Even with the internal explanation that "it's just a metaphor for spiritual warfare," seeing a room full of young kids chanting about blowing someone up while people in tactical gear simulate an execution is profoundly disturbing.
Meanwhile, they scream like slaughtered pigs about Drag Queens reading standard, mainstream children's books in a public library to kids. I don't know about this type of Christianity but if this happened in the Black church I was raised in, that church would be empty as hell cause we would have all grabbed our babies and gotten the F up out of there.
WTF??????? I ain't neva seen no shit like this in a church? Mental illness will often present in a religious/political/sexual context, and we are certainly witnessing that to be true.
The babies are chanting, "Take him out, blow him up." in church??????
This is Kentucky (USA), an evangelical church that organized a mock firing squad execution of immigrants in front of children who attended a summer camp. Pure love for one's neighbor, except if you're black, gay, immigrant, communist, or Muslim, then it's time for the firing squad.
I swear the first state I thought of was Kentucky. I said this has to be Appalachia area of Kentucky or the mountains of TN.
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What do you do to be involved in the community?
Letâs be real â being involved in the community ainât all cookouts, feel-good panels, and Instagram-worthy service projects. Itâs work. Itâs showing up when nobodyâs watching. Itâs caring enough to get uncomfortable.Me? I stay involved by refusing to look away. When somethingâs wrong â injustice, ignorance, neglect â I donât just whisper about itâŚ
For some reason, lately I keep thinking about back when Obama was still President and I went to EMT Academy. It was âboot campâ style, meaning, very strict rules, daily uniform inspections, pushups if you didnât shine your shoes, âyou have 2 minutes to get back on the line in your PE clothesâ and âyou have 2 minutes to get back on the line in your dress uniformâ over and over until everyone could do it in 90 seconds, and literal obstacle courses where we had to carry each other on gurneys to learn how to handle difficult terrain and work as a team.
Anyway on the first day they tell us two things: that the most important thing we need to remember to do is to look out for each otherâs safety, and that theyâre going to break us into 3 squads and each one will need a squad leader. Squad leaders will sit in the very back where they can see the whole squad and will have some added responsibilities and so on. With me being the kind of student that made my friends nickname me Twilight Sparkle, you can imagine my excitement to volunteer.
So on the day they decide to pick squad leaders, they had us do a bunch of drills. Walk here, stand there, do this, do that. Move. Stop. Stand still. Until, in the blaring heat of the afternoon sun on un-shaded asphalt, they had each squad standing in a block facing one way and a line of us squad leader hopefuls in front of them, facing towards them. Both groups were told to stand at attention. Silently sweating perfection of form, if you like rectangles.
I notice the obvious waver of a student in the front row who is trying very hard but is going to pass out if nothing changes.
âSheâs going to go down,â I said, pointing.
No one moved, we werenât allowed to.
âSomeone help her, sheâs going to go down.â
No one moved, we werenât allowed to.
âYOU,â I said, pointing to the student next to the waverer, âHELP HER.â
No one moved, we werenât allowed to. Except the faculty. It was at that moment that one of them stepped in and told the student Iâd directed to help, âGet her to some shade, have her sit down, and bring her some water.â Finally. Allowed to move, the student helped, even while looking confused the whole time.
They never told me why they picked me for squad leader, but this was the only thing I did differently than anyone else in the running for my squad.
Anyway the main moral of the story is that helping out your fellow humans when they are suffering and/or at risk of great harm is more important than following arbitrary rules since arbitrary rules arenât written for emergency situations. And the secondary moral of the story is that most people arenât going to break the arbitrary rules in emergency situations, so you have got to step up yourself.
Summary: When Bucky moves to a new place, he falls in love with the community there
 Written for: @buckybarnesbingo
 Words: 1961
 Square Filled: K2- Found Family
 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x SingleMother!Reader Â
 Warnings: Fluff, mild swearing
 Bucky decided it was time to move out on his own. It was scary and he wasnât sure if he was really ready to do it but it was something that he needed to do. For the first week, Bucky kept to himself. There was still a part of him that was afraid heâd lose his battle with the Winter Soldier and hurt people. That all started to change when he met you.
