#jim gray

In the 1920s, a series of greed-based, racially charged murders of members of the oil-wealthy Osage Nation occurred in Oklahoma. (The linked article is a gift 🎁 link, so anyone can read the entire article, even if they do not subscribe to The New York Times.)

The article's authors, Jim Gray and David Grann, also point out how legislatures in red states like Oklahoma have created laws that are being used to prevent the teaching of significant racist incidents in American history for fear that it could be implied that students are being taught that they "'should feel discomfort, guilt, anguish or any other form of psychological distress' on account of their race or sex." Consequently, teaching about the Reign of Terror against the Osage Nation is being stifled in some Oklahoma schools.

Here is a video about the murders.

.Below are some excerpts from the article:

During the early 20th century, members of the Osage Nation in Oklahoma were systematically murdered by white settlers. Yet outside the Osage Nation, the history of this racial injustice — one of the worst in American history — was distorted and then largely erased from memory. “Killers of the Flower Moon,” a film directed by Martin Scorsese, shines an extraordinary light on these events and provides a long overdue opportunity to restore them in our consciousness. But ironically, at the same time that the film is being released, there is a new attempt to suppress the teaching of this very history in the state where it took place. In 2021 the Oklahoma Legislature passed a bill prohibiting teachers in public school from instructing several concepts, including that “any individual should feel discomfort, guilt, anguish or any other form of psychological distress” on account of their race or sex. The vagueness of the law has caused teachers to censor themselves, for fear of losing their licenses or their school’s accreditation. In a high school classroom in Dewey, Okla., copies of “Killers of the Flower Moon,” the nonfiction book behind the film, were left unread because the teacher worried about running afoul of the law. Another teacher confessed that she was uncertain if she could refer to the settlers who murdered the Osage as white. At stake in these fights is not only factual accuracy. It is also how new generations will be taught to record and remember the past — both the good and the bad — so that they can learn to make their own history. The story of what’s now called the Osage Reign of Terror is essential to understanding America’s past. After vast oil deposits were discovered under their lands, the Osage were suddenly, by the 1920s, among the wealthiest people per capita in the world. In the year 1923 alone, the roughly 2,000 Osage on the tribal roll received a total of more than $30 million, the equivalent today of more than $400 million. As their wealth increased, though, it unleashed an insidious backlash across the country. The U.S. government passed legislation requiring many Osage to have white guardians to manage their fortunes — a system that was both abhorrently racist and widely corrupt. Then the Osage began to die under mysterious circumstances: There were shootings, poisonings and even a bombing. [color emphasis added]

I encourage you to read the entire article. It is tragic that red states are so afraid of their racist past that they are making it extremely difficult for children in those states to learn about the racist underbelly of American history, and how that history continues to reverberate in our society.

Italian actress, Gina Lollobrigida during the fitting of an evening dress, at the Christian Dior (Marc Bohan) showroom in the West End of London, September 4, 1963.

@hp-12monthsofmagic

Another submission for the "Life's a Witch" theme of the month. When I found out Mother's Day in the UK is in March, this scene wouldn't leave me alone. <3

03/13/1988 7:33 AM Boulder, Colorado, USA

Orele could swear she had never been so tired.

Her alarm had already gone off on its stand across the room but, since she woke up to find herself alone in bed, she wordlessly snapped her fingers to turn it off.

It was only a Sunday, but she had generally prided herself on being up before the two other occupants of the house. It was both a duty and curse… that she just didn’t have the energy for at that moment.

Her own mother used to always say what a blessing it was to raise her and her brother. However, Mrs. Olivia Ollivander never had a daughter spawned from a feared Dark wizard.

From the moment she could talk, Melody had been brilliant — her mental capacity a good ten paces ahead of other children her age.

Orele had originally assumed this would work in her favor, that Melody would be — for lack of a better word — more civilized than her biological father ever could have been.

How wrong she was.

