(Photo by Rahul Pandit on Pexels.com)
(or listen here)

Do you ever hear something that enters the depths of your ears like the smoothest yellowist not-too-sweet gently warmed custard? Murmur of poems. yummmmy

I would like to be pentagoning or decahedroning back, but I can only ever figure out the circle back to poets.

"To rest is to give up on the already exhausted will as the prime motivator of endeavor, with its endless outward need to reward itself through established goals."  -David Whyte (poet writer human)

I got sucked into the massive mind muck again last night. I climbed out enough to play with SonHerisme a bit and then drowned myself in list making. It’s the opposite of rest, but it is distracting enough to at least get my breath and carry on with the things that need doing before collapsing into bed. Missed my shower though. I hate this grief process. I know its necessary and I am meant to feel it and embrace it to move forward to the blessings that are just around the corner waiting for me (blah blah platitudes blah). For today, I cannot stand myself and I am letting that be.


Our tiny town had a unity march again yesterday. Before anyone gets their panties in a wad, unity is a good thing. Promoting unity in a culture built on and institutionally conditioned to be racist, is a good thing. Acknowledging that a marginalized disproportionately targeted group of people are worthy of humane consideration and treatment is a GOOD THING. It’s a good thing for all of us. Despite my understanding of herd mentality, I truly struggle to accept the reality of inhumane frenzy thoughts, words, and actions with the increase in access to information and community that we have had for many decades. This struggle of mine is an indication of my whiteness. I recognize that I am privileged to be able to step back to even ask the, “why,” rather than fighting against being trampled on.

We all know that the welfare momma is a false trope - yes?  
We all know that the storming of the US borders by criminal Central/South Americans is a false trope - yes?  
We all know that humans, regardless of any biases, deserve to be treated humanely - yes?  
We all know that access to food, water, shelter, healthcare (including basic necessities health care), education, and purpose for all humans benefits all of our survival - yes? 
We all know that marginalizing people is destructive for all of us - yes?
We all know that we live on an over abundant planet with an over abundance of creative humans - yes?
We all know that by sharing our resources increases all of our wealth - yes? 
It isn't a pie.  It isn't a zero sum game.
Unless we make it a pie and zero sum game, and then we ALL LOSE no matter where you stand.

During a conversation about the unity march and SonHerisme’s latest read and school discussions on being anti-racist, MotherHerisme insisted she has never been a racist. She doesn’t see people’s color (ummmmm….). As long as people are nice and work hard, that’s what matters to her (ummmmm…). She even ate dinner with a black family when she was in school (ummmmm…). She just doesn’t want to have to give her money away to people who don’t deserve it because she and my father worked hard for their money (ummbrainglitchmmmm…).

My mouth popped opened and this is what came out: MotherHerisme, we all want to see ourselves as good, kind people, and as individuals, most of the time, all of us are.

The reality is that you were raised in an openly racist home and that you are a racist by your words, actions, participation in and endorsement of racist institutions (examples like STILL BEING associated with the Republican Party and others).  
You absolutely can see that my skin is lighter and that XXXX's skin is darker - you can see the color of people's skin and it influences your opinion of people (examples like assuming the darker skinned people taking up a parking spot you want are just going to be clogging up the aisles in COSTCO because they bring in all of their extended family so maybe COSTCO should have a time for people without extended family, while you are getting ready to bring two carloads of family in to shop with you). 
EVERYONE WORKS HARD - EVERYONE. Who is not working hard?!!?  Who has met someone who is not working hard?  I bet if you have it is a white privileged teen - everyone else is working hard.  Actually, even that privileged teen is working hard, even if it's internally, they are working hard. WTfreakingH does "working hard," even mean? You and daddy worked harder than the single mom with three crappy minimum-wage jobs who has no retirement or savings because she has been constantly struggling to raise her child and survive? Who isn't working hard?  Who doesn't deserve to eat, have clean water, go to the Dr? Who exactly are you talking about?
The mid 1950's in Montgomery, Alabama - what do you think would happen to that black family if they refused to be kind to you, to bring you into their home or to feed you?
Again with the divide between worthy and unworthy humans - who isn't working hard?  Is it me that you're talking about?  Because we do have family members who describe me this way. Is it me, and then SonHerisme, that do not deserve humane treatment? Who is it exactly that is deserving of being treated inhumanely?  

Context – my parents have always worked hard and are also products of the cultural normative thoughts and behaviors of their time in history.

