White Privilege Systemic Eradication of the Other

clouds overhead in atlanta sept 1 - Copy

I missed my trauma therapy appointment for the 3rd week in a row today and it’s showing through the cracks of my face, my hands, my mouth, my eyes, my voice… is cracking.

My primary diagnosis nowadays is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and so I wondered that my experienced childhood trauma has been exceeded by the adult trauma experienced living in the US as an out Gender Queer, polarized and profiled resistant, non risk averse woman of color raised on Queer Nation, ACT UP and fuck you bitch, stand beside me or step the fuck aside in yo face since my 20s.

Systemic White Privileged oppression, abuses, discrimination and hatefulness toward eradicating otherness based on race, culture, gender identity and/or presentation, color of skin and reversed discrimination of fair skinned people in a predominantly Black region (Atlanta, Georgia) pisses me off. It pisses me the fuck off, actually.

I often tell people that No, I do not believe in the premise and inherently false US Community Public Mental Health System, nor will I admit Mental Illness exists. The disease versus pussy recovery oriented system of care is the very basis of my work around behavioral health integration, mental diversity, substance use, isolationist first responder mobile crisis intervention (MH/SA) and finally, how I categorically espouse for  US Peer Workforce.

The hate I feel towards me when I walk into a predominantly white or BLACK environment in Atlanta is so thick, I can cut it with a brand new X-Acto Blade and leave marks, cuts of blood so deep it won’t bleed.

I listen to “Penthouse Floor” a lot and will rebel yell Resist, Fight, Fuck You in your face with my co-horts but to be reversed discriminated against because of my Queerness and because I’m not Black puts me into a position of being hated, feared, dismissed. My education, class, verbal upper class White Yankee, nay, Surfer Dude confuses, I admit.

We either work together against the real scourge of hate in 2017 or we don’t.

You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, either.

I dare you to walk your talk. Be transparent. Authentic. Speak your truth.

It’s now or never.

Step up or step aside.

color

The issue of color is an interesting thing to think of.

I experiment a lot with painting and while it seems as though I criss-cross with texture, oiling it up, glossily, sloppily, with slippery new paint colors, look at the above painting Triptych 1 acrylic on canvas 18 x 36″ (c) 2017 that I painted last night.

 

My early morning dialogue with Dr. Dan Fisher ended up with “dialogue” 12 x 12″ (left above) and another 3 cocks on a beach digital redux (Barnabe & Padron, (c) 2017) (right above) is filmic work.

3 on a beach CU gray

Close Up of 3 cocks in gray on a beach shows reds, golds, whites, yellows Barnabe & Padron (c) 2017 digital work.

My first acrylic on wood “bug” (c) 2014 confirmed my like and predilection for working with wood because the surface is like hot molten volcanic lava that turns the paint into clay.

bug

i like the color blue. it reminds me of nothing but her saying her favorite color is arctic blue like “blue triptych” acrylic on canvas 18 x 36″ Barnabe & Padron (c) 2017 digital work:

blue triptych

and of this same Triptych 1, is Yellow Tower (c) 2017

yellow tower

architecture rings true, too with more blues, greens, aquas, white and greys in “buckhead skyline and flag” photo original (c) 2016

cropped-atlanta-building-jen-padron-photo.jpg

and this dreamy atlanta skyline original photo (c) 2016

atlanta-september-sunday

3 in red triptych (c) 2017 Triptych 1, acrylic with reds, blacks, purples, blues, yellow, green

red 2 triptych 4 cocks on a canvas

on my Top 3 list is this study of yellows and golds and blacks and reds (c) 2015

cropped-abstract-mistake.jpg

intimate love

if you watch her walk, there’s a very slight limp when she puts weight on her left hip. it endears her to me. i watch. entranced. hips and full ass swinging left and right, forward. i love watching her walk. she is fantasy in motion. she is sleeping beauty awake and at last, here.

there is much, maybe too much – discernment about intimacy on my mind.

how to.

do it.

how to.

live peacefully.

is it possible.

language of love

dear diary 3.0 | reflecting

 

I’m pretty surprised, yes, at certain new developments in the national community interested in Peer Supports. What came on hard and furious to nil communication startles me into a general quiet stupor around my US Teacher P2P model of adapting the Certified Peer Specialist certification into an on the ground Transition Age Youth model designed to provide for wrap around supports to both: educator and student.

