Double Crossed: Unraveled - A Personal Memoir by Kelsey Carlee - Watch for a Second Discussion Post

I found this book on the Reviewers Roundup Wall at Facebook. I studied the cover carefully. It was unique and I love Unique! I could even tell somewhat about what the book would be about. I didn't read a book description or anything else. I bought it based upon the cover... and those strange little dots and dashes that began on the cover and continued throughout the book. I was hooked immediately.

-... ....- 

I once lived in a nice neighborhood in the northern part of Seattle. I was born and raised in that area, but my family moved to a different part of the city which fundamentally altered my life. I attended an expensive private school that didn’t offer sexual education. I was an honors student with straight A’s and brought up Catholic through the influence of my maternal grandparents. In October of 2000, I was accepted to read at Northwest Bookfest, but I attended the Ambaum Recovery Center for inpatient treatment instead. My admission was for using marijuana, which started socially during lunchtime with the kids at my school as I entered my junior year. I toughened up and expeditiously adapted to having no privacy. I learned a lot during my stay as multiple boys grabbed my crotch under the table. One of them was kicked out for it because I couldn’t stop myself from crying hysterically. 

When I could get the words out of my mouth to tell the counselor what he’d done to me, they removed him from the premises. I had a roommate named Shauna who had a petite build and curly brown hair. She showed me “the ropes,” as she referred to them. I implored the staff to let me go home if there was any way possible, but there wasn’t. I committed to waiting out my thirty days instead of walking out as I’d watched others do since my arrival, going against medical advice. In mid-November, a girl named Bunny, who I’d become close friends with, used my gel pens to draw the word Bunny in bubble lettering on the blue cover of my Alcoholics Anonymous book. She jotted down her number inside and said she wanted to get together with me. The morning of my release was referred to as a wake-up in the facility. Bunny hugged me and exclaimed, “hit me up on the outs!” I couldn’t have been any happier to be free of that place. We’d used the A.A. books within the center to write to each other when parting, much like yearbooks. The nickname “Lil Bunny” was something we had called each other while in treatment, and it ended up sticking, as she’d later become one of my best friends. Upon discharge, I was transferred to Ambaum continuing care drug and alcohol center in Ballinger for outpatient treatment...

