First off, I think this poem is morbidly mis-titled. I believe the title should be not “Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus” but “Why I hate the Church, But Love Jesus”. Why? Because the poet believes in the religion and is religious and criticizes what goes on inside the church, especially the habits of its members. Quite simply, it's your beliefs and how you implement them within your behaviors. In learning religion, he learns Jesus and his doings and has improved himself, which I believe you are supposed to do.
Secondly, his criticism of the Republican Party is out of place. He does not elaborate “why Republican doesn’t mean Christian”. If someone completely out-of-touch with government heard this, they have a preconceived notion before they do research. Luckily, I know that Republicans are currently and overwhelmingly pro-life and anti-homosexual, or better yet, against gay marriage. (Notice I did not say homophobic, but that’s another topic for another time….. Maybe? Yes?) They often defend their beliefs with Bible scriptures but people can defend almost anything with religion. And yes, though they believe these things are wrong and criticize them, Republicans are far from perfect. (In this sense, the poet and I may agree.)
3) “I mean if religion is so great, why has it started so many wars?” One word: intolerance. And religion doesn’t make people intolerant. Lack of patience and close-mindedness makes you intolerant.
4) “Why does it build huge churches, but fails to feed the poor?” Good point. I get tired of seeing preachers, pastors, etc. driving cars that would cover my year’s tuition but will not give dime nor dollar to the United Negro College Fund (UNCF).
5) “See the problem with religion, is it never gets to the core
It's just behavior modification, like a long list of chores”
While religion is “behavior modification”, it serves a higher purpose. It aims to change or improve a set of behaviors in hopes that you will learn something. Sometimes “Fake it ‘til you make it” works. But you must fool yourself. No, I don’t believe in fooling yourself into thinking you’re perfect. I’d say that religion is less of wrapping a mummy and moreso wrapping a leg (or a body) in a cast. It heals. It improves in nature.
Participating in religion should be like dressing for success. You must dress like you you belong to something better and you should act accordingly while learning. While learning, help other along the way. Sometimes that involves some constructive criticism: of self and others.
6) “But now that I know Jesus, I boast in my weakness” He may have learned but the voice in which his poem is delivered sounds so judgmental whether he says he isn’t or not.
7) “But if Jesus came to your church would they actually let him in
See remember he was called a glutton, and a drunkard by religious men” I believe the church would let him in if he expressed the desire to change. The glutton or drunkard must be called, (ya know, like Jesus said he was by God, not that he was a drunk or anything) and not forced into church like the self-righteous men are. I find that the self-righteous are forced into church and then think they’re better simply for their attendance. All those who offer help aren’t perfect but that doesn’t make them wrong for offering help.
8) Religion is a “manmade invention”. Yes, but it’s a progression on mankind’s behalf. Someone had to see the light! And that person may not have necessarily been or be self-righteous. It’s the work of God.
9) “Religion says “slave”, Jesus says “son”’. But we are God’s children and parents teach children to WORK. You are god’s vessel to be worked with and through.
Aren’t we “made in His image?” Shouldn’t we act like it too?
10) “Not based in merits but Jesus’ obedience alone.” We his children and we must obey.
I know this is probably way over 300 words…. I just had to get it all out.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
My Besties
I was looking for somewhere to fit in. I was in 7th grade a Thurgood Marshall Middle School. After homeroom, there was Literacy class, a useless part of my schedule that everyone had to take. It was mandated by the new superintendent to get students to read on their grade level. But I was beyond my grade level and there was a class for us too. "Post-High School", or PHS, they called it. I was in Honors classes and so were a lot of people from my homeroom and all the other Honors classes.
First, I met Kendalisia. I call her Ken for short. We had to form reading groups and Ken was the only other girl in my group. The books our group read were boring so we found time to talk. Well, I found time to talk. I asked Kendalisia just about any question I could ask: her favorite foods, television shows, her love life (for a 12 year old, ha!). To this day, when we speak of how our friendship started, Ken says, ”You were so friendly. And you just talked and talked and talked my head off to the point where I just couldn’t be mean to you.” I’m glad I never stopped talking. I’m glad we never stopped talking.
Next, I met Quaashie. She was in my homeroom too. We’d chatted a few times in passing and I found her interesting. One thing I definitely found cool about Quaashie was that she was a cheerleader. But she wasn’t mean or snooty like the ones portrayed on television. After one of our afterschool dances, we traded pictures we took with our telephone numbers scribbled on the back. We began talking and I felt us growing closer.