FatherHerisme was raised in extreme poverty, losing both parents at a very young age. He was raised by his older sister who quit school and got married so that she could take care of my father and he wouldn’t be sent away. She tried to also keep their three sisters, but the two youngest were taken by their father (different father than the older children) and the sister closest in age to her, ran off and got married when she was in 8th grade. Welcome to Kentucky in the 1950’s. A local librarian gave my father a job as a shelver when he was in High School because that’s where he was always hanging out. This librarian also paid for my father to apply for college and to take his entrance exams. My father attended a prestigious private engineering school with scholarships and Army funding (he served for some years after college), and spent his entire successful career as a chemical engineer with the same company.

MotherHerisme was raised in a military family (Army then Airforce) where her ambitious father became a Colonel and head of the ROTC program at a large southern university. Growing up she lived in California, Virginia, Japan, Alabama, France, and very briefly in Ohio. She met, got pregnant and married my father when she was working as a secretary in the Pentagon. FatherHerisme was temporarily at Fort Belvoir for specialized training while stationed in Germany. She was 19, he was 24. A rushed January wedding in Germany followed by the April arrival of my sister. ParentsHerisme raised three children, lived in Ohio (USA), Germany, and Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. They are both always themselves and insanely photogenic. I am lucky to still have them and to know them.

Also, I am not woke. I am just me and am a product of the cultural normative thoughts and behaviors of my time in history. Free to be you and me, Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers – all of the people showing us the ways of unity, consideration, healthy boundaries and acceptance. In my smaller than a grain of teensy crushed glorious stardust glass particle sand moment of this particular lifetime, I am trying to guide the humans in my wee circle towards recognizing the infinite circle as they can. Anti-racist, pro-unity, pro-acceptance and healthy boundaries. Many days I am failing. I’ll just keep going until I cannot.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

Have you found yourself Yankovic-ing songs?

It’s not the pale you that incites me, that scares and so frights me. Oh no, it’s just the whiteness of you. (sing to the tune of the soulful Norah Jones, Nearness of You – jippity jolly good funnesses).

Hybrid SoMo

Behold the Soccering
(or listen here)

I am a soccer, tennis, riding, violin, hiking, trampolining, biking, chessing mom who drives a hybrid with two car magnets on the back. PSA: my brake light is out and, no, I do not carry jumper cables.

Hybrid because when I purchased the car in 2007 I wanted a Prius, but was expecting twins (one survived! *SonHerisme enters center stage through the small undetected trap door*), so I compromised with a larger hybrid car and that is that. This makes me a Hybrid SoMo on soccer days. I have spoken. This is the way.

Yesterday was such a day. Glorious, jacket-still-required sunny, and soccer game a-callin’. One of SonHerisme’s teammates got stuck at home when her mother’s car wouldn’t start and dad was out of town. We gladly picked them up to carpool to the game. Which, in hindsight, we should’ve arranged anyway because the game was a good 20/30 minutes away in a little town in the Catoctin Mountain Range. (we were masked with flowing fresh air, judgementors)

Oh – are you not familiar? Have you ever heard of Camp David? The occasional three mighty helicopter parade gliding across the valley and up the mountain range to the meetings of the deciders of the things? Yes, that Camp David! (oh, there you are, Peter! This is, btw, what I say every time I peek-a-boo at my stats and it shows readers from the UK. Hello and Welcome to you, Peter! special xo to you!) At least now we are no longer deeply cringing and frantically scrolling through Twitter to figure out what freakish hellscape narrative an orange cringtastic moron has incanted into being. But, I digress. Where were we? Oh, yes, soccering… carpooling… the things of the mommies with the busy childrens. Also, racism.

I did not want to go to this soccer game. I prayed for rain – which was supposed to happen, and did happen but not to the extent of causing the game to be cancelled. In talking to other soccer parents, I was not alone in not wanting to go to this particular soccer game.

The area of our county hosting that soccer game is a known hotbed of KKK leadership, rallies and general overt racism. No one wants to go up there, except to go to the State Park and then leave. Proud Confederate flag flying is abundant in this area. It has gorgeous natural scenery dotted with racist tropes and racist attitudes.

Our sweet soccer team is co-ed and most definitely represents our country/city being multi-racial. No token person of color, rather the majority of the team are not white. I hadn’t thought about it before now because I am in a privileged position to not be forced to think about it most of the time. I am white. SonHerisme is very light skinned most of the time. The potential consequences of our co-ed multi-racial team heading into a KKK dominant town to play a game of soccer, became very real yesterday.

