Blessed Smudging (And not setting off the fire alarm)

The last half of 2023 was a shit show. Ending a twenty-nine year marriage isn't easy. Picking up pieces of shrapnel-like feelings left behind by a spouse, also not easy. Helping your children (grown or not) try to puzzle things back together, once again, not easy. In this case it all fell on one person. Me. That's not entirely true. There were a few others who were there for us. Our ride or dies. Believe me. Divorce and the process of getting a divorce really brings out the best or worst in people We discover who the real ones are and who needs to be let go. It was a long, hard four months that led to the final point of who gets what. Is that what marriage boils down to? Who gets the big screen tv? Does he keep all of his (gajillion) musical instruments so I can keep the house? Who gets custody of the youngest? Does it matter since she turned 18? Scanning photos of our life together and putting them into a Google photo folder. Taking down photos off the family room wall and rearranging new ones. Some people stayed up there, and some didn't make the cut. So petty. So heartbreaking. A word I keep using is "rearranging." That's what our lives have been since this started in August. Rearranging. Resetting. Restructuring. So much for happily ever after. I've been reading a lot of self help books. Things get better. Give it time. Keep working on myself. Meditate. Have some me-time. Oh, and smudge. Bless the house, manifest what you want and what needs to go. Good thing my youngest likes crystals and aligning her chakra. She led me through the process, one smoky room at a time. She told me I had to do the manifesting since the sage was sent to me personally. Mmkay. So I talked to the spirits in the house and told them what I wanted. For each room I asked for things I felt people needed. Peace, love, and sssooouuuulll! Kidding but not kidding. How do you erase twenty-nine plus years with the same person who was supposed to be your person for your whole life? Well, for one thing, you can't erase anything. Why would you? I would never erase my four incredible daughters. I would never erase the experiences, good and bad. These made me who I am today. They enhanced what I tried to hide within myself. Come on, now. Who doesn't love the snarky whit that is me? Those zingers that come out at the right, sometimes wrong, moments in life. I've always told my girls to be so many things; brave, strong, loving, emotional, kind, gentle, fierce, go getters... I said it, but I didn't live it. Until now. With each milestone of change, people ask how I feel. My answer is always, I feel sad and relieved. This is a new chapter. Fitting for an author, yes? I'm glad my sage roll is fairly large. This doesn't have to be the first smudging in our home. Anytime we feel a blessing needs to happen, we can light up that sucker and try not to set off the fire alarm. I wish you all peace, healing, inner quiet, strength, and a ton of love. Deuces until the next episode!

My Moon in Red (Utopia Science Fiction Magazine)

 

https://www.utopiasciencefiction.com/

Check out my short story, My Moon in Red, in Utopia Science Fiction Magazine. It's a Samoan Sci-Fi about a dual universe, one is thriving and the other is dying. Taking this one home to Nu'uuli, American Samoa! It makes you think about the environmental issues we're facing with global warming, our reliance on things that are tearing our earth apart, and what could happen in the future. I'm very excited and proud of this piece, especially since it's my very first published (not self published) work.

Comments about Comments: The Poet X (by Elizabeth Acevedo)

I was talking to my oldest daughter today about starting a book club for high school students, especially our Pasifika kids here in Utah. Now that we're all zoom experts, maybe even have kids from other states involved, too. I know the kids are working hard with classes, so I thought of a short book they could finish quickly, but had so much meaning behind it. The Poet X, by Elizabeth Acevedo, came to mind. I reread my review from December and looked on Amazon for pricing. For some reason I decided to also read some of the reviews, starting with the 1 & 2 star ratings. Oh. My. Goodness.

First of all, Karen, your religion is showing and it doesn't look pretty. One person wrote about the sacrilege of throwing away the sacrament wafer. Is it right? No. Is it a teenage girl who is questioning so many things in life? Yes. How many of us have done stupid things as a teen, and an adult, where we look back and cringe? It's a fictional story! Did you read Dan Brown's DaVinci Code? I'm sure your panties were in a bundle on that one, too. If you really want to get religious, God gave us choices. You do not get to choose for us. Or judge for that matter.

