“Let it hurt. Let it bleed. Let it heal. And let it go.”
| — | Nikita Gill, How to Deal with a Painful Experience |
Author Archives: charissagrace
Terribly Hard
I am terribly hard on myself.
Not just too hard.
Terrible.
Hard.
I took
a bunch of selfies.
I deleted them.
It was easy.
Too bad I can’t
just delete myself,
right?
Or…if
not myself
then those
things, each
of them, that
leer in me
lurk in me
rage in me
roar in me
hurt in me
haunt in me
fear in me
fall in me
scream in me
sigh in me
I could just
point, click, delete
and they would
be gone
But then again,
so would I.
Be Gone.
I told you
I am terribly
hard on myself.
Not just too hard.
Terrible.
Hard.
Octavio Paz: Listen
Octavio Paz
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
the years go by, the moments return,
do you hear the footsteps in the next room?
not here, not there: you hear them
in another time that is now,
listen to the footsteps of time,
inventor of places with no weight, nowhere,
listen to the rain running over the terrace,
the night is now more night in the grove,
lightning has nestled among the leaves,
a restless garden adrift-go in,
your shadow covers this page.
Octavio Pas Breaks It DOWN!
“This is perhaps
the most noble aim of poetry,
to attach ourselves to the world around us,
to turn desire into love,
to embrace,
finally what always evades us,
what is beyond,
but what is always there
the most noble aim of poetry,
to attach ourselves to the world around us,
to turn desire into love,
to embrace,
finally what always evades us,
what is beyond,
but what is always there
– the unspoken, the spirit, the soul.
”| — | Octavio Paz
The Other Voice: |
You, Me, We
“There is no “us” and “them.”
Whatever your religion, philosophy, color, ethnicity, language,
or socio-economic class, we are all fundamentally the same.
or socio-economic class, we are all fundamentally the same.
We all share basic needs for food, shelter, safety, and love.
We all desire happiness and avoid suffering.
We all desire happiness and avoid suffering.
Each of us has hopes, worries, dreams, and fears.
Each of us wants the best for our family and loved ones.
Each of us wants the best for our family and loved ones.
We all experience pain when we suffer loss,
and joy when we achieve what we seek.
and joy when we achieve what we seek.
Each of us share the same image, likeness, and being of God.
Remember this as you walk the everyday paths of life.
Don’t be fooled by the differences you notice on the surface.
Look deeper, and see yourself in the other, and the other as yourself.”
| — | Jim Palmer |
Victor Frankl on Meaning
We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread.
They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.
Do Justice. Love Mercy. Walk Humbly.
Love, Charissa
Dear Reader, I Just Heard You Wondering
How did I get where I got? How you got left behind?
You could have come along, if you would have. You could have called. You know where I live, you could have come over.
You still can…if you have the courage to.
Or the desire to leave behind useless old ways.
Either way, there is dead weight that must be let go of to come where I am.
I can’t really say it feels like a loss…it more astonishes me than anything else, that relationships I thought were fairly deep and strong had the roots of dandelion fuzz but lacked the ability to travel on the wind.
Story of my LIFE!
- me:*sees a bee* I respect you
- bee:*starts flying toward me*
- me:*runs away shrieking*
Echoes
“What we do in life echoes in eternity.”
| — | Gladiator (2000), Dir. Ridley Scott |
In Confetti Fields, Scattered
Over these beauty-strewn flower fields
my heart overwhelmed at last, it yields
to the clamour and the clash of shields
and bombs bursting in air.
And I imagine how the ghouls
of war and battle grab handfuls
of humans gathered here, like fools
to fight for something there
in those fields,
their hearts snatched cruelly from their chest
thrown up, confetti, and the rest
a bloody mass, the reeling guest
of Death astride its Pale Horse…
But now, the field is strewn with flowers,
confetti fell and by Love’s powers
became Her blossoms and Her bowers
of healing evermore
and never again, please,
never again war
In Confetti Fields,
Scattered
In Waters Under The Living Red Sky
I have noticed a thing
when I am at the edge of creation
(that border between me
and all that is not me)
and my self-knowing
(prison and homeland)
shows me things, creatures
and measureless vistas within.
