A Lesson in Courage

The past several weeks, as my heart broke watching the news accounts of the Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Eric Garner tragedies and protests, I've been reading "The Invention of Wings" by Sue Monk Kidd. The book takes place in the early 1800s and is a historical novel that intertwines the lives of "Handful," a strong and courageous slave girl, and her reluctant "owner" Sarah. The girls become friends and form a bond that will altar the course of their lives. Though a novel, it is historically accurate. I cringed inside while reading the accounts of cruelty and severe punishment that blacks endured in those times, and then I looked up from my book and wondered how the hell this is still happening.

The book is based on the lives of the real Grimke sisters, two wealthy Southern women who, as children, grew up in a house full of slaves. Sarah and Angelina Grimke saw the horrors and the brutality of the slave life and somehow had the moral compass to do something about it. Against their family's  outcries, they moved to Philadelphia and became the first women abolitionists and feminists, traveling from coast to coast, speaking publicly and writing books about the wrongs of slavery, imploring morality from the public. Their books were burned in the South. Religious leaders spoke out against them, saying it was immoral for women to speak in public. They were made pariahs in their home state of South Carolina, and were threatened with imprisonment if they ever returned. They gave up a life of wealth and riches and let go of their family ties forever in order to continue their work.

History had all but forgotten these women, but thank God Kidd has breathed new life into their story. The Grimke sisters eventually ended up freeing many of the Grimke slaves, and some of those freed slaves' children grew up to continue the work as abolitionists. Just before they died, as old women, the Grimke sisters were amongst a handful of women who showed up to vote, illegally, as a protest. These women, and the generations of black families who survived and endured the unimaginable, have put courage in my heart.

We need more women, and men, like this today. More people to stand up against the racial inequality that still is rampant in our culture. It shocked me, while reading this book, while watching the news, how far we've come, yet how much we haven't changed in our hearts. I am still an eternal optimist. I believe we can, we will, change things...

Yes Virginia, There is Justice in the World

Perhaps one of the greatest gifts I received this Holiday season was a letter I received from the twelve-year-old daughter of a friend. This little girl, Emma, is unbelievably bright and has had to grow up fast, losing her father Scott, our friend, at only five years old. Her mother Denise has done a beautiful job of raising her, and this letter she sent shows how thoughtful and articulate she is. Her words have given me the push I needed to trudge into year three of this ridiculous fight for our Stitch.

Dear Hollye,

I was given a project by my Leadership teacher to write a letter to someone I admire and who I believe possesses courage. I immediately thought of you.

My mom told me the unbelievable fight you have been going through for over three years since you adopted your family dog Stitch….and the lawsuit against you demanding the dog back, asking over $25,000 for the dog they neglected.

Instead of returning Stitch to this horrible person, you chose to fight to keep this little dog that had become part of your family. You could have given Stitch to them and avoided the harassment, police and lawsuit, but you stood courageously beside your furry family member and became his voice.

My mom told me that your legal bills are very expensive and that you have had to have fundraisers, turn to your family and friends for help, set up an online store, and most recently have a garage sale to raise money for Stitch’s defense.

The saddest part is that you lost the trial because the judge decided that Stitch is property, like a bicycle, and had to be returned to the original owner. I think comparing an animal to a bike is just disgusting!

After all this, you could have thrown your hands up in the air and walked away. But you didn’t! You chose to fight for what is right for Stitch, no matter how much time or money it takes. To me, that is the definition of courage – having the mental and physical strength to fight for what is right and not just throw in the towel.

I will keep my fingers crossed and pray you win the appeal to keep Stitch. I will also continue to tell your story. I hope Stitch’s story will inspire others to have courage in life, find strength, and FIGHT ON!

I have three questions for you: (1) Where do you find the courage to keep fighting for Stitch, after everything that has happened?  (2) What is your definition of courage?  (3) Lastly, who do you admire most for their courage?

Thanks for being a leader and answering my letter!

Sincerely,

Emma

Darling Emma,

In the beginning of this case, I was encouraged by friends and family to fight for Stitch. Everyone, including my attorney, thought that ours was a slam dunk case that would never make it to trial. The judge would take one look at the ridiculous charges against us and throw it out. An abandoned and neglected dog who was adopted by a loving family would surely stay with the loving family, right? But that’s when we found out that life isn’t always fair.

After a grueling trial, over $10,000, and a year of fighting, we lost and were told to turn Stitch over to the plaintiff (who, incidentally never proved ownership). My friends tearfully advised me to let go at that point. We had been through so much stress, money, tears, they didn’t want to see us get hurt any more.

Our attorney said we could appeal, but even she, an animal rights advocate, wouldn’t blame us if we didn’t. Troy and I talked this over for days. We had always been law- abiding citizens, but sometimes laws are wrong. Slavery used to be legal. Not long ago, women weren’t allowed to vote or own property. And then there were Jim Crow laws, Prop 8…The only way to change things is to rise up and fight injustice. Troy and I wanted to face ourselves in the mirror every day without regrets. Turning Stitch over would have left us feeling cowardly and disheartened. So we decided to fight on.