Soon, I began to wonder “Who is my best friend? Ken or Quaashie?” Upon my contemplation one day, I was walking to lunch and I saw them walking, chatting and laughing together. I smiled and walked up to them, realizing that I didn’t have to have just one.
First, I met Kendalisia. I call her Ken for short. We had to form reading groups and Ken was the only other girl in my group. The books our group read were boring so we found time to talk. Well, I found time to talk. I asked Kendalisia just about any question I could ask: her favorite foods, television shows, her love life (for a 12 year old, ha!). To this day, when we speak of how our friendship started, Ken says, ”You were so friendly. And you just talked and talked and talked my head off to the point where I just couldn’t be mean to you.” I’m glad I never stopped talking. I’m glad we never stopped talking.
Next, I met Quaashie. She was in my homeroom too. We’d chatted a few times in passing and I found her interesting. One thing I definitely found cool about Quaashie was that she was a cheerleader. But she wasn’t mean or snooty like the ones portrayed on television. After one of our afterschool dances, we traded pictures we took with our telephone numbers scribbled on the back. We began talking and I felt us growing closer.
Soon, I began to wonder “Who is my best friend? Ken or Quaashie?” Upon my contemplation one day, I was walking to lunch and I saw them walking, chatting and laughing together. I smiled and walked up to them, realizing that I didn’t have to have just one.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Service
"Seek to serve." -Wendell Pierce, Loyola University New Orleans 2011 Commencement Exercise
I never really “sought to serve”. Service kind of found me.
My mother was always what I would consider to be an “involved parent.” From elementary school, she always came to open house, report card conferences, and the PTA meetings at school. She started by becoming treasurer of PTA and soon after, she became the president. I saw my mom at my school a lot. Some of my classmates thought she worked at my school. It wasn’t her job but she made it an obligation. She wanted to make sure other people’s children were taken care of as well as her own.
Eventually she began to put me to work. I’d wake up with her on the mornings of the school health fair or the annual spring fair and help out. Along with the other volunteers, I’d take out all the prizes, sweets and help prepare some of the hot food. And it felt good. I knew I was a part in bringing together the end result. I could get nachos from the food stand knowing I’d helped pour the cheese into the crock pot. I could win suckers from the sucker pull knowing I’d marked them with the dots and stuck them into the Styrofoam board.
I just liked getting things done. I could appreciate their impact. There’s no doubt my mother’s dedication to service has impacted my work ethic. I’ve been active in many service organizations in my career as a student. I’ve tutored kids and watched their grades improve, fed the hungry with Interact Club, given toys to tots with student council and by far the organization I am proudest of is my sorority, Alpha Kappa Alpha. The last five words of our purpose says it all: “service to all mankind”.
I never really “sought to serve”. Service kind of found me.
My mother was always what I would consider to be an “involved parent.” From elementary school, she always came to open house, report card conferences, and the PTA meetings at school. She started by becoming treasurer of PTA and soon after, she became the president. I saw my mom at my school a lot. Some of my classmates thought she worked at my school. It wasn’t her job but she made it an obligation. She wanted to make sure other people’s children were taken care of as well as her own.
Eventually she began to put me to work. I’d wake up with her on the mornings of the school health fair or the annual spring fair and help out. Along with the other volunteers, I’d take out all the prizes, sweets and help prepare some of the hot food. And it felt good. I knew I was a part in bringing together the end result. I could get nachos from the food stand knowing I’d helped pour the cheese into the crock pot. I could win suckers from the sucker pull knowing I’d marked them with the dots and stuck them into the Styrofoam board.
I just liked getting things done. I could appreciate their impact. There’s no doubt my mother’s dedication to service has impacted my work ethic. I’ve been active in many service organizations in my career as a student. I’ve tutored kids and watched their grades improve, fed the hungry with Interact Club, given toys to tots with student council and by far the organization I am proudest of is my sorority, Alpha Kappa Alpha. The last five words of our purpose says it all: “service to all mankind”.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
The Principles of the Principal
It was a Tuesday morning and I was in a meeting for student council at Warren Easton Senior High. My fellow council members and I sat in the library waiting. The president was covering the normal order of business but that’s not what I was waiting for. I was waiting for the principal. Today was the day I had been waiting for.