Meandering up the sloping altitudes to the game, our carpool companions expressed concern about going to the game (Dominican background). The conversation went something like this:

She:  Why did you say you aren't looking forward to the game?  Is the team really tough to beat?
Me:  I don't know anything about the team.  I just really do not like this area.
She:  It is pretty up here.  Why don't you like it?
Me:  The people in general seem to be unwelcoming to outsiders and I just do not feel comfortable here.
She:  Oh, wait.  Is this about them being racists here?
Me:  Yes.
She:  I heard about that and the KKK.  Yeah, that's not good.  
Me: No.
She:  Well, we'll see what happens.  I wish the game was cancelled too. I guess I shouldn't try to buy a house up here!
Me:  I just cannot imagine what it feels like being a person of color around all of this knowing how uncomfortable I am as a white person.  I am so sorry.
She:  Yeah, it is weird and uncomfortable. 

At the game, our team parents sat in the same general area. At the far end of the park, beyond the soccer field, there was a playground. One of the younger soccermate siblings wanted to play on the playground. At first his mother okayed it, then I saw her take a quick look around and call her son back to her. She turned to two of us and said, “I forgot it isn’t safe for us here. He can’t go by himself.” They are people of color. They know.

After the game, SonHerisme told me there were two kids in the pre-game team huddle near to tears with anxiety over playing with racists and how they might be treated or get in trouble for touching them.

These conversations are so very uncomfortable, but also so desperately necessary. I was unsure how to step into this, but it happened and I am so glad to get this uncomfortable topic rolling.

I do not want to be a part of sitting on my privilege while my neighbors are suffering. I am awkward. I am VERY awkward. I will keep trying to do this hard thing of opening up to difficult uncomfortable conversations in the interest of humane compassionate action.

I am writing a letter to the soccer league requesting that we no longer travel to that area for games. It is too much to ask people to go to a space where they are overtly discriminated and othered. This is my anti-racist activity today.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps It is a Monday kind of Tuesday in a million ways including that I wore a shirt with a pencil eraser sized hole strategically placed on the top of my right nipple… I’m sure it’s fine. Where did I wear this shirt? All around Georgetown. I’m fine. I’m sure it’s fine. Black fitted shirt, nude bra, not cutsie small bust – it’s all fine. Moon’s in Scorpio y’all. I’m fine.


(grabbed from MMUN twitter)
(or listen here)

It’s that therapy/anger management/co-parenting divorce seminar acronym making the meme rounds again.

is it Thoughtful?
is it Honest?
is it Intelligent?
is it Necessary?
is it Kind?

I am a learning active anti-racist and address that we have a lethal epidemic of racism in this country.

Thoughtful? I will actively promote love and acceptance of all humans regardless of race, especially concentrating on those groups who are being oppressed.

Honest? I actively participate in institutionalized and systemic racism every single day and I will do better to call this out and change my behavior, especially by no longer tolerating family members’ racism.

Intelligent? Humans should be treated humanely. FULL STOP NO NEGOTIATIONS

Necessary? YES because we are killing and incarcerating humans targeted because of our systemic racism. These are our neighbors, classmates, soccer buddies, dads, moms, aunties, uncles, friends and fellow humans.

Kind? It is most definitely a kindness to stop hate speech and actions, racist speech and actions. Being kind to racism is never ever necessary. They have no seat at the table – ever. Humane treatment? yes. Kindness? no.

We are killing people – especially people of color – for existing. Until we face the truth of who we are as a culture, we cannot move forward. We cannot sugar-coat the truth of who we are and how we came to be. If this sounds like a “telling you” rather than a “sharing with you,” (and you are white) then stop and THINK yourself for a minute about where you stand in your truth of being an active anti-racist.

The story of Maya Angelou asking someone to leave her home and never return because they made a racist side comment, stuck my heart in such a way that my voice within my own home has become much more firm over the years. This is not an easy road, especially when you are surrounded with abuse, deep denial, and wilful ignorance. However, this is a necessary road for me.

