(I'm trying to stay on top of my blog a day or at least 5 days a week so I am getting my words from http://www.scrabble.com/ and their word of the day to generate ideas for my entries)
Truth be told, I've never thought about who would play me if Hollywood ever decided to make a movie about me. I would have enough problems trying to figure out what they would discuss in the movie.
As I kid I different from other kids in a sense. I was a lot quieter than others (not so different) but I couldn't stand rap when it was just making a name for itself (a little bit more different). I would rather listen to The Temptations than Run DMC and considered rap to be nonsense (pretty much the same way I think about most of rap/"hip hop" now). Didn't have time for slumber parties with friends, I was more about having one on one time with some scary ass Stephen King novel or my mom's human sexuality books at about 10 or 11.
The older I got, I guess the more I tried to assimilate into the crowd at school and my neighborhood...I started dressing the same, listening to the same music, reciting the same phrases, performing the same dances. But, I still tried to keep my individuality as much as I could (via other music I listened too and my obsessive love affair with books) and privacy (despite how much I would hang out with peers).
Once I got into college, I still tried to do the whole assimilation thing, but rediscovered my individuality and uniqueness in my studies and what I wanted to do with my life. Instead of being a doctor like my mom wanted and a lawyer like my dad wanted, I got my degree in Africology and used it to have a small career in teaching. Eventually, the teaching gig fell apart but my love for it is still there and I still use my training and education in education to help family members and friends with their school and teacher issues.
Now, I'm in my 30s (wow!) and have a baby now and my life has once again changed. I live not only for me but for my mini me as well. I haven't lost hold of my dreams, but because of her, they have been renewed and I want to actually fulfil them instead of just discussing them. I guess my life is really beginning and there are many chapters I have left to fill. Hell I'm barely through chapter three and I really don't think it would be fair to do a biopic on me because I really don't have 2 hours and $10 worth of film in me...yet.
Oh and by the way, I think I'd probably have Queen Latifah play me.
At my job, we have a mandatory dress code now: business casual, jeans on Fridays, be careful of cleavage, etc. So I went on a small shopping spree, got some new outfits and dress shoes in order to comply.
Yesterday, when I went to work, I had a different hairdo and was in a fairly cute outfit. One of my co-workers commented on how my appearance: "You look so nice today! You look like you feel good! Do you?"
That took me by surprise because people have commented on how nice I've been looking but never on how I FEEL about how I look. And I had to tell her that I did feel good about how I was looking and feeling. My old "uniform" consisted of sweats, a T-Shirt or sweatshirt and sneakers. I would pull my hair into a puff and then call it a day. But since I've been dressing more "professionally" I have been feeling better about myself.
Plus, I've been taking steps towards getting back in shape after having Princess Leapfrog (because I am a part of Team Chunk stand the fuck up! - ty Fresh): I've been eating better (well at least 80% better), am on the road to not smoking anymore, and am taking a funkareobics class starting next week. It's the first time in a LONG time that I've taken time out to do something for ME instead of for someone else: my baby, mom, aunt, whoever.
Not that I mind doing things for others, because I really don't. But I realized that I really do need to and deserve to do things for myself. That is something that we fail to do once we get grown, get jobs, get families...we tend to just focus on the others and not on what we need to do for self in order to continue helping the others.
So now is the time for me to start paying as much attention to myself as I do to my family, friends, and work. Maybe I'll get back into the mani/pedi combos and start treating myself to an occasional spa day. Getting my hair done by a natural stylist and having him/her massage my scalp definitely sounds like a plan and a date that I need to keep monthly. Like my Momma used to tell me: ain't nobody gonna love you unless you love yourself. So I'm going to start loving me. And feeling good will come a little bit more naturally.
I know that I am doing this out of order (probably because my brain is out of order) but I had to get this one out of me first.
We all know that when we look at the POTUS (for those of you who don't know : President Of The United States) we see a Black man. He describes himself as a Black man. He is married to a Black woman and has two beautiful little Black girls. Yeah we all know that his momma is a White woman and I can't knock him for that because like the rest of us we don't choose who our parents are (not to disrespect her, just trying to preach truth).
So now we have all of these bloggers and writers and other folks who think they know everything (but like my Daddy used to say, they know a whole lot about nothing) have made it a point to state that this man is half white.
