Black lives matter more than statues.
Living human beings matter more
than stone idols. The victims used
to mock and shame matter more
than the cheap laugh someone gets
from a vicious campaign.
Children separated from parents
matter more than The Wall. The health
of our planet matters more than
the wealth of CEOs. Women matter
even when they’re not incubators.
LGBTQ rights matter more
than the hate of the haters.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
I just had a flashback from 40 years ago. I was on a ferry from Seattle to Bremerton – I think I’d been visiting a friend in Seattle. I was standing at the railing of the ferry by myself, looking out over the water. A good-looking young man with blue eyes approached me and started chatting. He was visiting from another state, he said. Out here to lead a meeting or a gathering – I don’t remember his exact words now. He thought I might be interested in going to this meeting. I asked him what it was about. He said he was with the KKK. I remember feeling like I’d just been kicked in the gut – thinking he did not look like what I thought a KKK member would look like – shocked that there was anyone in the KKK in Washington State – wasn’t the KKK a southern thing? I told him no, I was not interested in his meeting. He tried to convince me to join him. I remember saying something like: “The KKK is against rights for blacks. The KKK hates black people.” And he smiled this really charming smile and said that no, the KKK wasn’t about hating black people – the KKK just wanted to make sure white people had rights, too – or something like that. I told him no, the KKK is racist, and no, I was not going to go to his meeting, and I walked away.
And here we are. Forty years later. My heart is breaking.
‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet’
and bigotry of whatever kind will always stink.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
Alrighty. Carry on then… 🙂
Without going into detail about what was going on here, my eldest son just witnessed me talking to a customer service rep on the phone. During the course of the conversation the customer rep asked me my full name. I told her I was really embarrassed to give her my first name now because of the meme, but I promised her I wasn’t going to want to talk to her manager. The son could hear her laughing through the phone. We had a delightful conversation and she helped me solve my problem and wished me a good day.
The son said he really enjoyed listening to how I talked to the rep. He said he witnessed me “dispelling myths and solving problems at the same time.”
That felt good. 🙂
Honestly, though? Lately I’ve been struggling with the Karen meme a little. For years my Karen friends and I have marched, gone to rallies, written letters against bigotry and injustice, fought our own personal battles for equality – and now it feels like all that we’ve invested in equality – all our words and efforts – are being brushed aside like they never mattered to anyone or made any difference. The Karens – or maybe middle-aged women in general – are being lumped into one monolithic group and stereotyped – told by others what we believe – our own personal narratives taken from us and discounted.
And that really stinks.
Yesterday morning I read an article about a man who wrote “BLACK LIVES MATTER” on his own property and was chastised for doing that by a woman NAMED LISA who didn’t believe him when he said it was his property. I was immediately indignant on this man’s behalf – ready to share his story in my Facebook progressives group. And then I saw it. The news writer covering the story – a mainstream media writer named Madison Vanderberg – wrote: “The world is still protesting, marching, calling DA offices, signing petitions, and overhauling their social media presence in the name of civil rights and yet, despite all of this, Karens of the world are still calling the cops on people of color.” And a little further on the man himself – the very man who had been a victim of bigotry – referred to the woman NAMED LISA as a “Karen.” (It is interesting to note that no label was attached to the woman’s husband – who was also present.)
And seriously?
I found myself shutting down – just staring at the screen and trying to process what the hell I’d just read there.
And here’s the thing: Exchanging one target of bigotry for another is not progress, you know?
Let me share some of the stories of the Karens who are my friends –
Karen Blair Troinello was a gifted runner, born at a time when females did not have equal opportunity to participate in school sports. She changed that: “Troianello is more than a passionate advocate of sports for girls. She is a pioneer who left her name — her maiden name — forever etched in state history. She is the former Karen Blair, the named plaintiff in the landmark Blair v. Washington State University lawsuit in 1979 that forced greater gender equity in college athletics.” (The Seattle Times, June 16, 2012.)
Because of Karen Blair Troinello equity was legislated for females in school sports. Let’s show her some appreciation.
My friend Karen Beckner has long fought for equality – here’s a photo of her in The Skagit Valley Herald, marching for the rights of migrant children.
And my friend Karen Rippberger ran for public office as a progressive in a conservative district in Oregon, and – although she didn’t win the election – she’s played a huge part in helping her local LGBTQ community’s battle for equal rights. Laura Camacho wrote in her voter’s guide: ” Karen Rippberger has a servant’s heart approach to leadership that is palpable on her website.”
Trust me – you want the Karens who are my friends fighting on your side. The Karens who are my friends don’t put up with bigotry, inequity, stereotypes, ageism, racism, sexism, discrimination, or lazy labels.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
This morning’s rant. I apologize in advance for any offense this may give, but…
IS THERE ANYONE WHO REALLY WANTS ANOTHER FOUR YEARS IN THIS COUNTRY LIKE THE LAST FOUR?!!! Holy crap. It’s not just about what’s happened since COVID-19 – it’s all the other !@#$ leading up to COVID-19: Environmental protections squashed; the planet, literally, on fire; the seas rising, along with the deficit; big corporations and the CEOs who run them getting subsidized, while the poor keep getting poorer; the rise of hate crimes and racism (and all other brands of hate-ism); NAZI flags and Confederate flags in our streets; our elections tampered with by a foreign power; long-time alliances lost; treaties ended; foreign service employees and the FBI under attack by our/their own president.
And last week this happened: Our president ordered police officers to tear gas peaceful protesters and clergy so that he could stand in front of a church, holding the Bible, for a photo opportunity.
Is anybody really enjoying the path our country is currently on?!!!
