Black Silk

his skin slick with sweat
from painting the stone red
in the hot Florida sun
I am stunned by
the beauty of him
black silk skin
drinking his beauty in
he regards me silently
saying nothing
yet taking everything in
his attention to detail
assures me he
misses nothing
composing what he sees
into orchestrated movements
his attention to rhythm
cadence & melody
truly moves me
magnetizing me
always in his direction
the perfection of his erection
is irrelevant to the depth
of his silent reverberating soul
offers nothing against
the resolve of my control
i stroll softly
along
the corridors of dreams
that weave themselves between
us

Didactic

Inspired by reading George Orwell for my Politics and Literature class Summer A semester.

I love the way he poignantly points out the vicious dichotomy between the upper and lower classes. Without the crowd there is no leader. Without the workers in the belly of the hotel there are no lavish rooms for the guests to enjoy. The upper classes disdain and look down on the very people who are the mechanism they flourish because of. The working class are the inherent part of the machine that runs the empire yet are not satisfied by the value they create. The hatred this stimulates is the beetlejuice they spit upon the dresses of the rich.

Like a Thief in the Night! Forever, I rise!

I had no idea what it would feel like to return home. I feel like a stranger in my living room. Like I am a little too communist to be American and a little less than socialist to belong to Vietnam. I told you all Seoul swept me away. I wanted to stay. I come back to the tidal wave of things I must accomplish. Life. I feel my destiny pulling me to the next dimension. I have no idea what it will look like. I simply know I am not the same me that left for California, let alone Southeast Asia. Several of my closest people went through major life events when I was away. Kirstie was in a severe car accident. Kamahria's boyfriend (who had just professed his desire to marry her) dies young and unexpected. Leslee is in a terrible motor cycle accident and her boyfriend is STILL in a coma. Tampa floods. Chicago has tornadoes and California has wildfires that tear up portions of the state. I feel like a thief in the night. I feel restless and wanting. I feel lonely and afraid. I feel needed in too many places. I have to discern these premonitions coming to me. I have other things pending that I cannot discuss that add to the pressure. I am a constantly moving force of nature. I feel like I am orbiting some strange new planet. I keep sneezing like I am allergic to my own home and that is the one place I should NOT be having allergy attacks! School starts on the 24th. It is my last semester as I graduate. Bachelor's in Psychology. I am psychoanalyzing me at the moment. The things I cannot share are affecting me deeply but the sharing of them would be detrimental to those they involve. Pray for me. Send me love and the white light of healing. I am hurting. I am searching for the next step. The comfort is that faith I have in the power of my destiny. I know I will find it. As it nears the new moon, I know the pieces will rearrange themselves. I will see the puzzle piece. I will find its relevant space. I will grow and augment as necessary & I will march ever onward. This trip changed my life in ways I still cannot yet see. I look forward to the next few months of redefining me. I look forward to the next step. The next chapter. The next stage of my existence. From my mother's solemn and devout Christian perspective, The Devil would not work hard to pull you off your path if you were not solidly on your path. It just makes me try even harder. I love you all and am blessed by your constant love and support. I need you so very much right now!

Good Morning Vietnam!

Well boys & girls, I am leaving Tampa in the morning. The first stop will be Santa Barbara, California where I will see the lovely goddess, Asia Wilcox!!!!!!!! I cannot express the excitement I have over this singular event. If my entire travel was only to see Asia's face, it would be worth it all.

We will be staying near Pacifica Graduate Institute where I will meet the faculty and tour the campus where I will be attaining my doctorate. WOOOOHOOOOO!

After two days in a plush hotel in Santa Barbara, I will be traveling down to Los Angeles where I will fly to Seoul, Korea and from there to Hanoi, Vietnam.

USF is taking excellent care of us and we will be staying in a hotel in Hanoi for a couple days. From there we take a bus along the countryside to board a boat where we will stay for one night. We will cruise to an island resort and stay there for two nights. From there we will return to Hanoi and take a train to Vinh City where we will stay in the dorms and study with the locals. My class, Vietnam in Transition will open our eyes to many things and I cannot wait!

We will also be touring Paradise Cave...Google It! I tell you...it is AMAZING!