We took the first steps into this appeal not knowing if anyone would have our backs, but thankfully, many have. Some have helped with money, some have offered kindness and encouragement, and prayers, all which has strengthened us. And then we get a letter like this from you, dear Emma, that makes it all worth it.

My definition of courage is doing what you know is right, even when it scares you, standing up against a bully, speaking up when it’s unpopular. Courage is feeling the fear and walking through it.

Who do I admire for their courage? I would say Nelson Mandela demonstrated the greatest courage, standing up against racial apartheid, being imprisoned for it, never backing down from what he knew was right. He changed his country and affected the world.

We are in a fight against the Property Statute Law, which states that animals are property, with no regard for their treatment or care, or even their lives. It’s a huge battle that many animal rights advocates have been fighting for years and years. There is a very strong possibility that we will lose, but we are staying positive and focusing on the end result. If we win, it would be a great victory for animal rights advocates and pet owners everywhere.

Emma, your letter has given us tremendous encouragement, and by sharing it here, you will be helping to open others’ eyes to the importance of animal rights.

Thank you for being such a thoughtful and caring girl, and good luck on your project.

Love,

Hollye

* to read more and see how you can help our case: SAVE STITCH
Friend us on facebook at Stitchy the Wonder Dog

A Lesson In Courage

The other day, Troy, Evan and I were in the mountains walking our dog Stitch when Evan developed a sudden fear of red ants on the ground. These are the same ants we walk over on our hikes every single day, but now he wanted me to carry him and protect him from the ants. I saw this as a perfect opportunity for a life lesson.

“Evan, do you know what courage is?”

“No, what is it?”

“It’s when you feel afraid of something, but you do it anyway. That’s how you build courage. Building courage is the only way to become brave.”

He thought about it for a moment.

I continued, “Do you want me to carry you or would you like to try using your courage?”

 “I want to be brave!” He said, and then marched right over those ants with a smile on his face.

Each day since, he storms through the fields over those ants, and calls out “Look Mommy! I’m brave!” He feels great about himself. He feels empowered, and that’s what I want for him.

Evan loves bugs- this is a caterpillar he found.

Courage is a muscle that becomes weak and atrophies without use. As far as I’m concerned, it’s never too early for Evan to start flexing this muscle. Lord knows he’ll need it later in life. I've relied on this muscle more than any other for the past two years. 

If I try to shield my son from the difficulties of life, how will he have the confidence or skills to face challenges on his own? How will he respond to new situations, or to a bully on the playground?

I want him to get a jump on this, so life doesn’t kick his ass later. The truth is, we’re all going to be faced with situations in life that scare us, and when that happens, how are we going to rise to meet it? Are we going to run away and hide? Expect someone else to deal with it for us? Stuff our fear away through addictions? Denial?  I want my kid to walk into his life with courage.

I have learned the hard way, the only way to get through life is to face challenges head on. And it’s never too early, or too late, to start. 

It’s All How You Look At It

Recently I watched a fascinating documentary on elephants. There was an alarming escalation of elephants rampaging through Indian villages, trampling people to death. Generally speaking, elephants are peaceful, but something was changing them, and this filmmaker was seeking to unravel the mystery. He was able to trace back the beginnings of most of these rogue elephants, and what he found was striking. All had witnessed their mothers being murdered by a poacher when they were babies, and that seemed to have imprinted violence onto them. (There’s your proof that elephants do indeed have a long memory.)

Sometimes it just came down to the fact that an elephant had endured years and years of torture by it’s trainer/captor, and finally snapped one day. Aside from the heartbreaking subject matter, what really struck me was how these abusive captors kept the elephants from running away – they simply tied a thin string around the elephant’s foot. Of course an elephant could easily break this string, but he doesn’t believe he can. You see, the sad truth is when the elephants are babies, the trainer keeps them chained by the foot. The elephant is beaten into submission and can’t get away. After a while, he stops trying. He becomes so conditioned to his captivity that a simple string tied around his foot makes him believe he is powerless.

I thought long and hard about that. I think the people who end up going on murderous rampages are the ones who could never break those strings. And aren’t we all, in some way, living with a string tied around our foot? I mean, for the majority of my adult life I lived with the limitations imposed on me in my childhood. My childhood no longer exists, my circumstances are completely different, but I was still attached by that string. I believed I was powerless, that I didn’t have a right to speak up, that I wasn’t a deserving person. Thanks to a good therapist, and the support of my husband and friends, I sawed through that string…but it wasn’t easy.