To them I want to say this: during his entire campaign all we saw was his White mother. His White grandma and his White grandpa. We barely saw images of his Kenyan (for those of you who don't know this is a COUNTRY in the CONTINENT of Africa) grandmother or his Kenyan (see above) father. We knew by the way he looked that he was at least, like old folks used to say, had one drop in him and we claimed his as ours. So is he half white. Yeah. But, when we look at him what do we see? A Black man whose Blackness (or African-ness, since he is more African than typical "American" Black folk) takes over and is the first thing that you see.
This man ain't passing. Thirty years ago he wouldn't have been able to really express his identiy as a "White" man because his physical make up tells us that he ain't 100% white (or black for that matter). This man has said from his mouth that he is a black man and expressed his pride in being so, as well as representing his whtie family without putting them down. This man realizes that, because of the way that he and his family looks, he will always be viewed as the first Black POTUS (see above again). Only those who are still pissed off about a BLACK man winning the presidency still try to label him as half white (something I have yet to see them do with other folks, for example Halle - she who won an Academy fucking the dogshit outta one of theirs [I'm still pissed at her for making that movie, but I digress]).
I am glad that this man came out saying that even though he is half white, he recognizes what country he lives in and that for as long as he has breath, he will be viewed as a Black man and not as a white man or a black man with a white momma. Just a plain old black man with a black wife and black kids.
Bet you if he was avarage ass Barack from down the street you wouldn't be calling him half white. He'd be a black boy from around the corner.
Get used to it. OUR president is Black. He can't be half white ONLY for your convienence. Hell, we tried that shit with Clinton and y'all still got him.
I just realized something really REALLY disturbing: when it's time for my daughter to go to K4...the parents of her classmates could POSSIBLY be only 16, their GRANDPARENT'S could possibly JUST be my age.
That is fucked up.
I was talking to my cousin about a student I had couple of years ago who just turned 13 and was pregnant. She swore UP AND DOWN that she wasn't despite the fact that it looked like she had a few watermelons underneath her shirt. She'd be waddling her little chunky pregnant ass through the school, popping her gum like she wasn't growing a little person inside. Then she would skip class on a regular because she either had morning sickness or just didn't feel like coming to school.
I can just see now what her child is going to be like. Basically she probably ain't gone be shit because her momma ain't shit and to tell the truth...I don't want her child (if the child turns out to be a little hellion) or children like hers to be hanging around my kids.
Don't talk about me because I said that her child probably ain't gone be shit because y'all have thought it before. That little badass child ripping and running through the store touching shit and dropping shit and throwing shit. And why isn't this child gone be shit? Because his trifling ass momma or daddy or whomever ain't whooping his gatdamned ass up and down aisle 5 for tearing the store up.
Or the little badass cousin that you have (yep I have one too) that likes to TRY you patience and TRY to touch everything in your house despite telling his little bad ass every.time.he.brings.his.little.bad.ass.over to NOT TOUCH SHIT. And then his momma wants to get pissed off at YOU because YOU want to keep your shit in tact and SHE don't wanna discipline his little ass. Yep. Because of your momma you ain't gone be shit either lil' homie.
Or how about the child (true story y'all) that came to school with her momma's strawberry blunt wrapper in her book bag and it was found by her teacher. Guess what grade? Kgatdamn4.
Now I'm not saying that a child whose parent's are my age can't do this because it has been proven to me time and time again. But unfortunately it is more likely that a dumbass 16 year old with NO world sense, common sense, and/or mother wit would allow their children to run around like a bunch of fucking wild animals. And I have no problem laying hands on Princess Leapfrog if decides to act like one of them.
But then again, I'm 32 years old and have enough sense to stop that shit before she ain't shit.
This is probably because I spoiled her, but if I try to put her down there is no calming her for some time after I pick her up again. So, because she sounds so pitiful, I have to hold her, rock her, walk her, sing to her, talk to her, and play with her. Do I mind? No. But this episode prevents me from doing my chores and getting enough sleep (see above).
Now that Im strictly a bottle/formula feeder, that shit is EXPENSIVE. Formula is damn near $20 a can, rice/oatmeal cereal is two bucks a box (and that's at Walmart, the cheapest place in the free world). You figure she goes through two to three boxes of cereal a month (for now) and about ten cans of formula (for now)...I'm out damn near $200 a month on HER food alone.
Ladies, be careful of who you fuck. Real.talk.