I fly back to LA and then home to Tampa August fourth.

I will have unlimited text...so please reach out to me whenever you like.

Thank you all for contributing whether spiritually or monetarily or both. I am beyond grateful. I know I will return a changed woman!

While I am gone, Ebony & Ivory (album three) is being mastered by GFI Studios in New York. I should have it released this Fall.

I thank you all for your constant love and support.

~~*~~

RAin Christi.

Milk Does a Body Good

Rain Christi    

June 10, 2015

Politics and Literature

Milk Does a Body Good

            Here in the great United States of America it is pretty much guaranteed that a politician is lying to his hopeful constituents to gain their votes. Most politicians speak in brown sugar coated sentences making promises of what they can do to make our lives better. Most of them rarely, if ever, live up to those promises. Granted, a politician’s life is under constant scrutiny in the public eye. Those that do make a difference are discounted once they commit some “atrocious crime” sending the media into a feeding frenzy. Take President Clinton for instance. He made a tremendous amount of positive difference in our nation and was highly esteemed until he received fellatio from Monica Lewinsky. Public figures must sacrifice their private lives in order to stand before us, honest or not. Once in a while, an honest politician comes along.

            Meet Harvey Milk. Born in Long Island, New York on May 22^nd, 1930, he was the first openly homosexual person to take public office. In the wake of his assassination in 1978, many books have been written; policies on homosexuality approached and even the rise of special schools for gays and lesbians. The Harvey Milk High School was founded in 1985 in Greenwich Village and was segregated to the enrollment of gays and lesbians only (Hedlund, 2004). The Harvey Milk Institute in San Francisco, California was founded in 1994 and focuses on bettering life for the gay and lesbian community (Ellis, Highley, Schaub and White, 2001). Much media has been devoted to the story of Harvey Milk.

            In 2008, Universal Studios released a major motion picture dedicated to his story. Confucius said, “Wherever you go, go will all your heart.” For a gay man in 2008, that is trying enough. For a gay public figure in the seventies, it was a whole different story.  For Harvey Milk, there was no other option than to be himself. A charismatic figure, he entranced his audience with his poise, with his passion. His honesty was a refreshing change in public figures. People trusted him. People believed he would be what he said he would be. People believed he would accomplish what he said he would accomplish. However, being a gay man made his political path that much harder.

            Harvey Milk did not set out to be a politician. In 1970, in a public stairwell, on the eve of his fortieth birthday he met and fell in love with Joseph Scott Smith. His charm convinced Scott to come enjoy his birthday with him and they soon moved in together. Shortly after moving in to a quaint apartment on Castro Street, Harvey decided to open Castro Camera. An enthusiastic photographer, Harvey hoped to make enough money to enjoy his life with Scott. As they were hanging the sign for their new business, a neighboring business owner came over to welcome them. Once he realized that Scott and Harvey were lovers, his tune quickly changed. He warned the men that their shop would never survive. It was about this time that the wheels began turning for Harvey Milk, the politician to be.

            Harvey’s shop became a home away from home for gay men everywhere. He compiled a list of shops that welcomed gay business and a list of those who did not. The gay community only purchased from those shops that were on the support list. Soon, many of the non-supporters were closing their doors forever. Castro Street quickly became a haven for gay men. Castro Camera became more than just a home away from home; it became a spot for political activism. Castro Street drew the attention of more than just the gay and lesbian community. Savvy business owners with political agendas realized how much of an advocate such a thriving community could be. Teamster leaders visited Harvey Milk, and asked for help boycotting Coors beer. They were able to successfully remove Coors beer from all the gay bars winning the approval of the teamsters. Soon driving positions were offered to openly gay men and this is when they received their first taste of power. It was about this time that people began to call Harvey Milk the Mayor of Castro Street.

            By 1973, Castro Street belonged to the gay community; however, this did not ensure their safety. Police brutality was an all too often occurrence. One particular night while treating Scott for a head injury due to the police, Harvey realized that just like the black community, the gay community needed political representation. Standing on a box on which he painted “Soap” he spoke through a loud speaker about the relevant issues of the gay community. He announced his candidacy that day as their City Supervisor. He ran and lost the race for City Supervisor twice; however, Harvey knew that it was not just winning that mattered.

