The one entitled, “What Color Are the Robes?”

I started it on Friday, September 18. Made the final edits day before yesterday. And I’ll be taking it down again in two days. This is for safety, and my own protection.

I have to go back to Cheshire. It’s where my parents live, and they are getting old enough that they need a lot of care. My husband Alex, by the way, likes his in-laws, and they dote on him. I know he will permit me at least a few short visits with them, even though it means traveling across the country. And that a lot less of the cooking and cleaning will get done at our house in Idaho!

Two notes about what I shared in the previous post:

1. The tone may surprise some people. What I was trying to get at is that racial intimidation and the ideology and enforcement of white racist regimes doesn’t involve men with guns and torches. It almost certainly involves some “dear old ladies.” Even stay-at-home mothers. This is because, in general, the job of a #tradwife, or “traditional wife,” is to provide support. And not to question her husband’s decisions. The conservative Christian church has named this doctrine “headship.”

2. When I finished the first complete draft of the post, I was sitting at a bar and wearing black jeans. I tried to invoke this information in a symbolic way. I first learned about the existence of Prison Blues in the mid-90’s, transcribing a recorded interview while working part-time at Tripod. It is chilling and frightening that they are still around today. And headquartered in Pendleton, Oregon. Please be aware, though, that I do own denim of more than one color. If you see me, or someone else who appears to resemble me, wearing blue denim pants, don’t get upset. Don’t get too excited, either.

Fashion is a terrible signifier. The existence of exploitation in that industry is undeniable and global. However, in most climates we do need clothes to cover our bodies and us warm. A lot of shit went missing from my apartment while I was living in Lincoln City, Oregon. Including things like pajamas, microfiber fleeces, and heavy wool sweaters. I have some clue as to who the culprits may have been. Not all of them spoke English.

I have also had underwear stolen from hotel rooms. Right here in Portland, Oregon.

So let me repeat, once more:

I do own blue jeans. I occasionally wear them. This does not AT ALL mean that I am in favor of white racism or white supremacy, or indeed any group’s racism or ambitions for supremacy.

These are my blue jeans. Not your blue jeans. Don’t borrow or steal them.

Blake Thomas, my ex-husband and college sweetheart, introduced me to the song above. That was long before we moved to North Carolina. While I am a Christian, I am not a Creationist. I believe in the theory of evolution. Much more importantly, I believe in God.