Social Commentary

A Voice for the Voiceless

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mommy, I have question
if a life is over when a heart stops beating
why does it not begin when it starts I thought being
would be enough
I know it’s been rough
I’m not trying to be rude, look
you have every right to your body
but I am not your body
I am in it
thank you for the hospitality
and the shelter
I know you’ve felt the sickness
it’s a nauseating sacrifice for my existence
and I don’t take it lightly
I’m forever indebted for your protection
I love sharing the resplendence of conception with you
and maybe I wasn’t what you were expecting
but we’re already connected
not only through this placenta
and this magnificent magenta sea of intestines
but through these perpetual fragments of ancestors and would-be descendants
you lost a period and can now write the most splendid endless sentence
don’t write my eulogy

even if you can’t give me a life
you can still give me life
what a gift
you’re my only hope…
is that a piano?
you know, I can hear music
I love it when you sing
I can tell when it’s light I can feel it when it rains
I can tell when it’s night, and I can feel pain

don’t believe them
they’ll tell you that it’s okay to kill unwanted people
and that killing millions of us every year is not genocide
but they shutter at the holocaust and say they disdain slavery
am I 3/5ths of a human? or less?
I’m sorry, but that ultrasound is not an illusion
it’s my flesh
it’s like an inner-selfie
and wouldn’t you rather take a million more
than take my future?

don’t believe them
they’ll promise “empowerment”
by rejecting the greatest power that
you could ever possibly have

they’ll tell you to forget
that every monument was once a blueprint
including you

don’t believe them
they’ll turn me from a person into a burden
and determine that I’m not worthy of birth and
assert that you shouldn’t see me through
I’m right here at the border
I’m a dreamer too

I don’t even want them to take away your choice
I just want you to hear my voice

I might be defenseless
but I am not invisible
and this attachment is much more than umbilical
I am not a box to be checked
I am not a wasted expenditure of breath
and I am definitely not meant to be poisoned or vacuumed or forcepped to death
I am not a mistake, I’m a miracle
what a beautiful thing to be a part of
I know it might be hard
but for me
this decision could be the last one
and just like you
I’m not here to have a perfect life
I’m just here to have one

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Do Believers Need to Prove that God Exists?

I recently read a blog post that started off like this:

God could very well exist. However, the burden of proof is on the believers to produce and provide evidence of her presence.

Is it?

Do believers really need to prove that God exists?

Faith, by it’s very definition, is a confidence or belief in something unseen. So it seems ignorant at best or disingenuous at worst to ask someone to prove something they have faith in. In fact, faith is the key element of the entire gospel, so how does it make any sense at all to ask a believer for proof?

Perhaps a better question is why God would make it this way and not show his face in the sky every morning at 9:00am PST as “proof” of his existence.

Skepticism is easy. It requires no action. Faith demands a lot more effort. More strength, more courage, more maturation, more devotion, more trust. More of all the qualities we want more of as humans. So maybe God made it that way on purpose – to give us purpose. Because you know what only believes in what they already know?

A robot.

I’m thankful to not be reduced to a state of a zero or a one. I’m thankful for infinite possibility. Thankful for the opportunity to learn how to see things that aren’t right in front of my face. For the conviction that moves me to do things I might not otherwise do. To become what I might not otherwise become.

I may find bits and pieces of what I’m searching for in my worldly pursuits, but I’m always left wanting more. It’s only through faith that I ever feel whole. Such it was with the woman who so faithfully touched the border of Jesus’s garment after 12 years of trying to find a cure for her disease from other physicians. His simple response after feeling a bit of power drained from him and figuring out what had happened: “thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.”

My faith isn’t perfect. I’ve prayed for more evidence and not received it. I’ve been discouraged and angry when things didn’t happen for me that I felt I deserved. I have a lot more to figure out. But I’ve learned to see doubts as opportunities for growth instead of catalysts for atheism. I’ve learned to embrace not knowing everything, because this life would be really boring if I did.

And I’ve learned to feel and comprehend the evidence that he does provide through His spirit, which He has promised to everyone that desires it. He has not left us alone. Again, a skeptic would say “prove it”. But I wouldn’t ask someone to prove that they’ve felt love for their child or spouse or grandparent. Just because you can’t put something on a scale or measure it with a ruler doesn’t mean it’s not real.

I don’t even know what a proof of God’s existence would look like. He sent his son as proof, who performed physical miracles and provided exactly we all yearn for – eternal truth and knowledge of who we really are – and was disbelieved, mocked, and crucified.