It began with kindergarten, being called to the teacher’s classroom because Melody would openly state how other students had a lack of intelligence for not being able to solve their classwork as well as she could.

Orele first attributed it to the fact that five year olds were generally blunt with honesty, where they didn’t yet understand how the truth hurts sometimes, and that it could even be the case for a prodigy such as herself. So she had a small discussion with her about keeping her opinions to herself, and thought that would be the end of it.

Only it wasn’t. Melody continued, getting worse with every following week that she just couldn’t bear holding in her judgments. Orele had been called up to the elementary school at least fifty times more than her own parents had been called to Hogwarts. And that said a lot because it only happened twice.

For her current school year in second grade, Orele had been called in much less — for which she was beyond grateful — but it didn’t make the visits any less taxing. She still had to walk in every week or every other week, and deal with the messes her daughter created with just words. Words.

Even worse was trying to keep it all from her Muggle husband, who she was sure would question where ‘their daughter’ got such an extreme superiority complex.

Of course, she also wasn’t entirely sure he’d overthink it anyway. Considering the only qualities Melody took from Orele were her silvery gray eyes and fair skin… and her straight brown hair could really be attributed to either one of them despite Orele’s being curly. Other than those, her physical features shared no similarities. Her nose was too small and her chin was too short.

The differences were so noticeable — at least to her — that she felt she would have at least attempted to question it if she were in Jim’s shoes. But she wasn’t. He never said anything, and she didn’t have the affinity for Legilimency to figure it out.

Not that she was complaining about his obliviousness, however. Everything was hard, but that side of him definitely made it all simpler than it could have been. Only problem was that all of it sometimes made her wish she hadn’t decided to handle it all alone.

Oh, Tom… she pined thoughtfully, draping her arm over her eyes… if only things could have been different.

The sound of the door creaking open did nothing to make her get out of her slump, but the aroma of bacon, eggs and coffee did.

She sat up quickly, dropping her arm to her side only to be astounded by the sight of Melody walking in, dwarfed by the size of the platter in her arms. Jim followed directly behind her, bent over at the ready in case she was ever on the verge of dropping everything.

“Morning, Love,” he said affectionately.

“What’s all this?” she asked, staring open-mouthed between the two of them. It wasn’t often she could be surprised, and this occasion took the cake.

Jim helped Melody lift the tray onto the bed, holding onto it while she jumped up and finished the job of setting it over Orele’s lap. Orele eyed the look of concentration on her little girl’s face as she did so, mentally comparing it to Tom’s — though, admittedly, it didn’t count for much considering how mangled his appearance had become by the time she met him — Melody definitely had his face, and yet…. Orele had never seen that expression on either one of them before.

With the tray before her, she saw the amount of effort they had put into it. On the plate were two lopsided sunny-side up eggs, a small sausage patty for the nose and strips of bacon set up to look like a curved smile. In a small mug with red heart designs was a cup of coffee which — now that it was directly in front of her — had a hint of vanilla added to its scent.

Orele didn’t even realize her mouth was open, but she swiftly shut it to glance expectantly at the two of them. Her question still remained unanswered.

“Go on, Sweetheart,” Jim nudged Melody reassuringly. “Tell her your idea.”

“Idea?” Orele repeated with wide eyes.

With a shrug, Melody’s eyes were trained on the tray between them as she explained, “I’ve — uhm — been seeing you look so exhausted lately, so I did some research.”

A small smile escaped Orele at Melody’s admittance that she felt the need to look up a way to help her feel better. With the unexpected care that she’d put into planning for this morning, getting up earlier than she ever cared to, Orele’s morning was brightening up already.

“And… according to some studies, exhaustion can be cured with appreciation… so I asked dad for help.”

Jim nodded vigorously beside the bed, his grin showing just how much pride he took in Melody’s need for his assistance.

“As for the right timing, I also found out today is Mother’s Day in the UK. I figure it’s better to celebrate now — besides, May is my month.”

