Author: Kai Raines

Three Things

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

Now here it is, already 2025…20 days in and I am still not ready. The year went so fast and so many things did not go how I planned…I hate it when that happens…and so I have been dragging my ass into 2025, a little bit kicking and screaming. My resistance reminds me of a quote I read, from someone, that said, “I never let go of anything that didn’t have claw marks on it.” That is an exact description of me…written by someone who does not even know me. If you read my blogs, you are nodding your head right now because you know. You know it’s true. If you don’t follow me, see what you’re missing? Also, it’s time to start…Now! Please.

One of the things that did not turn out the way I planned was the presidential election. I was ready for a President Harris. I feel like I am living in backwards world, where being a dishonest, arrogant, hateful, convicted felon paves the way for you to become President and being an honest, compassionate, and intelligent woman gets you nowhere. So, as the inauguration is taking place, I am reminded of 3 things I did immediately after the results of the election:

I joined the ACLU and signed up to volunteer.

I bought all my grandchildren, (ages 11 to 20) a copy of the US Constitution and told them to read it. I instructed them to learn what their rights are because they may not have them much longer.

Finally, I told my son and his fiancé to get married now. They want to have a big, beautiful wedding and that is a celebration I am eager to be a part of. Planning that takes time…and I’m not sure how much time there is after January 20th. I suggested they get the marriage license now and get legally married while they still can. The supporters of Project 2025, with the cooperation of the Supreme Court, aim to reverse marriage equality. To which I’ve been known to say, “Just try and get my marriage license from me.” I don’t think you can un-marry people or nullify marriages…not legally anyway. But that may not matter. Clarence Thomas has already said that marriage equality needs to be “revisited” by the high court. There is an Idaho case working its way to the Supreme Court right now that seeks to redefine marriage as between one man and one woman. That is happening as I write.

Of my many grandchildren, one said she would keep the constitution in her purse, and one sat down and started reading it…I don’t play favorites but come on, he sat down and started reading immediately. I am a proud grandmother.

Most importantly, my son and his now husband got legally married on December 29th! I am so happy for them and so relieved. I’m not sure if straight people can understand how important it is to be legally married. If getting married was a given for you, I guess you might take it for granted. But if you have been denied that right, it is huge…HUGE! To be recognized as a married person…no special rights, just equality. It is something I did not think I would see in my lifetime. To have your marriage vows honored for their importance in your life and in our society. Being a family…legally a family. That is important shit right there. That is a right I fought for and that is a right I will continue to fight for. Maybe the President will find out that someone in his life, that he loves, is gay and he will reconsider. Or maybe he will grow a heart…him, the Tin Man and the Grinch. Maybe he will learn some kindness and equity. Maybe he will grow to see beyond dollar signs and what benefits him and his cohort of billionaires. Maybe, maybe, maybe…unlikely, I fear.

So where am I going with all of this? I wish I knew. I am tired, frustrated, and terrified. The future seems more unknown than normal…and more out of control. So, what to do, besides meditate, pray, volunteer, give money, educate myself and others, and hope. It seems like conditions are ripe in this country for hate, violence, domination, and fascism to run rampant over the rights of the non-elite. Even President Biden warned of a growing oligarchy right here at home…just like other autocracies. Fuck.

We all know the saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” In some ways this is killing me…killing all of us…our collective spirits for sure. What I have always believed about this country and the rights guaranteed to us in our constitution has been completely blow the fuck up. And although they, the new autocracy, may not see it now, this will destroy their supporters as well. I fear we are all headed over a cliff, many voluntarily, and most leaving claw marks as they try to resist…as I try to resist. This is a proper place for claw marks. You cannot destroy other people and be unaffected. You cannot create bigotry, fear, and hatred and remain undamaged…or untwisted. And there are some fucking twisted people running things now.

Although I do believe that difficult circumstances can make us stronger, I prefer to believe that what doesn’t kill us makes us kinder…or it can make us kinder. We must cooperate to become kinder…we have to learn from our circumstances and allow ourselves to seek kindness as a character trait. I must understand, we must understand, that what we do affects other people and the choices others make impact us too. We do not live or move or act in a bubble. Our actions have consequences. Our inaction has consequences as well.

I have been re-reading The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz. In the book he discusses the term “domestication” which seems particularly relevant right now. From birth we are taught what to believe and how to act. We are rewarded for “good” behavior and punished for “bad.”  We learn to seek rewards and fear punishment. We learn our lessons and bury our own opinions or beliefs. We are afraid of the consequences of disagreeing or forging our own path. And so, tamed and trained we become compliant. Silent and compliant.

If ever there was ever a time in our history not to blindly follow, comply or agree, it is surely today. Today is the day to wake up. Wake up to the new form of domestication we are experiencing in subtle and not so subtle ways. The push to doubt what we see with our own eyes. To accept lies as the truth, “alternative facts” right? To hate anyone who is not like “us.” “Us” being white, wealthy, heterosexual, Christian, republican, and if you are male, all the better.

As I have said before I am trying to live “off the edge.” The edge being a chronic, low-level anxiety that seems to be my neutral…waiting for the next catastrophic or traumatizing event to occur. Today is not the day to lose my feel for the edge. For me, our nation is on the edge. The edge of what exactly I’m not sure…although it does not feel like anything good.

The best I have to offer myself or anyone else today is to take a deep breath. Breathe deeply and feel yourself grounded wherever you are. In this one moment, in that one breath, I am okay. For one breath you are okay. That is all we have, one breath at a time…for the next 4 years. We must wake up and remain awake even when other forces strengthen their attempts at domestication. No one gets to decide what I believe. They may have when I was younger but not now. I am who I am. I believe what I know to be true…what I see with my own eyes and what I hear with my own ears, what I investigate, study, and learn. Guided by my spirituality and the golden rule.

I cannot come off the edge today, or even in the near future, but I can remain attentive and aware of what is happening…in me, around me, and in the world. I can be aware and engaged. I can continue to breathe and be engaged…even when it’s hard…even when it sucks. That is all I have for now…breathe, stay grounded, stay engaged, and most importantly, allow this world to make me kinder…to make us kinder. Even when it seems impossible. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. Choose love…every time. Love will win. It always does. And be kind…please. Now more than ever.

Off The Edge

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

It took me a long time to recognize this low-level anxiety that lives inside me. I feel like I am always on edge. Always expecting the next bad thing…the next person to hurt me or leave me without explanation. The next person to blow up at me, blame me, or take their anger out on me. The next crisis I need to be ready for. Being mentally and physically on edge contributes to me being on edge emotionally. All the time. It is exhausting.

