So, I got deleted on Facebook

Over the past few months I’ve found myself reading biographies on people that lived well before modern times. One of the things that struck me as particularly interesting was the way writers went about gathering information on their subjects. There were no TV interviews to watch, no documents left behind on the internet, and no living relatives to interview. The best way to learn about the subjects was through the letters they left behind.

Because fame is right around the corner for me and biographies on my life will be in great demand 100 years from now, I thought that leaving behind a trail of letters (digital though they may be) sounded like a great idea. In my opinion, letters are the most illuminating form of communication we have and the idea of experimenting with that was too intriguing to pass over. My younger sister, Lauren, will be participating in an ongoing letter share with me. Where it goes and what we learn about one another I have no idea. Follow along and find out with us.


Dear long lost older brother of mine,

How are you? Sorry my lack of response lately. No one could have prepared me for what being a single working parent is truly like. Coming to work is my break from life. That’s so sad. Who goes to work for a break? We are a quarter of the way done with the deployment. I can only pray that the next 3 quarters go as quickly as the first one.

So, I got deleted on Facebook yesterday. I’m sure people have unfriended me before or have hidden my posts but I never noticed it so soon. I went to go back to read a the thread I was commenting on and bam, it was gone. I wasn’t hurt…it actually made me laugh. Every morning when I drop Emma off at school we tend to have the same conversation. I tell her to have fun, be good, and learn as much as she can. But I always send her off to school by saying “Be nice to everyone. If you see someone being treated poorly, stand up for them.” That’s exactly what I got deleted for. Standing up for someone.

After every major event, this particular person has gotten onto Facebook to post her controversial opinions. First it was that it was wrong for President Obama to say that the people murdered in Orlando should be able to go to a bar as a place of empowerment or solidarity….they should go to church. She also stated that drinking and being in a bar leads to nothing but destruction and the ruining of families. Then she posted about white privilege and black lives matter (When I called her out on this yesterday, she actually had the nerve to say that black thug lives do not matter but all else do). Yesterday’s post was the final straw for me. Her post started with “I find all this gender equality nauseating” and then she went into a rant about women going off to war.

Sometimes I wonder how she and I grew up in the same area. I mean we saw pretty much the same things in our small town. But after stewing on the insane Facebook post that night I learned it truly comes down to how differently our parents raised us.

I can remember Emma telling a group of people about something that happened in Kindergarten. I don’t remember who it was but someone asked her what color one of the kids she was talking about was. Emma looked at them and asked “what do you mean?” They had to explain that some people have lighter skin and some have darker. It wasn’t until then that I realized kids have no idea that they’re different from each other. Someone has to tell them that they are.

When I read posts like hers…and several others on Facebook….I realize how far our country still has to go. It breaks my heart that people still think the way that she does. I’m not gay or black or a woman that wants to fight the front lines of a war. But I will stand up and fight for those that are gay. They are human. They were conceived the same as you and I were. If they find solidarity and empowerment in a bar, I’m glad they have a place to go to feel accepted. I will stand up and fight for black people when I read ridiculous comments that say that black people should just continue to smoke newports and eat hot Cheetos. And if one day, Emma comes home and says she wants to be just like her daddy and fight in the front lines of a war, I’ll be damned if someone tells her she can’t.

But what do I know? I’m just a liberal minded woman who thinks that all humans, gay or straight, black or white, man or woman, should be treated equally. I don’t stand for closet racism or sexism. I’d like to tell her that I’ll pray for her…that I pray her daughters don’t grow up to be lesbians, fall in love with a black man, or want to fight for our country….but she probably doesn’t want me to because my God tells me to love thy neighbor regardless of what they look like.

Now…where did I put my glass of destruction….I mean, wine.


1 Comment

  1. //

    Agree with you100%!!!!!!

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