these monuments represent is therefore a history of hate. These men also fought AGAINST the United States making them traitors.

I can hear you now: But But But Congress made them veterans in 1958.

Just because someone is a veteran does not make them a hero. For instance: Germany had its own veterans of World War II but I doubt there is a moral person among us that would declare Nazis of any rank as heroes.

Americans fought about slavery and the Confederacy lost. This fact alone negates the possibility that Confederate soldiers of any rank could be heroes. Add in the reason for the conflict that drove the Confederacy to secede and this fact is underscored.

Argument 2: This is erasing history.

My response: Is it really? Once again I point to Germany and their history with the Nazis. There are monuments in Germany that are dedicated to the World War II conflict. The difference is that these monuments immortalize the victims and those who fought against the Nazis rather than depicting Nazi soldiers of any rank in proud stances.

Germany has chosen to reframe it’s history in a more inclusive way rather than to immortalize and celebrate those who would kill off another race for their own warped sense of Nationalism.

As an American I would like to think that we are just as progressive. I would like to think that we want to take down these monuments to Confederate soldiers that seem to celebrate them as if something they did was heroic. Perhaps in their place we can put monuments to those who fought against the people who would keep an entire race enslaved in this country.

Frederick Douglass, Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman; William Lloyd Garrison; John Adams; John Quincy Adams; Luisa May Alcott; Susan B Anthony…

American history is rich with those who would fight against the enslavement of another race. Why not celebrate them instead of Robert E. Lee or Stonewall Jackson who fought to maintain slavery?

Argument 3: Washington and Jefferson owned slaves so we should remove their statues too.

My response: We do not celebrate Washington or Jefferson for their participation or lack there of in slavery. We celebrate them for the creation of this country. Their deeds were heroic because they fought to give birth to this nation. They also framed our US Constitution and our Declaration of Independence. They fought to create a society that was meant to be inclusive for everyone who came to the shores. Don’t take my word for it… Read the US Constitution.

Within the US Constitution there is not only the freedom of speech but there is also the freedom of religion. There are also three amendments known as the Reconstruction amendments: the 13th, 14th, and 15th amendments. These amendments demonstrate that Americans do have the ability to progress if we so choose.

The Founding Fathers recognized that human beings are not stagnant which is why Washington and Jefferson, along with their contemporaries, left the US Constitution malleable allowing for us to add the Reconstruction amendments after the Civil War.

The US Constitution and its amendments prove that the founding fathers trusted us to do better when we knew better. I for one choose to see that the faith and trust that men like Washington and Jefferson placed in future Americans does not meet with disappointment.

Argument 4: The Civil War was about state’s rights.

My response: This is the best excuse that closeted racists can come up with in order to justify monuments to men who fought to keep another race enslaved while being able to assuage their own guilt for continuing to be racist even after they know better.

Don’t believe me? Let’s take a good look at what right the states were trying to keep when they seceded from the Union: the ability to keep another race enslaved.

!!Enough said!!

Argument 5: If we are taking down Confederate monuments then we should also take down MLK Jr.s because he was against gay people.

My response: MLK Jr. is not being celebrated because he hated the LGBTQ community. He is being celebrated because he fought against racism and fought for the civil rights for minorities in America.

MLK Jr stood in the face of oppression, and the work that he did allowed for the LGBTQ community other minorities to be where they are today in their own fights for civil rights.

In essence, MLK Jr. laid the foundation for future fights for the rights for those who do not partake in heterosexual Christian white privilege. This makes him a hero deserving of a monument.

Argument 6: The Democrats created the KKK and Republicans are the party of Lincoln who freed the slaves.

My response: This is a deflection tactic meant to make a person feel better for voting for a party that has been progressively racist since the late 1960s. If you are making this argument then you obviously have not been paying attention to ALL of history either.

Yes, Lincoln was initially a Republican, and yes, the Democrats are the creators of the KKK….however this was flipped on its head during the Civil Rights movement. It was actually long in coming if history is really studied in depth though.

The GOP is no longer the party of Lincoln, and JFK washed in a new wave of Democrats who have been progressively more forward thinking and less racist just as Newt Gingrich washed away that which Lincoln built and brought forth division among Americans.