I have been trying to create a way to mourn the loss of my mother. I am not sure how to do that when I feel angry at her. I’m hurt that she was so mean to me. I don’t know if I miss her because I haven’t been able to get past the other feelings. I feel guilty because I am relieved not to deal with her explosive outburst anymore. I don’t miss her hanging up on me multiple times a day. The years I spent away from her I wondered why she didn’t try to work things out with me or love me enough to fight for me. The years I lived with her in Florida, I understood that she hated me. That’s what she told me. That’s how she acted. She didn’t fight for me because she didn’t want me.

Now she’s gone and I am not sure what to do with all of that. I need to find a place where I can accept the situation as it was and accept her as she was…flaws, bitterness, cruelty and all. She wasn’t one thing. She wasn’t just mean. She wasn’t just angry. She wasn’t just cruel. She could be kind. She could be generous. She could be loving.

I am not one thing either. I am not just a person on edge. I am not just someone with anxiety. I can be kind. I can be generous. I can be loving. I’m a mix of all those things and more. Just like her. Sara Bareilles has a song called, “She Used to Be Mine” and she talks about this…sings about it. This song could be about me…or my mom. I’m not perfect but I try. I’m hard on myself and struggle with asking for help. I’m messy and I’m kind. I’m all those things smooshed together to make me.

The song goes on to talk about things coming into our lives that we don’t ask for and they shape us into who we are today…even if it’s not what we asked for…or not who we expected to be. I want to be willing to take risks. To be hurt but not destroyed. I want to be tough enough that when I get bruised, I can use that to grow stronger and more sure of myself. And when I feel stuck, for example now, I can rekindle a fire inside of myself to keep moving forward toward the person I am and the person I am meant to be.

I have been trying to create a ritual for myself to let her go. To let the experiences I had with her go. And to let the things she said to me go. I have felt heavy under the weight of her thoughts and feelings about me. I recently wrote about changing my name from Karen to Kai. Needing to move away from Karen because that’s the name she yelled at me and the name of the person she hated. This week I decided to change my name legally. The new name felt like a game of make believe. And I’m not playing a game. I’m creating the path to reclaim myself as myself…not who she said I was. I’m not trying to disown her or my family. I am taking steps to own myself and my identity. That’s mine to create, not hers to impose.

I had not planned to change my name legally. I surprised myself. I filled out the paperwork and I filed the petition. It’ll take a few months for the change to be ordered. I may have to attend a hearing to tell a Judge why I want to change my name. I’m not sure it’s really anyone else’s business why…of course that will not be my answer if the Judge asks. An attitude will get me thrown in jail…this is Florida after all. There was a ton of paperwork to fill out and get notarized before I could file the petition. I guess they’re making sure I’m not changing my name because I am on the run from law enforcement. I’m not. I promise.

I was not sure how I would feel after I filed the paperwork. I felt relief. I felt like a giant chain that weighed me down, with other people’s opinions fell away. I was standing up for myself. I felt like I was claiming my own identity without the input of my mom. This is me regardless of what she thinks or what she might have said. She would have been angry about the change. She would have taken it as a rejection of her. It is not about her at all. It is about me…claiming my own power and not allowing anyone else to tell me who I am or how I should be myself. The change is because of me not her. This is who I am. This is who I continue to become.

The acceptance I want to find for myself, I want to find for her too. I do not think my mom’s life turned out how she imagined, and she was bitter. I had no control over that. I did not ruin her life, regardless of what she thought. I loved my mom. We had a challenging relationship. In the end I was working to change it…make it better. That didn’t happen but it doesn’t mean I didn’t love her or that I didn’t try.

Loving is hard. I try my best, but I am not always great at it. I hope my love can be a solid ground for someone else. I always say that in the end all that matters is how we love people. So regardless of what happens I move forward and remind myself that I did not give up on love today.

Do not give up on love today. Never give up on love. Love always wins.

Still Broken

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

Well, it has been a week…not even a week yet. Fuck. My wife asked me how I was doing on Wednesday or Thursday, and I said I felt overwhelmed. She asked me why, as in specific reasons, not questioning my emotions. I said, “I don’t know…the end of our democracy.” And that silenced us both.

Since then, my fears have just multiplied. You may ask, “Why?” I will lay it out for you:

*Putin, seeing the election results, said that a “new world order is forming.”

*The plan for mass deportation of undocumented migrants in this country regardless of circumstances or the devastating impact on the economy.

*A federal judge striking down Biden’s program for undocumented spouses, as illegal. The program designed to keep families together.

*The undoing of the constitutional right to reproductive healthcare, including the right to an abortion.

*The blatant plan to reverse marriage equality.

*Texts sent to Black Americans telling them they have “been selected to pick cotton” at a nearby plantation. These texts went out to adults, as well as, college and high school students. And these texts were not just in Georgia, Alabama, Louisiana the states considered the deep south…were I guess people expect such racism, seriously? They were sent in New York, California, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Wisconsin, and Michigan. And that is not the entire list. What is happening?

*The rise of fear, anger, and hate, and a growing attitude of us vs them. The use of those emotions as weapons to pit us against each other…even when what we are hearing is not true.

*The supreme court granting the president almost complete unchecked power. The branches of government designed to act as the checks and balances of presidential power no longer function that way.

*The President Elect already preparing pardons for the January 6Th rioters who attempted to overthrow our government and disrupt the peaceful transition of power. People died that day. 174 police officers were injured. One was killed.

*Elon Musk promised a cabinet position where he will cut the federal budget by 3 trillion dollars. And they have told us that people will suffer.

*RFK Jr. will oversee the Department of Health…and specifically women’s health. There is nothing that makes less sense than a man appointed to make the rules or guidelines for women’s health. He is an unapologetic anti-vaccination and conspiracy theorist…which could lead to the return of illnesses that previously were eradicated by vaccines.

*Referring to anyone who disagrees with the administration as the “enemy within” and the threat of using the armed forces against citizens of this country.

*And the last thing I am going to mention (and I could go on), the President Elect plans to destroy the Department of Justice and fire all career prosecutors, to remake the justice system in his image and use it against his enemies…that would be anyone who disagrees with him.

I feel like I am living in The Hunger Games…only this is no game. I love movies, but I do not want to live in them. They are fantasy and not real…except when the leader of our country wants to make it real. The elite having all the privilege, access, and opportunity and everyone else existing to meet their needs and keep them happy. And to entertain them…fooling themselves into thinking that the game you are entering is a privilege rather than an atrocity. But in the end, it took 3 books, Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, prevails…but a lot of shit goes down before that can happen.

Back in 2020 I wrote a blog called, “Broken.” At the time I was feeling devastated because of Covid and the tremendous loss of life and the murder of George Floyd. I am sharing the link here (http://karenraines.com/2020/06/03/broken/) because I am still broken. We are broken. Our country is broken. It is easy now to feel like everything is out of our control and there is nothing we can do, but that is not true. This week I joined the ACLU and signed up to volunteer. It’s a small step but it’s a step. We all must make ourselves keep moving forward.