Why that day? Because the principal, Alexina Medley, had agreed to attend the meeting and answer any questions brought to her by the student council. Some students began with simple questions about dances and student activities. She seems fine with answering those. Next, I stood up. The council’s advisor looked at me, knowing what was coming.
“Is it possible to raise the retention average for students to attend the school?”
“No.”
“Why not? With a charter, aren’t we a self-governing school? Why can’t we have stricter requirements?”
The council seemed to be humming approval with someone even adding in the fact that the school was “letting anybody in.”
Mrs. Medley then went on to question me about what I thought was wrong. I pointed out that the poor conduct amongst students that had low grades was becoming the first impression of people who visited the school.
From there, she seemed angry.
Next, she snapped, “Well what are you doing to fix it? You have good grades. Why can’t you tutor?”
“I do tutor students. But I’m still a student and I’m only one person and only one other teacher at this school offers tutoring. We need to do something. The school retention average is a 1.75. That’s a D average and barely passing. What about a 2.0? That’s a C.”
“No.”
“Why? Can’t we expect average from our students?”
She then went on with a jargon-filled speech about state requirements. The fact that it took her so long to simply tell me why was suspicious to me. At this point the answer she gave just seemed like an excuse and I wanted more. I tried to keep questioning but the meeting time was running over.
As simple as this may seem, I felt like I challenged her way of thinking that day. And it’s probably one of the most “outrageous” or crazy, things I have ever done.
Why that day? Because the principal, Alexina Medley, had agreed to attend the meeting and answer any questions brought to her by the student council. Some students began with simple questions about dances and student activities. She seems fine with answering those. Next, I stood up. The council’s advisor looked at me, knowing what was coming.
“Is it possible to raise the retention average for students to attend the school?”
“No.”
“Why not? With a charter, aren’t we a self-governing school? Why can’t we have stricter requirements?”
The council seemed to be humming approval with someone even adding in the fact that the school was “letting anybody in.”
Mrs. Medley then went on to question me about what I thought was wrong. I pointed out that the poor conduct amongst students that had low grades was becoming the first impression of people who visited the school.
From there, she seemed angry.
Next, she snapped, “Well what are you doing to fix it? You have good grades. Why can’t you tutor?”
“I do tutor students. But I’m still a student and I’m only one person and only one other teacher at this school offers tutoring. We need to do something. The school retention average is a 1.75. That’s a D average and barely passing. What about a 2.0? That’s a C.”
“No.”
“Why? Can’t we expect average from our students?”
She then went on with a jargon-filled speech about state requirements. The fact that it took her so long to simply tell me why was suspicious to me. At this point the answer she gave just seemed like an excuse and I wanted more. I tried to keep questioning but the meeting time was running over.
As simple as this may seem, I felt like I challenged her way of thinking that day. And it’s probably one of the most “outrageous” or crazy, things I have ever done.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Home is where the heart is.
As a college student, I think a lot about the future. I see the world I live in today and wonder how it shapes tomorrow. I evaluate my relationship with friends, family, and colleagues. I think about where I’ll be in five or ten years. I know I want the “American Dream”. I want to make a family of my own with a husband, kids, a nice house and a dog (or three). I want freedom with opportunity of success and prosperity. Some of these things are material and worldly but I’m fine with that. What I do worry about is where it will all take place.
New Orleans is has been my home since I was born. It’s a great city and I love it. I love it when people come to New Orleans and gush about “the food and the culture and oh! The rich history!” I can appreciate it but I know that’s not the only side of New Orleans.
I know it’s a dangerous place; one of the most dangerous places in the country. It probably beats out some major cities internationally. I’ve watched the news as a child and seen New Orleans repeatedly take the title of “murder capitol.” It’s shameful and startling.
I also know its schools aren’t the best. People are always talking about how corrupt the public school system is and how the children can’t get a valuable education because all people want to do is stuff their pockets. I’ve seen teachers be torn between leaving the students they love and having a better job. Finally, I’ve been places where people assume I’m stupid once I tell them what city I’m from.
I also worry about finding a job. The economy isn’t good right now. I’ve watched family members struggle to find work. It’s also discouraging when I see friends and family leave the city once they’ve decided that New Orleans has “no opportunity”.
I’m worried. With my plans, I think: Do I want to go through this here? Am I putting my life in danger for the city I love? Is this how I want to raise my children? Will it get better?
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