On January 2, 2001, I first met Howie in the outpatient program we mutually attended. The walls of the room were covered in our collage projects for sobriety. The teenagers present took turns giving short introductions about themselves and explaining their artwork. When Howie had his turn to share, he started by saying that he’d had a severe substance abuse problem. He confirmed that his drugs of choice were weed, alcohol, and mushrooms while sitting directly across the long table lengthwise. He had a tremendously confident expression as we held eye contact. I found that his gaze was impossible to break as we stared at each other for a seemingly ridiculous length of time. The fluorescent light fixtures were buzzing above, and it was suddenly as if no one else was in the room but us. Howie stood and held up his project, which had just a few carelessly cut images glued onto the paper. I was fixated on him the whole time he spoke as our eyes stayed locked for the entire time. It was the first day that my mother had let me take her vehicle by myself because I’d just received my driver’s license. It was January 3, 2001, and it was also the initial instance that I dropped Howie off at his house in Seattle. After the group session, some of us had decided to go to Denny’s, the local diner just down the street. Jay would often take the bus from the south end and attend meetings at the EDL, where I’d met him. I suggested that he meet me after treatment, as he did not participate in Ambaum. He’d taken the bus to Blue Diamond Village to meet with both me and my group of friends from treatment. I invited Jay to tag along as a passenger in my parent’s vehicle with my other friends Bunny, Howie, Matheson, and Michael. I let him know that I could either meet him there or that I’d come back and get him. I called him out on being bonkers when he said he wouldn’t mind riding in the trunk as he jumped in and closed it on himself. He’d spared me the extra trip because there wasn’t enough seating in my parent’s vehicle, but the curb had been higher than I’d anticipated as I’d come around the curve into the parking lot at Denny’s. I was fretful as I stopped the vehicle and discovered that the rear passenger tire was flat. All I could think about was if he was all right in the back. I was very relieved when I pulled into the parking space, and he got out and doubled over with laughter at my reaction. I knew that my mother would give me a hard time about the tire later, so at the urging of my friends, I resolved to try and enjoy the restaurant. We went into Denny’s and chain-smoked in the booth section with the patterned sheet metal wall next to the fifties style barstool area. We ordered glasses of soda with strawberry dessert chunks in them and sucked them through the straws, which was Bunny’s idea. All of us delinquent teens at the table formed the straw wrappers into balls and flicked them at each other. The waitress came to the table to take our food order and rolled her eyes at us as she walked away...

~~~

I was not even through the first chapter, and I found I was personally invested in this young girl who had to be in her early teens when she was moved into a private catholic school where, at least it seemed to me, all hell began to break lose and Kelsey was a girl, all alone... I saw quickly that her parents seemed not to be really involved with her life. Yet, I also saw nonverbal signs that I knew were important... The major one that she had been allowed to start taking out the family car as soon as she got her license. All of her friends were jealous because their parents were not willing to do the same. Yet, even as Kelsey wrote, there was not once in her entire story that she ever referred to that vehicle as anything but "her parents car." I would say that even she was unsure exactly why she was being allowed to drive a car, even while she was in rehab for drug and alcohol abuse... Something was wrong! I wanted to stop reading the book right then and try to help...

But it only got worse. As things were happening faster, I could almost see Kelsey trying to slow things down--trying to prevent what she was being pulled into, perhaps because she was the only one that could drive??? I was afraid for her. I had a right to be. If you choose to read this book, please read it because you have a young teen for whom you are concerned. Parents and Grandparents especially. In my opinion, her grandparents acted in good faith when they sponsored her private schooling... But I can guarantee that they did NOT do any checking of references about the quality of the school and its teachers. Note that the reports about sexual assault of children by priests was already well known by the time this was happening... 

During the years that Kelsey was going through her teen years, getting deeper and deeper, once in a while her mother would text her that she was concerned that they were no longer as close as they once were... Remember she was in her teens... 

I can remember my mother, while waiting for me, wondering what I was doing for so long, she got out of the car and came to find me... Of course, I lied to her, hurrying from the restroom where I had run to, but I knew that I was just goofing off, flirting with a guy I was interested in... I had to be in my early 20s, but I knew not to cross my mother when, I knew, she was right to question... About the lying? I'll wager that every child in America had done that... What is the guidance we may remember--I sure do... but it sometimes takes time for it to sink in, doesn't it?

When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. --I Cor.

Now, I have to ask, what in the world would a mother be doing texting a young girl who is in rehab but living at home?! Why was Kelsey on her own so much, with a car, at 16, having just got her license, and thus, with little experience? Notice that in the excerpt above, she wasn't even able to deal with a tire deflating! I was fuming! In fact, I'm more mad now than before. While reading I was so involved in wanting to see something good happen! I think it is relevant, though, that there was little written about either of her parents or grandparents, other than the early reference that she was relocated into a new environment in which she was forced to face everything new, on her own... (She has written two other books, which I'll be reading. Given the quality of writing for this book, I'm confident that the things that confused me will be clarified...) 

On the other hand, I hope that, because of its content, that parents will not "ban" the book... It is obviously one that will reveal what teen girls, and boys, are facing in today's world...Reading somebody else's experiences just could save another girl, or boy, from the same problems or mistakes...

Right now, I want you to stop and click to an article on Human Trafficking, that in my opinion, every person in America should be reading and responding to... Here is the cover of the book spotlighted... I know one thing, I never felt a time when I didn't feel that my mother would be concerned enough to help me through anything...

I was therefore very, very disappointed when, when Kelsey needed her most of all, her mother chose not to believe her daughter rather than two young men who were slick liars and conmen...and had just not only kidnapped her from her home, but again abused Kelsey... Please know that this book is not an easy read. However, it certainly is recommended. We all need to know that we are not alone in facing unimaginable issues--but can make it through them--ultimately stronger for the experience. A strong female who can stand on her own and, realize, no matter what, she can and should say No when she wants too!  We must work to ensure that happens! I've already downloaded the two other books from this author. Her reviews are good; her bravery is outstanding! 

Plan to come back to spend time with Kelsey, Rory and me as we talk about the issues covered in Double Crossed where three women of different ages, explore their early years of becoming women.  I was not surprised at what we found...Will you Be?

GABixlerReviews

What Do We Need Men For? A Modest Proposal By Elle Magazine's Advice Columnist, E. Jean Carroll

Here is my theory as to why it’s difficult for many women to think of female leaders. I have made it into a poem: 

Women did not create America’s political system. 

Men did. 

If women get a chance to invent a new way of governing— 

which, of course, we will, and it will be infinitely superior— 

we won’t have to rack our brains 

envisioning

women leaders. 

Because our leaders will be women. 

 

What women can envision right now—

without the slightest hesitation— 

is getting rid of men.