Here’s the thing, I always write about love. Love as a guiding principle in my life. The need for love in our treatment of other people. Seeing people who may not be the same as us through a lens of love. Love conquers hate. Love is bigger than any person’s bigotry. Love produces more love. When we act with love for ourselves, our communities, our country, our world, our actions become compassionate, filled with kindness, and a desire to connect, not separate. We come to care for one another and want the best for each other…regardless of the color of your skin, what pronouns you use, who you love, where you’re from, or what language you speak. We see and share our common humanity. In the end, what matters is how we love people. We have some serious work to do.

Love is powerful and healing. We need some healing…some big fucking healing. Is that going to happen right now? I hope so but I think we are in for a rough road ahead. While fear, anger, and hate are in the oval office love will appear to be losing…but it will not lose.

Love has been on my mind all week and I’ve been confused on how to proceed. I do not feel loving right now. I am scared and angry. So, I turned to some teachers to find comfort and direction. Buddha said, “In this world hate never yet dispelled hate. Only love dispels hate. This is the law, ancient and inexhaustible.” And St. Francis had a beautiful prayer that can help us move in a positive direction. “Make me an instrument of your peace, Where there is hatred, let me sow love; Where there is injury pardon; Where there is doubt, faith….that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; To be understood, as to understand; To be loved as to love.”

Now there are some marching orders. But I am not marching right now. I am staggering. We are staggering. I still feel a deep sense of shock and loss. We need to feel all the feelings and not rush ourselves to get over it. Take time. Time to care for yourself and those around you. Think about ways to get involved and stay involved. Imagine a world where equality is the norm, and everyone has the same opportunities. Imagine no racism, sexism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, elitism…all the isms and phobias eliminated. Picture that world. Create a picture in your mind or on a vision board. Look at in several times a day. Make it the first image of your morning and last image you see at night. Look at it and believe in the possibility…the possibility of real change. Let that image guide you to the next best step for you…for us. Remember, in the end all that matters is how we love people…especially when it’s hard. Love always wins. Let’s win together.

Hurricane Milton…Or A Tiny Little Rose?

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

While my parents were alive and living with my wife and I, we occasionally talked about their deaths and their last wishes. Neither of them wanted any kind of service or memorial. No wake. No funeral. No casket. They wanted to be cremated. I asked them what they wanted done with their ashes. My dad said, “Just throw them away.” And my mom, as only she could, said, “Just throw them on the ground and walk all over me like everyone has my whole life.” So, I told them both “I’m not doing that” and suggested that we put them in the Gulf. They agreed or gave me their version of “whatever.” I was happy to take that as a yes.

When my sister came for a visit, the topic came up again. That must be super annoying for people in their 80’s and 90’s, everyone always bringing up your death and pushing you to plan for it. I was thinking my plan is to avoid it as long as possible…as if it is up to me. My sister said that we could send the ashes to Switzerland and have them made into blue diamonds. And why you may wonder? So, we could have a crown and put the blue diamonds in it. And then as each person dies another stone gets added to the crown. I said, “Who’s gonna wear all the dead relatives on their head?” I don’t remember her response. Mine was, “It’s sure as shit isn’t gonna be me.” Then she said we could have them compressed and made into frisbees and send them flying out into the Gulf. I’ve got to admit that one sounded fun…probably only because I wouldn’t be one of the frisbees. We had some good laughs with my parents over both of those ideas. I know you can find all kinds of stuff on the internet but who searches for what to do with someone’s ashes…besides my sister, I’m not sure. My sister is super funny and a great storyteller…she had both covered here.

In the end, of course, it was up to us. We decided that Kathy, Rick (sister and brother-in-law), Gayle and I would go out on a boat together and spread their ashes into the Gulf of Mexico. We found a place in Dunedin that has daily boat trips called “Burial at Sea” that are specifically designed for spreading ashes. I guess “burial at sea” is hard to remember because my brother-in-law referred to it as “the death boat.” Naturally that’s the name that stuck.

Of course, as soon as we had a simple plan our adult children chimed in and wanted a seat on the boat…they were their grandparents after all. And since they all have children, all the great grandkids would be here too. So, we arranged for the death boat October 14th at 1:00. Fortunately, it’s a big boat because we went from 4 people to about 20. We finalized plans for places to stay and food for a meal together after the death boat. And then there was Milton.

One of the reasons we picked Clearwater for retirement is because Tampa hasn’t been hit by a major hurricane in 100 years…and we’re about 15 minutes from Tampa. Now Milton was threatening to end that streak. WTF?! Hurricane Helene had just devastated the big bend area of Florida. We waited and hoped that Milton would decide to go somewhere else. Although, you can’t really hope that the hurricane hits someone else. I was hoping it would just evaporate…. that would have been the most convenient outcome. Clearly, I missed my calling as a scientist.

If you saw any news at all you are aware that Milton did not just go away. It became a category 5 hurricane. It did shift south and so Tampa, and Clearwater were spared a direct hit, but it was crazy. We were on the outer edge of the eye of the hurricane. We didn’t get raindrops, not even big ones. We had walls of water falling…wall after wall of rain for hours. All the while, the wind raged. We had wind speeds up to 129 mph. Milton was a category 3 storm when it hit the Florida gulf coast.

I had panicked calls and texts from family and friends worried for my safety. My wife wanted me to go to Atlanta. It was not that simple. First, I was not under an evacuation order. More importantly, I had less than a quarter tank of gas. “90 miles,” said my car. Now I’m not good with geography but even I know you cannot get to Atlanta with 90 miles worth of gas. And in case you’re thinking, “Why would she not have filled the tank sooner?” “Poor planning.” That’s a little judgy of you. I did not fill my tank because there was no gas…as in none, nada, zip, zero. I went to numerous gas stations, and they all had the little yellow bags on the pumps, like they do when they’re broken, with the addition of plastic wrap. All the pumps were prepared for Milton…and all the gas was gone. That was Tuesday. I couldn’t get gas until Monday. By that time my car was finding a gas station for me.

That was the beginning of Milton. The serious warnings began Monday. They were amped up on Tuesday and included evacuation orders for zones A, B, C, and all mobile homes. We live in zone D. The airports closed Tuesday morning. Everything else closed Tuesday afternoon. So, the death boat plans were quickly sinking. We didn’t even know if the boat place would still exist on Sunday. Our outing seemed incredibly unlikely…even more so after the airport closed, and all the flights were cancelled. I’m pretty good at recognizing the obvious. No ashes were leaving my house that weekend.