Do you know what 7th grade boys do? They start puberty. They play with LEGO. They think Black Panther and Falcon are the coolest dudes ever. They want extra whipped cream on their ice cream if they can con you into it with their little boy/new teen big eyes. They belly laugh at Chris Pratt slapstick and love the kindness of the dad in Four Kids and It (wish monsters help!). They are learning algebra. They are writing a “dear diary” entry as if they were a witness to the Crusades as a Muslim and another as a Christian. They are coding virtual fantasy amusement park rides. They are practicing real life portrait sketches with shading techniques. They are learning to cut their own toenails. They are writing journalist interviews for characters from Zach’s Lie. They are hugging dogs and kitties. They are still needing comfort when spooky things scare them in the dark. They are dreaming of being powerful compassionate men doing important things one day, and working on practicing those things.

While they still have adults to help take responsibility for them, they are making bigger mistakes to push boundaries in order to figure out how to be.

Justifying or pointing out the humanity of a 7th grade boy should be unnecessary. But, in our culture, it is. A shitty unbelievably popular journaltainment person referred to a 7th grade boy as a “13 year old man,” because the boy was not white and was lethally shot by a police officer in the chest while he stopped running from them and turned around with his hands raised as the police demanded.

Who are we?

Justifying the targeted murders of non-white people. Meanwhile, insisting on spreading a lethal virus in the name of freedom.

My soulgutbrain hurts today.

SonHerisme, 7th grade, will turn 13 this upcoming summer. He is 6ft tall and filling out his shoulders and chest in man ways. His voice has deepened. He is well spoken. With his COVID respectful mask on, he is frequently mistaken for a High School Junior or Senior. He has Hispanic heritage. He still plays manhunt in the dark with his buddies.

I just

I just cannot

Love, ALL OF US xoxo

please, I beg you, give my baby and his peers grace, space, accountability and boundaries for the mistakes they will naturally make, and please DO NOT SHOOT THEM

another thinking thought: When we normalize removing children from their primary caregiver at 6 weeks old and force them to “behave” and “follow school rules” starting at 6 weeks old, when do they have the space and grace to make mistakes and learn from them? When does their learning happen? Where is the appropriate space and grace for them to temper tantrum, break down, make mistakes and safely recover, express their natural raging emotions?!!? Ah, yes, this is another post. ciao

Not Knot

Who’s there?


Me who?

That’s right!

Do you remember that Shel Silverstein poem about the Mehoo?

I know that the image is difficult to read. If you click on the link you’ll see some of his work. If I add an audio to this blog, I’ll read it for you. Anywho, I like the door image and I like the poem. I do not know Mr Silverstein and he is dead so I will never know him, other than what I imagine him to be through his work. He must have been funny and enjoyed loose clothing so that he could belly laugh a lot, n’est-ce pas? If you have read anything about him which does not match this description, kindly keep it to yourself and permit me to have this image of him, please and thank you and bless you and may the force be with you, this is the way.

The barn-ish door is also lovely. I would very much like to be worthy of having a barn door. I’m not. However, every week at riding lessons I have an opportunity to open the big real-life barn door to the indoor arena as the riders walk their sweet horses up to the indoor ring. It is gigantically huge, heavy, metal, and sometimes stuck in squishy squashy mud. I find it a personal win when I can open and close the door on my own. It’s the little things. Truly. This and my imagination are all I have. Well, that is a lie – SonHerisme is here too xo and I do have some irl friends (it’s true!).

I also have my hair. A lot of hair. It’s fine, but there is a lot of it and it is primarily unruly with tangles. I gave up on it years ago and now mostly tie it in knots on top of my head. It’s so weirdly straight/curly/wavy/red/brown/blonde/now some white/gray that I do not need any hair-ties or pins. I wind the hair around and around and tie it onto itself giving the appearance of intention, which is instead more laissez faire- ish function. Rare hair trims outside of me diy youtubing it, because I cannot be bothered with fixing it just so, using product/tools, or even brushing it. Unfortunately it is also quite tangley and I am tender-headed, so I try to brush it out at least every-other day, but it is a time and arm/shoulder/neck muscles commitment. I’m afraid to like it too much because then it will surely fall out or change texture or color in a way that makes me hate it. It’s my trauma showing again – ta daaa!

Why share?

1. I am trying to write regularly (again)

2. I am trying to break the spell of anytime I like something about myself it tends to implode

3. I need to be doing something creative

4. Perhaps you will feel less crazy and alone when you read my posts (and maybe giggle)

There’s always one friend in the friendgroup who appears nice enough, but slightly (or mostly?) odd. Then you find out their backstory and its all out cuckoo crazy cats to the point of unbelievable. Every time you see them there is always some new unlocked level of crazy swirling around them, and it is isn’t ever the OMG THAT is crazy AWESOME, crazy – it’s the holy shitballs wtf is she doing to attract all of that crap, crazy? (psst…. it’s me… boo!)