Would God’s face in the sky be proof? Or would it be explained away? I’ll take the blank canvas of a boundless blue sky. He believes in us much more than we believe in Him, and He knows the best way for us to reach our boundless potential is through faith.

So, no, it’s not my job to prove that God exists. It’s my job to prove myself.

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Cobra Kai – It hurts me to say this, but…

The Karate Kid is my favorite movie of all time. Last year I spent two months recreating scenes at their original locations around Los Angeles for a video poem ode to what the movie meant to me. I still have the original theatrical poster. I still have many of copies of VHS tapes and DVDs, as well as soundtrack CDs and cassette tapes. You won’t find a bigger fan.

I’m sure as with many others, when news broke of a new television series that would continue the saga I was both intrigued and skeptical. But I knew I would check it out. I really wanted to like it.

The first episode was wrought with nostalgia, from the opening shot of tournament-winning crane kick to the quote dropping and flashbacks. And of course as the main draw it features the original actors playing the iconic roles of Daniel Larusso and Johnny Lawrence. Just writing those names still gives me goosebumps.

As I watched the first few episodes though, it wasn’t long before the feeling of nostalgia was overcome by disappointment. Not because of the plot, or the acting, or the production quality, but because of the writing. The show is produced by YouTube Red, which, similar to Netflix and other streaming TV services, does not have to comply with any FCC regulations. I shouldn’t have been surprised then, that the dialogue was written with all of the boorishness of unrestrained adolescents swearing and making sex jokes as much as they can because their parents aren’t around.

There’s a scene in the third episode where Miguel, one of the young protagonists, is practicing karate in his bedroom with music playing and the door closed. His grandmother puts her ear to the door and says “must be jerking off” in Spanish. This is among the more refined of an endless slew of gags that add nothing to the narrative of the show and exist purely as juvenile fodder.

After that episode I took a break for a few weeks, because although the nods to the original movie were fun and the plot and character arcs were interesting, given how watching it made me feel, I wasn’t sure if it was worth it. Last night I decided to give it one more chance. Again, I really wanted to like it.

Well, episode 4 is centered entirely around a prank that involves Johnny drawing male genitalia on a billboard featuring Daniel’s face. They milk the joke to the tune of at least 20 more graceless indignities, with Daniel’s wife, co-workers, and car dealer competitors all taking dives into the bottom of the barrel to see how low things can go. These characters are in their late 40’s.

The episode also features teenagers doing drugs and intricately critiquing pornography like fully tenured veterans of misogyny. Of course the viewer at home gets to see the porn too.

The trailer for episode 4 features Johnny’s estranged son finding a flyer for his Dad’s new dojo while skateboarding. His friends inquire what he’s upset about, to which he replies “it’s my Dad” in disgust. However, the same scene in the full episode has him saying “it’s my f***ing Dad”. So they clearly had him do the scene both ways in case the profanity wasn’t gratuitous enough when they were putting together the edit. It played much worse with the forced cursing by the way.

I could go on, but I’ve already repainted a lot of pictures that I’d rather not have.

Look, I get that we’re supposed to understand that Johnny has had a rough life and that his son has issues because his Dad wasn’t around. Filmmakers have long been able to convey such themes without the crutch of vulgarity though. And it doesn’t explain why every other character in the show has to curse like a sailor and make raunchy jokes as if it’s the only way punctuate a sentence. The only explanation for this is that the writers are either victims or perpetrators of a society poisoned by perversion. Victims if this is how their minds work after marinating in a society that feels more like a locker room every day, or perpetrators if they’re purposely grasping for views by aiming for the lowest common denominator.

I know the response. “Get out of here with your goodie two-shoes. It’s no big deal. Besides, I’m entitled to my ‘adult’ entertainment.” But when is enough enough? How bad do things have to get before we realize that this continuous deluge of depravity in every type of media we consume matters? That it absolutely does create a culture of objectification, harassment, alienation, and rape?

It’s everywhere and I could say this about the large majority of movies, music, and television. But this one hits close to home for me and it’s quite telling how they’ve turned diamonds to dust here. The original Karate Kid did not need debauchery, crudeness, excessive violence, or sex to tell a story. It’s an impeccable treasure from the lost art of edifying entertainment, and it endures in our hearts because it was enduring and it had heart.

