I’m Wide Awake and Proud of It

Politics, , , ,

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, the definition of “Woke” is being aware of and actively attentive to important facts and issues.

In other words: Pay attention!

If I’m “woke,” it means that I’m informed, educated, and conscious of the issues that matter to me.

I pay attention to the issues I deem crucial to my life.

Who knew that would become a moral negative?

And my concerns encompass a whole range of issues, including, but not exclusively centered around, social justice or racial equality.

Pay attention. Be informed. Be aware.

Fairly straightforward, right?

And yet, the definition of “woke” has morphed into a no-no, something to be ashamed of, a political faux pas.

Many people (mostly Republicans) use “woke” as an insult against progressive values, or maybe it’s their way of clarion calling racism, white supremacy, and bigotry.

√ Progressive = Developing gradually or in stages; proceeding step by step.

√ Values = A person’s principles or standards of behavior; one’s judgment of what is important in life.

Here is a short list of the things I deem essential in my wide-awake life:

  1. Freedom
  2. Equality
  3. Safety & Security
  4. Dignity
  5. Integrity
  6. Kindness
  7. Truthfulness
  8. Responsibility
  9. Inclusiveness
  10. Creativity
  11. Identity
  12. Community

I’m also wide awake regarding religious choice, affordable child care, common sense/bipartisan immigration, women’s rights, eradicating sexual assault, equal pay for equal work, sensible gun control, clean drinking water, equal taxation, affordable health care, saving our planet, bullies, bigots, and bullsh*t.

Do I deserve to be called a Marxist, snowflake, or even a liberal for what I believe to be necessary to live my best life?

I won’t call them friends any longer, but I even had some Facebook people put me down for where I was born and where I currently live.

Excuse me for being born in Connecticut (I’ve been called a Yankee) and relocating to New York (I’ve been accused of living in a Democratic bubble).

Really? You people who call yourself my friend have a problem with where I live?

I don’t put you down for living in podunk nowheresville.

And I never once accused anyone of living in a Republican bubble.

Give me a bubble break.

And FYI: I don’t need your permission or acceptance regarding my beliefs, where I was born, where I currently reside, or my political affiliation (until 2017, I was a registered Republican).

And no pun intended, but wake up “friends” because you are as woke as I am, you just don’t want to admit it and use wokeness as a slur against those you disagree with.

Your so-called anti-wokeness is an unsuccessful attempt to divert you from the reality of the world in which we all live. All of us, not just the some of us you think should exist.

THE ONLY ONE LIVING IN A BUBBLE IS YOU.

And for the record, I’d rather be awake than asleep.

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 20: Help!

Teri's Novelog — My Stolen Diaries, , , , ,

CHAPTER 20

HELP!

August 1965

Today the song Help! by the Beatles was playing on the radio, and the words of the song describe our lives to a T because we desperately need some help, especially the part that goes,

♪ Help me if you can; I’m feeling down
And I do appreciate you being ’round
Help me get my feet back on the ground
Won’t you please, please help me ♪

It’s been seven months since my window screw-up, and Mom still blames me for everything bad happening to her. She keeps whining that Roberto was our only hope of escaping Bridgeport and that Nick will never be of any help since he likes it here. Plus, Mom says Nick has no ambition and will never make enough money to get us out, even if he changes his mind. According to Mom, we’re stuck in Bridgeport forever, thanks to me.

I hate that I’m the cause of all of Mom’s troubles, but as long as I’m with Mom, Mem, and Mere Germaine, I agree with Nick that we don’t need to leave Bridgeport, although it would help if we could move someplace without bugs and rodents.

Mem always says that help can come in the unlikeliest of places and when we need it the most, but Mom says there is no one to help us now that Roberto is off with some other girl. Mem’s reply to Mom is that if he found another girl so fast, he wasn’t the right guy for her anyway.

Speaking of help, before school let out, Sister Regina Mary helped me sign up for a library card because she believes that reading is good exercise for the brain. Sister also says that books will help my imagination and strengthen relationships. I hope Sister is correct because I could sure use some help with my relationship with Mom.

But the biggest thing that has happened since I wrote last is that poor Adam passed away. Lucky for him, Mem was there and helped him get to the other side. I have never seen Mem so upset, and it took her a few weeks to return to herself. You’d think that with Adam dying, Mom would be nicer to me, but she hasn’t been any help at all, mainly because she still hasn’t heard one word from Roberto.

Two days ago, Mem got a call from Adam’s lawyer asking her to come into his office. I took the bus with Mem to a fancy building on Main Street. The lawyer said that Adam’s will was recently probated. Mem told the lawyer she didn’t understand what that meant, so the lawyer explained that Adam’s will was proved by the Bridgeport Court to be his last will and testament. Mem was still confused as to why she was there and asked the lawyer if she was in some kind of trouble. Mem was shaking like a leaf.

