This post by Chris Nicholas is well worth reading (right to the end!)
If you are someone who struggles to accept people who are different: try.
You just might learn something new, or even help to make the world a better or safer place.
Love is love. Human is human. And regardless of what some may wish to believe; we are equal. We are all valued. And we all connected.
Milk and honey have different colours, but they share the same house peacefully.
- African proverb
One of the most defining moments of my admittedly short writing career came on December 20th, 2014 when I received my first death threat from a reader. The threat, received via email, was in response to an article I had written which drew comparisons between religious intolerance and a criminological model known as the Broken Windows Theory. Throughout the post, I suggested that the constant defamation of an ideology through misrepresentation and bigotry damages an individual’s perception of a subculture, and creates a rift in our society.
To illustrate my point, I spoke of the Islamic faith and the unjust insinuation that it is a religion defined by violence. I compared acts perpetuated by extremists as stones hurled through the windows of a beautiful monument in an attempt to damage its image and cheapen…
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If only I could
I’d write poems by the score.
Who could ask for more?
Ponder the waters
as they meander through life.
No need to make haste!
The power of love
will always be greater than
The love of power
I found this graffiti on a post on Frank Hubeny’s blog. Check it out here:
My glass is half full,
it sustains me every day.
What a wondrous life!
My heart overflows
every time I see you.
A new born baby!
A powerful piece of writing from a young lady who is worth far more than all the misogynist, childish, and ignorant bullies who hide their own insecurities behind group bravado. Please do like, and comment, on the original post.
I’ve never wished that I wasn’t a woman. Not once. I’ve never envied a man or wanted to be anyone else. I’ve always felt valued and equal to my male friends, never an object or something insignificant or worthless. I’ve never felt scared to walk down a street, as a woman. I’ve never felt like my gender defined who I am or what I’ve done. I like to break the mould, the stereotype; be different and be myself. As a woman, I’ve always stood tall. I’ve always felt proud and strong.
I’ve never wished that I wasn’t a woman, until recently. Until I was jeered at by a group of men, as I walked past them. Until two men stood in front of me and my friend and wanted to tell us (and probably show us) “all the things I’d do to you”. Until I was made to feel like…
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For any parent whose children have yet to reach 10 years old you NEED to read this, and commit it to memory for later use.
Each of my children, during their teenage angst years, once told me they hated me. There was a five year age gap between them. It was two separate occasions with years dividing the incidents. So it wasn’t as if I was bombarded. And each time I could see it approaching.
They didn’t mean it.
Though they were pretty vehement in their expression at the time, I knew better.
I knew they felt like they had no control.
I knew they felt like I had all of the control.
And I knew what to do. I was ready. Prepared. I had this one.
I had read a story, long before this point in my life, about a parent who’s child had constantly said “I hate you”. So when it was my turn, I borrowed from that wise parent.
When it happened I reacted with great calm.
When each child in their own…
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