~~~ 

For instance, at the National Women’s Hall of Fame in Seneca Falls, New York, just to jump ahead in our story, Jennifer and Irene, who both work at the Hall of Fame, suggest that “the men” could be “put out on the golf course,” where they can “hit their balls.” 

The National Women’s Hall of Fame, by the by, is hung with photos, bios, and plaques of famous women. “While I’m here,” I say, “I would like to nominate Melania Trump and put her up there on your wall of fame with Harriet Tubman, Louisa May Alcott, Susan B. Anthony, Maya Angelou, Lucille Ball, Margaret Bourke-White, and Julia Child.” 

“Go ahead!” says Irene. 

“If any woman deserves a plaque on your wall,” I say, “it’s Melanija Knavs Trump!” 

“It’s a hundred dollars for the plaque,” says Irene, “which we will send to Mrs. Trump. Plus five dollars for the shipping and handling. And then we will display a copy of her plaque on the wall forever.” 

I pay without trifling and send the plaque to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C. 

I want it engraved with the following, if possible: FOR IDIOCIES SUFFERED AS A RESULT OF BEING DONALD TRUMP’S FIRST LADY 

I haven’t checked, but I believe the permanent copy of the plaque now resides on the wall of the National Women’s Hall of Fame. Congratulations, Melania!

~~~

https://www.elle.com/life-love/ask-e-jean/a29862545/best-e-jean-love-advice-2019/

On What to Say When a Partner Asks, 

"Why Are We Even Together?"

"He wants you to answer, 'We're together because I 

can’t go on living without you, and because you are a 

god among men.' When you get bored of saying that, 

and if he can’t make an effort to hold a real conversation,

you should respond, 'We’re not.' And accept his 

invitation to go." (May 2019 issue of ELLE)

On Navigating Male Attention Post #MeToo

"The only 100 percent guaranteed way to stop men from 'crossing the line' is using a tranquilizer gun. In the #MeToo era, each woman has to decide where her own line is and how firmly she will prevent each boss, preacher, teacher, coworker, old friend, and stranger from crossing it. She alone determines which reaction is 'right' for her. And by each of us choosing for ourselves, we empower all womankind." (September 2019 issue of ELLE)

!!!

When an Advice Columnist (longest running yet) reads all the letters that are sent, finds that most, or all of them, are from women and decides she needs to write a book, how does she go about doing it? I wondered... but then as I started thinking about how to talk about the book, I realized that it was quite simple... Or at least it seemed so, AFTER she had written it...

Then, I was fairly certain about her tone in asking the question, but I went out on Elle's online site and selected just two of those "Asks" that are available there... Yes, they were funny, perhaps a little sarcastic sometimes, but, then, straight to the point! I was smiling even before I started to write...

First, she knew she needed to do research, asking just one question. But where would we begin asking. Well, the author chose to go traveling to every town that had a woman's name as part of the location; for example, Marysville, Ohio... So she planned her itinerary based upon that one assumption... Got in her car, got everything ready to travel for herself and her traveling companion, Lewis Carroll... And she sets off! 

Then when she gets there, she might put up her sign on the top of her car, "Free Advice" or she's stopped for a meal and start talking to the women, and sometimes men, who she meets! Cool, Right?! BTW, I've seen some critical comments from men who reviewed the book. I think this is definitely Chic Lit"; but if you're a man who, when his woman asks you to go talk to a woman with a kilt on and a dog with aquamarine hair, and you go...then you are probably the men who will be allowed to stay when we women take over...

Ironically, my caretaker who drives for me, takes me to the doctor, etc., and I had just been discussing that we both felt that women needed to take over businesses, for a start... I, for one, had already determined that men who are involved with service companies, such as Home Depot, or even KFC, have NO empathy (and few skills or ability to learn) with which they interact with their customers! Else we women wouldn't be ranting as much as we do...daily...

So I was prepared to sit back and enjoy the trip...

And, it began with a superb but quite descriptive Prologue for us:

Women! You are fabulous! But for twenty-five years, you have been writing to me at the Ask E. Jean column in Elle seeking advice, and for twenty-five years, no matter what problems are driving you crazy—your careers, your wardrobes, your love affairs, your religion, your children, your orgasms, your finances—there comes a line in almost every letter when the cause of your quagmires is  revealed. And that cause is men.