âŚ
 The first time he saw you, he was heading out the door as you were coming home. You had a young boy holding your hand, excitedly telling you about his day while a girl a little bit older followed behind. You smiled at him as you crossed paths.
 After that, he bumped into you a few times since then, usually making small talk. One afternoon, Bucky was getting his mail as you were coming downstairs in a hurry. In your haste, you missed a step, sending you tumbling down.
 âMy ankle!â you cried out.
 Bucky rushed over to help you, gently assessing the damage. You hissed in pain as he held your ankle. Already it was starting to swell and a purple bruise started to blossom.
 âYou need a doctor to look at thisâŚâ
 âNo! Iâm too busy to get hurt! Iâve got to take Ida her lunch, and make the sandwiches for the menâs workshop and take my kids to their classes and bake for the-theâŚâ
 âI can help you. Let me take you to the doctor and weâll go from thereâŚâ
 There was something in his eyes that made you trust him.
 âAlrightâŚâ
âŚ
 After a visit to the doctor, Bucky took you home to rest. Fortunately, your ankle wasnât broken but it was badly sprained. Bucky helped you get comfortable with your foot elevated before going to take care of the first job on your list. He knocked on the door of the apartment a floor below yours. A small elderly woman answered the door.
 âWho is it? What do you want?â she asked in a Germanic accent.
 âHello, Mrs Rosenburg. My name is Bucky and Iâm helping Y/N take care of a few things since she hurt herself. I have your lunch for youâŚâ
 âAh! I know Y/N. Nice girl. She often brings my lunch,â the woman smiled, ushering Bucky inside.
 You had warned Bucky in advance that Ida liked to have a chat over lunch and she liked to chat a lot. You thought that she may be lonely.
 âYou seem like a nice young man. I have a grandson just about your age,â she mused as she arranged what she needed for lunch.
 âI highly doubt that,â Bucky thought.
 âCan I help you with anything Mrs Rosenburg?â Bucky offered.
 âPlease, call me Ida. Mrs Rosenburg makes me feel so old,â she chuckled.
 Bucky walked over and helped Ida get comfortable at the table and made her a cup of tea. Ida insisted that he make one for himself too.
 âYou remind me a lot of my husband⌠He was so handsome, charming and brave,â she smiled, pointing over to the cupboard full of photographs.
 Bucky walked over and picked up a sepia photo of a young man in a German uniform.
 âNo easy times in those days. He had to hide his faith from those Nazi bastards. Saved a lot of livesâŚâ
 Ida went on to tell Bucky the story of her husband. He was a German-Jewish who was drafted into the army when World War II broke out. Karl used his position as a soldier to help smuggle innocent people out of the country. In turn, Ida would help forge documents to help them on their travels. After the war, Karl and Ida immigrated to America. Their story was kept a secret until recently. Sadly, Karl passed away a year ago. Ida had been mostly on her own ever since. She told Bucky her children and grandchildren had offered to stay with her but she assured them she would be alright.
 âGoodness, look at the time. I must have talked your ear off by now. Youâre welcome to come back any time,â she smiled, taking Buckyâs hand and patting it.
 He smiled and took his leave, making sure Ida was okay before heading out.
âŚ
 Bucky checked to see you were still resting comfortably before he took the sandwiches you had made to the menâs workshop. As he looked around the place, Bucky felt a welcoming atmosphere. A large, burly man with long grey hair tied back in a braid with a beard to match.
 âCan I help you, lad? Are you looking to join?â he asked.
 âIâm here with the sandwiches Y/N made. She hurt her ankle and Iâm helping her out while she gets better,â   Bucky explained.
 âWe know Y/N! Sheâs a fine lass. Grubâs up fellas!â the man bellowed to the others working.
 The men all stopped what they were doing, switched off any machines they were using and headed over to where Bucky was standing with the food. They all swarmed, grabbing a sandwich and taking it to sit down and eat.