I have noticed that
a solitary swan never looks alone
while a person can be isolated
in a crowd of a thousand sun-bathers.
That’s when I dive into those colored waves
and look for those swan legs
paddling fast with purpose and poise
beneath what is seen,
under this living red sky.
Moi Aussi, dearest ones of my heart…moi aussi
10 things your mother never told you
1. You made her cry.. a lot
2. She wanted that last piece of cake
3. It hurt
4. She was always afraid
5. She knows she’s not perfect
6. She watched you as you slept
7. She carried you for longer than 9 months
8. It broke her heart every time you cried
9. She always put you first
10. She would do it all again
Memorial Day Mourning
This War On Us
Sitting in the morning mist today
(it’s 2 AM. The battle started
early in whistle-shrieks of
incoming artillery shot
from fear’s cannons
and terror’s trenches.
They tore me out of dreams
into this nightmare waking and real).
It’s the day of memory, the day of the dead
(and the living who wish they were)
and the day of me, survivor
of this war on us,
waged from mile
3001.
The sound of sad owls
(like haunts) and elderberry blossoms
(fragrant in the dark) and me inside
a Dresden of memory and fire and sound
and the machine gun prattle of stories
twisting back on themselves in your hands
like snakes striking those wrists
so clumsily tattooed in crude ink and fantasy.
I heard the house creak and groan
(maybe it was just my heart’s hurt moan)
and I swore for a moment I thought
you were there, laying in bed and peace
while your chest rose and fell faithfully
and your face, wreathed in blond curls
that smell like Heaven’s very bakeries
still in sacred rest and repose…
I fought my way back
and across the years
to where you lay, then, there
to have but one whiff yet again
of those locks of gold and God
to sustain me in the midst
of this uncanny clumsy conflict,
this war of atrocious inattention
but your room was empty
(my mailbox is empty)
and it turned out the house
was just grieving for its loss,
the house is empty
and my heart is lonely
and the spray of sorrow begins
to anoint the roof from the skies
and soothes the ache of loss,
the lovelorn lack of presence
and the absence of any laughter.
I never dreamed that you were
the kind of person who just sashays in
and then waltzes right out
of my life while I am
making music in 4/4 time
but if I really think about it,
I remember the time you were
last here and as you left you
flashed your eyes dark at me,
filled with orange fire that smelled
like burnt chocolate and you spoke
silently with that glance
straight into my heart, a look that
was a blade slicing thru the music,
(that dissonant dance)
and you said in one glance
that you wished my mother had
had an abortion
instead of me…
In that moment, the tide turned
in this war on us, and I had
a flash of insight that would
make Lorenz so jealous:
I knew who the
Unknown Soldier was
and always would be.
For Elli
I have become aware that there is some good traffic for older poems/posts.
I also have had the genuine blessing to cross paths with a true friend at distance, but close at heart, my friend Elli.
I have decided that I am going to be re-posting some of my personal favorite old poems, to make accessing them easier for the traffic…but the real reason?
Jus mostly for my friend, Elli…may you find blessing and peace in some of these, and may you always have the faith to await the sunrise, and the courage to lift up your eyes to the mountains…
Love, Charissa Grace
With that…here are two…
“…Everyone’s Got One”
An opinion…sometimes I am just walking along, living my life, and somebody just has to give it to me…about who I am, or what I am…about whether I am legitimate, or have a right to be.
I think you have all heard what opinions are like, right? Something that everyone has that generally stinks.
The First “Contemporary Christian Music” I Ever Heard
I didn’t even know there was this genre of music, and shortly after Mama did some miraculous things in my life, I heard about this concert of these dudes called “Lamb”…and I was like “what the heck, let’s go”.
Well, I started to cry about 2 minutes in and wept the entire time, just so moved by their down to earth love of God and love of humans.
If you put this on and let it play, I think you will be glad you did…
Bird In A Golden Sky
Constance…in spite of the betrayal, in spite of the abandonment, the lies and distortions…this.
Just. This.
This is how I feel, like I just learned how to fly.
I am Charissa Grace, and I finally got here. I really did.
Omg…Happens To Me Every Day With Gender
OOOHH!!! I WANT THIS!!!!!!