Ladies, I have been thinking about this dilemma. It occurs to me that when men are not passing the Ask E. Jean correspondents over for promotion, they are pestering, groping, pawing, pinching, mauling, and underpaying the Ask E. Jean correspondents. But my concern is not confined to Ask E. Jean letter-writers only. The whole female sex seems to agree that men are becoming a nuisance with their lying, cheating, robbing, perjuring, assaulting, murdering, voting debauchers onto the Supreme Court, threatening one another with intercontinental ballistic nuclear warheads, and so on. 

Now, I have weighed the two schemes put forth to solve this problem: arresting the chaps and/or impeaching them. Bah! These measures will accomplish nothing! My scheme does away with the lads entirely. I do, therefore, humbly offer for your consideration the following Modest Proposal: The average American man is five foot nine and weighs 195.5 pounds. I have been assured by female scientists that the male body is roughly composed of 0.00004 percent iodine, 0.00004 percent iron, 0.05 percent magnesium, 0.15 percent chlorine, 0.15 percent sodium, 0.25 percent sulfur, 0.35 percent potassium, 1 percent phosphorus, 1.5 percent calcium, 3.2 percent nitrogen, 10 percent hydrogen, 18 percent carbon, and 65 percent oxygen, and these elements would, on the open market, fetch around $1 per bloke. If we plump the lads up, we could be looking at $1.02 or $1.03! The number of males in America is generally reckoned at 164,628,232. Ladies, I propose that we dispose of our chaps at the $1.03 price and put their elements to better use. Not only would this solve all the problems of the Ask E. Jean correspondents, but since ninety-nine out of a hundred calamities throughout history have been caused by men, and since we will be eliminating a prodigious number of idiots, dickweeds, numbskulls, brutes, weaklings, and dingbats (and that’s just from the US Congress), the benefit to the nation would be infinite. Plus, with the $170 or $180 million we receive, we will be able to purchase, in return, eleven or twelve genuine Birkin bags. But before I feel completely satisfied with offering this plan for your consideration, Ladies, and to make absolutely certain that before we sell their elements on the open market, the chaps aren’t actually needed for anything, I will leave my little cabin in the woods and travel to towns named after women. And when I arrive in each town named after a woman, I will get out of the car and ask people, “What Do We Need Men For?”

Indeed, I plan to leave my little home, which is on an island the size of a mattress eight miles south of Mount Eve in New York, and hit every town named after a woman between Tallulah, Louisiana, and Eden, Vermont (Eden is the #131 most popular name for girls in America so far this year, according to BabyCenter.com. Tallulah, alas, has recently plunged 581 points in popularity to #2,245).* I will be driving the spiteful Miss Bingley, my nine-year-old Prius, named after Jane Austen’s mean girl in Pride and Prejudice; and to keep myself sharp, I will only eat in cafés named after women, listen to music sung by women, drink wines named for-women, read books written by women, and wear clothes designed by women. If I eat a burrito in my motel room, it will be an Amy’s organic hand-wrapped, cheddar cheese-, bean-, and rice-with-Mexican-sauce bitchin’ burrito. Ladies, the time has come.

The date is October 6, 2017. Prepare for immortality! The maps, the wine, the books, the clothes, the Baby Ruths, the Girl Scout cookies are packed. I have said farewell to the cat, Vagina T. Fireball. The dog, Lewis Carroll, has taken up his position in the back seat with his head out the window. I have donned my Korean driving cap, which, to look fashionable, must be worn pulled down over one eyebrow. To look fabulous, it must cover the entire eye, socket and all, plus half the other eye. It was designed by a woman who must have had a chauffeur. I have returned to the cabin to say farewell again, to the cat. Oh, and one more thing.

No one need be carried from the room. For instance, when we get to the section of the book about the president and how he throws me against a wall and yanks down my tights in Bergdorf’s—do not be alarmed, Ladies. As I write, he is still married to the First Lady. Anyway, I assure you that I have been attacked by far, far better men than the president. One of my husbands, the glamorous ABC anchorman, for instance, was a famous choker whom I wore for three seasons. Here we all are in a photo taken at a party. But, happily, not every man we meet will try to yank down my tights—though, in the very first chapter, there is a boy who knocks me to the ground and, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves—it takes more than a bunch of dolts to stop your advice columnist!

So, Ladies, honk your horns! We’ve got a big, big road trip ahead of us! LET’S GO! P.S. Let me assure you that I have not the least personal interest in endeavoring to promote this Modest Proposal. I have no men by which I can get a single penny when we sell their elements—no current husbands, bosses, etc., etc.—even if the chaps turn out to fetch prices as high as $1.05 or $1.06! I have no other motive than the public good of the nation.