I could see the lawyer felt bad for Mem and calmed her down by saying that she was in no trouble at all and that he had great news for her. Mem replied that Adam dying was terrible news for her, and nothing could change that. That’s when the lawyer told Mem that Adam had left her his car, the contents of his house, and a substantial amount of money.

Mem cried like a baby, and the lawyer offered her a box of tissues. Seeing Mem cry made me cry because I never saw her cry before.

The lawyer sat quietly for a minute before asking, “Who is Tony?” Mem, who was blowing her nose, pointed her finger in my direction. The lawyer looked down at his notes and then back up at me and said, “Adam left you his baby grand piano,” which made the two of us cry even more.

Then the lawyer turned to Mem. “Don’t you want to know how much?” “How much what?” Mem asked, wiping the tears off her face. “How much money Adam left you,” the attorney replied, looking shocked that Mem didn’t think to ask him.

Mem stood up, straightened out her skirt, grabbed my hand, and on our way out of his office, looked back at Adam’s lawyer and said, “No, I don’t want to know how much. When I get the money, I’ll know.”

Up to me, I would have wanted to know how much money Adam left Mem. Poor thing cried the whole bus trip home, even though I tried to calm her down by reminding her she was right on the money when she said that help comes from the unlikeliest of places and when we need it the most. She replied that right on the money was the wrong choice of words.

The one thing I know for sure is thanks to poor dead Adam; help is on the way. And no matter how much or how little, I know his money will go a long way to helping us get our feet back on the ground.

Click here for Chapter 21: Building 55, Success Park

My Stolen Diaries – Chapter 19: The Boot

Teri's Novelog — My Stolen Diaries, , , , ,

CHAPTER 19

THE BOOT

April 1965

It’s been almost three months since Mem gave Steve the boot, Roberto gave Mom the boot, and Mom gave me the boot, or should I say the broom. But Mom won’t stop telling Mem that everyone got the boot because of me. Except, of course, Adam, because he’s almost dead, so there’s no way he’s getting the boot except from God.

Since I’m not allowed to go to Steve’s Market, and Adam is sicker than ever, I’ve spent most of my time at the Bridgeport Library.

I’m also not allowed to go to Father Panik Village, so Yolanda meets me at the library and helps me hide Rib in an old purse of Mem’s, so he can come with us.

We don’t have library cards which means Yolanda and I never get to the end of the books we like because we must leave them behind. I hope to apply for a library card soon because I’d like to finish just one of them, but I need an adult sponsor.

The first couple of times we went, I was paranoid that the librarian was watching us because of Rib, but Yolanda said it was because I was with a girl with black skin. I think it’s sad that the librarian is way more interested in why I’m with black-skinned Yolanda than the dog in Mem’s purse.

Rib is only three pounds, and Mem says that’s as big as he’ll ever get, which is excellent for me because I get to take him everywhere, and because he’s so tiny, no one even knows he exists, which in Rib’s case is a good thing.

Speaking of not existing, Mom still hasn’t heard one word from Roberto since I shoved my stupid face out the window. And she still hasn’t forgiven me for it, even though I make her bed every day and do all the chores she’s supposed to do, like vacuuming, dusting, and taking out the garbage.

My birthday was a bust because Mom refused to participate. Mem and Mere Germaine took me for a birthday celebration at Valley Farm Drive-In on Boston Avenue. I had a hot dog with the works, and Mem and Mere Germaine shared a meatball grinder, but Mom never showed up. When I cried to Mem, Mere Germaine told me that Mom’s heart was healing and to give her some space and time.

Mere Germaine still lives in Samir’s apartment, although I haven’t seen him since he punched out Uncle Luke. You could say Uncle Luke also got the boot, but with a fist to the face instead.

And just to let you know, I check the kitchen cupboard from time to time for any new newspaper articles about my dad, and there are plenty of them, so I’m sure he’s another man that I won’t be seeing anytime soon.

Based on his law-breaking behavior, he’s the only one who deserves to get the boot, although I hope the police don’t shoot him in the head like they did to his friend Anthony.

Maybe Mem is right when she says that all men should get the boot—except for Adam, who, according to Mem, is one-of-a-kind and not like other men. When I asked Mem about Nick, she said only time would tell whether he should get the boot.

I try to bring up Steve to Mem because I miss him terribly, but she’s stubborn and says he got the boot because he wouldn’t stop bad-mouthing Adam. Without Steve, we’re back to chopped meat, hotdogs, and liver, plus no more free cigarettes for Mom and Mem.

Mom is still dating Nick, but I can see his frustration. Nick knows Mom doesn’t love him because he told me so himself. When I asked him why he was wasting time with her, he said he still had hope.

If you ask me, I think his situation is hopeless because Mom cries every day over Roberto, so I’m all but certain that Nick will be the next one to get the boot.

Click here for Chapter 20: Help!