Me and my ex, who I've known for the last 14 years, had a small trist last year and it resulted in probably the most adorable damned baby in creation (yeah she is...damn a Gerber Baby). So ever since I revealed to him that I was pregnant, he swore (and continues to swear) up and down that she isn't his.
Once I gave birth to my little Princess Leapfrog (and NO that is not her name because I bet there is someone out there who is thinking: oooooooooooooooooh that's a cute name Imma name my baby that! People that is a NICKNAME dammit) I sent in my paperwork for child support. And one of the stipulations to receive child support in the state of Wisconsin (and probably everywhere else) is I have to agree to a paternity test for my child. So I agreed...because I don't have anything to hide.
SIDENOTE: When you have to take the paternity test, a delivery service delivers the paperwork from the family courts to your house. So this one particular place called me because they couldn't contact me to drop off the papers. I called Rose at the service and asked her about my papers and if he got his copies. She said well what are the names of the MEN you are requesting paternity from. MEN?! Dahell...call me Jordin Sparks because I am not a slut. And just because you are getting paternity confirmed doesn't mean that this is Maury (more on him a liiiiiiiiitle bit later) bitch.
Anyway, he didn't get the paperwork and I told him that I would make him a copy of mine to give to him so that he wouldn't miss the court date. First he says that it's going to take three months for results to come back (which I highly doubt, but then again this is my first and only kid so what do I know). Then he goes on to say...well it won't solve anything. Won't solve anything? Dumbass YOU are the one that requested the paternity test (before I even knew that I had to take one for child support). So one would think that it would solve his thoughts of this child being his. Oh I forgot to tell you, he said that he wasn't going to take the test and that's why it won't solve anything. In my mind that tells me one of two things: 1- you know this baby is yours (just like the rest of your family knows) or 2- you know she's yours and you ain't trying to pay support, despite all of your efforts to convince me of your good faith payments to all of your baby mommas (yes I said MOMMAS, but I'm not a baby momma...I'm the mother of his child...get it right).
But my thing is...what are you trying to solve? Where is the equation that is giving you such a headache? I couldn't pinpoint exactly ONE so I compiled a list:
- The fact that I'm not letting you fuck anymore.
- The fact that I won't cosign a loan for a damned crotch rocket for you.
- The fact that I don't want you anymore.
- The fact that I called you and told you that I wasn't going to keep asking you to see Princess Leapfrog because it seems like in order for you to see her you have to fuck me in order to see her. THAT shit don't go together.
- The fact that I'm the only one of the many women you have children by that agreed to a paternity test and have nothing to hide.
- The fact that I won't go on Maury to acquire her paternity. (And do you know this kneegrow got MAD when I told him that I wasn't going? Do I look like a hoodrat to you?)
So maybe those are the equations that don't have solutions to them in his mind. Who knows. At this point who cares. But I know that the test will solve two things: him knowing scientifically that he's the father and that his ass has to pay up.
Maybe once he starts shelling out that money he'll realize the solution to 1+1=2.
One day, we will all be thankful for what was given to us. Until then, we have to be "happy" with being ashamed of what we were born with.
I was at my mom's house last night celebrating her birthday with her and my newborn. While she was holding her and I was taking my napptural braids down, she asked me: "what are you going to do when Akili is ashamed of your hair?"
That comment/question (because she was making a statement while asking a question, TRUST) stopped my in my tracks and left me speechless for a moment. I tried to get my thoughts together but that pissed me off and hurt me at the same time so I couldn't think straight much less come back with a decent enough retort to shut her up. Eventually, I was able to muster up something pitiful like "well, I plan on teaching her that her hair is beautiful" or some crap like that. But for the rest of the evening, the only thing I could think about was "Momma, are you ashamed of my hair?"
Finally, I asked her that exact question. Do you know what she said? "Yes, sometimes I am." Then she went on to talk about how pretty it would be if it were pressed and how it would be so long and down into the middle of my back. All I could do was look at her because it was her birthday and I really didn't have the strength or the want to get into an argument with her because it would ALWAYS end up at her straightening my hair.
My mom has always had an obsession with hair and its length, like most Black women unfortunately do. She has what one would call short hair, kind of Anita Baker length and it's always been about that length for as long as I can remember. My dad's side of the family has always had long hair...shoulder length, bra length, waist length. And despite my mother never saying that she was jealous of their hair, she always had an issue with them when they cut it or when I cut mine. And when I decided to cut it off into a TWA (teeny weeny Afro for those of you who don't know), she had a fucking cow, didn't talk to me for a few weeks, and actually threatened to disown me.
