The Blaze on Breckenridge Terrace

You find yourself on your childhood block. It’s dark, especially with the streetlamps out. Up the street you can see your best friend’s house. After 21 years of knowing him, he’s still living there. You wonder if he’ll buy or inherit the house from his family. Having not seen him in years, you start to carefully tiptoe up the sidewalk. When you reach the house next door to his, a glow of light comes from behind you. You also feel the temperature rise. You turn around and see the house you just passed is on fire, the house you wanted to tiptoe and avoid, your childhood home. Or at least, the home you spent time with your father and his side of the family. Because with most of them out of this plane of existence, going back there is painful for you. Even though you are technically now a part owner with your sister and uncle. Even though you have such fond memories of that basement, you have fonder memories of spending nights at your friend’s house with his family, staying up until three in the morning. You start to turn around but realize you have something in your hands. In one is a canister of gasoline, the other a long lighter usually used for lighting grills. You then notice the trail of ablaze gasoline leading from you to the house. The odd thing is your feel relieved. Happy, even, that you put an end to your own dread. No ghosts to haunt you. No responsibility looming over you to help your sister keep her memories intact. No uncle-who-taught-you-how-to-collect-comics-turned-asshole to ignore anymore. That’s when you hear a man screaming. You know immediately who it is. From a downstairs window, you can see your uncle in a wheelchair banging for help. For a second you think to bother, but then you remember the bars he had installed on the first floor windows to avoid people from entering. He shut himself out from the outside world after they died. It’s fair; they were his entire world. He turned cold and bitter, selfish, became a survivalist without rejoining the workforce. You watch on as the fire around him warms his soul. You feel your eyes water, but you fight the tears from streaming down your face afraid they might extinguish the flames. This has to happen. This completes the set. Feeling at ease, you turn around and walk the last paces to your friend’s place. You walk up the steps. You ring the doorbell. You knock on the door. You ring the doorbell. You knock on the door. You sit on the steps. There are no cars on the street, none in the driveways. This is a private moment. A family affair. You turn your head to see your property cave in on itself.

You wake up.

Morality Role Call

There's a lot of malarkey and tomfoolery afoot this week,
so I'm going attempt to address as much of it as possible
without out rambling, ranting, or turning this into a "thinkpiece."

In the past few weeks,
I've noticed majority holders (whites/straights/men)
look at for the "How" in problems.
How did the officer get away with shooting an unarmed man?
How did those nudes get leaked?
How did she get raped?

I'm not sure if it's true for all minorities,
but I prefer to look for the "Why."
Why did the officer shoot an unarmed black man?
Why did someone leak this celebrities nudes?
Why did she get raped?
I'm a firm believer that asking why attacks problems at their root.
If we understand why things are happening,
we can recognize these problems before they even occur
and address them properly like the civilized society we claim to be.

For instance, while it is important to reprimand the police force
for abuse of power and find ways to stop them from doing so again,
why do they feel they can abuse their power?
Why do they feel it's appropriate to target people of color?
Why do they think they can get away with murder
with no proof of justification?
Why must black children be told to not draw attention to themselves
and not give the police a reason to stop them
instead of being able to trust those placed there to "protect" them?
These are but a few of the root questions that need to be addressed
in not only the Michael Brown case, but every case
that has featured the unjust killing or arrest of a person of color.
Because this shit happens too frequently
in all parts of this country for this to be coincidence.

Recently, a few celebrities' nude photographs were leaked,
the most notable celebrity being Jennifer Lawrence.
For some reason, people began throwing shame at JLaw.
(Or, if you're a simplistic man, you just locked yourself away for an hour.)
But why? Why do people care that much?
Ms. Lawrence took those pictures in privacy,
for her pleasure and whomever they were taken for.
She didn't leak her own pictures.
She and many others were hacked. [Damn iCloud.]
Shame the hackers. Shame those that seek to exploit her.
Shame those that share the pictures without her permission.
Slut shaming needs to stop.
A person has a right to do with their body as they please.
If you're going to call them anything,
call them promiscuous or comfortable in their own skin.

Along the same lines,
rape is not funny.
It is also not the victim's fault.
Why are women told not to dress so "provocatively?"
Why are men not instructed to behave themselves,
take no for an answer, and not rape anyone?
The old way only suggests: "Don't be the one rape; let it happen to that other girl."
And why are male rape victims told to man-up and keep quiet?
That's a whole different issue about masculinity that I don't have steam for.

It's very obvious that I don't have all of the answers.
But I am willing to ask all of the questions
in the hopes of building a better society and making people think.
America likes to think ourselves better than other countries,
but a few of those "bad guys" just scolded us
for the inhuman treatment of the folks in Ferguson.

Listen, I know you want to think the United States only has a few problems,
but it has many. Some problems you might not even grasp fully.
But if you choose to ignore those problems
instead of learning about them, you're part of the problem.
I repeat, you're part of the problem.
Be a better person than our parents and grandparents.
Stand up for others' rights and protection in this country.
It's the moral thing to do.
Word.