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crimethinc · 5 years

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The New War on Immigrants and Anarchists in Greece: An Interview with an Anarchist in Exarchia

Filled with squatted social centers and characterized by a combative anti-authoritarian spirit, the neighborhood of Exarchia in Athens, Greece has long been an important reference point for autonomous movements around the world. The new far-right government that has come to power in Greece has pledged to crush this experiment in inclusivity and self-determination. On August 26, massive police raids evicted four occupations, including some hosting refugee families, many of whom have been sent to concentration camps; at this moment, riot police surround Exarchia, preparing their next attacks. In response, demonstrations have been called for August 31 and September 14. We interviewed a resident of Exarchia about the context of this new chapter of struggle and the prospects ahead for those who seek a world without capitalism or state oppression.

In January 2015, as the global wave of right-wing electoral victories was picking up momentum, the new left party Syriza won the Greek elections. At the time, this inspired a lot of enthusiasm from leftists and socialists in Greece and elsewhere around the world; yet we argued that Syriza would draw movements out of the streets, re-legitimize the institutions of the state without changing their essentially repressive character, and ultimately fail to address the consequences of capitalism, polarizing Greek voters to the right. As we anticipated, Syriza did not follow through on their promises to defend Greece from the austerity measures demanded by the European Union. Instead, they imposed austerity measures themselves, further polarizing Greece and confirming that there is no viable electoral solution to the crises imposed by capitalism.

Consequently, in July 2019, the longstanding right-wing party New Democracy won the national elections by a clear majority. Some corporate media journalists celebrated the victory of New Democracy as a return to business as usual, a rejection of the supposed “extremism” of both Syriza and the fascist Golden Dawn party. But the victory of New Democracy is also a victory for the far right, who have seen their racist, nationalist agenda become mainstream. They took office with the intention of scapegoating immigrants and anarchists for the failures of neoliberal capitalism and the betrayals of left politicians. Taking advantage of the summer holidays to strike, they have already begun violently evicting anarchist social centers and self-organized refugee housing in Athens, openly declaring war on all who stand in the way of their oppressive vision of order.

We conducted the following interview with an anonymous black flag anarchist resident of Exarchia three blocks from Exarchia Square following a small riot in the early hours of August 28.

New Democracy began by declaring war on anarchists, specifically on the neighborhood of Exarchia in Athens. We have seen a series of poorly-written articles from the yellow press spreading fear about “anarchist violence” and promising major government crackdowns. Why have they prioritized focusing on anarchists and specifically Exarchia as the chief enemy of the state? How much of the population do you think agrees with this characterization of anarchists?

New Democracy has shown a sort of delusional obsession with Exarchia. They refer to it as if it were the basis of the crisis here, as if it were the foundation of all of Greece’s problems. As a resident of Exarchia and an active anarchist, I can confirm that the language they use to describe my neighborhood is ridiculously overstated.

Sure, there are some issues with drug dealing and predatory mafia practices in Exarchia. The mafia recruits refugees, taking advantage of their desperate need for employment, hoping that anarchists who oppose opportunistic attempts to establish a drug market in the police-free zone of Exarchia will hesitate before hitting a refugee. This situation is the result of the poverty refugees face as they wait to receive asylum or struggle to make their home in Athens, trying to avoid harassment from police or fascists.

This is tragic, but it is nothing compared to a typical ghetto in the United States; it’s the inevitable result of the combination of the economic crisis and the so-called refugee crisis. The image of a refugee dealing drugs in Exarchia is an easy scapegoat for the right, and New Democracy has used this over and over in a cowardly manner to rally reactionary support.

Most people outside of Greece don’t understand that Exarchia is a very large neighborhood. It is only a five-minute walk from the most expensive part of the city center, Colonaki, a middle-to-upper-class neighborhood comparable to Manhattan’s Upper West Side. The anarchist movement emerged in the early 1970s out of student resistance to the Junta, which was concentrated at the nearby Polytechnio, the architectural university of Athens. Until then, Exarchia was a sort of extension of Colonaki. Since the 1970s, the neighborhood has become a gathering place for anarchists and squatters, but also for the theater community, leftists, intellectuals, artists, and the clients of an array of alternative bars. It is known locally as a nightlife destination on the weekends for students and partygoers as much as it is known for riots and squats.

While all of these elements coexist in a sort of chaotic equilibrium, the old inhabitants of Exarchia still complain. Unless you are one of the lucky few who have found an apartment here owned by an old person unaware of its Airbnb potential and the erupting real estate market in central Athens, or you are living in a squat or in a home owned by family, it is unlikely that a typical working-class Greek person could afford to live here. The wealthy residents of Exarchia complain to the municipal authorities. They have been doing so for years. New Democracy is responding in a way that may go beyond their whining.

For example, there is famous hill called Streffi where youth and anarchist-friendly folks go to chill with their friends and comrades. It is also a beautiful park that used to house parties and gatherings to celebrate and benefit the punk and hip-hop counter-cultures and anarchist and anti-fascist movements. Because it has a view of the Acropolis and some of the most expensive houses in Exarchia, a brutal initiative began in the summer 2018 to crush the cop-free-zone culture of Streffi. Riot police surrounded the hill before any announced event, and completely demolished the only squat in the area shortly after it declared solidarity with those trying to reclaim Streffi.

In short, Exarchia is not a beautiful utopia in which anarchists live in harmony together and with other locals. There are snitches and “good citizens” here who applaud the police.

New Democracy has been in power before; they are not something new. But after five years in exile under Syriza, they are declaring revenge on the left. Unlike Syriza, which has a realistic understanding of Exarchia, New Democracy members have a childish image of it. They mystify it as the enemy of all Greek civility and as the epicenter of all things left or anarchist.

While Kyriakos Mitsotakis, the new prime minister, is a rich kid who has probably never set foot in the neighborhood, the police are even more obsessed with Exarchia. On the morning of August 26, when four squats were evacuated, a police spokesperson went on national television to say “One finger launched a silent new vacuum cleaner which is the police, which will slowly suck all the garbage from Exarchia progressively, democratically, with a plan by police officers.” He went on to describe the 143 refugees who were detained as “dust with an annoying character.”

A police officer wearing a patch identifying his fascist politics during the evictions. It says “Come and Get It,” a slogan of the fascist party Golden Dawn.

The police felt betrayed by Syriza. They think that for the past five years, the government condoned the weekly actions against the riot police that surround Exarchia. Now the police are ready for war. As soon as New Democracy was elected, riot police guarding the old PASOK political headquarters in Exarchia beat a homeless man nearly to death. When a local journalist tried to intervene, the police made threats; one cop was quoted as saying “this is how things will be for now on.” They are emboldened now in the same way that American police and fascists were when Trump was elected. I couldn’t make a more precise comparison.

Thus emboldened, they await the next battle with great anticipation. The riot police they station in Exarchia are typically not from Athens; they choose officers with extreme right-wing attitudes specifically for that role. This is a longstanding precedent for riot police. In some ways, they enjoy the riots as much as anarchists do; they too believe that they are fighting a war. New Democracy has handed them a clear mandate to restore order in Exarchia.

We can also see that Exarchia has become the highest priority target as a consequence of the decline of more radical action from the anarchist movement. After a period of many surprise attacks and bombings following the upheaval of December 2008, many members of the anarchist groups Conspiracy Cells of Fire and Revolutionary Struggle have been captured and imprisoned, and there has been a significant decrease in so-called political terrorism. Such actions still happen, but not at the same frequency and intensity as before.

This is similar to what happened to US anarchists following Operation Backfire as a result of the FBI declaring the Animal and Earth Liberation Fronts to be the number one domestic “terror” threat in the United States. After a wave of infiltration, repression, and inflated sentences targeting clandestine direct action, the US anarchist movement shifted towards mass street action. The state shifted its strategy, as well, using grand juries to harass people, demonizing classic forms of protest, and militarizing police departments.

In a similar way, owing to the shortage of actions that could be described as terrorism by any stretch of the imagination, the Greek right was forced to construct a new enemy. This is likely why they chose the neighborhood of Exarchia and focused on the local anarchist group Rouvikonas (Rubicon). Rouvikonas has quite a reputation in Athens and the media love them. Essentially, they are an anarcho-communist group that engages in civil disobedience with an aggressive edge. They intimidate bosses, throw paint on buildings, smash turnstiles at subway entrances, and organize various other actions that are inspiring and courageous but deliberately restrained in order to avoid the risk of long prison terms.

Regardless of their restraint and the fact that they are just one of many groups in the Greek anarchist movement, Rouvikonas has become the new government’s public enemy number one alongside the anarchists in Exarchia as a whole and the specter of drug dealing in the square. Unless some more pressing concern arises, New Democracy will focus on this constructed threat, striving to present themselves as the saviors of the Hellenic people, while doing nothing to truly improve people’s lives—a classic fascist strategy.

It is hard to know how many people buy into the narrative of the new Greek right. About 39 percent of Greek voters cast ballots for New Democracy, with another 31 percent voting for Syriza, 5 percent for the Communist Party, and 3 percent for Golden Dawn. It is hard to tell how much of the population believes this administration’s nonsense about Exarchia. Greece is a very polarized society, notorious for a popular skepticism of politicians of all stripes. But the residents of the countryside and the suburbs of Athens, the super-rich, and the isolated poor people who voted for New Democracy certainly subscribe to their agenda.

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“Good morning from Exarchia square. On July 8, we are giving the square to its residents. The lawlessness is finished. The prohibition on entering is finished. With New Democracy, this square will be a normal square again.” After hastily recording this video, this right-wing politician fled Exarchia as fast as he could.

Of the first wave of police raids, in which four squats were evicted and 143 people arrested, the vast majority of the arrestees were immigrants, who are being moved to concentration camps. How do the crackdowns promised by New Democracy relate to continued scapegoating and repression of immigrants? How do anarchist strategies for defense against the government crackdown address the targeting of immigrants?

Of the four squats evicted, only two were housing refugees. The other two were anarchist spaces that did not serve this function. It is not easy to put all the squats that were targeted in any one category, as they are associated with different groups and different objectives. One of these squats, named Gare, has been evicted—and reoccupied—several times already under Syriza.

It’s also important to emphasize that the squats Spirou Trikopi 17 and Transito were providing housing and support to refugees in a completely self-determined manner independent of the state. Syriza never targeted this occupation, from what I understand—and this is where a new policy shift is obvious. These squats, along with several others nearby, have been providing free spaces for refugee families in conditions that are far superior to those in the state-funded detention facilities. Even if we consider the subject from a statist point of view, it actually saves the state money for refugees to be self-organizing their housing in this way with support from anarchists.

So this is an explicitly racist and fascistic act of symbolic revenge from the new government: a statement to refugees and other immigrants that they are no longer safe in Exarchia’s asylum. Many of the refugees who were arrested will probably be moved to Petrou Ralli detention center, a volatile place located in the middle of an industrial zone in Athens. Others have reportedly been dispersed to various refugee concentration camps around Athens and Greece. We hope that many of those detained will be released following investigation, but some may be deported or else remain in overcrowded detention centers in Greece.

Let me repeat this: even from a state perspective, the spaces that the police evicted were saving Greek taxpayers money and alleviating some of the impact of the so-called refugee crisis. However, just as the US government spends more money capturing and imprisoning immigrants and homeless people than it would spend simply helping or housing them, the point is to set a political precedent for society at any cost. Immigrants and refugees are not welcome here, law and order above all else, and, like all the other right-wing governments reigning over various parts of the earth today, the Greek government aims to encourage their base to blame the desperate and excluded for their suffering, rather than the prevailing order or the elites that benefit from it.

Syriza evicted plenty of squats during their time in power. But they targeted the immigrant squats that they alleged were housing people involved in drug dealing and the anarchist squats that they claimed were being used to manufacture Molotov cocktails. In both cases, they attempted to frame an ethical narrative, trying to draw a line between “good” and “bad” squats.

By contrast, New Democracy has made it clear that they have a long-term plan to eradicate not only the existing squats in Exarchia but squatting itself, along with all the refugees, immigrants, anarchists, youth, and other people who give the neighborhood its world-famous character. They aim to destroy the culture that has come to define Exarchia. This will not be a quick procedure; they have a long-term plan, likely concluding with the creation of a subway stop in Exarchia Square and a return to the good old days when Exarchia had more in common with Colonaki.

Besides the government imprisoning families who had been living self-determined, peaceful lives in Exarchia, the most striking element of the eviction of August 26 was its timing. New Democracy released the police officer who murdered the teenage anarchist Alexis Grigoropoulous in late July 2019, around the same time they officially lifted the university asylum; these were two dramatic provocations aimed at the anarchist and autonomous movements. Typically, the state has evicted squats between the beginning of July and the middle of August. While squats both inside and outside Exarchia—for example, in the neighborhoods of Kipseli and Koukaki—have been repeatedly harassed throughout the summer and continue to experience harassment at this moment, the operation of August 26 was timed to occur immediately before many people are returning from summer vacations. Carrying out these attacks at this time is meant to send the message that war has been declared on Exarchia and those who support the cop-free and anti-fascist social experiment that it represents.

To bring this back to the situation for immigrants, they are having their lives ruined once again. People are concerned about refugees committing suicide. We may see an escalation of violence on the part of desperate refugees. Many people who have faced and escaped the direst circumstances of our century have found Exarchia to be a safe place they could call home. The trauma that New Democracy aims to inflict with its reign of terror may produce unexpected results. This is a sad reality that we have to discuss. We should take seriously the severity of the emotional damage that the raids of August 26 inflicted, as well as the raids likely to come.