            He stood on every stage, and echoed through every campaign microphone speaking in advocacy not only for the gay community but also for the elderly, the youth, the minorities, and every group big politics had forgotten. His campaign lifestyle was not easy for Scott at times, yet he remained loyally at his side for years. However, after a third loss, Scott proclaimed he could not make it through another campaign, packed his bags and left. Harvey soldiered on. Voting protocols by district had been changed so that those voting for or against Harvey would be voters from Castro and Haight only. He was confident this would give him the winning votes. Once again, he campaigned for City Supervisor.

            On January 9^th, 1978, Harvey Milk was inaugurated as City Supervisor for San Francisco. His years of campaigning had finally paid off. In an interview by Channel Five News he was asked if he would represent all people or only the gay community. He replied with exuberance that he would of course represent all people. His new position brought a lot of new responsibility. He was constantly on the go. Jack, the lover that he began seeing after Scott left was very lonely without him at home and was jealous of his life in the public eye. One night as Harvey arrived at six fifteen rather than six, he found notes strewn all along his apartment. Jack had hung himself and was dead when Harvey found him. With the upcoming vote for Proposition Six right around the corner, Harvey didn’t even have time to mourn.

            On November 7, 1978, Proposition Six was voted out. Sponsored by John Briggs and supported by Anita Bryant, Proposition Six would have banned gays and lesbians and perhaps all who supported them from working in the school system. This would have caused a colossal loss of jobs within the gay and lesbian community. Harvey Milk and all who supported his cause won a victory that changed America forever on that profound day in November. Only twenty days later, the fear of assassination became a reality.

            Harvey stated in tapes he had been making prior to his murder that he hoped tens of thousands would rise in his wake if an assassination became a reality. Over thirty thousand people marched from Castro Street to City Hall to honor his life and mourn his death. Dan White, a City Supervisor who had resigned his post and turned around and asked for his job back was denied. In a rage, he snuck into City Hall through a window to avoid detection of his weapon by the metal detectors. He shot both the Mayor and Harvey Milk that tragic day in November. However, the legacy of Harvey Milk lives on to this day.

            Harvey Milk was more than just the first openly gay man to hold public office. Harvey Milk was a man who spoke the truth, who stirred the crowds, who accomplished great things. I wish he could have taken a sneak peek into 2015 in order to see just how far we have come where gay rights are concerned. More than thirty states (along with the District of Columbia) now allow the right for same sex couples to engage in marriage (http://www.cnn.com). Please see the Reference Section for the full link. As far as we have come on the matter of rights for the gay and lesbian community, there is still a long way to go.

            As a young girl, I already knew that I was different. I knew I was attracted to girls by the age of four. I kept it buried inside me for so many years. My father was a Baptist Minister and my mother a teacher. There was no room for my persuasion in my household. By sixteen, I had kissed my first girl, and by nineteen I knew it was time for me to come out of the closet. I was shunned by much of my family. My great-grandmother called me crying hysterically. She wanted to know what had caused me to become this way. I lost friends. The part that shocked me the most was the judgment laid upon my breast by the LGBT community. According to many gays and lesbians, I was not bisexual; I was confused. I felt like I didn’t belong to any group. It was a very hard period of adjustment for me.

            In our Western society we are trained to focus on an ideal way of being. We are also trained to scrutinize those who are not the same; those who do not fit that ideal. Many have taken their own lives in order to escape the hatred they face daily for not being considered normal by society at large. Many live their life in fear of being beaten or abused. Some choose rather to live a lie and never let anyone know that they are homosexual. It is unfathomable to some, how painful living a life as a homosexual in this country can be. Yet, some still proclaim that being gay is a choice. Harvey Milk spoke out at a time when not many knew how to lift their voices and be heard on the subject of gay rights. Harvey Milk paved the way for many developments in the gay and lesbian community.

            If we hope to see a day when America is not afraid of the color of skin; if we hope to see a day when America is not afraid of the religion of choice; if we hope to see a day when America is not afraid of sexual preference; we must stand up and speak out just like Harvey Milk. It amazes me how bold and brave he was during a time when it was much less acceptable to be gay than it is today. We cannot change what we do not discuss. In the film, there were a couple instances where a young man called Harvey Milk and thanked him. He saved lives. He set young men free. His life was not a life of luxury, but it was a life fulfilled.