For a small glimpse of how things actually unfolded I have provided a link for those who are not to lazy to read; or to closed minded to learn and change.

https://weeklysift.com/2014/08/11/not-a-tea-party-a-confederate-party/

So where do we draw the line? We draw the line in places like touching the reenactments at Gettysburg; pulling down Jefferson Davis’s house; disturbing Arlington national cemetery.

Why should these sites be protected even as statues and monuments dedicated to Confederate soldiers come down? Let’s start with Gettysburg.

According to most historians Gettysburg was the turning point in the Civil War. It was the point at which the Union got the upper hand on slavery and those who would fight to preserve it.

Jefferson Davis’s house should be left standing because it is a physical reminder of how disillusioned Americans can become with their federal government. Let’s not forget that Jefferson Davis didn’t want to lead the Confederacy in much the same way that Robert E. Lee did not want to lead the Confederate army. In the end though both men became disillusioned with the idea of central government control; and all over the idea of removing the institution of slavery.

This brings me to Arlington National Cemetery. Arlington may be the former home and land of Robert E. Lee, but what most people forget is how it came to be. How it came to be is why it must be left standing.

As punishment for his participation in the Civil War, Robert E. Lee was imprisoned for treason, sedition, and desertion. People often forget that he was a Union soldier before the Civil War conflict began. He deserted in the Union army to leave the Army of Northern Virginia. The treason and sedition charges are obvious.

As a result of the charges levied against him, Robert E. Lee’s lands became forfeit. That land then became the cemetery for slaves and veterans that we all know as Arlington National Cemetery.

Arlington National Cemetery stands as a reminder of two things: the first being a reminder of what this country has sacrificed in order to get where we are, and the second is as a reminder of what can happen when you commit treason against this country.

So there it is. That is legacy of the ‘our heritage’ (aka white heritage) and the history of America that is being threatened to be 'taken away’. I don’t know about you but I for one intend to be on the right side of history this time.

[everunbreakable]