Reviewers had issues with the fact the book was written in poetic, spoken word style. And... what's wrong with a different way of story telling? Just because it's not your usual writing style, why is that wrong? I feel like the reviewers are coming from a privileged lens where they are stuck in their own ways of thinking without keeping an open mind. Hell, it took me forever to get through Jane Eyre and I was just reading it for the sake of reading a so-called "classic." Did I complain about it? No. Once I got used to the style and language, I found a great story within.

To the pearl clutchers who are so offended by the language, content and overall theme with a girl who fights and a brother who is struggling with being gay, please step into the twenty-first century. You may think your child is innocent, but in the age of the internet, social media, Tik Tok, I'm sure your child knows a lot more than you think. Once again, your entitled life has blinded you to realities that many communities face, especially communities of color. Drive by or park by a middle or high school when the kids are leaving and listen closely. I can guarantee your string of pearls will be broken by the time you leave when you hear what kids say.

Finally, the comments about abuse. I do not ever, ever, ever excuse abuse or abusive behaviors. But how many of us grew up with a brown or black mama? I grew up with a white, southern mama who did not spare the rod! Seriously, though, when I read the story, I could relate. Do I think I was abused? Not at all. I was disciplined as were my siblings and cousins. I've disciplined my own children. Have you seen Facebook posts about how you can identify things that were used for spanking? Or how we were taught respect? Fa'aaloalo. Communities of color, especially those who have parents who did not grow up in the U.S. can understand the dynamics of discipline, sometimes going too far to become abuse. There are struggles in families between religious beliefs, sexuality, cultural practices, and coming of age. Would these same readers turn away from a story about an Afghan woman who grows up in extreme abuse? These are real issues.

I'll review another author later, but I just needed to get this off my chest. When reviewers are offended or appalled that their children are required to read books like this, what I read is that they don't want authors of color to be introduced. They don't want books that show real life struggles, especially those of communities of color. They want to keep things the same, with white dominated history and watered down stories of people of color, because that makes them feel safe. From a lens of entitlement and privilege. Guess what? The world isn't all butterflies and roses. There are thorns, mosquitos, and flying cockroaches. But also guess what? We get through it all. And we continue to share our stories. Real life, raw, in your face, cultural stories. Let us continue to fight to get our stories into the school curriculum and into the hands of our kids. They need them. We need them.

Author Review: Elizabeth Acevedo

Back in late spring, after covid hit and I had more time on my hands, I decided to look up books written by authors of color. And READ! Thank goodness for the Kindle app and the local library. So far, I have found nothing but amazing writers and stories from around the world. Some uplifting. Some a bit depressing. Some humorous. Some adventurous with an ending that left my mouth hanging open, not sure how to process what I just read. I'll get to that series in another blog. This one, however, is dedicated to an author who was introduced to me during a writing/book club zoom meeting. I had just read Pachinko by Min Jin Lee and shared my thoughts on the tumultuous relationships between the Japanese and Koreans before and during World War II. I compared it to Samoans and Tongans, and the many times I was told we don't get along. Funny, I'm Samoan married to a Tongan. Hm...

When I was first introduced to Elizabeth Acevedo, an absolute GENIUS, it was with her book "With the Fire on High." She talks about being a boricua, someone of Puerto Rican descent, combined with her African roots. An Afro-Latina. Her way of blending the American side using the New York streets as her background and the rich cultural nuances of family members create a story for all ages. I can relate to the older folks in the story who grew up in the islands and migrated to the United States. I know my children can relate to the story of someone who has ties to the islands through her family, but is still trying to navigate a system on her own. Of course, the details about food and family traditions made this book all the more relatable. Then, to my pleasant surprise, I found more books by Ms. Acevedo! "Poet X" and "Clap When You Land" are written in poetry form to tell the story. And oh what stories they behold! She continues to blend the Latina and African roots into stories of freedom, self advocacy, reflection, and understanding. If I had to choose a favorite, I would have to say it's "Poet X." It's a reminder of my youngest daughter, who loves poetry and spoken word, and how we are trying to bridge that gap between the old and the new. How we, as people of color, want our stories to be a part of the narrative, the Poetry Out Loud choices, the school curriculum, the classroom conversations. If this is the future of what will be taught in schools, I am in full support. 