            Just before his assassination, two poignantly powerful and excruciatingly sad things occurred. Harvey loved to listen to opera. Just before he was murdered he saw his first and last opera. That night from his bed, he called Scott and told him about his evening. Scott suggested that Harvey call him the next time he was going to go because he would very much like to accompany him. Harvey said he would love to. Scott told him in that conversation just how proud of Harvey he was. It seemed obvious that they would rekindle their love. If only someone had stopped Dan White from entering City Hall that day.

            In 1984, just five short years later, Dan White was released from prison. It is hard to understand what the judicial system was thinking. Two murders and five years later, a man should not be free. His lawyers defense was coined “The Twinkie Defense” claiming that his junk food diet has impaired his judgment. However, Dan White committed suicide shortly after his release and return to San Francisco. Perhaps Harvey’s suspicion that Dan was gay was correct.    

            Harvey Milk made a tremendous impact on the gay and lesbian rights movement. His courage and passion drove him to speak even after recognizing the probability of his own assassination. May we all find the courage to stand for what we believe in. May we all find the strength to march against our opposition. May we all live a life that we can die proud of. “My name is Harvey Milk and I am here to recruit you”.

           

References:

Ellis, A., Highley, L., Schaub, K., & White, M. (2001). The Harvey Milk Institute guide to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer internet research. The Haworth Press, Inc.

Hedlund, R. (2004). Segregation by any other Name: Harvey Milk High School.JL & Educ., 33, 425.

Jinks, D., Cohen, B. (Producers) & Van Sant, G. (Director). (2008). Milk [Motion Picture]. United States: Universal Studios.

Same Sex Marriage States: (http://www.cnn.com/interactive/us/map-same-sex-marriage/index.html). 

The High Road

Rain Christi

June 17, 2015

Politics & Literature

The High Road

            I began my young adult life naïve and disconnected from the general population. I was and am a highly empathetic being yet I knew not the common tales that most people my age knew well. I was raised in a household without television and secular influences such as popular music, magazines, books and movies. I was sensitive to the news and stayed as far from it as possible. I could not believe the things that went on in the world around me. Granted, much of what the general population believes is highly influenced via the popular media. Stories told of war, poverty, famine and the like have political angles that can be hard to register while taking in the message of those telling the story. It then becomes the responsibility of the consumer of knowledge to search avidly for the truth regardless of the propaganda.

            I began working at City Hall in Rochester, New York in my early thirties. I worked there for three and a half years. My function in City Hall was to run the City Hall Café serving those that worked within her walls and even guests from without. I spoke frequently to the Mayor, to Commissioners, to the Chief of Police and so many other political figures responsible for running my city. Prior to my time working in City Hall, I counted all politicians as liars and I had never registered to vote or had any active interest in politics. This, of course, horrified my city officials. My attitude changed when I realized that I played an intricate role within my city. The City Hall Café, under my care, became a place of music, art, poetry, knowledge and a brilliant cup of joe.

            By affecting the way the City Hall mornings began and offering those that frequented our café a place to relax and rejuvenate, I directly affected the operations of my City. I came to know many of the city leaders well. During my employment there Mayor Bob Duffy left in the middle of his term to accept the position of Lieutenant Governor of New York. Our interim Mayor, Carlos Carballada (Commissioner of Economic Development) told me I should run for Mayor. I believed he was joking at first, and when I realized he was not, the comment profoundly changed my life. Carlos and I had forged a friendship and have a great mutual respect for one another. He gave me a list of reasons why he felt I would lead well, and I listened carefully. My perspective on City Hall and the world of politics began to change. Upon my resignation (I moved down here to return to school near my family) I was presented with a Proclamation from the Mayor and the mayoral staff. I would not be surprised if one day I fulfill a political role in leadership.