We hear that the Greek government has repealed the “sanctuary law” maintaining university asylum, prohibiting police from entering the universities except in emergencies. How will this effect the anarchist movement in Greece and the social context as a whole?

So far, the end of university asylum has taken place in words alone. Cops already often raided universities during riots or in pursuit of so-called criminals. Now they have changed the law so police will not need the formal permission of a university dean to enter. But it remains to be seen what this will mean in practice. University asylum is a hard-won victory a substantial part of the movement in Greece. Many people are deeply invested in it. It is not simply a matter of people sometimes running to the Polytechnic in Exarchia to avoid arrest during riots. This is a very small aspect of how the end of university autonomy will effect the movement.

Universities are important rallying points for assemblies and organizing in Greece. There are occupied spaces inside many universities that house social centers (steki) and anarchist groups. Above all, universities have served as a recruiting space for anarchists and as a venue for events. Parties and events at universities throughout Greece, from the hip-hop shows at the economics school in Kipseli to the punk shows at the law school in Neapoli, have provided important infrastructure to challenge repression and raise funds, as well as a safe and affordable space for people to gather and connect politically.

New Democracy has been obsessed with junkies and drug dealing, but no informed person would deny that the police have been intentionally pushing addicts and dealers into the universities. In most cases, drug use and dealing has not interrupted the ordinary function of the universities. But drug addiction is a major problem in Greece, where there is intense poverty by European standards and the port of Piraeus serves as a hub for heroin entering Europe. I do not blame people for their addictions; I blame capitalism. At the same time, the police have used the epidemic to target universities and Exarchia. For a long time, now, they have pushed addicts to the peripheries of the universities in hopes of delegitimizing the asylum law and undermining student autonomy. And while the drug dealing situation in Exarchia has become sad and confusing, it originated with a huge police effort in 2010 to push addicts into Exarchia.

Incidentally, in addition to pushing the drug trade into universities, police have also sought to push it into neighborhoods inhabited by (largely legal) immigrants. This is a way to consolidate drugs and crime in non-white or immigrant communities. In Athens, the neighborhood of Omonia experiences some of the most devastating heroin and meth use I have seen in this city. It also happens to be one of the largest concentrations of Pakistani and Bangladeshi business owners.

Time will tell whether the police can take control of the universities in practice. If they begin patrolling campuses, evacuating occupied centers in the universities, and shutting down parties, this would put a damper on the movement. At the same time, it would probably ignite a forceful reaction from the movement that would backfire against New Democracy.

New Democracy may be poking the wrong beast. If they push harder, rather than sticking to the slow, patient strategy of repression Syriza employed, there will be a broader backlash extending far beyond Exarchia. The asylum law is not only cherished by anarchists, but also autonomists, communists, leftists of all kinds, and, to put it simply, kids who like to party. The reaction to this clampdown has yet to be seen.

How does the state attack on Exarchia relate to the capitalist assault on the neighborhood that has been taking place through gentrification and urban displacement? What is the relationship between Airbnb and urban development initiatives and riot police?

Exarchia has always been a sort of obsession for people from the right-wing suburbs. Since the 1970s, there have been efforts to mess with Exarchia time and time again. After the 2008 insurrection, the Delta police would raid the neighborhood at random, attacking and beating people. Syriza formally eliminated the force; now New Democracy plans to reestablish it.

But Airbnb is the invisible enemy everyone is at a loss to deal with. Exarchia is becoming one of the most expensive places to live in the center of Athens, and Airbnb is almost 100 percent responsible for this sudden spike in real estate value and short-term rent hikes. Prior to Airbnb, a three-bedroom apartment could cost you 250 euros a month; now, that same apartment could generate well over 1800 euros a month if used for Airbnb.

This has drawn the attention of property owners and investors. New Democracy has been promising a new prosperity for Greece following years of recession. Yet in the melodramatic television coverage of Exarchia here, it is rarely mentioned that all these demonized alternative and deviant criminal elements are actually entertaining a huge market of alternative tourism.

In Exarchia, German, American, and Chinese tourists walk side by side the same immigrants and anarchists that the police refer to as trash. There is even a tour available as an “Airbnb Experience” called “Sweet Anarchy” describing Exarchia and its street inhabitants as if we are animals in a zoo.

What has changed in the war on Exarchia since the days before Syriza? Chiefly, this: if New Democracy is able to succeed in its long-term effort to eradicate those who defend the neighborhood’s character, Airbnb and foreign investors have created a new market that will be ready to redefine Exarchia swiftly.

How will anarchists respond to the attacks promised by the state? Are there divisions over issues of strategy?

I don’t think there are very many divisions over issues of strategy. Compared to the US, there are fewer bourgeois voices demanding pacifism in the movements here. Any strategy for the self-defense of Exarchia and the movements that define it will be welcome, whatever form it takes. Some groups are more open to using force than others are, but it’s rare to hear the sort of debate about violence and nonviolence that often takes place in the US.

But the challenge isn’t division over strategy so much as it is division itself. I think most people in the movement would say that morale is at a low point in recent memory. There are more anarchists, autonomists, and anti-fascists then ever before, but division is rampant. Many groups have a competitive attitude towards each other, nurse personal disputes, experience infighting, or refuse to work together at all. Still, I believe this will change quickly.

Many would say that 2008 to 2012 saw the peak of anarchist activity in Greece thus far for the 21st century. There were many challenges following mass police operations against the groups Conspiracy Cells of Fire and Revolutionary Struggle, not to mention the tragic deaths of three bank employees during a general strike in 2010.1 Many people experienced an insurrection, a generalized revolt people can only dream of in the current anarchist movement in the United States. Rioting and organizing both took place on a massive scale. However, following those years of struggle, very little actually changed. Austerity and poverty remained the norm, as Greece became the scapegoat for failed European policies and the new generation was forced to bear the consequences of the economic crisis.

When Syriza came to power, many anarchists fought with each other about whether to vote for them. Some argued that a Syriza government would make it easier to defend Exarchia and alleviate the suffering of those in prison, as well as mitigating the stress caused by state forces such as the Delta police. This created a great deal of division between anarchists, showing how confusing things became as what had seemed to be a social revolution quickly turned to the left, taking the stage in the theater of Greek politics.

Syriza was strategic like a snake. The party leaders knew Exarchia; many of them were leftist intellectuals and academics who used to come to Exarchia to debate over coffee or beer. They knew how to quell the movement, how to turn people against each other. They knew how to give people just enough room to breathe so they wouldn’t feel strangled. But they had their hands around our necks the whole time.

Many people from the prior generation became depressed or moved on. It was sad to see what many had thought of as a leftist government with all the right answers imposing austerity measures. It was a sad conclusion to the peak years of resistance.

However, the number of participants in anarchist and anti-authoritarian movements has not decreased. On the contrary, it has dramatically increased. Anarchism exists on a massive scale in Greece. It is hard to describe the extent of the movement and its diversity to an American audience.

During the Syriza years, there was a considerable amount of repression. The police attacked squats, but did so in a very calculated manner, so that people would target their anger internally, emphasizing small conflicts and political distinctions. The Syriza government helped to fan the flames of sectarianism in the movement by containing the movement rather than trying to suppress it.

Now, there are signs that people are coming together. A new poster is circulating calling for a mobilization on September 14 under the banner “No Pasaran.” Many groups in Exarchia that were at odds during the Syriza years are calling for this mobilization together. The assemblies that have taken place in the last 48 hours were not characterized by the infighting many of us are used to, and the number of participants has been high. People feel the pressure. They know they have to choose their battles. They have learned from the deceptions of Syriza that there is no such thing as a victory for our movements in the theater of state politics.

I think many people expected this. Some are depressed and divided, but prepared to transcend these issues collectively. Since its inception in the 1970s, the Greek anarchist movement as we know it has always been characterized by waves. As summer is ending, we see people coming together, opening their minds, and realizing the seriousness of the battle ahead.

I should note that the four squats evicted on August 26 were associated with groups that are at odds. But the dialogue that has followed has expressed unity and solidarity. Things are bad and they will definitely get worse. But I believe that people will come together. This is already happening.

What can we do outside Greece to support the anarchist movement and the freedom of immigrants there? What are the most effective ways we can act in solidarity?

For better or worse, Exarchia has been portrayed as the mecca of global anarchism. Sometimes I laugh about this, but then I remind myself to not take for granted the beautiful elements of this neighborhood.

Many would say that the answer to your question is to go to Greek assemblies and let the Greek state know that Exarchia will not be isolated, that it is loved from across the world. But I would say, in the spirit of revolutionary solidarity, that the most important thing that those who read this text can do is to continue building spaces and community wherever you are.

Exarchia has its fair share of issues, but it is generally a safe place. Considering its size, the fact that it functions so well without policing—despite so much diversity and internal differences and external pressure—attests to the viability of anarchism. Exarchia confirms that even without a police force, a major metropolitan area can function peacefully. So one way you could demonstrate your solidarity is to work towards creating more communities that celebrate self-determination, that do not welcome the police.

This year will see the first observances of important annual events under New Democracy, including Novemeber 17, the anniversary of the day 23 students were killed by the Junta at the Polytechnio in Exarchia, and December 6, the anniversary of the murder of Alexis Grigoropolous that sparked the 2008 insurrection. New Democracy has used both days to rally their supporters and argue that they must lift the asylum laws. While the movement has generally been critical of what is called anarcho-tourism, I think the attitude around this is changing. If people come to Greece for these days, they could help to protect Exarchia.

Outside supporters can also come to Greece to help immigrants independent of the state and NGOs, inside and outside of Athens. This has been going on for a long time.

It is not easy to say exactly what you should do. As I write this, I still don’t know what New Democracy has planned, nor how anarchists here will respond. But there are cops in riot gear surrounding the neighborhood, undercover cops roaming the streets, and tension everywhere. I am equally afraid and excited to see what is to come.

Many attribute these three deaths to the boss refusing to let the employees leave during the general strike and the riot that predictably accompanied it. ↩

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gjr1086 · 6 years

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Sometimes the hero needs saving...

So i don't really post much unless i have me feels going. But i think it's time u guys kno my story..

Since I was a kid my brother n my dad would always fight. I've seen my dad slam my brother through a wall when i was 14 n felt helpless... both of them are big guys with short fuses n thick skulls..

Throughout my teens i was picked on n bullied cause of my eczema (sever constant dry skin. Almost like having a heat rash n sunburn at the sme time). I wasn't popular but i made my own rep n was able to make friends easily. However, being so nice gets u taken advantage of.

I had a lot of messed up n abusive relationships to the point that being treated like a worthless piece of wasted skin. As hard to say all this it's time for me to let go of these heavy weight that I've been carrying around all my life.

When i got pregnant in 2008 my ex husband would cheat on me with random females (some from craigslist). The stress before n during my pregnancy landed me in the OR to have an emergency c-section cause my daughter's heart rate kept dropping (i wanted to have her naturally but my body only dialated 3-5cm. I spent the next 5 days in the hospital trying to learn how to walk n take a piss on my own with out having an accident. When we got home my ex husband tells me that with the complecations during surgery the doctor gave him a choice on who to save in the event that we both start crashing. He tells him to save his wife cause we can always make another baby.

After that he just kept abusing me mentally n emotionally by staying out at outrageous hours saying he has to work (as an electrician who's hours of operation end at 5pm. He leaves at 6am n cames home at 2am the next morning). I had enough n snapped on him tue daybafter my daughter's first Christmas. My mom took the baby out of the room so i could sleep n my ex runs his mouth about my mom invading our room n messing with the baby. (Mind u i am still pretty raw from having my daughter less then a month before). Idk what came over me but when he turned his bck to me in the middle of the conversation i saw red n pulled him back saying "don't turn ur fucking back on me again n look at me when i am talking to u" he seemed like he was gonna swing n i would have let him just to fuel my rage more.. something took over me n i fractured 3 or his ribs, gave him a black eye and a busted lip.. we split for bout 3 weeks but he would "try" to see the baby n ended up saying that he wanted to come home. But that didn't last long. We separated about a month later n he hasn't seen his daughter since she was 4 months old..

After that all my relationship were extremely difficult on both ends cause i seem to be attracting n am attracted to ppl as broken as I was.. thinking I could save them.. when really i needed to he saved. I was told by my over 5 yr ex that fairytales don't exsist n started believing that there will never be a happy ending for me..

In 2014 my mom, dad, daughter n i moved into a house with my brother, his wife n 2 bots who came from the Philippines. Here i was thinking it was to bring the family closer but i soon came to realize it was so that we could take care of his family while he was out at sea. Big mistake cause when he was home all he did was fight n argue with my dad. My dad started getting obsessed with his plants n gardening that he watered our big ass back yard n the front garden area for almost 3 hrs a day n running up the water bill. Then shit knocked us out one by one.

Feb 2015: daughter get pneumonia n had to he admitted to the hospital for 5 days with round the clock meds.

April 2015: my dad had a mild heart attack n heat stroke from being out with his plants n not resting nor taking his meds for diabetes, high blood, hypertension, n more.

May 2015: i slipped n fell at work messing up my right knee n was in a wheelchair for 3 months n crutches in between.

June 2015: i went back to work after my injury n the same day my mom had a massive stroke leaving her paralyzed on her whole right side, damaging the entire left side of her brain n compromising her speech.