When I was talking to my wife, during the hurricane, and sending her videos, I told her that I thought my mom was fucking with the weather. She said, “Your mom has no control over the weather.” I told her I wasn’t so sure. The next day I was talking to my sister, and she mentioned that Rick thought my mom was causing the hurricane because she doesn’t want to be in the water. My mother was afraid of water her whole life. I wonder why she agreed to a burial at sea. I’ll never know. I was texting my nephew, to give him an update on the death boat and Milton. He told me that he wondered if maybe Roro (that’s what all the grandkids called her) brought the hurricane. And finally, I was talking to my daughter, and she told me she thought the same thing. I don’t know if my mom can influence the weather, but me and the family believe she can and she did.

So, there will be no burial at sea. Florida can’t take another round of the “wrath of Rose.” We have an alternative plan. Their ashes will be spread in New York somewhere my parents loved. They spent a lot of time at my sisters. They’d visit for 3 or 4 weeks at a time. That’s where their final resting place should be. They were happy there, surrounded by the love of their grandkids and great grandkids…and of course Kathy and Rick.

I hope in the spring my side of the family can travel to New York and give my parents their final resting place…at last. A lot of love and planning went into our decisions for my parent’s ashes. I hope they could feel that. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. And they were loved…still are.

Not So Stupid After All

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment


So, I have been reading What My Bones Know by Stephanie Foo. It’s a wonderful book so I’m reading it for the second time. She was horribly abused as a child, physically and emotionally. The physical abuse was quite significant. I worked with abused children for 20 years. Her story is horrible and compelling. Her ability to describe the process she went through to heal is so honest and real. It’s brilliant…hence the second time reading it. I highly recommend it.


Families are funny, as in strange, for many reasons but for now I’m thinking about how each child in a family is raised by a different parent than the others. I don’t remember who came up with the idea…definitely a family systems person…possibly Bowlby. Family systems theory basically says that a family functions as a system, and everyone has their unique role in keeping the system functioning. That’s a simplistic one sentence summary but it gives you the general idea. Within the system if someone changes or does something different it can throw the whole family off kilter. Kind of like throwing a stick into the spokes of a bike someone is riding…there’s gonna be a crash…. Speaking of bikes and crashes, when I was 9ish I was riding a tandem bike with my friend…who shall be nameless because I don’t remember her name. She was in the front steering, and I was right behind her. With the inherent wisdom of 9-year-olds, we decided that she should steer with her eyes shut and I would direct her, all while riding down a hill that, at the time, seemed huge…we lived in Wisconsin, so it was definitely not huge. Anyway, we started down the hill, and I yelled, “Go left! Go left!” And she went right, way right…into a mailbox. Huge crash, blood everywhere…not exactly. My friend ran off crying and I scraped my knee. And I’m pretty sure it was her mailbox…and it was made of bricks and cement. Only did that once.


Now I’m back from my wandering…All of that was to say that families shift and change, so each child’s experience of their parents is different…as if they were different people all together. That seems to be true for my sister and me. She’s 17 months older than I am, even though she convinced my children that she was younger than me. It took years for me to convince them that she was kidding…I probably had to show them my birth certificate. Little fuckers. ❤️


My sister and I have some very different memories from when we were kids. Our perceptions were different as well. I remember things that my sister doesn’t, and she remembers tons of stuff that I don’t. I seem to remember more painful memories. I was emotionally abused as a child. I believe sister was too, although her perception is different. I was told that I was dumb and stupid. That when they passed out brains, I thought they said trains and I missed mine. When it came to brains I got the short end of the stick. That I didn’t know anything about whatever we were discussing…especially if it was something I majored in or involved my career. My sister was told those things as well. “I don’t know how we had such stupid children.” While my parents lived with us my mom frequently called me a dummy. I am very sensitive about being called dumb or stupid or being told, as I regularly was “that’s the problem you’re thinking again.”


The insults to my intelligence and my ability to think were the most hurtful to me. I am someone who thinks a lot. In fact, I overthink a lot. But I make sense of the world by thinking. My thinking leads to my writing. I think about patterns in my life, I read books and think about the information in connection to my experiences. Sometimes I just sit and think…kind of like Winnie the Pooh sitting there tapping his head and repeating, “think, think, think.” If something is heavy on my mind…I sit and sort and think. So, the implication that I don’t think or I’m too stupid or dumb to understand something really hurts me at my core…in my heart. It damages my understanding of myself and the world…or it used to.


Sometimes I think I have so many degrees because I was trying to convince myself that I wasn’t stupid. When I was getting my master’s in counseling, I wrote a paper on…I have no idea. Too long ago. What I do remember is the professor writing on my paper that I had the second highest grade in the class and that it was a “brilliant” analysis. No one had ever used the word brilliant in connection to me. I cried. That was the first time that I realized I wasn’t stupid. The tears were full of anger and relief…anger at the messages I’d been given growing up and relief that they were wrong. And sadness that I spent so many years believing everything my parents said. They were the adults and so I thought they were right.


I have mentioned before that I have done a good amount of therapy. At one point in my psychological journey, I did EMDR…eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. I called it the light bar…sounds like a bar that serves only lite beer…and I was there drinking with my therapist. Anyway, in EMDR you focus on one memory that is particularly painful and emotionally charged for you…it’s juicy, as Pema Chodron would say. It’s a trigger. I picked being told I was stupid. Back then that was fireworks for me. So, I got the memory in my head and tapped into my feelings, all the while tracking the lights on the light bar moving rapidly back and forth across the bar. When it was over, I had an epiphany. I told the therapist that when my parents told me I was stupid, I wasn’t stupid, I just disagreed with them. I had a different perspective and to them that was being stupid. EMDR took a lot of the fire out of the word stupid…not all of it but it was a huge difference. I thought EMDR was magic.


I also think there was physical abuse in my house. I never had marks or bruises. Although when I was little, I never looked to see. I had some bruises, fingerprints on my arm, once when I was a teenager…from my dad. I think that hitting children is abusive. My sister and I were hit with a belt and a brush…that’s abusive. Even though spanking may have been standard practice in the 60’s, that doesn’t make it less abusive.


I spanked my oldest daughter but not my other two kids. I feel bad because I had to learn parenting with her. At the time, the far-right church I went to encouraged spanking your children. And the church was my teacher. They told us not to use our hands to spank but to use an object…like a wooden spoon. Which I did. Once. That’s all it took to realize they were wrong. We tell children to calm down and stop crying while we hit them…that makes no sense.


