**********PARTS OF THIS WERE ORIGINALLY POSTED JULY 2016 I am biracial. In times like these, I feel trapped, caught between the rock of being white and the hard place of being black. I could write for a very long time about the horrors of racism that my family members, that my friends, have endured because of their skin color. I could cry and tell you of the suffering that I have been through, as recently as this month, because of my mixed heritage. I could paint a gruesome picture depicting the ugly side of this mess that most of America would prefer to slide under the ever present rug of denial and disbelief. I won't. This very post had a different slant when I first wrote it four years ago. I didn't want the country we came from, or the culture we were raised in, or the color of our skin to matter. I wanted desperately to look past that into "one big melting pot of beautiful completeness." Yes, those were my words. That was the me of then. and that
I am creativity ~ in thought, in word, in motion