Genevieve Angelique

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Keeping the Beatitudes

A new season of political unrest has begun.

Soft grievances like, “I’m sick of politics,” and “the election is over, it’s time to move on,” or “relax; it’ll all work out” are getting mixed with less friendly touts of “stop complaining,” and “sore losers,” and “where were all the moralists until now?” I’ve heard this on popular radio channels, through friends on social media, and in person.

On one hand, I get it. It’s emotionally draining—being exposed to strong opinions, feelings, and in-the-moment reactions. All of which may (or may not) be well-thought out and laced with the intent to unite versus divide.

That’s why I *personally* unplug from social media on a frequent basis. Because if I don’t, this happens:

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However.

There is a reason why all this “political drama” is still going on.

It’s because our current president has begun a war against ‘others.’ And when war begins—whether in the literal or figurative sense—sparks are ignited within hearts. A collective patriotism is set ablaze. A fighting spirit of like-minded citizens who choose humanity over indifference, mercy over fear, and love over hate advances.

MLK Quote

So while political views cause discomfort and exhaustion, know that protesting advocates do so to preserve their consciences. Because, to many, staying silent and allowing things to proceed on ‘natural course’ is the same as turning away from righteousness.

And I suspect “awakened consciences” such as these will blaze for months and years to come. The ones with pure intentions will not do this to make others upset or divide. Quite the opposite.

Because for these hearts, to speak up is to …

Choose humanity.

Choose mercy.

Choose love.

Keeping these Godly beatitudes is light for the soul.

For as Pope Francis said,

“… [There is a] contradiction of those who want to defend Christianity in the West, and, on the other hand, are against refugees and other religions … The sickness or, you can say the sin, that Jesus condemns most is hypocrisy … You cannot be a Christian without living like a Christian … You cannot be a Christian without practicing the Beatitudes. You cannot be a Christian without doing what Jesus teaches us in Matthew 25 [feed the hungry, clothe the naked and welcome the stranger].

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“It’s hypocrisy to call yourself a Christian and chase away a refugee or someone seeking help, someone who is hungry or thirsty, toss out someone who is in need of help … If [you] say [you are a] Christian, but do these things, [you are] a hypocrite.” {See footnote 1}

To this I say,

Amen.

Footnotes:

  1. https://www.scross.co.za/2016/10/tall-order-cannot-christian-without-practising-beatitudes/
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Stars In the Night

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If you ripped open my chest, you would not find a liberal blue heart, nor a red conservative one. You see, I was born different than the rest.

My heart beats in majestic purple (see footnote 1).

My first president-elect choice was Kasich. My second, Sanders. My third, Rubio. My fourth, Clinton.

My never choice? Trump.

Am I a complicated woman? Very much so (see footnote 2) and not at all. Because despite all their differences, the first four candidates had one thing in common: none of them were parasitic carriers of sexism, bigotry, racism, and xenophobia.

Yes. Parasitic. Do not be fooled into thinking toxic ideas do not spread like the plague when shared from a platform of money, media, and social status. True, some individuals are blessedly immune from catching such a disease. Either they weren’t fed poison as a child, or they harbor such morally strong compasses, they are naturally resistant.

Unfortunately, many people do not possess this immunity. As children they were fed poison. Lies that different people are dangerous, inferior, and disgusting. Lies that spout dirty, derogatory words. Lies that teach evil actions: against women, against people of color, against queers, against religious “others.” Their hearts are damaged. They carry no immunity against hate.

And so, when a person of influence gets voted into the most powerful position in the world, whatever type of parasitic infection he carries can go viral in both a physical and spiritual sense.

An illustration: Germany, 1933. 

Did all the Germans hate the Jews or inherently agree with everything Hitler stood for? No,  I dare say they did not. What many of them probably saw was a strong leader, an agent of change, a person who would right the crumbling infrastructure of their country. But too many were susceptible to Hitler’s parasitic infection. Even worse, it spread and evolved into a new, darker organism covered in tentacles of death. Based on nationalistic rhetoric, a mountain was moved…

To house the millions of graves containing Jews, the disabled, people of color, the gay, the outspoken

One of the most humbling facts to this historic tragedy was that there existed a drug against this super-hate parasite. It lived in the hearts of those who loved humanity, even those who looked, acted, or believed differently than them. But their altruistic and heroic moment never arrived. For the people who carried the cure remained quiet.

They let what happened . . . happen.

Albert Einstein could not have put it any better:

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What is to be learned from such a bleak illustration? I believe this: the true path to reuniting our divided country is no secret. Each one of us, inside our heart of hearts, knows what must be done.

That is … love (see footnote 3).

I passionately believe God is love. But for this love to be perfected, it must be all-encompassing. In its most fundamental and pure state, we are to love our brothers. Our neighbors. Our enemies (see footnote 4).

We are called to love all. And we are to love just as we would like to be loved.

God’s love is manifested in physical form through life. Creation. And because of this, I am pro-life in its broadest sense—a philosophical idealism that beats wildly inside this purple heart of mine:

All living things are sacred and made of God, and it is our responsibility to protect them. That’s why I’m equally passionate about unborn babies as I am about protecting the environment. It means I love all people regardless of their color, religion, or sexual orientation. Because, again, God is love. And I can only know God if I love.

And so where do we go from here? When citizens no longer want to love each other but to drink each others’ poisonous hate, passing it around like a bottle of booze? The majority of the country has been drunk on this toxicity for the past year. Even if you voted against Trump, if you’re now tipping back the hate-filled bottle, nothing good will come of it other than drunk actions you may regret tomorrow morning.

It’s time to sober up.