You can find more information about Elizabeth Acevedo on her website: http://www.acevedowrites.com/

A Samoan Greeting

"Talofa, o a'u o..."

Standing in front of the class, I struggle to still my shaking hands. I remind myself that I know this language. It is the language of home. I've pronounced these words all my life, maybe not as confidently as I would like, but this is who I am. Breathe, I tell myself. Let the words flow through you, like calm ocean water.

"O o'u matua o..."

I think back to my days growing up in American Samoa. We still carry our Nu'uuli pride everywhere we go, my siblings and I. My own daughters have that pride instilled in them, even growing up in Utah. We connect with people based on land. Oh, you're from North Carolina, what part? My mom is from Fuquay Varina. That's how you know a REAL North Carolinian. If they know Fuquay, they are for real. What do you know about Nu'uuli? We are full of pride, strength, and love. Let the words flow through you, like a cooling breeze coming off the mountain.

"Ou te sau mai..."

I've lived in Utah for almost 26 years, and yet my answer is always Nu'uuli, Amerika Samoa. It reaches into the depths of my being and can never be replaced. I am the red 'ie with the three white stripes. I am the fautasi Satani, okay, fine, Manulele Tausala. I am Vaitele born and raised. The land calls to me. Like the Disney movie Moana. Sometimes I dream I'm home. I see pictures and feel a pull to return. One day. Let the words flow through me, like a thundering waterfall after a hard rain.

"Malo lava le soifua. Ia manuia."

The words continue to flow until my simple lauga is complete. I can see Dad smiling, proud of my enunciation. Always speak clearly, even if you aren't sure of the words. Keep practicing. Don't ever stop learning. When I hear others speaking Samoan, my eyes close and I breathe in deeply, as if to inhale the essence of the language. It's beauty. It's smoothness. It's comfort. I yearn for home.

Half A Century... and Beyond

I can officially apply for AARP benefits. 😆

The country and the world are still battling the coronavirus. 😨

I'll probably be working from home until August. 😎

I was voted into a temporary position as the Precinct 1 rep for the Salt Lake City School District Board of Education. 😲

My birthday celebration was exactly what I wanted. Quality time with my girls, food from Myung Ga (sooooo yummy), seeing my family and dropping off Mother's Day gifts. 😍

Extra bonuses included presents I wasn't expecting from loved ones and a drive-by birthday celebration from my mom, siblings, in-laws, niece, and nephews. We really miss each other. 😢

Times are different now. Different doesn't always mean bad. We appreciate our loved ones more. We have time to work on home projects. We are learning and growing. Even though the future is still fuzzy with no timeline of when things will go back to "normal," we're taking advantage of being together. 💚

People around the world are stepping up and speaking out about the inequality marginalized communities have been facing for so many years, especially our black communities. In the United States, folks are voting to have their voices heard in people who can take that voice all the way to Washington D.C. Folks are tired of having their narratives dictated to them and are now pushing back. It is the hope that not only will conversations and educating ourselves continue, but true action and policy change will take place. ❤

I wonder what my guardian angel is doing. I'm pretty sure she's laughing her butt off, drunk most of the time, and saying to the other guardian angels, "Dude, watch this," before sprinkling some more craziness into my life. 😇🍷

I am halfway through my 50th year and so far it's been mostly 💩 storms. I've watched more tv and netflix than I have the past few years. Not sure how I feel about that. How is it possible to need a vacation when you already work from home? And you can't go anywhere? Cuz coronavirus and all. Heavy sigh... stay safe, ya'll. 😩

A Sister and Her Brothers

The bond between a sister and her brothers is strong. And sacred. Whether that brother shares the same parents or the same extended bloodline, the connection is all the same. The brothers are the ones who look out for her, protect her, guide her, support her, cherish her. When her parents have left this world leaving her alone, the brothers carry the responsibility to make sure she's okay for the rest of their lives. It is a burden the brothers should never take lightly. Nor should they ever forget. 

Her mother already gone

She then lost her father

Unexpectedly

Crying, she said she was all alone

But she's not

And we told her she's not

All alone

Look around you

Her brothers declared

You are not alone

We are here

Always

Whatever you need

Whenever you need

Call

We are here

You are not alone.