Once upon a pre-covid time, I was at a friend’s dinner party (very casual, very relaxed, very much a regular part of our friendgroup routine, very much always included piles of kids happily running around with sticks and mud and giggles – *sigh* I miss pre-covid and my sweet babe) – I was at a friend’s house with a merry mix of people I knew, people I sort-of knew, and people I did not know. Some of the adults gathered in the kitchen to enjoy adult beverages and conversation, when one of the women began talking about her brother re-entering online dating. As she was describing the “crazy women” he was meeting online, it hit me that I was the ONLY single person at this dinner party and my personal situation was even wackier than the women she was describing. I was/am the crazy. That shit that was sobering. I left the room and wandered with the kids outside for a bit (flashlight headbands in the woods y’all – it was glorious!), then did the koyc hug round and left.

Things that have changed since that dinner party

  1. My baby SonHerisme is now a giant
  2. MrexH is not within driving distance of us
  3. I am noticeably older (white curls peeking, lady fronts drooping, yo)
  4. COVID shut the everythings
  5. My personal boundaries are more firm
  6. I am mostly a Mehoo Pooh with frequent Eeyore rising and knots of hair on my head

How are you?

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

koyc = Kiss On Your Cheek (shamelessly lifted from an old entanglement)

ps. Like you, I continue to be horrified at the way we allow racism, white supremacy, and white male rage to go unchecked. Please check in with your neighbors. Fighting racism and violence is the responsibility of us all – especially those of us who ride the coattails of our whiteness. Please reach out, check in on your neighbors, and draw firm boundaries with racist behaviors. We are not okay without accountability.

The EV Race

Why are we in such a rush to judgement over every little thing but when BIG HUGE GIANT in-your-face-obviously-inhumane things occur, we’re all, “meh, it’s probably not THAT bad and we shouldn’t rush judgement?!!?!?!?!!!!”

We have a lethal issue in our country (beyond COVID deniers) – a serious case of Enabling Violence. Violence against people of different races, different beliefs, different gender identities, different partner connections, different abilities, children, the elderly etc

It is as if we are in a scramble race to see who can get control by demonstrating their supreme power over another group through enacting violence against them – emotionally, physically, lethally.

How are we not at a point in our existence as humans on this round beautiful bountiful earth where we can recognize that others are okay to be others, whether by nature or nurture? The only exception is dangerous illegal behavior towards others. Who gets to decide what that is? We do, and we should be doing much better at identifying what that is and how to cope with the inevitable outliers who wish and do harm to others. We have got to stop dehumanizing others. We have to demand that this stop.

Failure to recognize what is happening when white men kill versus anyone else, especially non-white people existing in the path of a racist, misogynist, abusive, mentally ill white man, is unconscionable. It is so nonsensical that people of privilege find it utterly unbelievable even in the face of indisputable facts.

I just do not get it.

I cannot wrap my mind around how anyone cannot see that the white racist man went on a racist killing spree murdering Asian women. He was able to dehumanize them on multiple levels to such a point that he took their very right to exist under his control, sending a clear message to any Asian/Woman/Immigrant/Sex Worker/Working Class Person that their existence is within his right to control. Dehumanization, abuse at its absolute worse. This is domestic terrorism.

I cannot wrap my mind around Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Philando Castile, Sandra Bland and on and on and on hate crime upon domestic terrorism upon hate crime… What is it that we are not seeing?

That we are enablers of violence. That we are enablers of racist institutions. That we are enablers of racists. That we are racist.

Why can’t we see this? Are we hurting our tender privileged feelings because we are good hardworking people? WTFingH We are all good hardworking people, just some of us do not have to worry about racism, and many of us do. That is the only difference. If you are not worried about racism, then you are enabling racism (unless you are a very young child who has not yet been trained in the ways of the racist and the racist enablers. In which case, why are you reading this? Baby prodigy, I suppose. Well, congratulations, baby prodigy, you are clever and a racist enabler).