            Upon leaving New York, I began gleaning as much political knowledge as I was able. I registered to vote and voted for the first time as my vote was counted among those that won President Obama office. I took a Global Conservation class with Dr. Johnny Wong and it opened my eyes to the politics of world resources and those that are in control of them. Dr. Deby Cassill presented a new angle for me to add to my repertoire. In her class we looked at the biological perspective of diversity. Dr. Gaskin-Butler taught us to see from the perspective of individual cultures in her Cross-Cultural Psychology class. Nayvi Hernandez taught us about the culture and religion of the Latino people as she instructed us how to speak the language. She sparked my interest in the politics of literature as she offered me an example with an Earnest Hemingway novel. In this novel he spoke of voodoo and presented his words as fact. Ms. Hernandez was troubled by what this did to the popular culture as they accepted the words presented as truth. All of these things and more whet my appetite and continued my growth. Imagine how excited I was to learn of a class called Politics and Literature.

I knew this was the correct next step in my development as a woman of global presence. I signed up eagerly and began reading our assigned coursework. The first book assigned, White Tiger (Adiga, 2008) broached the topic of the caste system in India. Of the books we were assigned to read, this story remains one of my favorite. One of the most profoundly disturbing images in the story is the author’s description of the rooster coop. Wired in, these animals in the market are packed so close to one another and have no means of escape. They must defecate in this close proximity and wait to be purchased to be turned into food. Adiga uses this as an analogy for the caste system and the fact that there is no way out for those in the lower castes. Yet our white tiger does find is way out; albeit, the price is high.

Much like the roosters, the White Tiger begins chewing at the wires caging him in. He finally finds his way out but it stains his hands in the blood of the murder he committed and the consequential murder of perhaps his entire family. Those in the higher levels of the caste system have no need to find their way out of it. Some may argue that their system works because it assigns people to each needed layer of society. A system needs people that pick up trash, clean toilets and other less than glamorous jobs. What would society do if there were no one to pick up trash? This story forces the reader to wrestle with the question: what must be done to be free? Is the murder the White Tiger committed justified? Certainly none of us would like to believe we would willingly risk the murder of our entire family for our own individual freedom. What is justifiable in the caged animals pursuit of freedom?

In Sofia Petrovna (Chukovskaya, 1967) we have to ask how successful Stalin’s purges would have been without the individuals who participated in turning in friends and family members. Stalin believed in moving people around and purging those who did not fit his ideal society. If we were considering this from a biological point of view only, it might make scientific sense. However, when considering that each of these units removed from the general population had families, friends, lovers, co-workers, and others who cared for their well-being, the empathy of our nature takes over. So many people during Stalin’s regime turned in their friends or neighbors so they would not be included in the purge. This book left me with the riveting awareness of what the individual role has been in sagas like Hitler’s Nazi Germany or Stalin’s Russia. One can place all the blame on the charismatic leader; however what power would these men have had without those blindly following them?

With every book I read in this class, I felt a pressure building. Each story offered me a building block for my brilliant destiny in the making. We discuss revolution. We discuss war. We discuss politics. We banter and debate our views and philosophies in a class with a brilliant age range. I soak it all in. I am a planet shaker. I believe in the power of the individual. I know we all have an exponential potential we have the power to reach in this life. Why then do some still choose to murder, rape, pillage and destroy? Why do some leaders have the power to raise their fist and command murder while the population at large simply obeys?  Why do some men like Martin Luther King know to stand up and speak and persuade the people to greater things? What causes some humans to be the best of themselves and others the worst? How can one use this awareness for the greater good?

Under the Red Flag (Jin, 1997) really reached me in a dark, disturbing place. It reached me in a place where children emulate their leaders, no matter how corrupt those leaders are. It reached me in a place where men can kill their children due to jealousy and fear. It reached me in a place where women do not have the rights they deserve. It reached me in a place where what you work for does not matter and the people you call your friends will turn on you the first chance they get. It reached me in a place where the construct of society has a power over a people who simply desire to follow; simply desire to be as free as that society allows. It made me wonder what would happen if a society was earnestly formed on “liberty and justice for all”.  What could the individual become then?