 âWhatâs your name?â the burly man asked.
 âBuckyâŚâ
 âNice to meet you, Bucky. Iâm Aaron. Iâm the one who keeps an eye on this sorry lot,â he grinned, making the others laugh.
 âHey, is that arm made of vibranium?â a slim built young man asked from his left.
 âYesâŚâ Bucky started to feel a little self- conscious.
 âThatâs so cool! Iâd love to get a hold of some of that to make some upgrades,â he grinned, pulling up his pants leg to show off a prosthetic leg.
 âIâm Soos, by the way. If ever you need any work done, Iâd be happy to help you out some time,â he smiled.
 âThanks, Soos,â Bucky smiled back. âI should be getting back to Y/N.â
 âAlright. If you want to come back and join us, youâre welcome to come back and do so,â Aaron beamed, giving Bucky a friendly pat on the back.
 Bucky thanked him and headed home.
âŚ
 Bucky helped you do some baking while he waited with you for the kids to come home from school. Under your guidance, he actually produced some pretty good-looking cupcakes and cookies. While you worked, you told him all about your deadbeat ex who ran out on you and the kids. You had been working from home so you could still see your children while making sure you could afford a good life for them. You were also very active in the community. When your kids arrived home from school, they got changed so they could go to their classes. Your daughter put on her karate uniform and your son in ballet tights. Bucky was a little surprised but said nothing. If thatâs the way the kids wanted it, then who was he to judge? You made a quick call to their teaches to let them know in advance of the change in drop off and pickup and informed Bucky of their password system which was an extra form of precaution.
 âNow, listen to Mister Bucky and donât wander away from him, okay?â
 âOkay, mama,â the kids agreed.
 You kissed their heads and let them go on their way.
âŚ
 The whole way to the community centre, your son Dylan asked Bucky many questions while your daughter Sasha quietly followed next to him. Bucky tried to answer all the questions while also including Sasha.
 The classes would be held within an hour of each other so Bucky had plenty of time to wait. He got to know some of the parents while he was waiting, using the password system if they asked and explaining the situation. Bucky was in awe of your children when he watched them in action. Dylan was quite good at ballet and worked well with the little girls in his class. Sasha was the complete opposite in personality to her brother. She was a tough girl who didnât give her competitors a chance. Bucky was completely amazed.
 After the lessons were over, Bucky started walking the children home when he saw a group of boys picking on a skinny kid.
 âHey! Leave him alone!â
 All it took was one glance of seeing Bucky heading in their direction to send the bullies scattering. He walked over and helped the boy to his feet.
 âAre you okay?â Bucky asked, making sure he could stand on his feet.
 The kid puffed his inhaler and adjusted his glasses.
 âIâm okay. Those jerks were giving some ballerinas a hard time so I stepped in⌠Are those Y/Nâs kids?â he asked.
 Bucky smiled a little. This kid reminded him a lot of Steve.
 âThey are. She hurt herself this morning and Iâm helping out until her ankle gets better. Iâm her neighbour, Bucky.â
 âThatâs Kim. He lives in our building too,â Dylan supplied.
 âCan I walk you home, Kim? Itâs starting to get darkâŚâ
 Kim thought for a few moments before nodding. Bucky walked the young man home, meeting his mothers Jade and her wife Marsha. They invited Bucky for dinner to say thank you for what he had done for their son but he politely declined, explaining he had to get back to you. They smiled, admiring his kindness, saying he could join them at any time. Bucky thanked them and walked the kids back to your place.
âŚ
 That was just the start of Buckyâs week. Everyday he stopped by your place, helped make breakfast and get the kids to school. Bucky got any chores done you needed doing and took Ida her lunch. He took care of your every need. You also encouraged him to go out a little, assuring him you would be fine on your own for a little while. Bucky took the time to get to know the people he met a little better, joining the menâs workshop, meeting up with Jade and Marsha and having tea with Ida. In the weeks it took for you to recover, this community had become his family and he would do anything for them. Buckyâs neighbours werenât the only ones he had fallen for; he had also fallen in love with you. He admired the way you were raising two kids on your own and the way you cared for the people around you.