Karen Molenaar Terrell
“The powers of this world will fight, and will command their sentinels not to let truth pass the guard until it subscribes to their systems; but Science, heeding not the pointed bayonet, marches on. There is always some tumult, but there is a rallying to truth’s standard. Love is the liberator.”
– Mary Baker Eddy
He underestimated the goodness of the people of this country.
And that was his downfall.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
(Moon rising over Mount Baker. Photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell._
“Give us grace for to-day; feed the famished affections.”
– Mary Baker Eddy
Shopping at Fred Meyer’s this morning. There was an interesting feeling/atmosphere in there. Kind of edgy. When I went through the checkout I saw one of my old students was doing the bagging – Kayla with the Cheerful Heart. Kayla is ALWAYS smiling, and usually laughing. I found myself smiling just to see her there, working her magic. I asked her (muffled through my mask) how she was doing and she said she and the cashier had been yelled at a lot this morning – I looked over to the cashier and she nodded her head in confirmation. I wondered out loud what was going on with people right now. “It’s Sunday,” I said half to myself, trying to work it out, “Maybe people are just coming from church.” (I’d noticed the church parking lots were full this morning.) Kayla and the checker started laughing out loud, nodding their heads, agreeing that THAT was probably what was happening.
Then Kayla said this was the first day in months she hadn’t worn a mask – she’d been starting to feel sick because she’d had to wear a mask for months on the job and it was making her asthma act up. She said one of the customers had yelled at her for not wearing a mask. The cashier nodded her head – she’d just taken her mask off for a moment to talk to someone when the same customer had started yelling at her, too.
Sheesh.
I turned to the guy behind me in line – he wasn’t wearing a mask. I pointed to my smiley masked face and asked him if he could tell I was smiling under my mask. He laughed and said yeah. I asked him if anyone had yelled at him this morning because he wasn’t wearing a mask (probably half the folks in the store weren’t wearing masks today) – and he laughed and said no, he just did “this” (and he showed me a cranky-looking frown) and people mostly avoided him. I started cracking up. I agreed the frown probably worked wonders in those kinds of social “situations.”
My groceries all packed up in paper bags, Kayla and the checker lady – and the unmasked guy behind me – all wished me a good day and I moved on.
As I walked out of the store I started thinking about the whole masked/unmasked thing. I wear a mask when I’m in supermarkets and public places because I figure it’s the least I can do right now to help the folks around me. When I consider what generations before me had to sacrifice as they went through World Wars and the Great Depression a mask doesn’t seem like a big deal to me. BUT I am not going to judge other people’s choices about that. It seems silly, to me, to let masks (or no masks) define people or determine their worth and value.
We’re all dealing with a lot of challenges right now – financial challenges, social isolation, concerns about health and politics. People are stressed. People are scared. And, for some people, fear presents itself as anger, indignation, self-righteousness, judgmentalism, quick tempers and impatience. I’m going to make an effort not to be one of those people – but I’m also going to make an effort to understand and be patient with my fellow humans who find themselves snapping and angry and indignant. It ain’t easy being human. I’m going to trust that we’re all doing the best we can.
If ever there was a time to give each other grace, it is now.
If you
don’t have to worry about looking suspicious
when you
walk around eating Skittles, wearing a hoodie
when you
go on a run through a suburban neighborhood
when you
carry assault rifles into a government building
then you
know white privilege
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
I’m so glad I could be a part of the Black Lives Matter rally today. I ran into some of my favorite people: the Templetons, Bailey, Summer, Charles, and Pam. I cried (The “Hands up! Don’t shoot!” chant especially got to me). I laughed (when one guy gave us the finger – I pointed to my sign – “TRUTH JUSTICE KINDNESS” – and wondered what part of this he had a problem with). I waved to the people passing in cars – the support from the people in their cars really inspired me – there were a lot of thumbs up and there were a lot of horns being honked. At one point Salvation Army volunteers came through with a wagon of free water and snacks for the protesters – that was cool. As I was leaving I stopped to thank the police officers for coming and giving us their support and that’s when I saw Iris was there, too – she was chatting with the officers – and they all let me take their photo. There were also a few guys with assault rifles and whatnot standing off to the side in a clump. Not sure what they were all about – but I took their pictures, too.
Missing Dad and Moz today, but so glad they’re not here to see what’s happening to our poor country.
I spent an hour today driving around to the places Dad and I used to go on our drives together – feeling the echo of his presence still there, talking to me. I had a flashback of a time when a young black man in a hoodie stopped to open the door for Dad, and I remember how Dad took the time to stop and thank him before he went into the building. It was a brief exchange – very quick – but the power of the brotherly love I felt being exchanged between Dad and the young man is still with me.
Thinking of Moz and imagining her shaking with indignation and anger at the injustice and racism we’re seeing – just as she did when I was a little girl and we encountered a racist at the Sears store. The man had nodded his head towards a little black family and said they should be shopping in their own store. When Moz understood what he was saying she was furious – “They have as much right to be here as you or me!” she told him, trembling with rage. The man realized, then, who he was dealing with in Moz and got all red in the face and scurried away. That was a moment I will never forget – it had a huge impact on me. I remember feeling very proud to be Moz’s daughter.
I remember how Moz and Dad celebrated the night Obama got elected – they were both so happy. Dad said he never thought he’d live long enough to see an African-American in the White House – his whole face was lit up with pride in his country. Moz had tears in her eyes with the joy she felt that night.
I’m so grateful I was raised by these people – so grateful I was brought up to see beyond the color of someone’s skin to what was in the heart of people. My parents gave me a kind of freedom with that.
Here’s Moz in her Obama hat.