I believe if I could go back in time and sit in at the signing of the Declaration of Independence that I might be surprised by what I find. Of course there would be some men present who were doing it for the glory, for the power, for the money. However I do believe that finding freedom from Great Britain and forging a new way in new territory was the driving force in the beginning of this great nation. Yet as our nation developed we adopted the capitalistic way. We did not show reverence for our own Declaration. All people were not treated equally and the saga of power struggles and oppressed people repeated itself right here on our soil. This brings me to Redeployment (Klay, 2014) which covers soldiers in Iraq, mostly Marines and things civilians will never fully understand.

Redeployment is a dark and gritty read. It touches on several Marines and other soliders who face things like PTSD upon their return. It delves deeply into some of the tragic things they had to witness overseas. It makes you feel guilty for saying, “thank you for your service”, which I have certainly said more than twice. It looks into the politics of leadership and the necessity of obedience within a structure built to depend upon it. It again leads me back to the nature of the individual.

In every society there must be some kind of orchestrated structure. In every society, there must be leaders and followers. In every society, there must be punishment for breaking laws forged to govern. In the heart of every individual there must be some personal awareness of their role within their society. In the heart of every individual there must be some personal responsibility for going against their very soul to obey those in power. The individual must know his own place in society and must also know when it is time to disavow said society.

What leader would have power without the obedience of his people behind him? What social revolution could have been possible without the power of the masses? What genocide could have been carried out without the soldiers who obeyed orders to murder other human beings? With plenty of resources on this planet for all people, one is forced to ask the question why we still fight to the death to obtain those resources. Why are some givers and some takers? What is it in our human nature that leads some to become their best and some to indulge their worst? I believe any powerful positive revolution must begin with the strength of the individual. I believe that to reach the globe we must touch the individual heart and soul of every person on it. I believe that we as human beings have the potential to live in harmony. I believe my life is worth offering in pursuit of this profound realization.

References:

Adiga, A. (2008). The white tiger: a novel. Simon and Schuster.

Chukovskaia, L. K. (1967). Sofia Petrovna. J. D. Murray (Ed.). Northwestern University Press.

Klay, P. (2014). Redeployment. Penguin.

Jin, H. (1997). Under the Red Flag: Stories. University of Georgia Press.

            

Climactic.

I am honored to say that I have had some of the most brilliant love on the planet! I have never had a bad relationship and I have learned something (or many things) important from each love in my life. I know that as individuals we have individual preferences, but the answer to a very important problem has alluded me for some time now.

I want to take some time to discuss orgasms.

Almost every time a male engages in sexual play, he has an orgasm. I wish the same could be said of women.

There are, of course, many layers to this dilemma. I have met women who didn't even know how to bring themselves to orgasm. There are men who are selfish and only care about their own orgasm. There are women who don't know how to voice what they need. And the combinations continue indefinitely.

Nicki Minaj was recently quoted on the cover of Cosmopolitan saying, "I demand an orgasm every time". Although I don't think I would take it to that extreme, I have been with beautiful men for years that have yet to give me an orgasm and I have been with men who were more concerned with my orgasm than theirs.

I love giving and receiving pleasure. I really enjoy when a man (or woman) goes down on me. I can bring myself to orgasm quite quickly and those who have cared to learn the intricacies of my body have been able to do the same. I rarely have orgasms from penetration, and really feel that I deserve to have orgasms just as much as my partner.

I realize that it is not as obvious when a woman experiences an orgasm as when a man does, but I do think that partners should concern themselves with the enjoyment level of the one they are trying to please.

Recently I was talking about this subject with a black, male friend of mine. he asked me if the ones who went down on me willingly were black or white. Those of you that know me well know that I have only dated black men for the last several years of my life. I was married to a Native American, engaged to a Jew and I started thinking about it.

I would like to start an intelligent, grown up dialogue about the subject of orgasms and going down on a woman. The men who have never gone down on me have received the favor countless times.

Do black men go down on their women less than white men? Did black men go down on me less because I was white?

I know there are some men who just don't like going down and some women who feel the same way.

Most of my female lovers have ensured that I had orgasms on a very regular basis. I cannot say the same for the men.

I have enjoyed each of the important men and women in my life. If a someone doesn't like going down, there is not much to change that. I just feel like if I have to bring myself to orgasm later on, that I was missing out on something. Am I wrong for feeling that way?

What do you ladies and gents have to say?