This behavior of hers always fucked with me because in every other aspect of my physical being she taught me to be proud. She told me to be proud of my height, my weight (or rather my not being rail thin), and my color (hell I've always wanted to be darker and I'm not exactly high yella). But my hair and what I decide to do with it especially after I became a natural made me less than, at least in her eyes, and for some reason wrong because I didn't find or have a need to press it or straighten it beyond recognition.
I love my hair the way it is. I don't have a problem with what I was given by my God because God is good and all that S/He does is good (funny how Christians say that God can do no wrong until it comes down to nappy ass hair ain't it?). My child will be taught that her hair is beautiful and chemicals or excessive heat is not necessary to have beautiful hair. And she will also be taught that nappy hair doesn't make you less than or less beautiful because you have a nappy mane sitting on top of a brain that allows you to create and behold you own thoughts and opinions. If she wants to perm it or straighten it after she turns 18 that's fine. But for the 18 years that I own and raise her...she will understand that her beauty goes beyond her hair and looks.
And she'll always know that I will never be ashamed of her hair...nappy or not.
The only hog I like comes in links or slices next to some scrambled eggs and a short stack with some maple syrup.
Living in Milwaukee, there are somethings that are constantly going on but I am able to deal with it: the thinking that there are no black folks in Wisconsin/Milwaukee, constant Happy Days/Laverne and Shirley references, reminders of Jeffery Dahmer and so on. But, there is an annual event that works my last nerve because of how it disrupts my life: the annual Harley Davidson (HD) celebration.
This year marks the 105th anniversary of HD's existence in Milwaukee and this year there is, once again, a party celebrating the creation of this vehicle. What this means is that most of downtown and the east side of Milwaukee will now be filled with HD riders from around the country and a few from other countries around the world who's main goal in life while in Milwaukee is to hook up and meet other HD riders, get drunk, and cause havoc on my commute to work.
The pilgrimage to Milwaukee for this weekend's HD party started yesterday and has royally fucked my commute back and forth to work and home. Usually 94/43 in the early part of the morning isn't very congested because I am going away of Milwaukee instead of towards the city. But because of all of these damned HD riders I now have to suffer in traffic for at least an additional 30 minutes a day because of the several thousand extra cars and bikes that are on the road that are screwing it up for those of us who stay here and don't give a damn about HD's 105th anniversary.
But what really pissed me off are the folks that are uber excited about the onslaught of these folks to this city. As I was caught behind a small convoy of motorcycles, I was able to go slow enough to notice the bridges over the highway on my way home. There were actually people lining the bridges with homemade HD signs, WELCOME cutouts pasted to the chain link fences, folks filming the HD incoming, and little toddlers holding and waving American flags with their parents. It amazed me to see how much this really means to people. Well at least white folks.
Many of the businesses and areas that will profit from this celebration will be folks on the south and east sides of Milwaukee and downtown. Most of the folks that own the businesses in those areas are big corporations (Hyatt for example) and smaller white owned businesses. Very few minorities, especially black folks, own businesses that will be patronized by these HD folks. Trust me when I say that they put in a LOT of money to support the thousands of hungry, sleepy, thirsty, horny, alcoholic riders in Milwaukee.
What kills me about this entire event is the fact that so much news and television time towards this event (and it will be about as bad as the whole fuck.Brett.Farve. fiasco) but when African World Festival at the lakefront decided not to go on this year because of lack of funds or America's Black Holocaust Museum closed it's doors due to not meeting their fundraising goals we barely get a 30-45 second blurb on the news or a small section in the local paper concerning these two legacies within the black community. Let someone act a fool in the city or get shot on the corner best believe they will be all over it hyping it up making us all look bad.
There will not be, however, much media attention on how the HD folks mess up the city and the fights and whatnot that will go on down there. Of course, that will be a side note instead of a major story. It might show up right before the weather report, if we're lucky.
Thankfully this mess will be over by the 2nd. And I can go back to four legged hogs instead of the two wheeled metallic ones.
Fuck. Brett. Farve.