The thing about spanking children is that we do it when we’re angry. We ask our child to do something or stop doing something and they don’t. We probably ask more than once and then exasperated we spank them. We teach them that it’s okay to hit people smaller and less powerful than them. We hit the most vulnerable people in our world. We teach kids that when you’re angry and don’t know what to do you can hit someone…and then blame them for it.
We’re teaching our children that physical violence is a legitimate way to solve problems…and it’s not. “Spare the rod and spoil the child” and all that other bullshit. We confuse fear with respect. We think if our children are afraid of us then they respect us. But fear doesn’t breed respect, it breeds resistance, defiance, shutting down. It leads to avoidance. I avoid people I am afraid of. There may be people I fear that I respect but I do not respect them because of that fear. I respect them in spite of it.


One day we were talking about corporal punishment with my parents…not sure what started that mistake of a conversation. My dad told my wife that he made my sister and I go and get the brush to hit us with to humiliate us. My wife was gobsmacked for sure. I was too. Who intentionally tries to humiliate anyone, let alone a child? My mom was angry we were having the conversation and said, “I’m sorry. I guess you had a horrible childhood.” But that wasn’t my point. My point was that hitting children is not a good disciplinary tactic. It doesn’t teach any of the positive things we might want it to. It teaches fear and division. It teaches lying and deception…if I don’t get caught, I don’t get hit. It’s hypocritical to tell children they aren’t allowed to hit and then we turn around and hit them. That’s crazy making shit.


So maybe I’m not stupid but why did it take so long, and so much school, to come to that realization? And why did I need a teacher to praise me to recognize that? Why couldn’t I see it within myself? Hard questions. Maybe we form the internal vessel in our children that holds their thoughts and beliefs about themselves. Children think their parents know everything…at least until they’re teenagers…so when a parent throws around words like stupid, dumb, lazy, or tells them that they are too much or too little, their children believe them. Children incorporate that information as a fact in their lives. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me…that’s some unhelpful bullshit.


Our words hurt and wound and damage other people. The good news is that our words can also heal. If you tell your children how much you love them, that you’re proud of them that means something to them. That is validation that helps them form their image and beliefs about themselves. Instead of tearing them down, build them up with praise…praise for the wonderful qualities they bring to this world. We don’t tell our children often enough that they are kind, compassionate, intelligent, capable, honest, loyal, hardworking, determined, loving, understanding…the list could really go on and on. There is no shortage of words available to describe our children and to encourage them to grow and believe in themselves. And really, I still want to hear those things. I want to feel that I am loved. Everyone wants to be loved. I still tell my adult children how much I love them, that I’m proud of them, and how lucky I am to be their mom. No one is too old for praise and encouragement. No one is too old to love or be loved.


Let’s focus on love. Let’s lead with love. We get plenty of negative messages about ourselves from the world. Now maybe there are people thinking that we can’t just be all about love with our children because the world is a hard place, so we need to do our part to toughen them up. No we don’t. Life will happen and they will grow stronger…they don’t need the negativity or bullying to come from us. That does so much damage. Let’s make sure our homes are places where we encourage and challenge our children to become the best version of themselves. And with respect, kindness, compassion, understanding, and tons of love that person will emerge. In the end, all that matters is how we love people. Let’s love our children and each other fiercely.

When I’m 64

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

So, I had a weird thing happen this week. First, it’s my birthday week. I currently have a line from a Beatles song in my head, “Will she still need me, will she still feed me when I’m 64.” And I’m about to find out…although she doesn’t usually feed me because she hates to cook. Anyway, my wife had to go back to Colorado for work. So, I am here in Florida, and she is far away in Colorado.

In case you want to feel sorry for me, don’t. I’m not here alone. My stepson, Justin, is here with me. He just moved here about 10 days ago…and of course we have the Bulldog sisters too. That’s our dog, Abby, and her sister, Presley. Presley is Justin’s dog. They are sisters but from different litters. They are so much alike it’s crazy. They are both so fucking stubborn. And they even sleep the same. It reminds me of the theme song of The Patty Duke Show…”they walk alike, they talk alike, what a crazy pair….” Yep, I’m 64 alright…and that show was in black and white. Anyway….

A few days ago, I noticed a package sitting on the table by our front door. It seemed like it just appeared there. I asked Justin about it, and he told me he brought it in the night before. I hadn’t noticed it until the morning. I thought it was strange that the package was addressed to my dad. My dad died almost a year ago…so he didn’t order it.

Being quite brave, I decided to open the package…the next day. Inside the package was a book called Walking the Himalayas. That was weird. I had wanted to read that book for a couple years. It was in my Amazon cart. There was no note in the box and no return address. It was really strange.

I puzzled over the package for a bit and then I came to the only reasonable conclusion…my dearly departed dad sent it to me. That had to be it! This makes sense for so many reasons…my dad died so no one is sending him gifts anymore. Also, there wasn’t a note with the book. And no one would send my dad a book because he couldn’t read anymore because of his macular degeneration. And finally, it’s a book I wanted and it’s my birthday. It was definitely from my dad. I told Justin all of that and he appropriately responded with, “Whoa.” Ya whoa!

I was pretty excited to share this news with my wife when we talked that night. I told her the story and all my well thought out reasons why the book was from my dad. She did not say whoa…she said something to the effect of, “oh, crap.” Not her exact words but the emotion was there. She then told me that my sister had texted her and asked what I’d like for my birthday. Gayle told her to look at my list on Amazon…I know you’re following me here. Then my sister told her she was sending a book, Walking the Himalayas, and it would be addressed to our dad but that it was for me…and I should not open it until my birthday.

Well, my sister thought the story was funny and she jokingly asked me to thank Gayle for her. When I shared that with Gayle, we both had a good laugh. I’m grateful for the gift from my sister…even though I opened it before my birthday. I’m sure my dad would have wanted me to.

So happy birthday to me and go Rays! I’m off to a baseball game today where I can be my geeky self and keep my scorecard. I appreciate all the love for my birthday…and it turns out she will still need me when I’m 64…I can feed myself. Remember that in the end all that matters is how we love people. So, let’s love enthusiastically.

Clinging to Pride

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

Eight years ago last week, a man with a gun walked into Pulse Nightclub and murdered 49 people. 49 innocent people who were out dancing and having drinks with their friends. The gunman targeted Pulse Nightclub because it was an LGBTQ+ club. The gunman was looking for LGBTQ+ people to kill. He sought out queer people to kill (for simplicity I’m using the term “queer” here to cover the entire spectrum of the LGBTQ+ community). Of course, not everyone there was queer…because, in case you don’t know, queer people generally have straight friends…we don’t discriminate. 49 members of the community were gunned down for being queer or being friends with queer people.

It’s hard to remember Pulse Nightclub. It’s painful and traumatic. I didn’t live in Florida at the time, but it didn’t matter. LGBTQ+ people all over the country were as shocked and horrified as I was. I felt like we were being hunted…and we were. I think there were some questions about whether the gunman was gay. And I remember thinking, “you’d rather commit mass murder and die than be gay.” Seriously?! If that was true, it might be one of the saddest things ever.