I ended up quitting my job n staying home to care for her fulltime (but only got paid for business hours). Regardless of the pay i did it for her to not suffer alone in a damn nursing home like my grandmother. Little by little things changed but not for the good.

July 2015: my dad has a melt down n acted as if he ws going to hirt someone or himself. So i told my sister in le to take the kids upstairs n lock the door while me n my 5+ ur bf took care of the situation. My brother was on the phone with me during this n told me to call the cops. My dad acted like nothing was wrong n the cops said that cant take hime because basically nothing bad happened yet... smh.

I took my sister n the kids to my aunts for the weekend while my mom was still in the hospital to let things cool off in the house n family n friends were telling me that he may need mental help.. as much as i didn't want to betray my dad i had to do what was best n he agreed to do a psych evaluation. The things that cam out of his mouth was soo cold n morbid that it broke my heart knowing that he saw demon faces on his own family's faces...

He was admitted for 72 hrs but was sent back on another incident. (I kno I'm missing a lot in between but I'm just letting my fingers do the talking for me). He was evicted n homless living in his van for 2 yrs until my brother had the bright idea to sell the house n basically made it to ever man for themselves. He did me a "generous" favor of letting me n my 3 friends rent the house as tenants.

March 26th, 2017: my mom passed away the morning after I broke things off with my 5+ yr ex. I guess she was waiting for me to do that to let her kno that I ws ready to let her go.....

April 2015: I met my recent bf (who is now ... idk not apart of my life anymore i suppose) who was basically cheating on me while he was living with me because he got fed up of my trust n insecurity issues n literallysaid "fuck it.."

Before this crap with my dude, my daughter's god father (who is also my ex) got jealous n broke his lease agreement to move to Maryland. N my so called sister (my god daughter's mom) fucked me over as well by taking advantage of my generosity n kindness to get her n my god daughter off the street n in an actual home. I tried to give her another chance to be a good mom but took too much advantage of everyone. Those two got everyone evicted n not only was my dad homeless but me, my daughter n my bf for 4 months (it may not seem long but when u are going through it.. that seems like a lifetime). In that time I learned that my bf was talking inappropriately to other females n that door that was keeping the demons locked up had broken down n won't close. I ended up swinging at him on 3 different occassions n started cutting, ripping at flesh or smoking my life away slowly since.

Friday, Aug 13, 2018 we were blessed with a new home but it doesn't feel like it just yet. Stuff isn't fully unpacked cause finances are low to get a uhaul n lack of man power is making the process longer. Since the crap with my dude happened i guess he got tired of me bitching about his neglect n abuse towards me cause he really feels like he didn't do anything wrong..

It's ok.. i always turn into the bad guy when all i did was put in all my time n effort just to have it thrown back in my face...

So I'm just sitting here feeling worthless.. n wondering what the fuck to do now... i'm just soo lost... i just wana sleep n never wake up again...

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evilsnowswan · 7 years

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[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14][Chapter 15][Chapter 16] UPDATED: [Chapter 17]

Almost sixteen years have passed since Belle banished Rumplestiltskin at the town line. Rumple, as Mr. Gold, has been living in New York for the past years and is still trying to find a way back to Belle, when an unexpected visitor appears on his doorstep one evening.

Pairing(s): Rumbelle | Words: 59+k | Rating: NC-17/E

Main Characters: Belle French, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Original Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold Child(ren), Red Riding Hood | Ruby Lucas

Current Chapter: Glitter and Tea (17/?) [Read on AO3] [Tumblr]

Chapter Summary: What's with the glitter? - Some answers and some idiocy.

Notes: I'm with Ivy on this one. Morons. How about you?

Chapter 17: Glitter and Tea

“Rumple?” Belle looked up to find he had backed away from the sofa, his expression unreadable. “Did you…?”

For a hot second, she meant to ask if he had anything to do with Ivy’s skin; if he had done anything… magical to her, used some spell, or… potion to help with her nausea and vomiting; if he had done anything, anything at all - in a well-meaning manner of course - that could, possibly, have backfired somehow and made their daughter pay the sparkly… price, but Belle knew the question was silly and the answer had to be no. They were in the Land Without Magic. He couldn’t have done anything like it. And, judging by his reaction, Rumple was just as taken aback and confused by Ivy’s current state as she was.

Only, he didn’t look surprised anymore. His face was hard, angry; a mask made from narrowed eyes, curled lips and cold fury.

“Rumple, what-”

“You lied to me.” He spoke through his teeth, almost snake-like, hissing his nonsensical accusation at her, and Belle had no time to process it, to feel offended by his tone, or to do anything but stare at him as he lunged forward, swiftly ran a finger along Ivy’s upper arm, and withdrew with another low hiss, looking down at his hand in disgust.

Ivy whimpered into the stunned silence.

“Rumple!”

He cocked his head, studied her, and Belle felt her pulse quicken.

“What are you, dearie?” He asked in a low growl that she came to recognize, but hadn’t heard in a long time. Not since her early days in the Dark Castle, when she had been nothing but his maid, bound by a deal. But just like back then, his quirks and antics didn’t scare her. Irritate, confuse, intrigue, yes, but not scare her. She knew him too well; knew that he was the one frightened or unsettled by whatever was going on, and simply trying to deflect it.

Ivy, however, had no way of knowing any of it, and their daughter’s distressed little noises and the way she burrowed deeper into their embrace, made Belle want to fling a dirty towel at him - or the bucket.

“Shh,” she cooed, stroking Ivy’s heated cheek. “Lower your voice, Rumple.” She shot him a warning glare. “I don’t know what you’re talk-”

“This!”

His agitated hands made a mock-airy gesture that cupped Ivy’s curled up form, and Belle nearly flew off the handle and the sofa, but forced herself to remain calm and seated - for Ivy’s sake. As calm as she could make it, anyway.

“And what’s that supposed to mean now, hmm?”

Rumple’s jaw worked, his eyes swivelling back and forth between hers, trying to catch one of them lying. What was he insinuating? That Ivy wasn’t… his? That she, Belle, had-

“Fairy!” He spat the word, flung it at them like a rock. “You-! She-!”

He looked at her, wide-eyed and miserable, and her heart took an unexpected hit as he turned away and began to pace.

He looked so hurt, so deeply betrayed; his shoulders hunched and head bowed as he went, wringing his hands and muttering to himself that it couldn’t be, that he would have noticed, that he should have known; She must have hoodwinked him somehow, bewitched him, yes; but how could she have done it, a simple maid trick the Dark One, put a spell on him without being found out?! A spell so powerful - no, no, too powerful - she couldn’t have done it; But how had she managed to hide the truth from him for so long? Camouflaged her true nature? What glamor-?

“Rumple. Stop!” Belle pleaded, her eyes and head swimming from his circles and the manic monologue. “I don’t understand. What are you saying? The fairies-? They… did this? To Ivy? Rumple, please!”

He stopped, shook his head, held up a hand.

“Belle-” he breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut before he exhaled, letting out a long breath. When he looked at her again, his eyes were clear, but wary.

“What do you mean?”

“When… when she was born… the Mother Superior…”

He sucked his teeth.

“Sorry. I know you don’t like her, but she and the fairies… they were the only ones willing to help and…” she trailed off as he ran a hand over his face.

“The Old Fairy,” He forced the name past his teeth as if rubbing something disgusting and grimy on a washboard. “She… was there? She was there when-”

“Yes.” Belle nodded, pressing her lips together, and wrapped herself around a shivering Ivy like a protective cocoon. “Rumple, please. You’re scaring her.”

He blinked, blinked again, and then his face crumpled. He stared down at his hands, like he had done after losing his temper in the kitchen the first time she’d come into his home.

“I’m… sorry. Belle, please. I didn’t mean to-” He took a few wobbly steps and lowered himself into the armchair, where he put his face in his hands and breathed heavily.

Belle watched him, relaxed her arms and shoulders, and took a moment to breathe as well. Then she shifted a little and reached out to - almost - touch his arm.

He looked round at her anyway, and she smiled tentatively.

“So, you know what the… rash is?” She asked quietly, and he gave a dejected nod.

“Fairy’s Bloom.” He sighed and leaned forward on his knees to look at Ivy, who was peeking out from inside Belle’s arms. “Ivy, what day is your birthday?”

His voice was soft, gentle, apologetic, but Ivy hesitated. She cast her eyes up to look at Belle, who answered, “July 28th. 2015,” took a breath, and added: “A Tuesday.”

Rumple smiled a sad little smile and put a finger to his lips.

“So, as of today, … that’s 15 years, two months, and seven days.”

“Whoa,” Ivy breathed. “Freaky.”

Belle was used to his knack for numbers, to how little it took him to jump back and forth in time effortlessly in his mind. She assumed it came with his age, having lived for as long as he had, but coming to think of it, she had never asked Rumple about it.

“Ah.” Rumple said, reaching a silent conclusion to another thought. “That, ah, well…” He blushed without finishing, and Belle quirked a brow.

“That… that would be…” he stammered, avoiding her gaze and shifting in his seat.

“What is it? --- Rumple?”

“I’m not sure I should say…” He glanced at her. “In present company.”

Belle laughed, pretending to cover Ivy’s ears, but her daughter wriggled free almost immediately.

“Mom!” She coughed. “What are you two talking about?”

“You see… ah, you were born on July 28th,” Rumple began, his eyes latching onto Belle’s with an unexpected heat that made her cheeks grow warm and something in her belly flutter, “but you’ve been… there… since -” He paused - “before then.”

Belle’s face flushed when she realized where he was getting at, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his, or open her mouth to do anything about it.

“You… you know, sort of since your mother and I -”

“Dad!” Ivy’s hands flew to her ears. “Stop! Don’t! Oh God, please. I think I’m gonna be sick again...”

“And, if my calculations are correct, that means you, that is your… essence, just turned 16.”

“Don't say it! Ew, ew, ew! Too much information!” Ivy squirmed. “Jeez, dad!”

Belle bit her lip to keep from laughing, her face hot and mind fuzzy as she glanced down at Ivy. She cleared her throat.

“Why the… glitter?”

“Magical blood will out at sixteen,” Rumple said, earnest. “And that,” His eyes swept over Ivy. “That is fairy blood.”

She gawked at him, unsure of whether he was serious or not; whether he wasn’t imagining things; whether this wasn’t a fever dream and they were all stuck in it together, sickness and exhaustion getting the better of them. She closed her eyes, opened them again, squinted in the harsh morning light that slanted in through the blinds. A new morning, a new day.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Doesn’t it?”

No, it didn’t. He had lost his mind. Belle narrowed her eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“Magic doesn’t lie. People do.”

She wanted to strangle him. And by the Gods, she would have if that hadn’t meant leaving her child fatherless - and having to leave the sofa. Her body was too heavy to move; too tired to hold all her emotions. They flooded her face and eyes, spilling out and over before she could rein them back in.

“Oh, so I’m lying then?! Is that it? You think I’m lying?”

“Well, are you?”

There wasn’t enough air in the room. It was stuffy and growing smaller by the second, making Belle’s heart race and legs tingle. As soon as Ivy was feeling better, she would take her and get out of here, and leave him to spin his nonsense in peace.

“I don’t even know what I’d be lying about, Rumple!” she yelled, her eyes stinging and head throbbing. “All I know is that Ivy is my child. And she is yours. But if you’re so much more knowledgeable, how about you fill us in?”

Heavy, strained silence.

“I’m just stating the facts,” he said, voice rising like magma. “Magical blood. Fairy blood. It’s weak, but it’s there. She must have gotten that somewhere; from someone - and that someone isn’t me.”

She watched him shudder.

“Oh, so it must be me?!” You are ridicu-”

“Mom! Dad! Stop!” Ivy’s anger matched theirs. “You’re both crazy! I’m not a fairy!” She pushed Belle’s arms off and wrangled free from their embrace, struggling with the layers of blankets as she twisted her body to show them her back. “See?” She pointed over her shoulder. “No wings. There.”

She turned her head awkwardly to look at Belle and whispered, “Fairies have wings, right Mom?”

Belle chuckled tearfully. “Sorry, baby.” She rubbed Ivy’s back and buried her face in her neck, breathing in the familiar smell. “Your father has lost his mind.”

“I’m not wrong, Belle,” Rumple protested. “It’s in her makeup. Her… DNA. Which means it’s in yours.”

Belle threw up her arms.

“So now I’m the fairy?! I’m a fairy too? Oh, I know. Maybe we’re all fairies now? Who knows?” She scoffed. “Rumple, do you hear yourself?”

“You speak Fairy, don’t you?”

What did that have to do with anything? She was losing her mind. He was making her lose it.

“I can read it, yes. A few dialects. My mum taught me. But-”

“Ah.” He looked smugly self-confident, and it drove her up the shabby wall.

“But I also speak Mountain Troll. That doesn’t make me one, now does it?!”

Ivy shook her head, her tangled curls tickling the inside of Belle’s arms and making her smile involuntarily. “Pu-lease. That’s not hard. All you have to do is grunt and roar. Trolls are dull.”

“Ivy!”

“What?”

“Don’t say that.” She wasn’t laughing anymore. This wasn’t a laughing matter or an acceptable attitude. “Mountain trolls are a very kind and sensitive people.”

“You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” Rumple concurred. She shot him a pointed look.

Oh? Really?

“I know, I know.” He held up his hands. “But, Belle, are you sure… are you absolutely sure that you - or your mother - I mean, couldn’t it have been…?”

“My mother died when I was 12. You know that. Had she been a fairy…” Belle heaved a long, bitter sigh. “She might still be with us.”