“He’s So Calm…”
Kid throws a fit next to Obama
He’s so calm because that’s basically what the Republicans do every day
You Just Love Them
“You don’t love people at their best, sweetheart. You just love them because you can’t help it.”
| — | Amy Lane, Keeping Promise Rock |
Too Much In-Between
“There can be no half measures in love.
There is no maybe, no almost, no might.
You either love or you lack love.
Everything in-between is running from truth.”
There is no maybe, no almost, no might.
You either love or you lack love.
Everything in-between is running from truth.”
| — | garden-of-cinders |
Twilight In Lavender
Your love was inside me
rising, falling, sweeping in over
my dry beaches, rushing out into
my far reaches…
rising, falling, sweeping in over
my dry beaches, rushing out into
my far reaches…
and your arms were all about me
like spring clouds soft and grey
and fat with rain milked from
fountains of the morning dew.
I woke, and there was nothing,
nothing but you…you in my heart,
in my thoughts, you like tides
in my veins.
Here’s what clashes inside me,
like tides and beaches under skies,
clanging loud and clear against crags
midst thunder and silky lightening:
I used to have everything anyone said
was required to be happy and content and yet
I was in despair
for there was nothing of me inside and yet
somehow I was there,
a mute witness to the horror of myself and full
of one long interminable silent scream…
And now? Now I have lost it all
(except you, dearest one)
and yet gained myself within
and thus find joy unspeakable
midst this storm of tears,
clash of times and loss
of all (even my fears)
and utter failure…
Now I sit in deserts dry
(no oasis in this barren land,
that oasis is become me),
I sit still midst salt and sand
and snakes and smile, because I am
become a meadow here inside,
and poppies dance beneath the breeze
and sway in purple twilight ways,
in this velvet twilight, mmmmm
this twilight in lavender
“Everything we see hides another thing,
we always want to see what is hidden by what we see.
There is an interest in that which is hidden
and which the visible does not show us.
This interest can take the form
of a quite intense feeling, a sort of conflict, one might say,
between the visible that is hidden and the visible that is present.”
we always want to see what is hidden by what we see.
There is an interest in that which is hidden
and which the visible does not show us.
This interest can take the form
of a quite intense feeling, a sort of conflict, one might say,
between the visible that is hidden and the visible that is present.”
| — | René Magritte, speaking about his piece, “The Son of Man” |
I Talk Seriously About God…
“And when the event, the big change in your life, is simply an insight—isn’t that a strange thing? That absolutely nothing changes except that you see things differently and you’re less fearful and less anxious and generally stronger as a result: isn’t it amazing that a completely invisible thing in your head can feel realer than anything you’ve experienced before?
“You see things more clearly and you know that you’re seeing them more clearly.
“And it comes to you that this is what it means to love life, this is all anybody who talks seriously about God is ever talking about. Moments like this.”
| — | Jonathan Franzen, The Corrections |
In Charissa’s Kitchen May 21st 2015
For my friend Stephanie… Glad our Lord gave death a bad case of indigestion… And then so lovingly served AGAIN!
So too, you serve, you broken for our kids here, like Him…
And the day will come when Rose 🌹 will be the verb past tense when all the past, tense is behind us, beneath us, as He waltzes us home for good.
In friendship, in identification, in love, Charissa
Do Justice. Love Mercy. Walk Humbly.
Love, Charissa
The Truest Transition
From the book of Job:
But He knows the way that I take;
When He has tested me, I shall come forth as gold.
In Charissa’s Kitchen May 20th 2015
For Stephanie, in her sorrow, and riding faithful thru this time which passes
Do Justice. Love Mercy. Walk Humbly.
Love, Charissa
I Do So Solemnly Swear! (giggles)
“If That’s The Truth You Need To Live”
This phrase drives me nuts!! Because it is usually spoken by someone who thinks themself supportive, and they have no idea how it others me, demeans and diminishes me.
Can you imagine, as a cis-gender person if someone else came up to you and said “Hey, if the truth you need to live is that you are a (fill in the blank), then I am all for it!”
You would just laugh, and think “what an idiot”. Right?