Now, hold that thought in your head, Pulse Nightclub, 49 people dead, feeling hunted, the fear of going out…and imagine listening to a Supreme Court justice’s wife talk about how angry it makes her to look at a Pride flag in June. How much she hates it and wants to hang her own flag instead. And she described her flag (which she said she created in her mind) as white with yellow and orange flames framing the Italian word “vergogna” in the middle. The Italian word “vergogna” means “shame.” She created a flag in her head because she is so angry looking at the pride flag. Of course, first, she’d have to take down her US flag which she had hanging upside down at her house. She said this after almost daring the media to come after her because she’ll “get them.” Take that in for a moment…a US Supreme Court justice’s wife said that. And not just that, a US Supreme Court justice had the American flag hanging upside down at his own home. Just like the insurgents who stormed the US Capital on January 6th.

Now Justice Alito claims it was his wife who hung the flag upside down…way to throw her under the bus. There’s been statements from neighbors contradicting the justice’s report. He is also on tape talking about the necessity of returning to Christian nationalism, although this country was founded on religious freedom so it’s not a return, it’s a turn as far to the right as you can go. He also talked about not being able to really work with the other side…meaning people without his same views. Let me just say this…he’s a fucking US Supreme Court justice! His whole job is listening to different sides of arguments and applying the law fairly, regardless of his own opinions…which are supposed to remain private. That explains a lot about the current state of the Supreme Court.

I used to be intrigued by the Supreme Court and the justices. I admired them…some more than others. I got to hear oral arguments in front of them once, while I was in law school. They step out from behind the red curtains…it’s all very official, and intimidating. I used to read their decisions, and the dissenting opinions, to understand the laws that they were upholding or striking down. That was when I believed that the Supreme Court did uphold the constitution, legal precedents, and the settled law of this country. The legal term, as I was taught in law school, is “stare decisis” meaning “the thing is settled.”

Enter 2024, where the court overturned a 50-year precedent and the settled law of this country, because they personally object to abortion. They took away reproductive freedom from every woman in this country with that ruling. They also took away many options, sometimes the only option, women had for basic healthcare, because of all the clinics that were forced to close. And they have laid the groundwork to block access to gender affirming care for trans people…because women no longer have control over their own bodies. My ability to decide what I can and cannot do to my body has been stripped from me, stripped from all women. Perhaps the Supreme Court is going to make our decisions for us…we should have at least had a drink first, before the women of this nation were screwed. Healthcare is a personal matter. Reproductive healthcare even more so.

It’s Pride month and I want to be all out and loud and proud but I’m not. I’m scared. I’m scared for our country. I’m scared for all LGBTQ+ people in this nation. I remember when Jerry Falwell said that 9-11 was God’s punishment for homosexuality. I thought that was about as low as a person could go with their personal views. But WTF!?? Look who’s talking now! The impartial, not allowed to get involved in politics, 5 conservative justices of the Supreme Court. The ones who promised to be impartial and stated they would not overturn settled law… and they would not allow their personal beliefs to influence their decisions, even about abortion.

And they didn’t, until they actually started hearing cases…and then the precedents started to fall…Roe, affirmative action, bump stocks on guns…one by one they all fall down. And the always helpful, and rarely involved, Clarence Thomas, has said the court needs to revisit marriage equality…also settled law. Since when do the justices announce what kinds of cases they want so they can direct the laws and the country in the way they personally feel it should go? Never mind the 75% of people in this country who support marriage equality. And never mind that people in this country don’t get to decide whether they think I should have the right to marry the person I love or not. I don’t need your approval and frankly, I don’t want your opinion. It’s still illegal to legislate hatred.

We are a nation that has lost its way. We are an arrogant, self-righteous nation that is fucked up. And my wife and I are not the the problem. When 65% of republicans say voting for a convicted felon for president is not an issue to them…we have a problem. We are a nation that refuses to learn…or maybe we’re just reluctant to learn…or can’t see well with our heads up our asses. I’m angry. I’m angry and sad and scared.

It’s asinine to claim that you are upholding the constitution while you dismantle the very rights that are the law in this country…now past tense. If you want to stick with the framers of the constitution, which is the standard rational, then all the rights are for white men. The framers were interested in protecting the rights of wealthy, white, landowners…in other words, themselves. So, there would be no right to vote for women or any people of color, it would be illegal to be gay, we’d still have segregation, shit we’d still have slavery, if you stick with the framers. Because their concerns were for people like them. And be clear it’s men like them. The constitution is designed to be a living document that evolves as a country evolves, because the framers could not have imagined the world as it is now.

I heard President Biden talking about current issues with our country, or the leaders of our country, and he said they are “old ghosts in new garments.” My first thought was, who wears “garments?” No one since the 1800’s. But he’s right. We’re a better nation when our goal is equality…at least theoretically. We’re a better nation when we are moving forward and not recreating the mistakes of the past. We’re a better nation when all different people can marry…different races and same sexes. We’re a better nation when we don’t allow cruel and unusual punishment. When we require Miranda rights for people in police custody. When we acknowledge that all people should be equal, and we set our eyes on equality as our goal. Title IX, probable cause, the right to an attorney, non-discrimination, freedom of speech…and the list goes on. We’re a better nation when we follow our own fucking laws.

So, what do I do? What do WE do? Something’s gotta give or we’re in a huge crisis…more accurately, we’re in a huge crisis and I don’t want to see it spiral out of control anymore than it already has. I’m always talking about love but really what’s love got to do with it? RIP Tina Turner…it’s got everything to do with it. If I am loving my neighbor as myself, which is the golden rule after all, then I care what happens to you like I care what happens to me. I don’t want laws that hurt you anymore than I want to be hurt. I want you to have affordable healthcare. I want you to be free to make choices about your own body. I don’t want anyone to interfere with your right to vote and to have your voice heard. I want you to have equal access to schools, jobs, careers, housing, healthcare, and all the opportunities available in our country.

So that’s what I do. That’s what we do. We engage. We pay attention. We love when it would be so much easier to hate. We look for common ground…our common humanity. We look for the strands of the values we believe in within other people. We look for ways to unite our country, our communities, because they are so divided right now. We recognize that everyone wants to be loved. Everyone wants to be part of a community, to belong. Everyone wants to be safe and happy. We take baby steps toward understanding views that differ from our own. We look for commonalities rather than focus on differences. I understand that I am not the only person afraid in our country. I can empathize with others…we can empathize with others. We can be open minded, kind, compassionate, and honest. We can choose to love over and over again until love wins. Because love always wins…it must win. It’s the perfect time to remember that in the end all that matters is how we love people. Buddha said, “Hatred does not cease by hatred, but only by love; this is the eternal rule.” Let’s try the eternal rule for a change.