“Perhaps she is.”

She shook her head. Wrapped her arms tighter around Ivy and herself.

“It’s true, fairies are immortal, but that doesn’t mean what you think it means; doesn’t mean what most people assume it does. Fairies can never truly die, but they don’t stay alive in a way that’s easily grasped or understood by… normal… non-magical folk either. They-”

“Air on the wind, Dust in the desert, A single drop of rain. I was here, I am here, and I will be here again,” Belle recited, the words coming back to her of their own accord. An old fairy scroll, a poem she and Mother had translated when she was a little girl. Or had it been a song? It might have been a song.

Rumple nodded. “See?”

“No, I don’t.”

“It’s all about essence for them. It’s in every cell, in their bodies, the magic. Even in the glitter. As long as a part of that exists in the world-”

Ivy rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. “Is this the Lion King? One of you going to break into song now?! Newsflash:” She pointed at her own chest. “Not. A. Fairy. Okay? Got it? --- Good. Case closed.” She pushed Belle off again, staggered to her feet, swayed, and stomped off to the kitchenette, much of the effect lost on her unsteady, asymmetrical and insecure gait. “You two are mental.”

“Ivy, please.” Belle cautioned gently. “Baby, be careful.”

“I can make tea, Mom. Jeez.” Ivy turned off the water and slammed the old kettle on the stove with a bang, made to turn on the gas, but then whirled around instead, holding out her bare left arm for them to see. “There. No more... rash or... glitter... or whatever. Can we stop with the crazy now? And the arguments? And the crazy, stupid arguments?!” She turned her back on them again, and hoisted herself up on the counter to reach the wall cupboard where her father kept the tea and the tea set.

Her skin had stopped sparkling.

“Ivy! Get down there. Now!” Belle pushed to sitting, legs off the sofa and one hand resting on the edge, ready to push herself off and fly to the rescue at a moment’s notice. “You’re gonna fall. Watch your arm!”

Ivy shot a hot glare over her shoulder, and Belle bit her lip. Yes, they had set wonderful examples for their daughter, hadn’t they? She had set a wonderful example.

“Please, just be careful,” she said a little calmer. “You already have one arm in plaster.”

“Yes, listen to your mother, please.” Rumple agreed.

Ivy groaned. “Yes, Mooom. Yes, Daaad.” She hopped off the counter, scrambled to find her footing, but caught herself just in time. “Oh. My. God. Chill.”

“Watch your tone, young lady.” Rumple’s voice was stern.

Ivy whirled round, but had to grip the counter hard not to fall. “Why? You aren’t?!”

Belle put a hand on Rumple’s arm. “And we are sorry, baby.” She patted the spot beside her on the sofa and smiled encouragingly. “Please, come, sit back down. And let’s talk… calmly and rationally… no yelling. I promise.”

“And I do too.” Rumple got to his feet and hobbled over to Ivy to wrap her in a slightly awkward hug - ever tried hugging a hedgehog? - then took the tea kettle from her and sent her on her way with a playful pat on the backside.

“Hey!” Ivy grumbled, but kept walking. “Okay, okay, fine,” she huffed, plonking back down beside Belle and folding her arms across her chest, looking daggers at them both. “But you two exhaust me!” As if to prove her point, she yawned heartily and clasped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks turning pink.

“I know.” Belle pulled her into her own hedgehog-hug, which Ivy let happen under protest, and planted a wet kiss on her cheek, laughing softly as her daughter scrambled away and ran a hand over the spot in exasperation. “We exhaust ourselves too.”

“MOTHER!” Ivy hollered. “Enough. Ugh.”

Grinning, Belle held up her hands.

As the rest of the night died outside, they wrapped themselves in the blankets again and snuggled up against the cushions, waiting in warm silence until Rumple was done with the tea and brought it over, setting it on the table.

“Two?” He asked her, and Belle nodded, taking the cup from him after he’d added the sugar.

“Why did it stop? The glitter?” She asked, feeling Ivy’s deep breathing reverberate in her body. They really had worn their poor baby out. She brushed at Ivy’s hair with her free hand, then took a tentative sip. Valerian root, rose, and lavender. “Where did it go?”

“It’s not permanent. Not in the Land Without Magic.”

“And, it’s what’s making her sick?”

“No,” he smirked. “That would be your bug.”

“Oh, ha-ha.” She punched his arm lightly, careful not to spill her tea. “So, it’s all my fault either way?”

“Looks like it.”

Belle knitted her brow, set her cup down, and looked at the ceiling. “Do you really think… think my mother could have been a fairy?”

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #belle x rumplestiltskin #belle french #rumplestiltskin #rumbelle!child #fic: limits to love #my fic

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yainterrobang · 7 years

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A Variety of Brains: Books with Anxious Main Characters

Welcome to A Variety of Brains. Are you looking for a neurodiverse book? I’ve got it listed for you. This week, I'm spotlighting anxious main characters.

A lot of these may not be good representation. It could even be most of them, but that’s not my call to make. On my last few major lists like this for YA Interrobang, I pulled any books I knew were problematic, but I hesitate to do that with this one, simply because neurodiversity in itself is incredibly diverse. Take, for example, the way that anxiety manifests itself varies from person to person.

Some experiences will feel true to some readers, but those same experiences could be triggering for others. I don’t want to deny anyone the chance to find themselves in the pages. Before picking up any of these books, please look at reviews, ask friends, make sure that what’s in these pages won’t harm you. I can’t tell you what won’t work for you, what will hurt you, and I can’t vet all of these books. Please, please be careful.

10 Things I Can See From Here by Carrie Mac Publisher: Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers Release date: February 28 2017 Maeve has heard it all before. She’s been struggling with severe anxiety for a long time, and as much as she wishes it was something she could just talk herself out of, it’s not. To add to her troubles, her mom—the only one who really gets what Maeve goes through—is leaving for six months, so Maeve will be sent to live with her dad in Vancouver. Vancouver brings a slew of new worries, but Maeve finds brief moments of calm with Salix, a local girl who doesn’t seem to worry about anything. Between her dad’s wavering sobriety, her very pregnant stepmom insisting on a home birth, and her bumbling courtship with Salix, this summer brings more catastrophes than even Maeve could have foreseen

The Avery Shaw Experiment by Kelly Oram Publisher: Bluefields Release date: May 4 2013 The state science fair is coming up and Avery decides to use her broken heart as the topic of her experiment. She’s going to find the cure. By forcing herself to experience the seven stages of grief through a series of social tests, she believes she will be able to get over Aiden Kennedy and make herself ready to love again. But she can’t do this experiment alone, and her ex-partner is the one who broke her heart. Avery finds the solution to her troubles in the form of Aiden’s older brother, Grayson. He’s in need of a good tutor and some serious extra credit. But when Avery recruits the lovable Grayson to be her “objective outside observer,” she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for, because Grayson has a theory of his own: Avery needs to live. And if there’s one thing Grayson Kennedy is good at, it’s living life to the fullest.

Before She Ignites by Jodi Meadows Publisher: Katherine Tegen Release date: September 12 2017 Since the day Mira Minkoba was born, she’s been told she’s special. Important. Perfect. She’s known across the Fallen Isles not just for her beauty, but for the Mira Treaty named after her, a peace agreement which united the seven islands against their enemies on the mainland. But Mira has never felt as perfect as everyone says. She counts compulsively. She struggles with crippling anxiety. And she’s far too interested in dragons for a girl of her station. Then Mira discovers an explosive secret that challenges everything she and the Treaty stand for. Betrayed by the very people she spent her life serving, Mira is sentenced to the Pit – the deadliest prison in the Fallen Isles.

The Boyfriend List by E. Lockhart Publisher: Delacorte Books for Young Readers Release date: March 22 2005 Ruby Oliver is 15 and has a shrink. She knows it’s unusual, but give her a break—she’s had a rough 10 days. In the past 10 days she: lost her boyfriend, lost her best friend,lost all her other friends, did something suspicious with a boy, did something advanced with a boy, had an argument with a boy, drank her first beer, got caught by her mom, had a panic attack), lost a lacrosse game, failed a math test), hurt Meghan’s feelings, became a social outcast and had graffiti written about her in the girls’ bathroom. But don’t worry—Ruby lives to tell the tale. And make more lists.

Don’t Touch by Rachel M. Wilson Publisher: HarperTeen Release date: September 2 2014 Caddie has a history of playing games in her head to cope with her surroundings—but it's never been this bad before. When her parents split up, don't touch becomes Caddie's mantra. She knows it doesn't make sense, but her games have never been logical. Soon, despite Alabama's humidity, she's covering every inch of her skin and wearing evening gloves to school. And that's where things get tricky. Even though Caddie's the new girl, it's hard to pass off her compulsions as artistic quirks. Her drama class is all about interacting with her scene partners, especially Peter, who's auditioning for the role of Hamlet. Caddie desperately wants to play Ophelia, but if she does, she'll have to touch Peter . . . and kiss him. Part of Caddie would love nothing more than to kiss Peter—but the other part isn't sure she's brave enough to let herself fall.

Dr. Bird’s Advice for Sad Poets by Evan Roskos Publisher: HMH Books for Young Readers Release date: March 5 2013 Sixteen-year-old James Whitman has been yawping (à la Whitman) at his abusive father ever since he kicked his beloved older sister, Jorie, out of the house. James’s painful struggle with anxiety and depression—along with his ongoing quest to understand what led to his self-destructive sister’s exile—make for a heart-rending read, but his wild, exuberant Whitmanization of the world and keen sense of humor keep this emotionally charged debut novel buoyant.

Every Exquisite Thing by Matthew Quick Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers Release date: May 31 2016 Star athlete and straight-A student Nanette O’Hare has played the role of dutiful daughter for as long as she can remember. But one day, a beloved teacher gives her his worn copy of The Bubblegum Reaper and the rebel within Nanette awakens. As the new and outspoken Nanette attempts to insert her true self into the world with wild abandon, she befriends the reclusive author and falls in love with a young, troubled poet. Forced to make some hard choices that bring devastating consequences, Nanette learns the hard way that rebellion can sometimes come at a high price.

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell Publisher: St. Martin’s Griffin Release date: September 10 2013 For Cath, being a fan is her life—and she’s really good at it. She and her twin sister, Wren, ensconced themselves in the Simon Snow series when they were just kids; it’s what got them through their mother leaving. Cath’s sister has mostly grown away from fandom, but Cath can’t let go. Now that they’re going to college, Wren has told Cath she doesn’t want to be roommates. Cath is on her own, completely outside of her comfort zone. She’s got a surly roommate with a charming, always-around boyfriend, a fiction-writing professor who thinks fan fiction is the end of the civilized world, a handsome classmate and she can’t stop worrying about her dad, who’s never really been alone. For Cath, the question is: Can she do this? Is she ready to start living her own life? And does she even want to move on if it means leaving Simon Snow behind?

Finding Audrey by Sophie Kinsella Publisher: Delacorte Books for Young Readers Release date: June 9 2015 An anxiety disorder disrupts fourteen-year-old Audrey’s daily life. She has been making slow but steady progress with Dr. Sarah, but when Audrey meets Linus, her brother’s gaming teammate, she is energized. She connects with him. Audrey can talk through her fears with Linus in a way she’s never been able to do with anyone before. As their friendship deepens and her recovery gains momentum, a sweet romantic connection develops, one that helps not just Audrey but also her entire family.

Harmonic Feedback by Tara Kelly Publisher: Henry Holt & Co Release date: May 25 2010 Sixteen-year-old, music-obsessed Drea doesn't have friends. Having just moved to the latest in a string of new towns, Drea meets two other outsiders. And Naomi and Justin seem to actually like Drea. Justin, against all odds, may even like like Drea. It's obvious that Drea can't hide behind her sound equipment anymore. But just when she's found not one but two true friends, can she stand to lose one of them?

How I Made it to Eighteen by Tracy White Publisher: Roaring Brook Press Release date: June 8 2010 How do you know if you're on the verge of a nervous breakdown? For seventeen-year-old Stacy Black, it all begins with the smashing of a window. After putting her fist through the glass, she checks into a mental hospital. Stacy hates it there but despite herself slowly realizes she has to face the reasons for her depression to stop from self-destructing. How I Made it to Eighteen is a frank portrait of what it's like to struggle with self-esteem, body image issues, drug addiction, and anxiety.

How It Feels to Fly by Kathryn Holmes Publisher: HarperTeen Release date: June 14 2016 For as long as Samantha can remember, she’s wanted to be a professional ballerina. Then her body betrayed her. The result: crippling anxiety about her appearance. On her dance teacher’s recommendation, Sam is sent to a summer treatment camp for teens who are struggling with mental and emotional obstacles. If she can make progress, she’ll be allowed to attend a crucial ballet intensive. But when asked to open up to complete strangers, Sam can’t cope. With her future uncertain and her body against her, will Sam give in to the anxiety that imprisons her?

I Don’t Want to Be Crazy by Samantha Schutz Publisher: Push Release date: July 1 2006 When Samantha Schutz first left home for college, she was excited by the possibilities -- freedom from parents, freedom from a boyfriend who was reckless with her affections, freedom from the person she was supposed to be. At first, she reveled in the independence ... but as pressures increased, she began to suffer anxiety attacks that would leave her mentally shaken and physically incapacitated. Thus, began a hard road of discovery and coping, powerfully rendered in this poetry memoir.