Every time we agree to use a $20 bill, we are enabling racism. Every time we question the racist experience truths of our non-white neighbors, we are enabling racism. Every time we allow UncleSoandSo talk about “those Black Cheecane-o (that’s how he says it) women have it made because they get all the scholarships, promotions, and welfare money with their babies, basically stealing my hard earned money. If you want to succeed in this country you have to be a Black Cheecane-o woman and you can write your own ticket. Some of them even have the lesbian ticket to lean on.” I’m serious. wtf

Every time we allow racist behavior in our homes, in our community, in our courts, in our government, we are contributing to greasing the cogs of racism. We are ALL doing it. We are all responsible. But the white people, us, we are the most responsible for not calling it out even in ourselves.

I spoke about one experience of my own ingrained racism in a hospital.

Here is another share of how I know I am a racist and must be a vigilant and active anti-racist even inside of myself. When I was married to MrexH (which came with it’s other issues, of course), we traveled a bit here and there to see family. MrexH has Hispanic heritage. I thought it was hilarious when I would show up places, like job interviews, and people were expecting me to speak Spanish and to have some Hispanic look about me – which I absolutely do not (red blonde hair, green eyes, white and freckled, English/Scottish/Swedish heritage). It was a big joke to me. While I am embarrassed that I do not speak Spanish, it’s more vanity than necessity (which is a privilege). When MrexH and I would go into an airport, I would linger behind to see if he would get profiled as he claimed he would. It happened every time unless I walked up to him when I saw security approaching and held his hand as if my whiteness legitimized his existence. Apparently to the security people it did legitimize him. This is hard to admit, but if MrexH was being an ass, I would pop into another line, leaving him to deal with security on his own. They pulled him.

I never spoke about this with MrexH, and he is an unwell person, so I am unsure about his perception of events. I do know mine, though, because I purposefully contrived them. I knew institutionalized racism was happening and I played it to give myself and SonHerisme a break, albeit a tiny one in the occasional airport or other tourism site, from MrexH. I am ashamed for using racism to my advantage. I did it. I knew exactly what I was doing and I did it anyway. Like the beautiful insecure woman who changes her behavior to be more deferential when she’s with a misogynist she needs something from and hopes to just get it and get out of there before anything scary happens – I pulled out, or put away, my badge of whiteness legitimizing MrexH’s existence in those spaces at those times.

So there. There’s my racism share.

I have done better since then. Going through the legal system, civil and criminal, taught me a lot about facing my own racism too – but not for sharing today. I am raising an anti-racist anti-dehumanizing son. I am doing the best I can today. I do think that if you do not understand racism and dehumanization are serious crisis concerns in this country, then you are at best an enabler of those things, and most likely a racist yourself. It’s a hard realization, but it is the truth I know for myself.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

Anti-Racist booklists/resources because I am forever a librarian

Like a Bird

Martin’s Big Words by Doreen Rappaport illustrated by Bryan Collier
(or listen here)

“We have learned to fly the air like birds and swim the sea like fish, but we have not learned the simple art of living together as brothers and sisters,” Martin Luther King Jr. 1964 Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech

This was posted by a friend today in honor of Martin Luther King Jr. Day and it has been sitting with me all morning.

Humanity has infinite ideas which sometimes intersect and sometimes do not. Most of us are interested in these ideas manifesting in a humane way. A rabid, vocal, temper-tantruming, violent group of people (and those under their influence) are interested in ideas manifesting in a way which separates worthy and unworthy people. They see only themselves (not even their influenced supporters) as fitting into the worthy bubble which will then control the rest of humanity through fear. Maybe my proportions are slightly optimistic, maybe wistfully hopeful (?).

It’s a sloppy venn diagram! JOY!

We have the power in numbers to hold those extremists in check with boundaries and accountability. Those who are under their inhumane influence need to see this accountability as much as we do.

We know how to live together as brothers and sisters, even when our ideas clash, as long as our ideas include a basic regard for humanity. It is the inhumanity which divides. We are not two sides, we are a zillion billion infinity trillion humane sides with an outlier portion of inhumanity. Let’s love each other 3000 and do the hard work of educating ourselves (links to resources for adults and children), being actively anti-racist, and holding inhumane outlier actions accountable. Let’s be the MLK Jr. legacy, and other ancestors who advocated for humanity legacies (grammar police, stand down). My unsolicited two cents of brainiac leaf sharing.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps If you started singing Nelly Furtado at the title, then we are twinning (and old)! Peaceful healthy moments to you today #carryonpeacewarrior #carryonhealthwarrior

in addition: lots of very awesome people have mid-January birthdays in my circles. Shout out end-of-lent-celebrants’-prizes!