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basically BECKY blog

  • Rebecca Branle

Maybe they're right when they say guns aren't the problem.

Maybe bibles are. They've killed more people.

I've been sitting on this realization for years and yet I've never said it. That's the thing about bibles, they have power even when they're not present. They say, "Hush, hush. Best not to upset the pious. You'll be shunned."

Today, I say, "Shun away."

Because I'm over here, chillin with Jesus, and we think ya'll are nuts. Because while you twist the book you dismiss the hero of the story, and we've got some questions.

If you worship the Prince of Peace why are you armed to the gills? Why is your shiny possession more important than my babies' lives? If you've been saved, why are you always so scared?

The book you use as a shield says you should welcome the stranger, but the slurs you use don't feel so welcoming. If you studied facts like you study propaganda you'd know the drugs don't come on the backs of exhausted families. They come in corporate trucks and in big boats across the water that dock in our ports, not on bodies that crawl along rivers hoping for a better life. Why don't you see Jesus in them?

If you're pro life, why are you always lobbying for death? For years we've said healthcare is a human right. It would save mamas and babies and prevent abortions because women could afford to have babies and take care of them once they arrive. We proved it when we passed Obamacare and the number of abortions dropped to its lowest rate ever. You saw the statistic but you fought to take away that healthcare rather than make it stronger. The only rights you cry about are your rights to carry weapons of war and take off your masks and get rid of the "illegals" and make sure we don't teach a full telling of our history in schools. You want to protect white power, not share the power to live full, healthy lives.

You say my queer friends are dangerous.

But you're who I'm afraid of. You've always been the scariest.

You lobby against love and tell women they must obey and the women who do, they're lost to you. They fight against themselves and hate who they are and pass that hate down to their daughters and we stay quiet because they hold bibles and we don't want to disrespect.

But it's time to dissect it. It's time to dissent it.

Because it's amazing what we'll let them do when they're holding the bible. We'll let them come to our parks and say horrible things to our babies and we won't intervene because they're white guys with bibles and they deserve more protection than our rainbow drenched children, our loving, wise, beautiful children. But Jesus is standing with our children. His arms are wrapped around them, sort of like the flags they wear as capes.

Know this. They're coming for birth control next. They're coming for marriage equality next.

We told you this was coming and you said we were being dramatic. We don't have time to wait for your apology, but we're going to demand your vote.

This is life or death.

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  • Rebecca Branle

Updated: Dec 31, 2021

Hey Mike,

I’m wondering what it takes

To make someone you know invisible,

To hold up a glass

And toast to our past

Knowing my future’s bound to be miserable.

Mr. Best Dressed Best Man

Came armed with charm to spare,

Working the room

Protecting the groom.

Did you even know I was there?

Because you knew she was there,

At his bachelor night bash.

He was in a boozy blur

When he forced himself on her

Then threw her out like she was trash.

You discarded me like I was trash,

When you raised that fucking glass.

A witty toast to happily ever after

Even after you knew it couldn’t last.

Did everyone know about his past?

Because men who hurt women hurt all women.

Even the ones wearing white dresses.

Soon there were fights with fists

Instead of wedded bliss,

And I got added to his list of pretty messes.

When it made the paper and the sirens blew,

Did you shrug and say, “Who knew?”

You in your black tux,

Me all black and blue.

Hey Mike,

This one’s for you.

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  • Rebecca Branle

Updated: Dec 29, 2021

If I could, I’d sweep the hair back from your eyes.

I’d let my fingers linger there, on your cheek.

I’d say you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,

Even if your heart and your knees feel weak.

If I could I’d hold you in a safe embrace.

And tell you to take a moment to rest,

To find comfort in your heart’s steady beat, beat, beat,

I’d tell you you’ll find the answers in your chest.

I’d tell you not to make them into heroes,

The ones whose love came with a list of demands.

They said you’ve never been quite right, right, right,

As guilt dripped like blood from their hands.

Sweetest girl, don’t think because they’re old they’re wise.

Don’t you dare think they know what’s true.

There’s hate buried in the bed of their lies, lies, lies.

Baby, they’re afraid of you.

Because you’re a force that hasn’t had its hour,

You’re a well of truth waiting to flow.

Girl, stop handing them all your precious power.

Start listening to what you know, know, know.

Hate is hurt.

Hate is blind.

Love is strong.

Love is kind.

So you be strong.

So you be kind.

You keep making your way.

It’s gonna be okay, okay, okay.

It’s gonna be okay.

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