Isla and the Happily Ever After by Stephanie Perkins Publisher: Dutton Release date: August 14 2014 Hopeless romantic Isla has had a crush on introspective cartoonist Josh since their first year at the School of America in Paris. And after a chance encounter in Manhattan over the summer, romance might be closer than Isla imagined. But as they begin their senior year back in France, Isla and Josh are forced to confront the challenges every young couple must face, including family drama, uncertainty about their college futures, and the very real possibility of being apart.

It’s All Your Fault by Paul Rudnick Publisher: Scholastic Press Release date: January 26 2016 My name is Caitlin and up until forty-eight hours ago I had never: Tasted alcohol, kissed a boy, sang in public at the top of my lungs, kidnapped anyone or stolen a convertible. Now I’m in jail and I have no idea what I’m going to tell: The police, my parents, the mayor, all of those camera crews and everyone on Twitter. I have just noticed that: My nose is pierced and I have—WAIT? IS THAT A TATTOO? I blame one person for this entire insane weekend: My famous cousin. Who is also my former best friend. Who I have HATED for the past four years. Who I miss like crazy.

The Nature of Jade by Deb Caletti Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers Release date: February 27 2007 Jade DeLuna is too young to die. She knows this, and yet she can't quite believe it. Since being diagnosed with Panic Disorder, she's trying her best to stay calm, and visiting the elephants at the nearby zoo seems to help. That's why Jade keeps the live zoo webcam on in her room, and that's where she first sees the boy in the red jacket. A boy carrying a baby. His name is Sebastian, and he is raising his son alone. Jade is drawn into Sebastian's cozy life with his son and his activist grandmother on their Seattle houseboat, and before she knows it, she's in love. Jade knows the situation is beyond complicated, but she hasn't felt this safe in a long time. She owes it all to Sebastian, her boy with the great heart. Her boy who is hiding a terrible secret. A secret that will force Jade to decide between what is right, and what feels right.

The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness Publisher: HarperTeen Release date: October 6 2015 What if you aren’t the Chosen One? What if you’re like Mikey? Who just wants to graduate and go to prom and maybe finally work up the courage to ask Henna out before someone goes and blows up the high school. Because sometimes there are problems bigger than this week’s end of the world, and sometimes you just have to find the extraordinary in your ordinary life. Even if your best friend is worshipped by mountain lions.

Shackled by Tom Leveen Publisher: Simon Pulse Release date: August 18 2015 After years of therapy, medication, and even a stint in a mental hospital, Pell’s finally ready to re-enter the world of the living. Pelly has been suffering from severe panic attacks ever since her best friend, Tara, disappeared six years ago. And her plan seems to be working, until an unkempt girl accompanied by an older man walks into the coffee shop where she works. Pelly thinks she’s seen a ghost, until the girl mouths “help me” on the way out, and Pelly knows she’s just seen Tara.

The Smaller Evil by Stephanie Kuehn Publisher: Dutton Books for Young Readers Release date: August 2 2016 Arman Dukoff is struggling with severe anxiety and a history of self-loathing when he arrives at an expensive self-help retreat in the remote hills of Big Sur. He’s taken a huge risk—and two-thousand dollars from his meth-head stepfather—for a chance to "evolve," as Beau, the retreat leader, says. Beau is complicated, but more than anyone he's ever met, Beau makes Arman feel something other than what he usually feels—worthless. Arman believes for a moment that he can get better. But the program is a blur of jargon, bizarre rituals, and incomprehensible encounters with a beautiful girl. Arman is certain he's failing everything. But Beau disagrees and then, in an instant, Beau is gone.

Under Rose-Tainted Skies by Louise Gornall Publisher: Clarion Books Release date: January 3 2017 At seventeen, Norah has accepted that the four walls of her house delineate her life. She knows that fearing everything from inland tsunamis to odd numbers is irrational, but her mind insists the world outside is too big, too dangerous. So she stays safe inside, watching others’ lives through her windows and social media feed. But when Luke arrives on her doorstep, he doesn’t see a girl defined by medical terms and mental health. Instead, he sees a girl who is funny, smart, and brave. And Norah likes what he sees. Their friendship turns deeper, but Norah knows Luke deserves a normal girl. One who can walk beneath the open sky. One who is unafraid of kissing. One who isn’t so screwed up. Can she let him go for his own good—or can Norah learn to see herself through Luke’s eyes?

Underwater by Marisa Reichardt Publisher: Farrar, Straus, & Giroux Books for Young Readers Release date: January 12 2016 Morgan didn’t mean to do anything wrong that day. Actually, she meant to do something right. But her kind act inadvertently played a role in a deadly tragedy. Morgan must learn to forgive—first someone who did something that might be unforgivable, and then herself. But Morgan can’t move on. She can’t even move beyond the front door of the apartment she shares with her mother and little brother. When it seems Morgan can’t hold her breath any longer, a new boy moves in next door. Evan reminds her of the salty ocean air and the rush she used to get from swimming. He might be just what she needs to help her reconnect with the world outside.

The Upside of Unrequited by Becky Albertalli Publisher: Balzer + Bray Release date: April 11 2017 Molly Peskin-Suso’s crushed on twenty-six guys…but has kissed exactly none. Her twin sister Cassie’s advice isn’t that helpful. It’s easy for her to say: she’s had flings with lots of girls. She’s fearless and effortlessly svelte, while Molly is introverted and what their grandma calls zaftig. Then Cassie meets Mina, and for the first time ever, Cassie is falling in love. While Molly is happy for her, she can’t help but feel lonelier than ever. But Cassie and Mina are determined to end Molly’s string of unrequited crushes once and for all. They decide to set her up with Mina’s friend Will, who is ridiculously good-looking, flirty, and seems to be into Molly. Perfect, right? But as Molly spends more time with Reid, her cute, nerdy co-worker, her feelings get all kinds of complicated. Now she has to decide whether to follow everyone’s advice…or follow her own heart.

Virtuosity by Jessica Martinez Publisher: Simon Pulse Release date: October 18 2011 Now is not the time for Carmen to fall in love. And Jeremy is hands-down the wrong guy for her to fall for. He is infuriating, arrogant, and the only person who can stand in the way of Carmen getting the one thing she wants most: to win the prestigious Guarneri competition. Carmen's whole life is violin, and until she met Jeremy, her whole focus was winning. But nobody else understands her--and riles her up--like he does. Still, she can't trust him with her biggest secret: She is so desperate to win she takes anti-anxiety drugs to perform, and what started as an easy fix has become a hungry addiction. Sometimes, being on top just means you have a long way to fall

Will & Whit by Laura Lee Gulledge Publisher: Amulet Release date: May 7 2013 Wilhelmina “Will” Huckstep is a creative soul struggling to come to terms with a family tragedy. She crafts whimsical lamps, in part to deal with her fear of the dark. As she wraps up another summer in her mountain town, she longs for unplugged adventures with her fellow creative friends. Little does she know that she will get her wish in the form of an arts carnival and a blackout, courtesy of a hurricane named Whitney, which forces Will to face her fear of darkness.

See our list of characters dealing with addiction.

#ya lit #ya books #the upside of unrequited #isla and the happily ever after #rainbow rowell #list of the week #list #a variety of brains

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ninarogers · 7 years

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I have made a playlist for every month of my life since September 2013, save a couple misses. I have never been reliable at keeping a written journal, but I’m also a child of consumption. I don’t always define myself through my organic feelings: they’re filtered through everything I watch and listen to. I am not sad, I am Bridget Jones. I am not sturdy, I am Mary Tyler Moore. Everything is a reference, and I am just a meme aggregator. My playlists are the most accurate depictions of my emotional state I have on record.

Something to keep in mind is that these playlists are essentially my monthly easy listens. These can be taken as a summary of my monthly vibes. I don’t pick too obscure because I’m not in high school anymore, and I am a little lazy.

Data is beautiful. This isn’t, because I am not careful. But it’s an interesting way to look at my listening habits. Have a look…

Quick Takeaways

Groove R&B also missed the genre cut, to my surprise. A symptom of my latent anxiety: singing about getting bodied has the tendency to make me think about my physical body, a source of panic for me.

I Know Places really finished strong, but all three of its inclusions were on the same playlist (Nov 2014, when 1989 was released). Taylor’s appearance was interesting though–all my playlists are on Spotify, where her music isn’t. I imported the song just to listen to it three times an hour. Today, it’s not even my fave from the album (it’s I Wish You Would, of course).

Are You Strong Enough To Be My Man? Nobody is. Sheryl ruined me

Rilo Kiley finishing first is no surprise. They’re the only band whose lyrics I’d get tattooed on my body (but I don’t, because I’d have to tell people I have a song lyric tattoo). I am, however, surprised that Whitney just missed the cut when I have a shrine to her in my bedroom. Fake news?

My methods of dividing into genre and subgenre are not empirical, but they do reveal how I view certain sounds. I’ve defined a couple of the more esoteric subgenres below:

- Indie Sweet - Indie genre, with a sound that feels sweet to me. They aren’t overly produced or lyrically confrontational. They sound Nice. Too much, though, and I feel sick. Ex. Belle & Sebastian, Regina Spektor, Waxahatchee

- Shine as a subgenre - Anything with a sheen. It’s a little electro, maybe a little mad. It’s modern. Ex. The Cure, Something in the Water by Carrie Underwood.

- Indie Nah - Honestly, shit I don’t care for anymore. I liked the song in the moment, but it fell back into sounding like a murmur-y piece of garbage melody without any bite to it. Ex. all these band names that sound made up:

- Octave Pop - She can sing! Ex. Adele, Whitney

- Feelings Rock v Whine Rock - Distinction depends on if I empathize. I empathize with Sheryl Crow, not Rivers Cuomo.

- Weird Pop - Just as poppy as Poppy Pop, but they don’t play it on the radio. But they should, really. See below

- Vintage as a subgenre - If a song didn’t easily fit into an already defined category and was older than ten years, I put it into vintage. Nirvana, Sugar Ray, and Third Eye Blind should not be in the same category theoretically, but I am just a girl.

WHO WON????

Octave Pop

EMO: POPPY V. TRUE The fun ones go more with my vibes.

BEYONCE 4 is still my favorite. @ me.

WEIRD POP To be frank, I’m surprised Fiona even appears here. She’s usually too weird to pair with anything else.

VIBES V. VINTAGE An argument could be made for The Beach Boys as vintage since Brian Wilson singles landed there but ultimately don’t their vibes win you over?

AM I STILL MAD AT DRAKE? You have no idea.

HOW BOW WAH

These playlists, as I said before, are not entirely representative of my listening output for the last three and a half years. There are songs you repeat for days at a time, albums you become obsessed with, and little things you don’t feel like pulling up on Spotify. Here are some things I listened to particularly a lot, enough to make their own, unmonthed lists:

1. Moana soundtrack (looped for month of November) 2. All I Want For Christmas Is You (during period of inertion, December) 3. That Bleachers album (only good altogether, but really not good at all) 4. The xx’s Aaliyah cover (truly remarkable, it lasted me many snowy walks home in January 2014) 5. The Cure’s entire output all at once, all the time 6. Kill My Boyfriend by Natalia Kills (very good when you reach the Anger stage of a breakup, August 2014) 7. A Fleetwood Mac/Rilo Kiley entire discogs alternating songs playlist (the only thing during the drive to Los Angeles, Dec 14/Jan 15) 8. Various emo/pop punk band radio stations (an anytime affair, continuously) 9. Michael Jackson (bought a monster singles compilation that stays in my car’s CD player) 10. West Side Story

MISSING MONTHS

I missed a total of seven months in creating these lists: August 2014, December 2014, and July-November 2016.

August 2014

My college apartment’s lease had finally run out. I had six weeks until the next one started. My Cute Transience had no time to think about Ben Gibbard. I stayed in four different rooms in three different apartments for six weeks. All the mattresses smelled like potatoes. One room was technically a front parlor. Evanston IL never felt so suffocating.

December 2014

I quit my job. I left Evanston for home in Tennessee. I had the vaguest plan to move to California, but I had no job or apartment or any ties anywhere. I drove home with all my earthly possessions stuffed in my Honda Civic. After three weeks of my mom asking why I didn’t have a boyfriend and my dad slipping me the Nashville classifieds I shoved all my garbage back into my Civic and drove 2000 miles to Los Angeles. It took eight days, four stops, and two days of being stranded in small town Texas to get there. I almost died (existentially, and literally). It took me two years to process this as something that happened to me in my life.

July-November 2016

My anxiety had been building steadily for the last three years. My physical health was declining, ever so slightly, enough for me to feel paranoid for even thinking about it. Have you ever been scared of your body? Has your body ever betrayed you? Have doctors? I asked so many what was wrong with me and they told me to drink more water, see a therapist, stop worrying about it. (Later, I did do all those things, and they did help. But not with my state of mind.) It’s so strange to feel yourself turning inwards but to have no desire to stop it. I was afraid of thinking about what was wrong, so I thought about nothing. I was afraid of distracting myself to the point of forgetting, lest my body decline even more, so I did nothing. I felt nothing for six months. I don’t recommend it.

CONCLUSIONS

- The graph doesn’t show how much country is making a general resurgence in my life–but, of course, only the Shine variety. Get Jason Aldean out of here

- Emo music has dropped off my monthly playlists, but my All Time Low radio station is always within the last five lists I’ve played. When I’m in the mood, I can’t just have one–I need it all.