Over the last month or so we have been bombarded with Brett Farve news because he decided to come out of retirement and drive the NFL and Green Bay Packers crazy with his indecisiveness about his retirement. So for hours on end and days on end we were getting breaking news interruptions during the day about rumors of him coming back. once he finally admitted that he was coming back to the NFL there was back to back coverage of his career, why he retired, why he wanted to come back, questions about whether or not he was going to stay in Green Bay, questions about his appearance in training camp, the issues between him and the Green Bay head coach, responses from former, current, and future teammates, and images of Bring Brett Back crowds and marches for DAYS. ON. END. So while we were getting what seemed to be never ending Farve news, there was a rapist on my block terrorizing the women in my neighborhood.
Fuck. Brett. Farve.
Farve continued (and unfortunately still does continue to) dominate the top story of all four local news stations as well as all of their news time slots: 5 am, 12 pm, 4 pm, 5 pm, 6 pm, 9 pm and dammit 10 pm. His country ex-pill popping ass was the top story; trumping each and every time the more important news of the city rapist that was running amuck. So instead of getting updates on on the description of the man that was overpowering young girls and women in my neighborhood or his latest assaults or additional information that the Milwaukee Police Department had to offer on the rapist; we had to deal with fucking. Brett. Farve.
Apparently, the safety of the city's African American women was not as important as a man making millions of dollars a year to throw around a damned pigskin. Now don't get me wrong, I AM from Wisconsin and football is pretty much in my blood, so I can sort of understand all of the hype and hoopla behind him coming out of retirement. HOWEVER, I understand my priorities even better and his ass coming back was not one of them and should not have been the news stations' #1 priority.
The fact that the North side rapist took second or third place in the top news stories (or even pushed to the segment after the first commercial break) was disappointing to say the least. Media outlets in Milwaukee (and I think I can assume nationwide) have no problem exploiting murders amongst black folk in the hood or low reading scores and graduation rates that plague our children. So I was very surprised that they didn't take a chance to exploit another example of my people fucking up in the community and attacking their own.
This time, however, it was necessary for them to make the story priority because of the dangerously violent nature of the crime and specific targeting of young women. Unfortunately young girls walk the street in my neighborhood at all hours of the night leaving themselves open to predators like the North side rapist. But the news stations barely cared about them because if they did we wouldn't have had damn near 24 hour coverage of the Brett Farve saga.
Fuck. Brett. Farve.
Had the rapist been in say...Glendale or WhiteFOLKS Bay, we'd never hear the end of it. I think I can speak for most of the black folk in Milwaukee that our people, when it comes down to protection from the crazy, are barely considered and are treated more like criminals than victims. We would not have had this problem in predominantly white neighborhoods because there would have been at least triple the police presence than what was seen on my block during the rapist's run. Or had it been a white girl in the hood that had gotten raped, police would have been on these boys out here like black on charcoal...because white women NEVER ask for it, unlike black women.
Maybe one day the media will get learn that fat meat is greasy and issue appropriate and timely reports on the drama and danger that threatens our people in our neighborhood without trying to sensationalize it or blow it up to proportions unknown to man. Yes, we have our issues in the hood and there are some of us that are trying to solve and prevent them from happening. But when something as dangerous as a rapist running around town targeting teen girls needs to be broadcast to help save one of them from the violence of a brutal rape, we need to focus on that and fuck. Brett. Farve.
I have this cousin who we will call Jesus Juice (JJ).
Now, mind you I don't have NOTHING against Christianity...I believe in a lot of what the Bible says and the resurrection of the man that many call the Son of God aka Jesus. But what I DON'T believe in are the people who push Jesus Juice on you and ain't had a drink themselves. I liken them to pimps: they try to sell it to you but don't use or sample their own product.
My cousin, who by the way is at LEAST 20 years older than me, decided to call me on a Sunday to tell me how she saw in a dream the 'wrong' way I was living my life. She went on to tell me about how I shouldn't have had a child out of wedlock and that I was basically going to go to hell because I'm not a Christian and how I need to start living my life right because if I didn't nothing financially (the main focus of her too damn early on a Sunday morning rant) will come to me.
Since she is 20+ years older than me, I didn't disrespect her by calling her out on her own out of wedlock child she had some thirty years ago...even though in retrospect I should have to shut her the hell up 10 minutes into the conversation instead of her hanging up over an hour later. So her hypocrisy wasn't welcomed at 8 something in the morning...early enough for her to have had some of her 'juice' (you know, do not judge others and what they do as well as let he who is without sin cast the first stone...she couldn't even locate a stone if it were sitting in her hand telling her to toss it).