This is not to dismiss or minimize the danger marginalized groups are worried about. Even if the poison is finally starting to wear off, in its wake, a hangover of true terror and dread has set in. Since the election, hate crimes have occurred under the guise of Trump-support. Whether or not Trump voters personally identified or condoned the parasite he carried, pretending its not out there–and spreading–does not make it any less real.

People are afraid, and their fear is justified. People are angry, and they have every right to this emotion as well. People are disgusted, ashamed, and depressed. “Negative” feelings such as these help us understand danger. They are red flags that help us know when to fight or run.

And I say it’s time to fight.

To say that hate is NEVER okay. But let’s do it with love. Let’s protect each other. Let’s share what is happening on social media. Let’s take out our cell phones and capture injustice on video and report these people. If we see someone getting harassed, we don’t stand there. We move. We speak up. Let’s contact our representatives by phone and tell them we are counting on them to keep others safe.

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So let us stop this infection in its tracks.

If we unite as citizens, we can. We are a great country. Let’s be the type of people we aspire to be by protecting others’ rights and safety and by loving everyone (see footnote 5), even those with poisoned hearts.

Let us be the change we wish to see.

Let us be stars, burning brightly in the night.

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Footnotes:

1. Taken from the Genevieve Angelique Dictionary:

Purple Heart Syndrome (n.): a congenital malformation in which one’s heart cannot beat in rhythm to either dominate political party, for its capacity to feel both subsets of ethically based beliefs is twice that of the normal [red or blue] heart.

A person born with PHS may seem normal until around the age of 18 (when ego disconnects with the parent/child self) and from adulthood on, will increasingly become aware of the [abnormal] all-encompassing love which neither red nor blue heart individuals understand. In its earliest stage, PHS sufferers struggle with understanding what is wrong with themselves, others, or the world as a whole. In later stages, PHS sufferers may give up on fully integrating into society—as they cannot be true to their authentic selves while surrounded by normal-colored hearts.

This heart defect is usually not debilitating during the first couple decades of life, but left untreated, psycho-emotional stress becomes so pronounced to induce feelings of anxiety, anger, guilt, hopelessness, and disillusionment. In its final stage, people with PHS must undergo surgery so that half of their heart is removed and the remaining half beats in one color. The patient makes the final (color) decision under the counsel of well-meaning people and organizations. Post-surgery side effects include: numbness, emotional inflexibility, and disgust at one’s “old heart.”

New treatment, in the form of publicly revealing one’s congenital abnormality is currently under way. The experiment aims to maintain the health of a purple heart without compromising its [remarkably beautiful] size or color. 

2. A “Purple Heart” Truism by Genevieve Angelique:

The one whose morals completely line up with one party—is lucky

The one whose morals does not line up with any party—is educated

And the one whose morals share love—is wise

3. 1 John 4:7

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.”

4. 1 John 4:20-21

“If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother.

5. Video: Scars to Your Beautiful by Alessia Cara


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Invisible Scars

Advisory: This post contains sensitive material and may be considered offensive in nature.

13 years old: I was standing outside my locker wearing a new pair of jeans. A popular boy stopped and stared at me. He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my backside. He said I looked really good and that I should wear tighter clothes all the time.

A knife was pulled out. The invisible cut made. I did my best to stitch it.

16 years old: I was at my boyfriend’s house. His older brother asked me about my personal hygiene. How did I clean my private area? I knew what the”tuna smell” was, right? He shared an explicit joke. I didn’t laugh.

A new knife. A new scar.

20 years old: I was working. A group of men asked if I had ambitions to work in pornography (because I shared the first name of a famous porn star). I didn’t know who this girl was or even what they were referring to. They were “sure” I was playing dumb. It wasn’t until they filled in the details that the all-too familiar shock and shame hit me. I was called many unsavory things. I reported them, and they were taken care of, but I couldn’t help feeling guilty and humiliated.

I tried sewing the cut, but my hand shook. The finished result was sloppy. It kept bleeding.

23 years old: The room was crowded. I had lost my friends. A group of guys pushed past. One of them stopped and faced me. He slid his hand down my waist and forced it under my belt. He began to worm his fingers down until a friend interceded.

Every time I touch THAT scar, I feel like vomiting. My body shakes. A surge of fear surrounds me. Again, the world is dark.

I look around and wonder who else has done this to a female, whether she is 13 or 63 years old? Who else would rather keep these scars covered–believing disfigurements such as these don’t hold a place in the process of democracy? Or that invisible wounds are too insignificant to be used in discrediting people from power?

Because the thing is, my scars have not healed. Last week, the invisible purple seams ripped wide open. Blood gushed.

And despite my best efforts, I can’t get the bleeding to stop.

I bring this up because most of my beloveds do not know the pain I privately endure (with more cuts and scars than aforementioned). I’m asking them to listen with their hearts and place themselves in my position. Or if need be, imagine their daughter, sister, friend, wife, or mother as having gone through what I have . . .

I am also asking this: if you have never been the victim of sexual assault or harassment, please, think about how your support of sexual perpetrators affect those who have been. Even sharing (one) victim’s support of a sexual perpetrator (via media) can cause another victim’s world to collapse on itself.

For while I cannot speak for all victims, I believe there are others like me. And if this is true, then so is this:

We wear our hidden scars under smiles and quiet words, because we still feel shame and fear. We do not know who to trust. And because of this, we do not know how or when to share our stories and truths. We feel judged if we say, “Enough is enough. I will not support a person who cuts women with invisible knives–someone who violates the spiritual temple that is a female’s body and the emotional world that is a female’s heart.”

For, you see, invisible scars like these can only begin to heal when others take away the knife.

And I am one of those brave enough to do so.