- Indie dropped off in December of 2016–softboys were hard to take right after emerging from a cocoon of depression. I replaced it with a song off the Hamilton mixtape (Satisfied–honestly not my fave!) I did listen to Wait For It (original recording) for days at a time, on loop. I don’t recommend, on the whole.

THE PLAYLISTS Some are better than others.

September 2013 October 2013 November 2013 December 2013 January 2014 February 2014 March 2014 April 2014 May 2014 June 2014 July 2014 September 2014 October 2014 November 2014 January 2015 February 2015 March 2015 April 2015 May 2015 June 2015 July 2015 August 2015 September 2015 October 2015 November 2015 December 2015 January 2016 February 2016 March 2016 April 2016 May 2016 June 2016 December 2016 January 2017

NB: Spotify removes all instances of my Chance and Taylor Swift inclusions. Check the raw data to be sure.

And here’s my raw data. I input it all by hand, so. It’s probably missing some.

#depression #mental health #music #charts #this is pointless

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quangnuyen · 4 years

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Adebisi Alimi: Gay Nigerian Actor Places His Sexuality Inside the Spotlight

Enlarge this imageAdebisi Alimi, an actor-turned-activist, was the primary person ever to return out as gay on Nigerian television. He now shares his tale when he speaks up for the legal rights of the LGBT local community.Claire Eggers/NPRhide captiontoggle captionClaire Eggers/NPRAdebisi Alimi, an actor-turned-activist, was the first person ever to return out as homosexual on Nigerian television. He now shares his story when he speaks up to the legal rights in the LGBT group.Claire Eggers/NPRAdebisi Alimi would be the initially man or woman ever to come out as gay on Nigerian television. But that was not exactly what the 29-year-old needed being acknowledged for back in 2004. Alimi’s performing job was just starting to consider off when his sexuality stole the highlight. The coed newspaper at College of Lagos, in which he was finding out theater, threatened to publish a photograph of him with his then-boyfriend. So Alimi defeat them to the punch. He went on “New Dawn with Funmi,” one of several most popular converse exhibits in Nigeria, and challenged a long-held belief that homosexuality was delivered to Africa by white colonizers. Which was also the calendar year Alimi was identified with HIV. Abruptly, his house state now not noticed him as a soaring star. Alimi mi sing his roles on Television and on stage, lots of his mates shunned him and the police even arrested him on unexplained rates. In 2007, matters acquired worse. He was detained on the airport on his way back again from the United kingdom, https://www.bluesshine.com/Wayne-Gretzky-Jersey the place he gave an interview to BBC Network Africa, and was produced two times afterwards. Then a group of men entered his dwelling and tried to destroy him. Alimi fled for the U.K. and hasn’t been back to Nigeria because.But Alimi says, “My tale is not really a story of a target; it is a human tale.” Without it, he states, he would not be the outspoken activist he’s right now. Now forty, Alimi shares his tale when he speaks out to the rights of homosexual black and African males. He is the founding father of Bisi Consultancy, a company that develops social coverage recommendations based on HIV analysis around the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender group. For his birthday on Jan. seventeen, Alimi has also started off a marketing campaign termed 40four40 to boost forty,000 lbs or about $62,000 USD for 4 LGBT charities. Beforehand, he established the Impartial Task For Equal Rights-Nigeria, a nonprofit for LGBT youth, and helped create the U.K.’s to start with intercontinental LGBT group, Kaleidoscope Diversity Trust.Nigeria’s New Anti-Gay Law A Severe Reminder Of worldwide Attitudes Jan. 18, 2014Despite Progre s Of LGBT Rights In U.S., Problems Stay Overseas July 31, 2014 And whilst he is no longer residing in Nigeria, Alimi is deeply afflicted through the country’s anti-gay regulation pa sed in January. The law mandates a 14-year jail sentence for those who marry a person of your very same intercourse and a decade for anyone who, right or indirectly, supports LGBT busine ses. Alimi was in Washington, D.C. final month for your 2015 Aspen New Voices Fellowship. Questioned about his views around the regulation, he suggests that, inside of a way, “I’m delighted about this.” Why are you happy about Nigeria’s severe anti-gay regulation? I begin to see the legislation like a catalyst for change once and for all in Nigeria. You do not fully grasp what it can be love to struggle a beast that you are unable to see. Just before the signing of that law, in between 95 and 98 p.c of Nigerians were being in support of it. The most recent poll suggests 88 p.c of Nigerians now a sistance the legislation. That’s a ten p.c drop. Many people who will be not LGBT are now declaring, “Did we just aid a regulation that criminalizes people … for falling in like?” [When] you see that the uncle or cousin is homosexual, it sort of adjustments the dialogue. Talking of household, how does your loved ones come to feel about your identification? I’m https://www.bluesshine.com/Jordan-Binnington-Jersey inside a marriage which i won’t be able to discu s with my parents about it can be like a significant elephant during the area. But [the truth that] they want to accept me [as gay] is really a kind of help. I was diagnosed [with HIV] in 2004, and i’ve under no circumstances talked over it with my mother and father. This is often my personalized everyday living, and that i really don’t want them for getting involved with it. Many times when i battle while using the i sues of getting gay and currently being [HIV] good, even living in diaspora and a great number of other things, I just actually need to have somebody I am able to cry to who’s got blood lineage but I just stated no. So that’s in your help network? Mostly near pals. A lot of moments it is men and women I don’t know. I try to remember a single incident after i was at my college. I used to be going back again to my room in the evening and i was stopped by two guys. They ended up building very derogatory statements and becoming definitely intense. There was a [student] coming. So I lifted my voice: “What did I do for you, why are you currently fellas so discouraged with me?” [The student] stopped and reported, “What’s going on?” I instructed her these men were being attacking me, and they explained, “Oh he’s homosexual, he is a faggot.” She just appeared at them and reported, “What if he’s a faggot? What’s your problem?” She stood nearly them. These are generally the unsung heroes of my existence for the reason that something could have took place that night time. Again in 2007, a gaggle of fellows tried to destroy you and that’s any time you fled the place. But did you at any time need to depart Nigeria just before then? I used to be ble sed more than enough to endure a 2-hour ordeal of becoming crushed and practically currently being shot within the head and escaping. If individuals fellas remain alive, they could have examine just one or two of my interviews. I’m wondering how they feel that they practically killed me. But I felt that leaving was hardly ever a selection until eventually my mother stated, “Do you still have reason [to stay]? I do think you’ll want to leave.”How did you react when when you were diagnosed with HIV? YouTube By 2001 I began performing in HIV avoidance since I shed my ally [to the disease]. So I used to be style of knowledgeable. That was why my prognosis was a shock to me. I broke down and commenced crying and a sumed similar to this will be the conclude of my lifetime for the reason that I have noticed my close friends die. It’s these kinds of a large point that even throughout the homosexual neighborhood, should you be constructive, that is the end of it. Nobody desires to discu s with you or date you, however , you grow to be the tale every person wants to talk about. So I did not notify any individual. I carried it for 3 many years just before leaving Nigeria. I failed to begin medicine until finally 2009. When you had recognised concerning the treatments and help for HIV then, would you have got reacted differently? No, simply because then I might neverthele s be in Nigeria. And i however wouldn’t want to mention it because it would even now be considered a death sentence. Procedure is a ma sive problem and other people [in Nigeria] even now will not have entry to it. And also the a sist method is still not there because of the stigma in opposition to gay guys it’s a perception that [HIV] can be a punishment from God. So it is very challenging to https://www.bluesshine.com/Ryan-O-Reilly-Jersey exist with that method. How would you evaluate the development acro s Africa in providing HIV remedy? We’ve been even now betraying generations with regards to HIV avoidance and cure. Many people nonethele s will need obtain to this remedy and we even now have kids remaining born with all the virus once we know we can easily protect against it. We’re lacking political willpower and funding to HIV initiatives. It’s got turn into a political sport. Currently being an advocate gives you a different style of stage than performing does. Should you experienced a option, would you return in to acting?Nigerian Activist Chooses Exile About Life During the Closet April 23, 2014 I do think I researched theater simply because I had been very significantly a drama queen [laughs]. Performing is my most important enthusiasm. The regrettable thing is it really is a little something I’d by no means touch yet again for the reason that it still left a giant scar in my existence. Even though I did try to return to acting, I held contemplating, “If you keep carrying out this, you happen to be gonna deliver up media desire all over again.” I’ve media desire now but it’s totally humane. It’s not about who I ki sed very last night or who I am hanging out with. So you are carried out with theater? If you can find just about anything I would like to go back to, it truly is acting. I would like for being again on phase dancing and acting, but I’m also incredibly scared of it.

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dailyonionsite-blog · 6 years

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The End Of An Era For Mets Great, David Wright

It was December of 2000, and the New York Mets, fresh off a trip to the World Series had just lost one of their best pitchers, NLCS MVP Mike Hampton, to the Colorado Rockies via free agency. While many Mets fans were angry and upset at Hampton for leaving (including yours truly), there was a silver lining to it. Major League Baseball rules stipulated that when a team lost a player to free agency, they were awarded a supplemental 1st round pick in the upcoming amateur draft the following year. So while Hampton was enjoying watching his batting average (and ERA) balloon out in the thin air of Colorado because of his love for the “school system”, the Mets very quietly used that supplemental pick from the Rockies and selected a 3rd baseman out of Norfolk Virginia in the 2001 draft. A handsome young man with a big smile who also happened to be a diehard Mets fan, as he grew up not too far from where the team’s long time Triple A affiliate, the Norfolk Tides, played. That handsome kid with the big smile turned out to be David Allen Wright, who progressed quickly through the Mets farm system the next few years, finally making his MLB debut on July 21, 2004 against the Montreal Expos, and thus beginning a long 14-year relationship. To see David Wright in his first 4 years in a Mets uniform was a thing of beauty. With that beautiful upper cut swing, his ability to hit the ball the other way, and his slick fielding (no one did the bare handed pick on a bunt up the 3rd baseline better), David quickly established himself as a franchise player, and along with SS Jose Reyes, became a key building block towards what many fans were hoping would lead to a World Championship. And in 2006 it all came together for the Mets, as they dominated baseball with a star studded team that included Wright, Reyes, Pedro Martinez, Carlos Beltran and Carlos Delgado, making it all the way to the NLCS. The dream season never came to fruition though, as the Mets would end up losing a crushing Game 7 to the St. Louis Cardinals in a game mostly remembered for Beltran taking a called 3rd strike with the bases loaded in the bottom of the 9th inning. Despite this disappointment however, there was plenty of reason for optimism for the team heading into next year. And then the collapse happened. The 2007 baseball season is a year that still haunts Mets fans to this day. We all know what happened. Leading the NL East by 7 games with 17 to play in the season, the Mets went 5-12, completing one of the most historical collapses in Major League Baseball history. The dark cloud of that collapse carried over into the 2008 season as the team played up and down most of the season, but still managed to find itself in first place by 3.5 games with the same 17 games left to play in mid-September. They blew that lead also, but in much quicker fashion, and were eliminated from playoff contention on the last day of the season for the 2nd year in a row by the same team (the Florida Marlins), in their home ballpark, Shea Stadium, which was in its final season. My feeling was that David was never the same after that. The 2009 season showed the first signs of cracks in the armor for the All-Star 3rd baseman. After 4 straight seasons of averaging almost 30 HR’s a year and driving in 100+ runs, Wright only managed to hit 10 that year, and drove in only 72. Some say it was the Mets new ballpark, Citi Field, which became famous for many fly balls that would have been homers in Shea, dying on the warning tracks instead. Others attribute it to him getting drilled in the head with a 93 MPH fastball and suffering a concussion in a game against the Giants. Both most likely factored into the drop in Wright’s production. But he would bounce back with 29 homers and 103 RBI’s in 2010, and finished 6th in MVP voting in 2012 with 21 HR’s and 93 RBI’s. This was sadly however, David’s last great season for the Mets as he would battle various back, shoulder and leg injuries over the next few seasons, despite signing a contract extension in November of 2012, and being named Captain in March of the following year. After a pretty good campaign in 2013 in which he batted .307 with 18 HR’s and 58 RBI’s in only 112 games, David hit the skids for good the following year, hitting a career low .269, with only 8 HR’s, and appearing in 134 games. Finally in 2015, after being on the DL with another leg injury, Wright was diagnosed with spinal stenosis in his back, the same injury that prematurely ended the career of Yankees great, Don Mattingly. He would be out most of the season, but returned in August, hitting a mammoth HR in his first at bat against the Philadelphia Phillies. Despite playing in only 38 games that year, Wright came back at just the right time as the Mets, after being up and down most of the season, put together a red hot August and overtook the heavily favored Washington Nationals to win the NL East Title, returning to the postseason for the first time since that ill-fated 2006 season. The 2015 Playoffs turned out to be a redemption of sorts for Wright, as he and Mets did what they failed to do 9 years earlier, win the National League Pennant and make it to the World Series for the first time in 15 years. Sadly, it didn’t turn out to be a full Cinderella run as they fell to the Kansas City Royals in 5 games. Despite this, the Captain provided fans with one last glimpse of vintage Wright, crushing another massive home run in Game 3. However, considering the extensive 4 to 5 hours pregame preparation program he had to go through just to be able to play in a game, it was clear that at almost 33 years of age, David was playing on borrowed time. Wright would play in only 37 games in 2016, as he went on the DL again in June with a herniated disc in his neck, which required season ending surgery. He missed the entire 2017 season, and has yet to play in 2018 at the time of the writing of this article. Recently Wright and the Mets held a press conference to announce that he would return one more time for the final home stand of the 2018 season. He will be activated on September 25th, and will start at 3rd base for the final time on September 29th, alongside his old left side of the infield partner, Jose Reyes, who he has not played a game with since 2011, when Reyes departed via free agency. However, despite being activated for this final string of home games, Wright has made it clear that he understands his condition will not improve as per his doctors, and that he doesn’t foresee being able to play next season, or any other for that matter. He didn’t come out and say the actual words, but make no mistake. Wright will be retiring at the end of this season. The story of David Wright is one of both triumph and tragedy. There is no denying that he is one of the greatest Mets of all time. He is the team’s all-time leader in virtually every offensive category, is a seven time All-Star and has played in a World Series. Only players on 4 other Mets teams can say that. The tragedy here is that injuries robbed him of so much more. This was a player that if he remained healthy, would have very likely had a Hall of Fame career. I remember saying to someone after his breakout season in 2005 that he was going be a perennial MVP candidate for the Mets. He was THAT good. But his body betrayed him, very similar to the way Mattingly's betrayed him, and none of that is David’s fault. As mentioned earlier, I never thought he was the same after the 2007 and 2008 seasons. He still put up great numbers in those years, but I felt the collapse in ‘07 and the near replication of it in ‘08 took something out of him mentally, and that he battled the memory of those failures in addition to all the injuries for a good 8 years. That's why 2015 was so special. Despite falling short in the World Series, Wright did get one last shot at redemption, made the most of it, and helped get the team to where it should been in 2006, a team everyone predicted to win it all that year. But after that, his body continued to tell him what it had been for a long time: That it was time to hang it up. As a fan of the team for over 33 years, David Wright is one of my all-time favorite New York Mets. He is right up there with Keith Hernandez, Gary Carter, Doc Gooden, Darryl Strawberry and Mike Piazza. So September 29th will be a very sad day for me and many others. But at the same time, it will be one filled with joy as Mets fans get a chance to see the Captain take the field one last time. And for that one day, we can forget about another lost season, forget the disappointment of 2006, the pain of 2007 and 2008, and pack the stadium one last time for the handsome kid with the big smile from Norfolk, Virginia. And you never know, maybe..just maybe the great #5 will have some old tricks up his sleeve. Maybe we will see a bare handed pick on a bunt up the third base line. Maybe we will see an opposite field double, and maybe we will see that beautiful upper cut swing go deep for one last massive homerun. Either way, the Captain will get the send he deserves. And for a fan base that doesn’t get much, that will be enough on a late September afternoon in a season that has been over since the middle of June. Thanks for everything David. We will miss you. Read the full article