But with me, when they say this, it is as if they think that they have somehow conferred some legitimacy on me and then posed themself as the paragon of acceptance…
I think next time this happens, Ima just do this:
Tattooed On My Heart
I have seen some gawd-awful tattoos
Oh, it isn’t the theme so much…
it is the foolishness of letting
a needle that is marking permanence
and making marks that will last forever
be wielded by a clumsy hand,
a hand unloving, a hand unkind
worse, a hand that simply doesn’t care
or even know to care or have a clue
what Tender Mercy is
(on the wings of a snow white dove…)
I am thankful for Their Needle, Their Words,
Their Implacable Mercies that zing
again and again and again
to render marks eternal
indelible on my soul, forever
and rend my skin irrelevant
because They have become
Tattooed On My Heart
No Protest In Philly!!
OMG Constance!! Did you hear about the massive protests and riots going on in Philadelphia because of the death of a woman of color???
Yeah…neither did I.
After all…she was only a woman.
A woman of color.
Oh…and she was trans.
Just another piece of trash collected for the patriarchy. http://www.buzzfeed.com/dominicholden/transgender-woman-stabbed-to-death-in-philadelphia?utm_term=.yfzwq8GpK#.pnOnBKk8L 
But while I am on the topic of killing transwomen? If you slur me with your words…if you other me with your actions…if you lie to yourself about who I am…if you call me “engenderer”, “mask”, “monster”, “other” (a literal “othering”)…
…you do not get to call yourself a trans-advocate.
Words hurt, wound irrevokably…but silence slays the heart.
That Feast of Friends Awaiting (For My Friend Stephanie G)
the cold winter snows
of death and separation
fall over the earth
each year, fall over
us all someday.
but look close,
see the nails
in the boards
pried back hard
and away for good
our loved ones
wait on the other
side, where the
grass is truly greener
and He has gone thru
first and waits too
busy building
preparing
a House
a Table
a Feast of Friends
forever
Spread Love
“Spread love
everywhere you go.
Let no one ever come to you
without leaving happier.”
everywhere you go.
Let no one ever come to you
without leaving happier.”
| — | Mother Teresa |
Only A Smidge Lower…
Constance…I am here today to admit. OMG there is sooo much I would change about my body if I could. The more salient question is what would I not change? So this really hit me…hit me hard.
What am I supposed to do, stuck in this skin of some biological male creature that so many seem to have attached to, and now hate me because that creature has been revealed as who it was all along…and that revelation happening to me at the same time?
Do you have any idea how it feels to be othered so hard that certain people now act like I am dead? And when I am blessed enough to have communication it is of the harshest, cruelest and most dehumanizing form possible, stripping me of personhood, of being, and reducing me to a verb, or a mask, or a nothing?
I can never remember a time when I did not feel this way…never. Reading about these children, wow.
So I post this…for your thought. Likely there is not much we can do now about our own body image issues…but we darn sure can be kind to others now. We darn sure can touch our children with gentle words…and no matter what we can speak to other human beings cognizent always that they are stamped with Mama’s image, they are riddled with God’s Image, and are thus just a smidge lower than God and are as gods themselves.
In case you weren’t convinced that hating yourself is a learned behavior
Physical shame comes from parents, teachers, media, and peers. It’s not something you’re born with. You were born naked, wonderful, and gorgeous, and no one should make another being feel as if that wasn’t, and isn’t true.
In Charissa’s Kitchen May 18th 2015
Do Justice. Love Mercy. Walk Humbly.
Love, Charissa
Failure and Forgiveness
There is a brand new recycling of an old, ancient lie told to soothe one’s enflamed ego and sense of being wounded and let down in experiencing the world.
The lie is that there is no such thing as failure, and that as a human being it is impossible to fail another person.
I would laugh if it wasn’t such a tragic and poisonous lie.
But the lie is told for a more basic reason than to just insulate one’s heart against hurt: the lie is told to free one’s self from the pain of forgiveness, from giving forgiveness and even more important, from receiving forgiveness…
…and those pains are freely paid to avoid confronting the root: Pride. I think it likely that Pride is the root of all evils in the world.
At any rate, Desmond Tutu has some very cogent things to say about forgiveness:
“The quality of human life on our planet is nothing more than the sum total of our daily interactions with one another. Each time we help and each time we harm we are dramatically impacting our world.As long as we are human, some of our interactions will go wrong, and then we will hurt or be hurt or both. It is the nature of being human and it is unavoidable.Forgiveness is the way we set those interactions right. It is the way we mend tears in the social fabric. It is the way we stop our human community from unraveling.”