Orele laughed, thankful for the little joke so the burning sensation at the corners of her eyes could go away.

Spurred on by her laugh, Melody smiled and looked up at her. “So happy mother’s day.”

Reaching forward, Orele latched onto her hand, mouthing the words “thank you” when her voice failed her.

Jim sat down at the edge of the bed, “What’s the other thing we talked about, Sweetheart?”

“Oh, right,” Melody shook her head jarringly. “I’m suppose to say how much we lo —”

“— Uh uh,” Jim interrupted, “that’s not what we discussed. It’s only supposed to come from you — not ‘we.’”

“But —!”

“No. I can say it just fine on my own. This is your gift coming from you. Do it for your beautiful mother.” Jim smiled apologetically at Orele, giving a small wink. “You’d swear we have a teenager instead of a seven year old.”

Melody rolled her eyes, “Come on, I’m only two months away from turning eight. I think we’re past calling me seven.”

“Noted,” he replied humorously. “Now, no more stalling. It’s time to top your gift off with a sweet cherry.”

While Melody pouted over her failed attempt at changing the subject, Orele looked on at their gentle bickering with awe. Jim spent much of his time working, even on the weekends, so his alone time with Melody was sparse if ever. And yet, he’d managed to bond with her outside of Orele’s direct involvement or knowledge… and didn’t seem to have come across the same issues her school did.

Matters of love and relationships continued to amaze her. And she knew she was going to be shocked even further if he managed to get Melody to say three magical words to her.

“Okay, okay,” the young girl sighed, turning back to Orele with cheeks tinted pink. Rolling her lips, she opted to crawl around the tray and wrap her arms around Orele’s stomach. Burying her face in her chest, her words muffled out, “I… love you. Thank you for being here for me.”

The tears Orele thought she successfully blocked were freely escaping as she hugged Melody tightly, managing through her shock to reply, “I love you, too.”

Words couldn’t express how it all made her feel. The progress she feared she hadn’t been making just made a turn for the better. It was a good sign that all her hard efforts hadn’t been for nothing. That she could show — even just a smidge — how important love is to a child’s development — especially one who is the product of a product of a love potion.

Melody pulled back, her eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion. “Why are you crying? Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” Orele shook her head, reaching up to push a stray strand of hair from Melody’s face. “These are happy tears. I just — I don’t deserve you two. This surprise is… much like magic. Real and amazing.”

Melody rolled her eyes, “There’s no such thing as magic, mom, stop being weird.”

Orele held back the need to chuckle. So you think, child… so you think.

Jumping off the bed, Melody began walking to the door. “When you finish breakfast, we can watch whatever movies you want. I’ll go pull out your favorites.”

Smiling thoughtfully at her retreating back, Orele nearly jumped when Jim’s thumbs wiped gently at the tears plastered to her cheeks. “Thank you,” she sniffled.

He shook his head with a kind smile. “With everything you do for us, you’re the only one who needs to be thanked today. I know I’ve been working a lot lately, but I will always take a day off for my two favorite girls when they need me.”

“But you’re the one who managed to get her to say —” her retort died out at the sight of his head continuing to gently shake back and forth.

“Everything was all her idea — including that,” Jim admitted. "All I did was help make breakfast and encourage her to accomplish it, because it’s what you’ve been trying to get her to understand. It’s your hard work, so own it.”  He cupped Orele’s cheeks gently between his hands, “It’s your day now, Love. Enjoy it.”

I will while it lasts, she thought as he leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. Because she knew that even with this progress, it wasn’t yet going to stop Melody from being Melody. Not yet. She would still be outspoken at school, and Orele would still have memories to alter to keep Melody from being expelled or suspended.

Citizens who call Delphine by her own name are the ones who think of Delphine as a friend. Citizens who call Delphine "Sheriff" are the ones who think of Delphine as a rival/enemy.

also me: but...

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