I am reserving the right to comment on the grotesque business as usual sense of usury in place apparently and a general all-pervading desperation that is a deep seeded interest to improve systems of care environments in the field of Education.

 

Dear Diary 2.0

 

I feel so loved right now.

black dress
saturday, 3.16.19

“One angel to another… this place is hell…” (Padron Quip, 2019)

“I’d be good for nothing like Goodfernuthin Joe, too, I know… ain’t a woman just like that…” (Lena Horne, 1934)

I have been sick with Bronchitis. Shout out to my cool peeps at work who have been so great to and for me. I am pretty lucky.

Screwing the legs onto the painted panels making 1 table for someone pretty excited about it. Two layers of clear gloss polyurethane to protect the paint.

Got into a national conference to present a paper for 30 minutes and an hour workshop in Santa Fe this August that I am really looking forward to working on more, making them excellent to learn see hear.

Were it not for the struggle, I wonder if the end product would be as sweet.

Dear Diary 1.0 + Reading List

Dear Diary,

You know, I can probably quote the entire monologue for Woody Allen’s immortal close with Leonard Bernstein’s “Rhapsody In Blue” rising to full pitch in the background in his masterpiece, Manhattan.

Chapter One

He was as tough and as rough as the city he loved. New York was his town and it always would be.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Dwtw_ruzy8

My geekiness is deeply rooted in Woody Allen self-deprecation films that I grew up with in a deeply impressionable period of my artistic development ;). I like Gershwin. I love Bernstein. Diane Keaton. Standards. Black and White. Trains. WW2 “he said dju, dju, not did jou…” antisemitic rants that cast a laugh and want for more. I love Woody Allen (1968-1996).

I’m going to write to  Dear Diary and number each sequentially going forward (e.g., Tonight’s blog entry is simply: “Dear Diary 1.0”.

Tonight’s is simply thus:

Gender Fluidity, Male, Opposite, Other, honoring self-identified Pronouns (esp. They, Them, Their”, When your most recent ex begins dating again, Being sick alone in a house bereft of my lover week-days… that seep into longer week nights, and that my attempts to live in this house is deeply rooted in art + intention, thinking about Portland and Seattle tonight, writing, film, making

Reading List

reading list diary 1.0.jpg

Night Falls Fast | Dr. Kay Redfield Jamison

Night Falls Fast is tragically timely: suicide has become one of the most common killers of Americans between the ages of fifteen and forty-five.

An internationally acknowledged authority on depressive illnesses, Dr. Jamison has also known suicide firsthand: after years of struggling with manic-depression, she tried at age twenty-eight to kill herself. Weaving together a historical and scientific exploration of the subject with personal essays on individual suicides, she brings not only her remarkable compassion and literary skill but also all of her knowledge and research to bear on this devastating problem. This is a book that helps us to understand the suicidal mind, to recognize and come to the aid of those at risk, and to comprehend the profound effects on those left behind. It is critical reading for parents, educators, and anyone wanting to understand this tragic epidemic.”

[Amazon.com, 3.11.19]

Suicidology. Death. Dying. The journey. Stephen Jenkinson in “Die…” (2018) infers that to make peace with one’s death, you must be friends with the journey. To die a good death, at least

Tryptich, acrylic on heavy canvas 3 panels of 16x21x2 (2019)

I’m also reading a rather Catholic funeral miselette that I must have kept since either my mother’s death or my sister’s death from the Partners – Sorensen Mortuary & Crematory, California.