Since the SBB (Sunday Bible Bashing) event she hasn't talked to me at all. Instead when she sees me, which is usually over at her mother's/my aunt's house, she says a fake 'hi' and goes on about her business and ignores me in a room of 2 or 20. But her ridiculousness has increased dramatically...the other day me, my mother and my other aunt were at her mother's house...she came in, said the FAKEST 'hello' about three times, abruptly did an about face and told her husband 'let's go.' I swear JJ got mental problems.
Let's not forget about her 'visions' that she has either. Now, I don't have anything against folks who say they have visions...I totally believe in people having the power to see things in the future or to have interpretive dreams that are meaningful to someone in some aspect of their lives. But to have nothing but negative dreams and visions all the time about certain people is a personal problem IMO. She's constantly calling my mother, (who for some reason JJ is on the fence about liking or not) and telling her about how I'm pulling her down financially (again with the money obsession) and that my mother needs to 'let me use my wings to fly on my own.' Or some bullshit like that.
So instead of her having visions that will be useful to my newborn (which she has YET to acknowledge. Hasn't asked me her name, how's she doing, nothing. Since I'm the devil in her eyes, my child might as well have 666 tattooed on her forehead) or something that will be anyway related to being good news for my baby or a vision about how my mother's health will improve or something positive...she INSISTS on always calling folks with nothing but bad news...of course according to her own JJNR (Jesus Juice News Reports).
To be honest, I wouldn't have problems with her calling me and talking to me about the word of the Bible and whatnot...I remember my father sitting in the living room with two white boys from the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints crew discussing the Bible and it's word. I've even had Jehovah's Witnesses come to my house who were nice and cordial and sat in my living room with me and discussed the different religions without judgement towards those religions. And let us all say the phrase that pays: WITHOUT JUDGEMENT. THAT my friends is the problem my cousin JJ has. If she had the ability to talk to me about her faith without damning me and my soul because I do not practise what she practises, life would be fine. But once again, since she not sampling her product, she insists on going against a whole lot in the Bible when she bears false witness, judges me, makes me and other family members (oh don't think I'm the only one in the family that she's done this too...she's going for records) feel like shit when she comes around.
But I have decided that I am going to give JJ a pass...because there is NO WAY on God's Allah's Jah's Buddah's (whoever your higher power is) green earth that she can be happy. She has a wonderful husband, a beautiful granddaughter and foster child (I have to admit that was a beautiful thing that she did for that child) living in her home (which by the way is gorgeous), a wonderful job, and is financially set. However, I said it once and I'll say it again: money ain't the answer to everything. For some reason unbeknownest to me, JJ is utterly miserable and unhappy and I guess she is making herself feel good about herself by bashing and damning others to hell on a regular basis.
As a child born into Christian values but later chose another path to religious nirvana, I have nothing against Christians and their faith. As a matter of fact, I still use the Bible to make points more valid and to help others with their problems and issues. I quote Bible scriptures and follow the Ten Commandments to a tee. I respect Christianity as a faith and those who use their Christian faith to better themselves instead of belittling those who are not of their faith. I take time to continuously learn about the teachings of Jesus and other messiahs in other faiths as well (Muhammad in Islam for example) because we all have a story and it needs to be told and shared; not damned and denounced.
My newborn baby was born into the religion of living. She doesn't know who God is or what Islam is or how to practise Judaism. Her faith will depend on what I teach her and what the world shows her of said religions. I already have a small collection of Bibles, books on Judaism and traditional African religions, Vodun, Jehovah Witnesses Bibles, and the Book of Mormon just to name a few in my house as we speak so once she is old enough to understand and ask questions about religion and faith, I can not only give her answers and discuss that information with her but I can also give her the freedom to scour my bookshelf and allow her to learn herself.
The biggest lesson I want to teach her is that we are not put on this earth to judge someone's path to righteousness and religious harmony. We can have opinions about other religions and faiths which is perfectly fine, but I refuse to instill in her the ugliness of judgement of others. I'd rather have her following her path of religious freedom and enlightenment instead of bashing others and not seeing anything at all.
Hopefully, Jesus Juice will take a drink from her chalice because she has gots to be thirsty right about...now.