Elbow Shemelbow

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

Now this blog has a huge WTF!? factor…just so you know. I went to fetch my wife…sound southern, don’t I? I fetched her from yonder Colorado. (Of course, people in Florida don’t have southern accents.) Anyway, I drove out to Colorado for two weeks to visit my kids and grandkids and to bring my wife home. When we left Colorado, we drove to Texas to see my wife’s family. Fortunately, we did not get hit by a tornado, but it was close.

The evening we arrived, I noticed my arm was red. Specifically my left, elbow replacement arm, was red around my elbow. I didn’t think too much of it until the redness spread on Sunday. That’s when I showed my wife and became terrified that I might have an infection in my elbow. Apparently, I was told, you can get an infection in a joint replacement up to a year after the surgery. From reading I’ve done it can be many years after surgery. That’s scary.

So, on Memorial Day I called to talk to the on-call doctor back in Florida. He prescribed me some antibiotics and said I needed to be seen when I got home, and I needed to call if anything got worse. Cellulitis is what he called it. It’s a bacterial infection that is usually caused by a cut or some other opening in your skin…well, I don’t have any cuts, so I thought it didn’t sound so bad. Then I started reading about it in connection to joint replacements. Thank you very much google. According to the Mayo Clinic, Cleveland Clinic, and John’s Hopkins this type of infection almost always requires surgery to get the infection out and remove the infected joint. WTF!?

Now I’ve had a lot of surgeries in my life…approximately 45 on various joints. 13 on my elbow. I’m not so afraid of surgery. I’m afraid of what it would mean if I did need surgery. If my elbow replacement needs to be removed, besides the months of IV antibiotics, I won’t have an arm anymore. Nothing will replace the replacement. I’ll have an arm with no elbow so my arm will just be decorative…because it won’t work. I’ll wear a brace and have minimal use of my hand.

When I had the surgery for my broken arm and dislocated elbow replacement last November, I was told that if this replacement failed, as others have, the only option left would be to remove it and not replace it anymore. At that time, I appreciated knowing that if that happened, at least I wouldn’t be in pain anymore. That sounded good. Until now. Now it sounds horrible. If this infection is in my joint, I’m going to lose my arm. Its not going to be amputated but it will only be for show…a useless appendage hanging from my shoulder. I feel overwhelmed and terrified. It’s one thing to hear about a possible thing that might happen in the far away future and being punched in the stomach by an inevitability staring you in the face.

Maybe it’s not inevitable. The redness is mostly gone…it’s still swollen, hot, and stiff. I see the doctor Friday. So, WTF!? I don’t know what the fuck. My work this week is sitting with not knowing…and not freaking out. I’m not inappropriately freaked out…only about a 5. That seems reasonable…given the circumstances. I did stop googling. My mind is very distracted this week on its own…I don’t need to encourage it by being sucked down the google black hole.

I need extra awareness this week. Awareness of my interactions with myself and with others. Awareness of my anxiety. Awareness of my capacity and willingness to love. Awareness of kindness I can offer to myself and others. I didn’t do anything to make this happen so being angry at myself seems unhelpful. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people…and that includes me.

Gender…To Assign or Not To Assign…That Shouldn’t Be A Question

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

In the past, I suggested that parents should have a three-day waiting period before they can name their baby. It makes sense to get to know someone before you name them. Now, I have another suggestion, and that is that we eliminate the terms male/female, boy/girl from our vocabulary. What would it be like if someone had a baby and when we asked them the “what did you have?” question they answered “a baby” because after all it’s not a puppy. So, we call it a baby and then refer to it as they or them. What if we did that until the baby grew up and decided what they wanted to be called? Or better yet what if we never needed to be called anything? We were all just people with a name. How empowering would that be? The affirmation of gender identity and expressions…and the respect of all people as unique individuals.

Gender is the first label we give a baby. We want to know what our baby is before it’s even born. We’re so excited about assigning gender that we have gender reveal parties…some of which have caused huge fires and lots of destruction…maybe that’s a sign to stop…but I digress. If we meet someone with children we ask, “What do you have?” Well, they’re children of course. Did I not just say that? But that’s not what people want to know. They want to know the assignments…how many boys and how many girls. What would someone do if we just said we had baby or two children or three adult children?

Gender is a made-up distinction created to categorize people. And to prioritize them. Men are valued more than women, so we need to know who’s most important. We put labels on people to put them in neat little boxes for our own comfort…for our own ease of living or thinking or understanding. For our own valuation and control. And we do it from birth. Hell, we do it before birth with our desire to know our baby’s gender before they’re even born. We act like it’s critical that we be assigned a gender but why? It’s only necessary because we say we must have that label…or because we need to assign value. Because that’s what we’re doing we aren’t assigning gender we’re assigning value and worth.

I think everyone should use the pronouns they/them. Then no one would be misgendered. I have been called “sir” many times. Some of the people at my mother’s nursing home asked her if I was her son. Sometimes I just called he or sir. When I was in high school, we were going on vacation I guess and a flight attendant, (then referred to as a stewardess…see how we can change), told my mom she had a nice-looking son. She was so mad at me. I’m not sure exactly why because I didn’t do anything. I tried to make a joke out of it and said, “At least she said I was nice-looking.” I’m pretty sure the reaction I got was that she should have never let me cut my hair.

I hate being called a man. It’s embarrassing and something more…it’s spirit wounding. It’s humiliating. It feels as though I’ve done something wrong…or that I am something wrong. I’m not sure there’s another way to feel less seen than being misgendered. And why do we need to mention gender all? Why can’t we refer to someone as a person instead of a man or a woman? Why must we assign a gender to everything? There’s no reason to add ma’am or sir to a sentence like “can I help you?” My gender has nothing to do with anything…unless you’re only going to help me if I’m a man, and then you have all kinds of problems.

When I was talking with my wife about being misgendered, she said, “It’s because of your hair.” She’s always helpful. My hair is very short, and I could go shorter. Why am I supposed to have long hair? Long hair is very attractive on some people, but I hate it for me. Certainly, more men are growing their hair long…and I don’t understand…it’s so hot. It’s my personal opinion that people assigned male at birth get all the best hair cuts, all the best clothes…definitely all the comfortable clothes. I’ve always been envious. Women’s clothing is too short and too tight…and shoes with 4 inches heels? Seriously? Fuck no!