Somewhere deep within Cobra Kai lies the heart of its progenitor, but the producers have chosen to bury it under a mountain of trash. It will be remembered as just another cringeworthy juvenile drama, tainted by the locker room culture it was spawned from.

I guess that’s the difference between timeless and tasteless.

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Triangles (3 Sides to Every Story)

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to the left, to the right
the pendulum sways
pivoting under the weight of animosity
and when it swings our way
yay
we celebrate with our team

but I’m starting think it’s just camouflage
and the pendulum is actually just a facade
for a guillotine
and I wonder if it’s going to stop in time
or if we even want it to

are we really getting anywhere?
or is this an endless tug of war
so entrenched that we’d rather sit here forever and die in the mud
than go have dinner together

some people want guns
other people want guns banned
but neither of these things is going to stop the killing
so maybe the real question is why we want to shoot each other

some people want a wall
some people want open borders
but we’ve already put up walls
when was the last time you opened a border to a foreigner that didn’t already live in your worldview

some people believe only what they see
some people see only what they believe
are we trying to know something?
or are we trying to become something?

some people want choice
and some people want life
I think God is wondering why there are unwanted pregnancies in the first place
unwilling participators in creation
the most divine thing we could ever do as humans
and we’re like, nah

and he’s probably like
all this arguing over health care
the sicknesses I really want you to cure aren’t even covered by insurance
and the prescription has already been written
you just have to go pick it up

why do you want to feel like you’re a winner every 4 years
when you could win eternity
so worried about the length of the grass in a preseason baseball game
that you forgot about the World Series

when was the last time one of your messiahs
actually fulfilled your desires
when you gave them your vote
your faith

why do you paint yourselves into a ballot box when I gave you a sky
why are you sitting in gridlock when I gave you a runway
shouting at each other from two ends of a straight line
wondering why the other can’t see your point

it’s because life is not one-dimensional
and honestly
you were meant for much more meaningful geometry

like triangles

we can mill around on the bottom
preoccupied with all the problems
stupefied by the minutiae
turning back whenever we encounter a new angle
or we can turn the corner, upward to the angels
not only ascending
but coming closer together
pouring our collective inventory
onto a terrestrial table of truce
forming a blueprint for celestial glory
shaping truth from our sharp edges
and what we really find in the climb is the perspective
that there are three sides to every story

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We’re all Browns

You work 50 hours a week at a job you hate. You’ve got family problems. The Bills are piling up. The sour smog of politics fills the air. It’s more than you can Bear. All you wanted was a few hours on Sundays to escape, and now even that’s gone. I feel you.

But understand, for millions of people in this country every day is a Lions den and there are no Sundays to escape through. And it’s been that way since the first Patriots engaged in the slave trade. Every day, every hour, Ravens circle oppressively above with memories like Steel traps.

Also understand that when you kneel or don’t show up for the national anthem, someone feels that their son, or their sister, or their grandfather died for nothing. That all the years of blood, sweat, and tears that got us here aren’t worthy of a few minutes of gratitude. I know you’re not protesting the anthem, but you’re still stepping on graves.

So whether we stand for the brave and ignore those who aren’t as free, or kneel for the less free and ignore the brave, we’re both right, and we’re both wrong. It’s complicated. I don’t know all the answers.

But I do know that when contention wins, we all lose, no matter what the scoreboard says. One by one, things that used to unite us are now dividing us, and that’s the Cardinal crime here. This week it just happens to be football. What will fall next?

Our Chief concern should be for that flag to mean the same thing to every person on this roster of 323 million. And that’s not going to come by burning it, or through snarky remarks on Twitter, or by shouting at each other with signs and pepper spray. It’s going to take work. It’s going to take Charging out of your comfort zone to do something for someone you normally wouldn’t have. Or better yet, having a conversation. Find out how life is hard for someone else. Because it’s hard for all of us, and sometimes it’s more important to understand than to be understood.

So whether you relate more to a Cowboy or a Redskin, know that neither of them were Saints, and none of us are perfect. We can’t change bad calls made in a game that was played decades or centuries ago. But we can change the next play. And at least for now, we live in a country where we’re free to do just that.

Look down at your skin. Do you see black or white?

We’re all Browns.

So may we remember the Titans that paid the ultimate cost to buy us a country where we can get paid millions of dollars to play a game, and millions can happily pay their hard-earned dollars to watch it.

But more importantly, may we be Giants of humanity.

May we be Raiders of the dust
and may we be Eagles
and bring someone to the sky with us.

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