#baseball #CitiField #DavidWright #MajorLeagueBaseball #mlb #NewYorkMets #SheaStadium #sports #WorldSeries

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It's an Island Ting: Kahuku High in Oahu Churns Out NFL Studs Like Schools in Florida and Texas

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It's an Island Ting: Kahuku High in Oahu Churns Out NFL Studs Like Schools in Florida and Texas

The harsh lights in the wrestling room came on at 5 a.m., and it wasn’t pretty. Members of the Kahuku High football team groaned and rubbed their eyes and made their way toward the men’s room muttering f-bombs, their devout faith notwithstanding. The Red Raiders moved like zombies, the difference being that unlike the undead, these teens were here of their own volition. It was their call to show up for Hell Week: meetings and practice by day, then bed down beside one another; rise and repeat the spartan cycle.

When the heavens opened just before dawn, drenching the team 15 minutes into its hour-long workout, the players embraced it, whooping, smiling and sticking tongues out, grateful for any break in the grim routine. Hell Week wasn’t quite half over on this Wednesday in late July, and everyone was on edge. Hard feelings had spilled into the weight room the previous morning when a handful of receivers and defensive backs came to blows. They were tired. They were sore. Nobody was getting enough sleep. And that was the point. “Hell Week isn’t about recovery,” explained Samson Reed, a senior D-end committed to play at Virginia. (He’s one of eight Kahuku players with FBS offers.) “It’s more of a weeding out—finding out who really wants to be here, who wants to sacrifice.”

Like many of his teammates, Reed is the descendent of Pacific Islanders, members of the Mormon church who came to Oahu as labor missionaries. His father, Tanoai, was an all-state tackle for the Red Raiders in 1990 and played two years at Hawaii. Alas, Tanoai never showed up for his senior season. One night in Honolulu he stepped in when a handful of out-of-towners were about to get their asses kicked by some locals. Those clueless haoles, it turned out, were on the film crew of the epic bust-to-be Waterworld. Fast forward a decade, to 2002, when Tanoai was serving as Dwayne Johnson’s body double in The Scorpion King and the two men discovered they shared an uncle. (They were, in fact, cousins.) Reed has been the Rock’s double ever since. Samson’s mother, Suzanne, is also a stunt-woman, and I recently posed to her a question that one seldom gets to ask: “Was that you I saw recently in a YouTube video, falling from a great height while engulfed in flames?” She smiled. It had indeed been her.

Sorry, Texas and Ohio. Apologies, Florida and Pennsylvania. The most interesting, exotic, surprising football program in the U.S. is not on the mainland, it turns out. Kahuku is located near Laie (pronounced lah-EE-ay), a town of 6,000 not far from some of the world’s best-known surf breaks. Before it became a gathering place for Mormons, it was a pu’uhonua, or sanctuary city. Ancient Hawaiians who were judged to have violated the sacred laws of kapu—mortal transgressions ranging from eating turtle to crossing the king’s shadow—found safe haven here. No such luck for visiting opponents these days.

Despite its small size—roughly 100 male graduates each year—Kahuku has fed 17 players into the NFL since 1970, and many multiples of that into the collegiate ranks. In 2006 and ’07 there were six former Red Raiders on NFL rosters, tying Kahuku with a handful of (much, much) larger schools for the most active alumni in the league.

Those success stories don’t include the local boys rustled from the district by the private academies an hour’s drive south in Honolulu: Punahou, alma mater of one Barack Obama; Kamehameha, with its $11 billion endowment; and the Saint Louis School, a QB factory that produced the Titans’ Marcus Mariota. Football isn’t combat, but Kahuku’s gridiron battles with those preppies look like a kind of class warfare. Unseen in postcards of Waimea Bay and the Banzai Pipeline, unmentioned in tours at the popular Polynesian Cultural Center, are the people in this district who are just getting by.

Kahuku draws from a handful of small communities across Oahu’s North Shore. Sure, there are horse farms, golf courses and seven-figure oceanside mansions. But tucked away on side streets, seldom witnessed by tourists, you’ll find plenty of structures that could stand some serious renovation. The pinch of privation is reflected more by the buildings that aren’t there. Hawaii’s chronic shortage of affordable housing is keenly felt in this district, where many parents work multiple jobs and where families often pack up and move to the mainland to stay with relatives in Utah or SoCal. Any place the rent’s not so steep.

That’s “the biggest struggle in this community,” says one Kahuku parent, who shares that many of his students live in homes crowded with “10, 15, 20 people under one roof, sometimes more.” Hell Week isn’t as hellish as it might seem for guys already accustomed to sleeping on the floor.

There was defensive coordinator Sola Soliai (so-lee-EYE) in the rain during Hell Week, pushing players through a series of footwork drills involving pizza-sized hoops that, ideally, remained still. A bouncing hoop betrayed sloppy footwork, earning a rebuke from Soliai. “Let’s go, guys! Slow feet don’t eat!”

One of the reasons this team has won eight Division-I state championships since 2000: When a Kahuku coach references hunger, many of his players can relate. Football isn’t just a fall sport to these guys, not just an avocation to put on college applications. It is nothing less than a passage to a better life.

That’s not an uncommon story. Making this one unique beyond its South Pacific setting is the magnitude of success. For its size (this district counts 8,000-odd people), Kahuku cranks out an implausible number of good and great players. Those state championships and Super Bowl rings—the brothers Kemoeatu, Chris and Ma’ake, have three between them—are the dividends of a closeness, of strong bonds between members of this tightly knit community. In her family, says Kaui Fonoimoana (fono-EE-mo-wan-na), mother of a pair of Kahuku players, “cousins are like siblings; nieces and nephews are like sons and daughters. We watch out for each other the same way.”

“They are so freakin’ good over there,” sighs Darren Johnson, an ex–Kahuku QB who now coaches Campbell High, on the west side of the island. In his next breath Johnson makes the point that Kahuku’s many talented players are supported, fed, sheltered—borne along—by the figurative village in which they’ve been raised. “Morals, standards, expectations—the bar in that community is very high.”

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As are the stakes. “For a lot of us, this is our only way to get to college,” says Samson Kapule-Si’ilata, whom I’ve come to call “the other Samson.” Unlike Samson Reed, Si’iLata (also a senior) is scrapping for attention from college coaches. He’s a tad undersized for a D-lineman (6' 3", 255 pounds on the roster; shorter and lighter in real life), but he’s clever and tenacious, with a lot of upside. He struggled to get on the field last year, but this season he’s starting and will have, in the end, a dozen or so games to earn a scholarship, his ticket off da rock. “This is a way we can support our families,” says the son of a longshoreman. “Football is everything to us.”

I met the other Samson in May, after one of Kahuku’s spring practices. The state athletic board had recently outlawed pads and helmets during spring football. The Red Raiders responded, as far as I could tell, by pretending they were wearing pads and helmets. Collisions were frequent and serious, and it so happened that on this Monday the Samsons and their defensive linemates were getting the better of the big boys across from them, to the deep exasperation of offensive coordinator Faaesea Mailo (FAH-ah-eh-say-ah mah-EE-low), an ex–Kahuku star who made it all the way to the Jets’ practice squad in 2002. Gathering the O-line at the end of practice, Mailo offered this counsel: “Go home, say a prayer, eat your favorite meal—whatever gets your spirits up. Come back tomorrow and kick somebody’s ass!”

Behind them, evening breezes stirred a line of palm trees, the sky above streaked orange and pink—a languorous tableau at stark odds with the scene below. “I don’t need it to be perfect,” Mailo went on. “But I need it to be absolutely ape s— violent!” Then, much calmer: “Let’s see if we can do that tomorrow.”

Around the turn of this century, Kahuku became the first high school team to make the haka part of its pregame ritual. Since 2011, they’ve performed a version called the Kaipahua Kura—Maori for “We are the Red Raiders”—that was composed by Seamus Fitzgerald, a New Zealand native who also happens to be Kahuku’s rugby coach. And while many opponents admired the Red Raiders’ haka, others took umbrage. Why should we be forced to stand around for two minutes watching our foes shout at us in a foreign language? Then, shortly before the 2015 state championship, officials rendered this buzzkill verdict: Any team that did a haka while facing its opponent would be flagged 15 yards for unsportsmanlike conduct.

Having reflected deeply on the matter for about 20 seconds, Red Raiders coaches concluded, Screw it. We’ll take the penalty. The field position seemed a small price to pay for electrifying their fans and spelunking in the heads of the Saint Louis Crusaders, who got rolled that night, 39–14.

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Implicit in the Maori words they declaim midway through that haka, says Fitzgerald, is a vow to compete “for our families and community, who have been through much.” Asked to elaborate, he shares a sad story. He wrote this haka after the school’s tumultuous 2010 season. Undefeated Kahuku had been steamrolling toward another state championship game, only to be disqualified because of a clerical error made several years earlier. Kahuku appealed the decision but lost. Several weeks later, one of the team’s co-captains, Keoni Tafuna, a linebacker with a 3.8 GPA and NCAA dreams, hanged himself. Distraught by the death of his friend, a second Kahuku student took his own life. And that is why, when they get to the part about families and community, they make a hoop with their arms, as if embracing a loved one. Then they point to the sky.

As H.G. Bissinger wrote about Odessa, Texas, nearly three decades ago, “Football stood at the very core of what the town was about. . . . It had nothing to do with entertainment and everything to do with how people felt about themselves.” That Friday Night Lights fervor runs just as hot on the North Shore, and it comes with a Polynesian flavor. Well over half the players on Kahuku’s roster trace their ancestry to Samoa, whose culture still hews to an old-school system of behavior and responsibilities called Fa’a Samoa (“the Samoan Way”). That, fused with the tenets of the Mormon church, exerts a powerful influence on this community.

Among the duties of a Samoan chief, or matai, is dealing with fa’alavelave (fa-AH-lovie-lovie), which translates to “much trouble,” an apt description of the intrigue and grievances awaiting any coach at Kahuku, whose many blessings—unrivaled tradition; an abundance of talent—do not include job security. The 2017 Red Raiders are playing for their fourth coach in five years. Word on the North Shore is that the new guy could stick.

Makoa Freitas slides his right foot out of a flip-flop—islanders refer to them as slippers—and points to a four-inch scar. The pink tissue covers the Lisfranc joint complex, where he ruptured a ligament during his third NFL season, thus ending a promising career on the Colts’ O-line that might have lasted as long as his father’s. (Before Rockne Freitas served as chancellor at the University of Hawaii–West Oahu, he played 11 NFL seasons at tackle.)

“I don’t know about that,” says Makoa. Like most O-linemen I’ve known, he is wise, without ego and stingy with the spoken word. But beneath his kind eyes and gentle demeanor are steel and fire. “Do you think anyone feels sorry for you?!” he can be heard bellowing during conditioning drills as his players approach the apex of their misery. “Stop feeling sorry for yourselves!��

After playing his high school ball at Kamehameha, Freitas starred on the same Arizona O-line as his older brother, Makai. The younger Freitas was known for his strength—he maxed out at 515 pounds on the bench press—and high football IQ. “Plays smart. Understands angles and positioning,” one NFL scout wrote of him before the 2003 draft. “Uses hands well, has a strong upper body and is tough and intense. Will play hurt.”