~~~

 What I wasn't prepared for was the author's own "list" as part of her book--think personal tell-all memoir... And my tears of sorrow as I read... You see, the author and I are about the same age... We have both experienced sexual abuse as a young child... We are both members of the #MeToo Movement... And have survived quite well!

The Most Hideous Men in My Life...Carroll starts numbering these molestors or otherwise abusive actors as she goes... Personally, I found the break of this sharing about those men who had treated E. Jean horribly needed... The book goes back and forth between her trips and stops, until, perhaps, something sets the author back to a terrible time in her life, when a man was involved. Each time, there is a familiar ring to the words...

Heading to Elyria, Ohio. with Aretha blaring, the author stops at Oberlin College to meet up with some college girls! She puts out her sign, but this time she turns the tables on two students... I Need Advice! And another interview begins... She explains that none of the problems she's been receiving on Ask E. Jean are from men. One student quickly responds that is because all problems are caused by men... Good start, right?! 

In fact, except for providing sperm for children, most of the responses were, honestly, that they could get along without men... Some even bragged that they could do anything better than men--this from a proud woman who worked a farm and had discovered that there weren't too many men willing to put in the work! Single, farming and doing fine!

Now this didn't surprise me, nor will it surprise readers, will it? Except reading this part of the book is indeed funny and, she finds one thing that men are good for--fixing cars because hers starts giving her problems and is forced to stay overnight... frustrated... But she finds women to talk to everywhere she goes!

If you can't answer the question, What Do We Need Men For?, I highly recommend you read the book... While it is definitely written to share and have fun between and among women, some men might also enjoy it, although my recommendation is to women! LOL

A few personal comments. The type of events when the author was very young should be read carefully. You might want to consider who your babysitters are after learning what happened--individually or in group settings...

I found the scene where the author was raped by our past president very credible... The interaction was casually flirty, at first... each identifying the other that they knew who they were... And then...the shock of violence mixed with sexual abuse. Given all that I'd heard, including the famous boast that he could grab women by the pussy was totally in line with what happened... Except that this woman didn't accept the grabbing... Nor did we want it...