Still, other strings remain. A biggie is fear of failure. Right now I am standing on the precipice of so much possibility … but I’m afraid to jump. I’ve finished my book and am about to start sending it out into the big wide world, and I have some other things in the works, things that are new and therefore scary. I’m having nightmares every night, giant snakes swallowing my ponies of optimism, ants invading my body, and, strangely, Cameron Diaz stealing my jewelry (have no idea what that was about). I don’t know why I should fear failure, I mean, I’ve failed fantastically in the past….many times. I failed to the point of bankruptcy, and I’m still here. So what’s the big deal? I might fail? Who cares.

God, it’s like when I was watching that documentary and I’m screaming at the elephant through the TV screen…just RUN! And then I imagined him looking back at me with a bubble over his head: Look who’s talkin’!

I think it’s time for me to break that string…

Love, Courage and Chaos

At this moment, it certainly could be said that chaos is swirling all around me. That bothers me so much that I’m up at 2:30am writing about it. Chaos is the last friggin thing I want in my life. Throughout my life I’ve watched other people who seem to have it all together, all their ducks lined up in a row. Their houses are clean, their garages are organized, their lives somewhat boring. I envy them. Boring sounds kind of awesome right now.

I have never had so much as one duck lined up in a row. My house has two dogs, three cats, a four-year old, our grown son and his pregnant wife who is nesting like crazy, filling the house with every baby necessity imaginable. Strollers, infantseats and boxes of IKEA furniture line my entryway. (I have tried, unsuccessfully, to convince them that they don’t need a “baby wipe holder” but nevertheless …the pile continues). In the middle of the night, I might step on a stray lego, or trip over a dog toy. But it’s our life, and we love each other, so we make room for the chaos.

And in the midst of all this normal everyday loving chaos, we are in some awful chaos with our next-door neighbors, which started when their pitbulls attacked our dogs (and many other neighborhood dogs).

Eleven years ago we moved into this unconventional neighborhood that is much like Topanga Canyon. Wild peacocks roam the neighborhood, everyone hikes the mountains with their dogs off leash, we have happy hour in the streets on Fridays, and all the kids run outside and play together. All that stopped when these pitbulls moved in - and I’m not just talking about the dogs.

After my dog was attacked, I put signs up warning neighbors to keep their dogs on leash due to pitbulls attacks on our street. When our neighbor saw the signs, he ripped them down, and went after my husband, his pitbulls straining to break off their leashes, snarling and lunging at Troy, just inches from him, the neighbor promising to “f*ck him up”. As the neighbor got in Troy’s face with threats and insults (“faggot” was an interesting choice) Troy stood his ground like a Zen master, looking straight at the guy, never taking the bait or engaging, sending the message – we will stand strong against you, we will not be moved. I was so proud of him. But it was a horrible experience, and we have barely been able to sleep since.

CHAOS.

On top of that, someone hurt me deeply today, telling me I “had it coming” because I posted those signs. All the xanax in the world couldn’t contain the anxiety I feel, my chest pounds, I can’t sleep, this ugly comment turning my stomach. How anyone could justify threats of violence against another person, or say that it was in any way deserved, is beyond me.

Maybe chaos will never stop swirling around me. I have a fierce heart, and I love deeply. I will stand up for the ones I love, even when its uncomfortable. The more I think about it, every bit of the chaos in my life came somehow from this love. My deep sense of justice came from this love.

A baby is about to be born in my house because I love my son, and although this baby was not planned, he and Aya couldn’t bear to abort it. So we stepped up. And yes my house will be filled with more people, more noise, more chaos, more LOVE. Bring it on.

I lost my job singing in a band last year (that was fronted by a Mormon) because I stood with my family in front of the Mormon church to protest against Prop 8. I did this because I love my friends, and my brothers, and I want them to have the same rights that I do. So I was fired from the band. Bring it on.

I have five pets because every one of them was abandoned and left on the side of a road somewhere, and that was unacceptable to me. So my house is full of dustbunnies and my sofa is destroyed and there’s always cat litter on the bathroom floor and I’m being sued by the person who abandoned my little dog. But I love my little buddies who are there to absorb my tears whenever they fall, and who lie beside me when I write, and when I sleep, despite the cat vomit at 3am and the dogs barking at 6am. Bring it on.

And yeah, I posted signs to warn my neighbors about the pitbulls, so other little buddies don’t get hurt, and that angered my neighbor and caused him to threaten us. So what. I wasn’t going to stand by and see another animal hurt, when I could have stopped it. Bring it on.

You take a risk when you love, when you allow your self to break open wide enough to really care deeply about things. Yes it makes you vulnerable, and sometimes people will hurt you. Sometimes you have to stand your ground. Sometimes you have to fight. I will do that for the people I love.

There is a lot of love in this house, and in my experience, love breeds chaos. Chaos is the nature of the Universe. The only thing I can control is the peace in my heart. I could choose this life, or I could hide away and protect myself, living in fear, never confronting, stuffing my feelings down inside of me. But that’s not me.

So you know what I’m gonna say - chaos, schmaos….

BRING IT ON.

But I am still a little jealous of those people with the structured boring lives, because I know I’ll never have one.