When I was growing up, I wasn’t allowed to have short hair. My mom made me keep it long and then got mad at me when it was all knotted. She called it a “rat’s nest.” Thanks for that image. The thing is I didn’t sign up for long hair…she did…although her hair was short so that’s confusing. We lived in Wisconsin during my forced long hair period of my life…really it’s just when I realized I couldn’t have short hair. I had to have long hair and, to make it even worse, girls were not allowed to wear pants to school. How fucked up is that? Apparently, I talked to the principal and convinced him to drop that rule. I don’t actually remember. So, the policy changed but not my mom. She still wouldn’t let me wear pants. Fortunately, in the winter it was freezing cold, so girls wore pants under their skirts to keep their legs warm. I did that too. And then instead of taking the pants off when I got to school, I took off the skirt. That way I got to wear pants too…super clever. It didn’t work so well with dresses. Eventually I got to wear pants and in 7th grade I got a haircut…remember the shag? It sounded better than it looked.

There’s some Bible verse that says a woman’s hair is her crown…or some bullshit used to make sure women know their place. The submissive, subservient female always deferring to a man…always. I was accused of hating men once. Why?  Because I’m a lesbian. That’s some bullshit…some so called “Christian” bullshit. Personally, I’m a Buddhist. Buddhist monks and nuns shave their heads. That’s definitely where I belong. How does gender labeling happen in communities where everyone shaves their heads and wear the same robes?

I heard Glennon Doyle talk about gender once on her podcast. She said she feels her gender is something she wears on the outside. She wears her female gender outwardly but doesn’t feel “female” on the inside. I can totally relate to her. I identify myself as female but by societies standards my gender presentation is more male. I like sweats, tennis shoes, and t shirts. My wife says that my shorts are “sweat shorts” not sure that’s a thing. What they are is comfy cotton shorts, men’s shorts because they are longer and looser. I told my mom that tennis shoes are the new dress shoes. She hated that as much as I love it.

I was criticized growing up for not being the right kind of girl or not being enough of a girl. I got the clear message that I was doing something wrong or lacking in some way. When I wore suits for work, I wished I could get men’s suits because they got all the beautiful suits with matching shirts and ties. You will not now or ever see me in a dress, skirt, or high heels…I wouldn’t even be able to stand up in them. When I was in law school, we had to do this argument in front of a mock appellate court. Our mentor person told us that women had to wear skirts or dresses. Now if you know me, you know I don’t speak up much in a group setting, but I told her no. I told her I wouldn’t and that I could not be given a lower grade just because I wore pants. So, I wore a nice jacket with pants, and I got an A. So there. I had a friend tell me once that I just needed to be dressed like GI Joe and I’d be happy…possibly true, but now it’s the older sweats and flip flops version of GI Jane.

We love our labels and categories. Why is pink for girls and blue for boys? My favorite color happens to be blue…although I do look good in a soft, pastel pink. Who makes these rules and why do we follow them? Several years ago, I was asking my grandson what he wanted for Christmas. Besides a skateboard, he wanted a helmet…a purple helmet. Then he added, “not girl purple, boy purple.” Now for him that meant dark purple not lavender. Where did he get the idea that there are boy colors and girl colors? Why am I steered away from dark colors to pastels because I’ve been assigned to the female gender?

I did my best to be gender neutral in toys for my own children and my grandchildren. I did buy my grandson a Mulan doll because he wanted one desperately. He loved it! So much so, he used it as a hammer, and it broke. Some things are beyond stereotypes.

Why do people get so irate over this discussion? Why should anyone care if I want to use the pronouns, they/them? Aside from not being able to classify people the way we want to, why should you care and why should you get an opinion about my identity? You may disagree with me on tons of things…politics, global warming, racism, poverty, any of hundreds of things. What you do not get to disagree with me on is who I am. You don’t get a fucking say in who I am. You don’t get to tell me that we can agree to disagree…fuck no. I say who I am. You have no say, and I don’t need your opinion.

Now Florida, the state that regulates everything but guns, is passing a law stating that you can only identify yourself by the gender you were assigned at birth. WTF!? So, that’s unconstitutional. You can’t make it illegal for me to call myself by the pronouns I choose or to say I am nonbinary or to tell you I’m a female even if I was assigned male at birth. You don’t get to have laws that codify discrimination. Who knows more about who I am, me or a judge? It’s ridiculous that the question even needs to be asked. You don’t get to tell me how I can identify myself. Sorry Florida.

I think it’s too bad that genitalia can be identified at birth, usually. It would be great if it didn’t develop until we were in our teens or maybe at 18 when you’re legally an adult. If they developed later then a child or a teenager could tell you if they were male or female or nonbinary. Or we could just drop gender labels all together since they’re made up. There would be such freedom without gender labels. Maybe we could allow our gender to be fluid and not lose our freaking minds. Why are we so threatened by this?

If I tell you my name is Bob you don’t get to call me Harry, because that’s not who I am. I tell you who I am. You do not get to tell me. If I say I use the pronouns they/them you do not get to call me she/her because I just told you who I am. You do not get to tell me who I am or how I can identify myself. I tell you.

My sexual orientation or gender identity or gender expression is up to me…only me. I know who I am and if you’re lucky I may allow you to know me. I don’t get to tell people that being straight is a sin and they’re going to burn in hell. Why? Because it’s none of my fucking business. And you have no business in my business. You do not get to debate or disagree with my identity. You do not get to tell me that who I am is wrong. We can disagree about all of our opinions all day long. My identity is not opinion. It’s fact. I identify as a woman, and I am a lesbian. That is not up for debate.

Now let’s be real…our world seems to be in a precarious place…our country is for sure. It’s time to stand up and speak out. If we stand by and do nothing, we are complicit in allowing laws like Florida is passing to become the accepted standard. What about all the children growing up and restricted from expressing their authentic selves? What about being judged and told that who you are is wrong? LGBTQ+ youth are FOUR times more likely to attempt suicide than their peers! How many lives do we need to destroy before we, as a country, pull our heads out of our collective asses and stand up for individuality? Why do we not understand you cannot legislate who people are? I thought republicans were against the government being involved in everything…well back the fuck off.

Our country runs on fear. Fear of “others” whoever that is. You don’t understand why I’m gay or why I’m nonbinary, so you won’t allow it. Make a law. The thing is it’s not up for you to allow or not allow. This country was founded on freedom…the freedom for people to be who they are or who they strive to be. What happened to that attitude. We can not legislate everything that we’re told to be afraid of, like people who are “different” in their expressions of who they are. We’re all different in our own ways.

I have a couple suggestions…why don’t we follow this sage advice, “if you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all.” Wouldn’t that be refreshing? It would be amazing. And how about, “treat others the way you want to be treated.” That’s a rule I can live with. Let’s make those laws. And finally, can we not just be kind and loving. I guarantee that no one will be turned away from heaven for loving people who are gay, or lesbian, bi, nonbinary, trans, drag queens (who are performing artists by the way), or straight…yes, some straight people are hard to love.

Remember that in the end all that matters is how we love people…because love is going to win. It always does.