— Desmond Tutu, The Book of Forgiving
Joni Mitchell Lays The Truth!
“Here’s the thing. You have two options…
They’re going to crucify you for staying the same.
They’re going to crucify you for staying the same.
If you change, they’re going to crucify you for changing.
But staying the same is boring. And change is interesting.
So of the two options, I’d rather be…changing.”
I Call Bull Sh*t!
Constance, I reject this notion that is going around these days, as it is stated in the graphic below:
…the part about forget the ones who don’t treat you right, and love the people who do?
Are you f-ing kidding me??
That stampede of people running the other way? That is the stampede of people taking the easy way, the low way, the lazy and unloving way, running away from those that they will forget because they “didn’t treat them right”…
Ah.
And who will stand for you? Because to you, your “bad day”, your “bitchy moment”, your “lashing out in anger to cover up your grief”…?? That is you…not treating other people right, and thus they run away.
Except this stampede is everyone running from everyone else, and so no one runs together…after all, they might not treat you right.
And then we come to the last part…the part about it not being easy…
What in the f-ing hell is so G Dam difficult about running away? That is the path of least resistance!!
All the world loves Gentle Jesus meek and mild, the kind teacher, the good man, platitudes about him unending…unless you really listen to His Lion Roar Word terrifying. I dare you to listen to them…right now…and then join me on the front lines in this war of Love on the war on love…oh, and I have heard it said that the only words in the Bible that are trustworthy are the words in Red…and here ya go, oh ye of such courage and fortitude that you will dwell in the strongholds of cold love, words in Red for your imbibing.
May you become drunk on Love, and reckless enough to find your courage once again.
But I say to you who hear: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who spitefully use you. To him who strikes you on the one cheek, offer the other also.
And from him who takes away your cloak, do not withhold your tunic either. Give to everyone who asks of you. And from him who takes away your goods do not ask them back.
And just as you want men to do to you, you also do to them likewise.
But if you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you hope to receive back, what credit is that to you? For even sinners lend to sinners to receive as much back.
But love your enemies, do good, and lend, hoping for nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High.
For He is kind to the unthankful and evil. Therefore be merciful, just as your Father also is merciful.
Judge not, and you shall not be judged. Condemn not, and you shall not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you: good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over will be put into your bosom. For with the same measure that you use, it will be measured back to you.
…Can the blind lead the blind? Will they not both fall into the ditch? A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone who is perfectly trained will be like his teacher.
And why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the plank in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me remove the speck that is in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the plank that is in your own eye?
Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck that is in your brother’s eye.
For a good tree does not bear bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. For every tree is known by its own fruit. For men do not gather figs from thorns, nor do they gather grapes from a bramble bush. A good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth good; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart brings forth evil.
For out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.
But why do you call Me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do the things which I say?
Whoever comes to Me, and hears My sayings and does them, I will show you whom he is like: He is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when the flood arose, the stream beat vehemently against that house, and could not shake it, for it was founded on the rock.
But he who heard and did nothing is like a man who built a house on the earth without a foundation, against which the stream beat vehemently; and immediately it fell.
And the ruin of that house was great.
Still Underneath
I see you there, still
underneath your words
underneath your pain
underneath your masks
deep beneath the strain
of putting every thing that hurts
all that grew from choices made
all that sprung from things not done
all that you have fearful run
from and still found it there within
though the darkness haunt you long
I will hover in the song
that I have sung your whole life long
and love the you I see there, still
I see you still…underneath
Letters From Those Abused and Afraid | Disrupted Physician
Letters From Those Abused and Afraid | Disrupted Physician.
Dear Constance…I am blessed with such a plethora of amazing, wonderful followers.
That would be you…Constant Reader…Constance.
One of them is at the link I just posted, and he is a truth teller, more rare than gold dust as an amazing person commented over there.
“But why, Charissa? Why would you share such a topic as the one you chose?”
Because it is eerily reminiscent of the treatment of transgender people at the hands of…well…virtually everyone in our society. The double binds that are illuminated, the abuse, the policing and othering, the way the system protects itself and eliminates any possible threats to itself…
Yeah…this is the life of a transgender human being every single livelong day.