 One afternoon, Bucky stopped by and knocked on your door.
 âHi, Bucky. What brings you here?â you smiled.
 âI⌠these are for you,â he said, handing you a bouquet of beautiful flowers.
 âOh, thank you!â you beamed, taking the flowers and breathing in their sweet fragrance.
 âI got them from Marshaâs flower stall. She made the arrangement herselfâŚâ
 Bucky was starting to become a little flustered.
 âThat was very nice of herâŚâ
 âSheâs great. I was actually wondering if⌠I could ask you out on a dateâŚâ
 âA date?â
 Buckyâs face started to turn pink.
 âYeah⌠I like you a lot, Y/N. Youâre an amazing woman with amazing kids and Iâd really like to go on a date with youâŚâ
 Smiling, you hugged him tight and teared up a little.
 âYou helped me when you didnât have to. You helped to take care of my kids too. I would love to go on a date, Bucky.â
 Bucky smiled and worked out a time that would work best. He couldnât wait. It was thanks to you that he was finally able to face the world again and found a place that he could once again call home.
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Even if we act to erase material poverty, there is another greater task, it is to confront the poverty of satisfaction - purpose and dignity - that afflicts us all.
Too much and for too long, we seemed to have surrendered personal excellence and community values in the mere accumulation of material things. Our Gross National Product, now, is over $800 billion dollars a year, but that Gross National Product - if we judge the United States of America by that - that Gross National Product counts air pollution and cigarette advertising, and ambulances to clear our highways of carnage. It counts special locks for our doors and the jails for the people who break them. It counts the destruction of the redwood and the loss of our natural wonder in chaotic sprawl. It counts napalm and counts nuclear warheads and armored cars for the police to fight the riots in our cities. It counts Whitman's rifle and Speck's knife, and the television programs which glorify violence in order to sell toys to our children.
Yet the gross national product does not allow for the health of our children, the quality of their education or the joy of their play. It does not include the beauty of our poetry or the strength of our marriages, the intelligence of our public debate or the integrity of our public officials. It measures neither our wit nor our courage, neither our wisdom nor our learning, neither our compassion nor our devotion to our country, it measures everything in short, except that which makes life worthwhile. And it can tell us everything about America except why we are proud that we are Americans.
If this is true here at home, so it is true elsewhere in world.
In UK trans social spaces, the emotions I encounter most often are fear, uncertainty and exhaustion. I meet many trans folk stuck stewingâŚ
Anyway, hereâs the article thatâs got me all riled.
& to clarify, it is really good, and Giles is a person I really respect as an activist (Iâve never met her, but her twitter is consistently smart and kind, and she advocates for effective activism. Yes.)
But that doesnât prevent her excellent conclusion - that we need to avoid petty slapfights, and concentrate on building our own power networks - set something off in me thatâs heartbroken.
like, as a person whoâs been through abuse, followed by community exclusion, creating a barrier to transition, homelessness and the like as it currently stands, the idea of these people having more control over my life/security/transition is existentially terrifying. At least when the GIC do it, I can call up my Imaginary Trans Friend and weâll have a laugh about it and feel solidarity and rage in a way thatâs somewhat consoling.
In short: the response to
more mutual aid
is ok, what are we going to do to make those spaces safe, in which people are not made disposable. Like, this is not a vision I am capable of believing in, without someone talking me through how these spaces will be made safe from abusers setting up their little kingdoms and using them to exert the power which they cannot get in cisworld. I see trans people and I feel a sense of threat, and I hear activist language and I hear words which were used to break down my sense of autonomy and safety and embed a sense of shame and terror which never leaves.
What do we do, to make those spaces safe; and like, maybe I should Do Work on this, but my gut feeling is that itâs not possible. Seeing as everywhere I go, and Iâve been to several places, community power seems to attach itself to some of the worst human beings iâve ever met.