The other thing I realized that I would be rethinking whether or not I will be writing my own memoir in relation to this aspect of my life.  I can probably just say, Read E. Jean Carroll's book and you'll get the idea... Sexual Assault has been going on since Bible times... Sometimes I wonder if, because it is in the Bible, that men feel they have a right to rape a young girl... or any woman... I tried to tell myself No, that probably most men don't even read the Bible... But the thought still lingers...

This book deserves your attention... Read it to reinforce your own opinions or laugh if some story hits a little too close to home, even if you decide to keep the man in your life, rather than sell him... Or put him in one of the camps that will be another option... Or, read it together and be thankful that you are not the type of man that many women...can...do ...without...

GABixlerReviews

Manny Monolin Moreno Shares A Bit of His Personal Memoir - Please Celebrate His Life as Our Friend!

The many changes I dedicated myself to undergo, has taken years of much patience, discipline, commitment and hard work, all for my well being.

Humility was the driving factor.

My art and books have been a healing of sorts for this journey of my life. They have given more meaning and reason to love the work, finding enjoyment and contentment and moments of serenity and peace.

It feels good to be in no competition with anyone. As I get older the most important ambition now is, to evolve into a better human being .

It's that simple. I've learned to follow my heart. And the spirit that moves inside of it, is calm and without hate and anger, and although the world has ways of robbing that, to anger me, it goes away when the sun goes down.

All day my mind is caught up, as I move around taking care of things, going here and there, taking care of this place and Homie the cat, in giving thanks for the blessings. Not for the things, but for the spirits of my ancestors holding me up, and for Grandfather for opening my eyes, and giving me understanding.

Lioj em chiokoe uttesia. Paas into waata.

Manny, thought I'd add one of my favorites which seemed to match and complement your prayer...

Manny Moreno, Author and Artist, is an ongoing contributor and friend at Book Readers Heaven... Thank you, Manny, for your beautiful words from your life!

All 

Clive Henry Shares His Personal Discriminations Story in Memoir Titled--Racism Is Real...

 

Entertainment was the only thing that kept me sane during my teenage years. I watched films most days on VHS video. Steven Spielberg and George Lucas films were favorites. I started to study the film industry hoping to become a cinematographer. I even applied to film school in London. I had to give up that dream when I discovered my mother would not be able to afford the school fees for film school.  

I decided to pursue another dream - music. At school I was part of the Caribbean Steel Band. The band was led by a Caribbean teacher that looked like Quincy Jones, the music producer. He was very strict with hours of rehearsal. Perfection was his thing. Losing his temper, if we hit the wrong notes. Doing school tours and events around Nottingham and the midlands. We had a great experience.  

Music was always a big part of my life. I remember from a very young age spinning the records on the family record player. So many talented artists. So many classic records. The first record I bought for myself was by The Police. The group, the artist Sting started with.

My sisters would buy music every week. I can remember when I fell in love with Hip Hop. The Sugarhill Gang released, Rapper’s Delight, 

a sample of the record "Good Times" by Chic. 

In the late 1970's and early 1980's Hip hop and Dancehall music really started to get popular. Massive speakers. New electronic sounds and special effects would be booming from cars and houses. The youth of the day also had street parties. Outdoor music for free while kids danced in the street.  

It was a friend of a friend, from a dance hall sound system that really got me into music production. My friend always looked out for me, giving me free music. He was a gadget white kid, kind as hell, and he knew music; like a librarian knows their books. Such a kind hearted guy. Lending me computer games like Atari, and so much music, from every genre.  

My teenage years were lonely. I remember I would walk the streets with my Sony Cassette player, hoping I would bump into a stranger to make a new friend. I decided to immerse myself in music and studying everything, from the business side and music production. I wanted to be a record producer or artist, I still wasn't sure, but that kept me sane and busy. 

I cannot deny the healing power of music. It got me through some really tough times.   I was at the library every week. Learning about composing music and music production. I even read musician autobiographies, for inspiration. I was self-taught. I had all the time in the world to learn my craft.   My mother helped buy equipment. I also got a job in a pizza restaurant to get money to buy music stuff when I was fifteen. 