Friday, June 15, 2012 – Victoria Gardens Adventure

I had the pleasure of partaking in another fun-filled road trip with Ronan. We hit the road for Victoria Gardens, an outdoor shopping center in Rancho Cucamonga. Plenty of memories were made.  Ronan seemed affected when I blamed myself for scraping the car, so I tried to be positive and forget about it – which I eventually did. This was probably because Ronan has a knack for soothing my anxiety.  On the drive to Victoria Gardens, I asked Ronan how his week had been so far.  “It was pretty good. I encountered this car-racing gang. You know those Tokyo Drift people?” Ronan asked me.  “Yeah.”  “They were racing their cars around, a mixture of different ethnicities.” This had occurred in Fullerton.  Ronan had also encountered a Nevadan guy who highly resembled Garrett, and even had that stream of arrogance.  “So did you ask your mom what insurance you have yet?”  “Oh, yeah. I did. She just said, ‘Oh, I’ll take you there, someday.’ So I was, like, ‘Okayy…’”  I laughed. “Maybe she’s in the process of changing insurance or something.”  Ronan let me choose songs on his ipod to play through the cassette-dock. When “Love the Way You Lie” played, I asked him what the song was about. It seemed like abuse.  “That’s a good question,” Ronan mused. “Have you seen the music video?”  “No.”  “It’s weird.”    The strip mall looked lovely.  We entered it through Macy’s. Once we were inside the Apple store, Ronan suggested that we prank call Richy with the iphones on display. I started muttering suggestions in the background ( “Remember last night?”), which Ronan went along with. I laughed particularly hard at his line: “How could you not remember me from last night? I was in your ROOM.” (in his deep, throaty voice)  I was also looking up haunted places in Rancho Cucamonga. Confederate soldiers and striped-shirt-donning old men with black dogs appearing on Foothill Blvd, which we passed on the way here.  “Looks like we’ll have fun at night,” Ronan said with a smile.  I would have been afraid if he wasn’t with me. We walked around for a while, scoping out all the stores in the outdoors mall.  Ronan mentioned that Trisha had texted him earlier in the week, something along the lines of “how are you? Hope you’re well.” He’d told Gendry about it, the latter revealing that Trisha had not been in contact with him.  I responded by saying that maybe Trisha’s attention was turning to Ronan instead, rather than Gendry.  “That’s what Gendry said, too,” Ronan said.  I laughed. “Oh, goodness, really? See, so it’s not just me, then.”  Didn’t seem like Ronan knew what Trisha was playing at.  Crate & Barrel was one of the next stores we raided. Plenty of fancy and unique kitchenware on the first floor, which Ronan and I perused in admiration and wonder.  There were desks/office furniture, beds, and couches on the second floor – but we mainly tried the couches.  There were quite a few that sucked us in and made us feel utterly unperturbed, even meditative.  There was a couch set where one of the couches resembled a bed, while the other had arm rests. After sampling the one that resembled a bed, Ronan moved on to the complementary couch piece and bade me try the former.  Ronan talked about how the couch I was sitting on was perfect for many things. “Watching TV, relaxing, sleeping. And for other things…” His voice trailed off.  I glanced over at him, waiting for the finish.  “Wink,” he said, grinning mischievously at me.  I laughed, as did he.   “But it’s so rough,” I pointed out, rubbing the couch. “There’d be so much friction.”  “That’s what makes it exciting,” Ronan said. I laughed harder. “Now I know what your fetish is!”  Ronan chuckled heartily.  We were briefly at H&M, but didn’t find anything we could buy Richy or Santino.  Ronan was thinking purchasing something for Richy, and creating something for Santino.  I thought those were decent ideas, but as it was we still wanted to see what our options were.  Ronan hadn’t eaten much earlier, so he when he finally decided to eat the sandwich I made him, we settled in what looked like the heart of Victoria Gardens. We were on stone benches framing a grassy area lined with white picket fences. There were rose bushes to my left. The scene was breathtakingly antique. I told Ronan I expected a stagecoach to materialize in any second, perfectly accentuating the scene.  I brought out the crate of strawberries, which we both ate from.  Ronan pointed out Ben & Jerry, an ice cream parlor that donated a percentage of all proceeds to charity.  I had made a maple syrup and peanut butter sandwich for Ronan, topped with a hint of cinnamon, which he had thought was jam due to its reddish hue.  “So what do you think of the peanut butter and maple syrup combination?”  “It’s pretty good. You’re becoming a great cook, Christy. It’s good that you’re experimenting more with these things.”  I flicked my hand. “Nah, it’s just a sandwich.”  “No,” he said gently.  The small meal filled him up for a bit; we proceeded to journey through the rest of the mall.  We explored more than we actually gift-scoped. I tried to breathe some fresh air into the situation by pointing out that we had opened our eyes up to the unfolding dynamics of a new place, territory that we had not navigated before. It had been an adventure!    We ran through the elaborate water fountain as it was off.  We’d been gazing at it from afar as we were eating by the picket fence. Ronan suggested running through it, like various other people had been doing... but -   “We don’t have any other clothes,” Ronan said. “And these shoes…”  I stared at his Converse. “Take them off, then?”  “Someone’s going to steal them,” he said.  “I’ll jump them!” I exclaimed. I never backed down in a fight when it came to him. He chuckled heartily.  Ronan suggested that I go first, knowing I like trying new things; he hesitated behind me, on the other side of the fountain. It was still calm in between water spouts.  I gestured for him to cross.  “It’s going to turn on when I cross,” he told me.  “No, it won’t,” I said bracingly. “Come on, Ronan!”  He surprised me by crossing, though slowly at first. He was usually so cautious and hesitant. It felt like a monumental moment. I stared at him in wonder.  “Hurry!” I grinned at Ronan, reaching my hands out for him.  He made it across, just before the water spouted up again.  “Yay!” I cheered. He was grinning, looking pleased.    By the library was a statue of William Shakespeare (or perhaps a pertaining character) on a bench next to a skull.  Ronan complied when I asked him to take a picture with the statue. He leaned into the crook of Shakespeare(?)’s open arm.  I overlapped a leg between Shakespeare’s legs, surprising Ronan.  “Sexy,” he later commented when he gazed at this picture of me.  It had been fun. Ronan scared me nearly a handful of times when the statue started to creep me out. I was happy to see him laughing so hard, even if I had been frightened consecutively.    Ronan ordered chicken pasta at Corner Bakery, where we had a mind-opening conversation.  I asked Ronan what his view on optimism was : which was more practical; reality-grounded optimism versus optimism tinged with a bit of delusional belief.  He chose the former; on delusions and dream worlds, he reckons a person has to know their limits. I thought that was very well-said.  Ronan pointed out the sign in the middle of the table. “Doesn’t that fruit dish look good?”  “Yes. It does.”  Asked him what his favorite fruits were : watermelons and honeydew. He doesn’t deem pineapple among the best.  One of the next topics was Ronan not having any more fun making sexual jokes towards Xyrad, simply because the latter was growing more comfortable with and open to such matters.  “I can’t really do anything to him now,” Ronan said. I knew he’d been having much fun messing with Xyrad for years – and me, perhaps even longer.  “Well… you can’t really do anything to me, either,” I gently pointed out.  He nodded, looking me in the eye. “I know. You’re changing.”  I smiled, my eyes tracing the table.  Another topic we discussed was my sexuality. It began because I was trying to explain that I’d done breast exams in front of the wall mirror on my closet’s sliding door – and my mistake had been that it was open viewing for the neighbors, whose windows were too close for comfort.  Ronan started to laugh, though he kept his mouth closed to prevent food from spewing out. I could tell he was immensely tickled.  But he still took another bite.  When he managed to reign the laughing just enough to speak, he asked me, in amusement, “Who’s the kinky one now?”  “I never said I wasn’t.” I smiled shyly as I watched him eat. “I’m just a little more secretive.”  “But you always freaked out towards me and Vicky,” Ronan gently pointed out, still smirking.  “Why were you so surprised?” I asked him, meekly.  He nudged his spoon into his bowl’s contents. When he spoke, his voice was gentle… very gentle.  “Christy, Christy, Christy… you don’t show it much.”  When he looked up at me again, I realized I was blushing.   Talk turned to other things.  When he asked, I described to Ronan the dress I had bought to wear to the 2012 Garden Grove High School graduation.  “Ivory, lace, with a bow sash at the waist.”  “That’s nice, then,” Ronan praised. “It’ll complement your skin tone.” 