The system is a giant virus, and it has gathered to itself other virulent viruses and they all are completely sold out and committed to the mandate of one thing and one thing alone: survival and self-replication. And we, all of us, are in the belly of this beast.
Some of us are the pilot fish of privilege…circling the jaws, living off the shreds of flesh that trail off those teeth sharp and cruel. Some of us are between those jaws, ever consumed for the survival of the virus, and some live in the bowels, in the rot and excrement of everything that must take place in order for the thing to keep alive.
How are we to live?
The monolithic nature of this thing prohibits mass action, but what about individual action? Will you consider changing the way you interact with every single person you meet? Just think…if we all did that, loved our neighbor as ourselves, loved God (or if you believe you do not believe then loved being kind, being forgiving, being truthful and merciful), and refused to participate in injustice…
…there might be cracks, and then rents, and then in a rush a breaking down of the walls and the death of the virus.
Do Justice. Love Mercy. Walk Humbly.
Love, Charissa
Across the Rolling Plains of Time
I laugh like summer breezes light and airy
at those cloudy fulminators who, like Old Faithful
blow off sulfurous steam every 75 minutes, or every 75 years,
even every 75 decades (yeah, this tired rant is that old)
and froth and belch all bothered about how Faith
is merely an emotional crutch…(can I LOL in a poem?)
They are clouds who promise rain and then
just blow right on by bone dry, unable to accept
life’s difficulties, they, not I, are needing an escape
to another world, an other-world…it almost breaks my heart
in its sad naivety, foolishly blind and blinking hope in nothing.
Almost.
They call me blind, my faith blind? When I am someone marked
by an inability to accept (no, an unwillingness to accept)
the cruelties of this world as status quo…
I have taken my raw courage in hand to declare this life marred
is not the way it is supposed to be! We must live alert, aware we were
created for something so much more, so glad and so beyond!
It is the ones who call nothing something, who insist that life
without God is “freeing” and imbibe the fantasy that life
is of no significance and death is even less, who are blind and will
not see…and so they seek to dwell…where…reassured? With no one
there to hear, to answer, to see injustice done and judge accordingly?
(“Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”)
we attempt to dress such naked poor philosophy
in beautiful robes, but in the end we always find
it was all an act upon a barren storefront-stage.
Well, this Christian(neé) does not make her pilgrimage to new abundant life
by way of ambulance, sounding sirens on its merry way to some lost fantasy!
Quite the contrary! Golden glimpses of new life can be seen even now…
glorious gifts worth searching for as if for treasure prized and buried
or silver wink of coins lost in a house long needing a great sweeping…
We can live as people gloriously transformed by the Humility of Christ
Who, Grizzled Bison on the banks of those stinky threatening geysers,
rolls in those flats sulphurous, then gallops off unstoppable
Across the rolling plains of time, across the Rolling plains of time,
across the rolling Plains of time, across the rolling plains of Time.
Ever…Never
This Is What Mama Looks Like
Here’s To The Know-It-Alls
…who tell me how they imagine dysphoria is when they are not dysphoric:
“Do not mock a pain that you haven’t endured.”
In Charissa’s Kitchen May 14th 2015
Your Foxy Ways
Do Justice. Love Mercy. Walk Humbly.
Love, Charissa
Do Justice. Love Mercy. Walk Humbly.
Love, Charissa
Bullied Girl Commits Suicide After School Officials Tell Her “Toughen Up”
Bullied Girl Commits Suicide After School Officials Tell Her “Toughen Up”.
Here’s a thought: how bout each one of you who reads this go to your school board and tell them that if this sort of thing is tolerated in your school district, you will file civil suit against them as culpable for the death?
How bout you simply say to them you personally will not tolerate anything whatsoever except a no bullying stance?
Or is it to you as it is to so many: the equivalent of the Aztec hearts held up to appease the angry god of the patriarchy and preserve your own privilege?
Call Me Four Eyes?
It’ll be
the last thing
you call me
cus I will
just blink
and you will
just disappear
DDH, To Me For All The Kitty Posts
Me, In Response (Giggling Stifled)
Charissa's Grace Notes 
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