My part-time job was washing pots  Music to me is where art meets common sense. Pop and Hip-Hop music was mainly four-four timing. Meaning four beats in a bar. It's basic math. I got really good, because I could program the drums. Then tap out the musical parts and change the notes to the correct notes to make sure the song sounded like the hits of the day. I spent many hours practicing, and did want to be part of the music industry, but the cards I was dealt in life made me realize, you can't always follow your dreams...

The 1970's were full of beautiful soul music. With so many solo artists and groups gracing the radio airwaves. It was a lot different to now. Music was an emotional and spiritual experience. Unlike the visual spectacle it is today. Artists really had to have talent and great songs for their talent to shine through. So many artists and classics have stood the test of time from the 1970's, so you will understand where I'm coming from. A majority of Hip-Hop songs came from samples of the 1970's musical legends like James Brown and Parliament-Funkadelic.  The Jackson 5, Marvin Gaye, James, Brown, Al Green, Motown, the list goes on. We also had a lot of Jamaican music in my house. Bob Marley, Gregory Isaacs, and Jimmy Cliff, were a few names I can remember. My parents never forgot where they came from, and gave us a variety of music to listen to.

~~~

For many children in America, we are bombarded with the entertainment options available. Clive Henry loved his beginning in school in the steel drum band and hoped to continue on in one way or another within the entertainment world. But reality often steps in early, especially related to money...and especially when a parent, Clive's Father, died early in his life. Even if life had not been all that it could be, when tragedy hits, it results in a child suddenly considering whether his (or her) dreams are even possible.

I already knew this, but each time I read that, within the homes of Black families in America, children are taught how to live with other boys and girls who are not the same color, it truly breaks my heart! For I always knew that Jesus had made children in both black, white and other colors. And He loved all of them equally.

Even though history shows how Blacks have been treated since they were forced to come to America to work for no pay, as slaves, most Americans know that the discrimination that began in the cotton fields of the south, has continued until today, no matter in which part of the country we live.

Clive chose to write his first book, mostly as a memoir. It is well written and shares much of his early life.

Trust Nobody Was My Motto

Clive and I are not so different, though... When we started working, we did a good job, often being promoted, until somebody makes things change...

With Clive, it happened much earlier than with me, and it definitely was because he was black (for me, it was because I was a woman in a male-dominated field). And Clive had his family's warnings about the real world in which we live/work... But Clive had gained sufficient self-worth to know he needed to do something--and not accept what was being done. The specifics related to a well-known company frankly, rings true as he writes it.  

I know from feedback that I opened many eyes and minds, with what I did. I was also told that policy changes happened within... (name of company).  In my mind I had lost everything, so had nothing to lose. I helped others see how wicked the law and these corporate companies could be. Social media was also a sense of healing. I was able to vent and educate at the same time.  In 2012 there were high profile cases with people dying in Police custody. The Trayvon Martin case really hit home. Will Black people ever live a life that isn't filled with stress from the cradle to the grave?   In 2013 the group called Black Lives Matter was formed. This was a global group born from the pain and destruction of Black life. It did not take me long to join the group in Nottingham to help. As I saw it. I'd experienced racism first hand in the workplace and within the legal system.

Clive Henry is correct. Racism is alive and well in America, sadly there is no way to predict where it might arise. I recommend you read Henry's story if you wish to gain specific knowledge and the way it occurs. Because if you care, you need to speak out. There is NO reason that this continues... But it does.

On the other hand, we did have some good results when a major act of discrimination was made and carried out in the news!

Kudos goes to Clive Henry for speaking out and acting to do something that affects him and so many others. Note that they didn't have the guts to remove the white woman...who continued to speak out... And, by the next day, the two Black ELECTED congressmen were back!

That's what we can do if we all speak out and act related to Racism. Read Clive Henry's story! Then speak out and vote to ensure that those of a political party which is out of control may be stopped. We see it. Clieve Henry and others FEEL the results! Support Henry and get his book and share and talk about it! Personally, I am ashamed that Mr. Henry's memoir had to be based on his own personal experiences! America has a long way to go, starting with God's commandment to love our neighbors!

GABixlerReviews