I shared some of my favorite optimism-related quotes with him. I asked for his favorite quotations.  He told me he’s fond of “Carpe diem” (Seize the day!) as well as “Be the change you want to see in the world” (Gandhi).  I shared with him William Blake’s “Kiss the joy as it flies” as well as “The sun sets to rise again” and “Be not afraid of storms, for you are learning how to sail your ship.”    We exited Corner Bakery and walked around some more, scouring a lonely little bookstore before stopping to rest near the town square-ish place where we’d sat eating strawberries earlier. We sat at a nice table near the office/administration area, where the surrounding shops had an upstairs level, as indicated by the dark windows just above the glowing lanterns lined across the walls. There was a particularly creepy window that Ronan dared me to take a picture of. He tapped my shoulder as I was gazing up at it, causing me to shriek, which induced his spastic laughter. I started laughing, too.  “Enjoying yourself much?” I asked him, still grinning.  “Yes.” His eyes looked exquisitely alive as he looked back at me. I laughed some more, savoring the sight of my best friend looking utterly free.  “Oh, I remember another one of my favorite quotes now,” Ronan said, leaning against the chair. “’There are no such things as regrets - only experiences.’”  “That’s a good one,” I said appreciatively.  Ronan nodded. “It’s optimistic as well.”    Throughout the day, if our lagging on the gift-scoping ever became apparent, Ronan would point out, “We have five days.”  However, as we sat at the table, I was the one who had to reiterate, as it seemed he was becoming a bit more resigned on the matter.  “You’re falling back on that now?” Ronan laughed.  “Well, might as well, right? Besides, we had an adventure today. We opened our eyes to so many things.”  “That’s true.” What Ronan said next was highly amusing. “When it’s the morning of graduation, we’ll both go to Target. ‘Hmm.. do they like erasers? Yes, they need erasers for college.’ “  I laughed; this sort of crazy tangent was not something I often saw from Ronan. I really liked it, and I told him so.    I mentioned to Ronan the movie that parodies famous Alfred Hitchcock films. There was a scene that directly parodied “The Birds.”  “Ravens, I think it was, hold grudges because they can remember a human face,” I said.  “That’s cool,” Ronan mused. “I want a raven, then.”  I also told him the story about the guy who was killed by the cock, onto whose leg he had attached a knife to fight another cock in the pit he had forced his cock to jump in, though the sport is illegal. I would hardly call it a sport, though, as it’s animal abuse.  “His cock turned around and stabbed him,” I said.  Ronan laughed heartily for what felt like a while.    There was a vendor near us that sold hats. However, the disembodied doll’s head was out of place. Ronan tried to spook me about it, narrating its journey into my bag and how I would stick my finger into its open mouth.  I laughed heartily at how insane he looked as he said all this, his bangs tousled backwards. It made for a charming telling.    Before leaving the mall, Ronan led me back to the Shakespearean statue for a picture of the three of us.  The anticipation of him scaring me both frightened and amused me, but he didn’t do it.    We left Victoria Gardens when it was nearly ten p.m. We both turned on our GPS navigation devices.  Before Ronan merged us onto the freeway, we passed through a dark street, both sides of which contained production/factory plants. There was a cross-like thing suspended from I-didn’t-even-know-what. I filmed the eerie scene while Ronan drove.  A stench flooded the interior of the car briefly – about a block’s worth, for measurement’s sake.  “How is it penetrating your car?” I wondered aloud. “Could it be from the power plants?”  “It might not be. There weren’t any clouds from the plants. It smelled like something rotting. Now I know why there was a cross – it was haunted!”  Ronan told me that had we gone a bit farther than Victoria Gardens, he could have shown me the place where he and his sister had seen a man on the street before disappearing near Morongo Casino, the ambiance of which marked the settings of past deaths – perhaps of gamblers killing themselves, or each other over financial issues.  “That sounds intense,” I said.  “Mmmhmmm.”  We took the 57 S, which would take us home. However, Ronan accidentally branched off from it when he took the left lane, which we’d been on for a while.  We had to exit in Nutwood, which nearly immediately became Diamond Bar. On Colima Rd, I spotted a Boba Time as well as Korean McDonald’s to our right.  “That’s crazy,” Ronan commented when I pointed it out.  Diamond Bar transitioned to Rowland Heights; we were surrounded on both sides by dark trees that seemed to conceal unseen shapes. It was eerie, but we did eventually merge onto the freeway again.  We passed Cal State Fullerton without glimpsing Brea Mall.   “That was weird,” Ronan said. “Time warp!”  “Maybe the strangeness followed us from Buena Park,” I murmured.  Ronan nodded. “Probably.”  “Our last two road trips have been somewhat eerie,” I said.  “I know, right?”  Still, very fun and heartening.  It had all happened in a matter of minutes : the “time warp” and zipping through Brea and Fullerton. It was indeed very strange.    My GPS actually detected traffic – something it has never done.    We got back to his place before eleven.   “Well, today as fun,” I said, glancing over at Ronan. “Lots of memories and laughs.”  He expressed his agreement before getting out of the car.  I followed suit and exited his car; the air that was occupied by his cologne that smelled like the magic lurking in the forest was replaced by colder, summer night air.  Ronan was waiting at the back of his car, near mine. I had only taken a step forward when he reached an arm out to hug me, slouching down.  “Bye, Christy,” he said, holding me tight with the one arm he had around my upper back. “Drive safely.”  I rested my chin on his shoulder. “Bye, Ronan. Thanks for the fun day.”  He grunted.  “Want me to back out your car for you?” he asked me as we broke the hug. He did it anyway, turning on the emergency flashers before he exited.  “Thank you, Ronan.”  He watched me, a note of concern on his face, as I shifted gears to exit the neighborhood. It had been another one of my favorite days.