Rather than feel sorry for himself when his playing career abruptly ended, Freitas earned a double master’s in business and accounting at Indiana. By day, he’s the assistant controller at BYU-Hawaii, a few miles south of Kahuku. (“That’s right,” he told me with a smile at the end of a recent Monday practice. “After this, I’m going back to the office.”)

Befitting a CPA and former pupil of the principled, cerebral Tony Dungy, Freitas is fair, thoughtful and reserved—right up to the moment his displeasure with the O-line reaches critical mass, after which his raised voice can be heard from the Superette across the Kamehameha Highway.

On Nov. 4, Freitas’s Red Raiders will take on undefeated Mililani for the state’s OIA (or public school) championship. The winner of that game will be favored to advance to Hawaii’s “open” title game a fortnight later, where, if you had to bet, they’ll run into Saint Louis, whose best-known alumnus (aside from former governor John Burns and Saint Damien, renowned for his work with lepers on the island of Molokai) is the aforementioned Mariota, one link in a chain of excellent Crusaders QBs that includes Timmy Chang, Jason Gesser and, most recently, Tua Tagovailoa (TONGUE-oh-vae-LO-ah), now a freshman at Alabama.

But the next great passer off this island will not come from Saint Louis—not if a certain Mohawk-rocking 16-year-old has anything to say about it.

Dual-threat, quicksilver Sol-Jay Maiava made national headlines in June 2016. It was an exciting day at Laie Park, in the shadow of the gleaming Mormon Temple. Members of Michigan’s coaching staff, including khaki-clad head man Jim Harbaugh, were in town for a satellite camp. Maiava, still an eighth-grader, wanted to participate. But he had a conflict. With an eye toward his freshman season at Kahuku, he was taking part in the Red Raiders’ spring drills. To attend the Michigan camp he would have to miss a Kahuku practice. “If you’re not coming to practice,” then-coach Vavae Tata told him, half-seriously, “you better get an offer.” Maiava suspected Tata was joking, since Top 10 college programs don’t usually hand out scholarships to eighth-graders.

Usually. The Michigan camp included a QB skills competition in which Maiava, quite simply, laid waste to the field, a man among boys. Harbaugh, renowned for his ability to identify and develop passers, noticed. Throughout the day he gravitated toward Maiava, tweaking the boy’s mechanics, getting to know him. Afterward, Harbaugh offered the kid a scholarship.

Strong-armed, accurate and blessed with an afterburner-like burst, Maiava is a transcendent talent working at a distinct disadvantage at Kahuku, which has no history of grooming great passers. The school is known for mass-producing trench warriors—titanic linemen with surprisingly sweet feet—and ball-hawking, headhunting D-backs. Down through the decades, the Red Raiders’ QB has usually been a caretaker, called upon to pass five to 10 times per game. Even as run-and-shoot offenses sprung up around the island, Kahuku stuck with its Elephant package: two tight ends, full-house backfield, not even the slightest pretense that a pass might be coming.

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Those offensive shortcomings were exposed last season in losses to the defending national champion, Bishop Gorman (from Las Vegas), and then to Saint Louis in the state title game, which Maiava started as a ninth-grader. “We played four other [nationally] ranked teams,” recalls Gorman tackle Jacob Isaia, “and Kahuku was as good as any of them. But those guys gotta change their game up. Everybody knows all they do is run.”

To ease Maiava’s transition, Freitas brought in a quarterbacks coach, ex–Winnipeg Blue Bomber Brian Ah Yet. When Freitas met with Sol-Jay and his father, Luaao Peters, it didn’t take long for the latter to bring up the Elephant package in the room. Casual mention was made of feelers Sol-Jay was receiving from various coaches, on and off the island.

After much discussion and prayer, a decision was made: Maiava would stay put. “We have a saying down here,” Peters told me. “Red Raider for life.” (And in a flash, all the RR4L bumper stickers on the North Shore made sense.) The upshot? Kahuku’s running game is flat-out firing this season. Enoch Nawahine (NOW-uh-HEEN-ay), whose modesty is belied by his leopard-print cleats, is a hard-nosed inside runner who can be balletic when needed. And while erratic earlier in the season—Kahuku likely led the nation in NPBORH (Number of Passes Bounced Off Receivers’ Helmets)—the team’s fledgling aerial attack was vastly improved by the end of September.

There is one aspect of Maiava’s game that could use some fine-tuning. Dude needs to learn how to slide. At the end of a weaving 30-yard run against Aiea High on Sept. 1, he was piledriven into the turf, separating his left shoulder and sealing Kahuku’s fate the following Saturday. With their QB out, the Red Raiders bowed 17–0 to the 16th-ranked team in the country, Utah’s Bingham High, in Las Vegas.

Even without its starting QB, Kahuku stood a fair chance in that game, fielding a superb defense coordinated by one of the program’s more intriguing characters.

The defensive meeting started at 4 p.m. in a cruelly un-air-conditioned classroom. The first guys to get there congregated near a large fan in a front corner. This was back in August, and the Red Raiders were two days away from their opener against Leilehua, whose offense they’d gathered to dissect. “What are your pre-snap reads on the offensive line?” asked Sola Soliai, all business.

Twenty voices answered: “The left tackle.”

“If he’s leaning forward?”

“It’s a run.”

“How can you tell if it’s a pass?”

“He’s leaning back.”

“Like he’s taking a dump.” The coach went on, toggling between Leilehua-specific instructions and more general counsel. Like: “If you’re struggling, that’s part of the path. Embrace it! Go through the bumps, the cuts, the pain. That’s gonna make you a man.” Then he copped to a struggle of his own.

Soliai returned to the sideline this season after two years away. “And to be honest,” he confided in his players, “I’m still trying to find my groove. It’s pissing me off, but I gotta keep going.” He was an all-state cornerback on Kahuku’s 2001 state championship team, and he used that success as a springboard to . . . where, exactly? “Nowhere, man,” he says with a rueful smile. “I’m not gonna lie—school wasn’t my ting. By the time I graduated from Kahuku, I had two kids already. So I went to junior college, came back here and just started working, taking care of my kids. And that was it, man. I didn’t go anywhere.”

Today Soliai is a gifted coordinator with a knack for making life miserable for opposing QBs by summoning stunts and blitzes—“darkening the gloomy and aggravating the dreadful,” to recycle a compliment paid by Samuel Johnson to John Milton.

As coaches often put it, the guys they’re talking to and shouting at “don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.” And this guy cares a lot. When his playing days came to an end, Soliai couldn’t bear to tear himself from the game. So, with a boom box, a rope ladder, plastic hoops and coconut husks painted orange like cones, all pulled in a gardening wagon to a distressed patch of grass outside Laie Elementary, he started organizing a regular workout—agility drills and wind sprints interspersed with kernels of wisdom. Turnout for the first session was nine youngsters. Now he’ll typically get around 100, including athletes from rival high schools and college stars home during their offseasons. Afterward, members of the Rebel Squad, as he calls it, are welcome to join the Soliai family for dinner, usually a big pot of spaghetti.

Watching Sola pour his time and energy into this, I suspected I was witnessing a man making amends for mistakes in his prodigal youth. “What’s in it for you?” I asked.

“I do it for our people,” he said, talking about the North Shore youth. “For as many guys as we have who make it big, there are still too many who fall through the cracks. I wanna catch those guys before it’s too late. I want them to go further than me.”

Kickoff against Leilehua was two hours away, but a couple thousand Red Raiders fans had already staked out their seats, happy to talk story and take in the JV game. For families with young children, the most coveted real estate is the set of bleachers curved around the makai (“ocean-facing”) end zone, where on a half moon of trampled grass a score of laughing kids played overlapping games of pickup football, all of them tackle. The games were briefly interrupted on this evening when half the children peeled off to greet and hug a shambling 68-year-old who’d arrived with his wife. Junior Ah You (whose serene, smiling spouse is Almira—friends call them Beauty and the Beast) set up his folding chair behind the makai end zone, facing the field on which he’d once been a holy terror.

A gathering of Red Raider Nation might easily be mistaken for a convention of bouncers and bodyguards: legions of thickset men with oaken calves and powerful upper bodies, exuding a stolid, low-grade menace. Compared to many of those hulks, the 6' 3" Ah You, who looks to be around his playing weight of 233, is on the svelte side. There’s not much about him to suggest that he is, arguably, the best player ever to come off this island. But Ah You was Von Miller before Von Miller, an edge rusher and sackmeister before the NFL fully appreciated such specialists. So he took his game north of the border, to the pass-happy Canadian Football League, and got paid. Which is how a native of American Samoa, whose parents moved to Laie when he was a boy, is now beloved in Montreal and a member of the CFL Hall of Fame. (The Ah You line is not exactly petering out. While BYU whiffed spectacularly in passing on Junior, sending him into the arms of then-WAC rival Arizona State, his younger brother, Sale, did play for LaVell Edwards in Provo. The brothers later sent two sons apiece to BYU; a fifth, Sale’s oldest, Jasen, is the Cougars’ director of football athletic relations. Jasen’s son Chaz, a four-star safety, is a freshman there this season too.)

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Despite the presence of Maiava and his 6' 5", 270-pound left tackle–bodyguard, Enokk Vimahi (whose suitors include Nebraska, Ole Miss and USC), the unquestioned alpha of Kahuku’s 2017 team is Miki Ah You, a sculpted, speedy, unfairly handsome junior linebacker. (BYU offered him when he was a ninth-grader; Oregon followed suit in June.) And there was Miki in the third quarter against Leilehua, knifing off the edge to blindside the QB for a 12-yard sack. Forty or so yards away, his grandfather grinned broadly.

When I asked Miki what motivated him, whom he played for, he paused and chose these words carefully: “For the foundation that previous generations laid down for us, and for the guys coming after us.”

He’s not always this reflective, such as when he addressed the defense a few days before the team left for Vegas. “Last year we went up there and got f—– up,” he snarled, recalling that loss to Gorman. “Some of you guys are playin’ around too much. If you’re not gonna be physical, don’t come. We’re gonna go up there and punch ’em in the mouth.”

The serial maulings meted out by the Red Raiders are but one manifestation of a broader trend. From Utah to Oahu, Pago Pago to Melbourne, Polynesian players are flocking to this cousin of rugby in ever-increasing numbers. And their chances of being good at football are probably much better than yours.

In the last U.S. census, in 2010, 1.2 million Americans identified as Native Hawaiian and Other Pacific Islander (NHPI)—roughly one-third of a percent of the 309 million people in this country. And yet: Of the 1,696 players in the NFL last season, 70 of them—4.1 %—were Polynesian.

Part of that is genetics. Many islanders are large, bulky men with low centers of gravity. Part of it is culture. Jesse Sapolu, a native Samoan who won four Super Bowls with the 49ers, explains it this way: “The thing about Poly kids, they grow up in a household where there’s”—here he’s thoughtful in choosing his words—“a chiefly protocol. There’s a huge emphasis on humility, on respect for elders, family and community.”

Who says graveyards are just for grieving? On Sept. 3, with the Red Raiders sitting pretty at 4–0 and having outscored opponents by a collective 152–13, the extended Fonoimoana clan gathered in a cemetery just behind the 7-Eleven in Hau’ula, six miles south of the high school and across the Kam Highway from the Pacific. The mood was cheerful, festive. As on the first Sunday of every month, they were observing Family Home Evening, an occasion to catch up, say a prayer or two, and sing some songs. When this afternoon’s speaker asked if anyone had anything else they wanted to share, Kana and Mana Fonoimoana—sophomore rising stars in the Kahuku secondary—remained silent . . . until their mother, Kaui, glared at them.

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This was three days before the Red Raiders flew to Las Vegas, a trip made possible by financial donations and plate-lunch purchases from many of the 50-odd Fonoimoanas assembled at Family Home Evening. Now the boys rose to thank them personally. Intense and predatory on the field, they are perpetually grinning and happy-go-lucky off it—so it was surprising to hear Kana’s voice crack as he assured his people he would be playing for them in Vegas, and for all their ancestors who’d donned Kahuku red. As he spoke he stood beside the gravestone of his great-grandfather, Kosena, a Red Raiders quarterback who passed away 10 weeks earlier, leaving behind, according to his obituary, 55 grandchildren and 64 great-grandchildren.

Not all of those descendants made the trip to Vegas. It only seemed that way, to see the army of Kahuku faithful sporting customized FONOIMOANA T-shirts, sharing the stands at UNLV’s Sam Boyd Stadium with legions of Reeds and Ah Yous, Kanihos and Alapas, Nawahines and Loos, and thousands of other red-clad pilgrims. A good portion of that horde stuck around after the game, in no rush to leave the grassy area they’d staked out for tailgating. And while you couldn’t find a beer to save your life (#MormonTailgate), there was plenty of music and laughter. Red Raider Nation knew it would get Maiava back (he looked sharp in his return three weeks later, passing for 202 yards in a 45–6 rout of Campbell) and that its team remained the favorite to win Hawaii’s OIA title.

So it came to pass that Kahuku lost the game but won the party. And how often can you say that about a bunch of Latter-day Saints?

On a recent flight from San Francisco to Honolulu my plane swung west over the southern tip of the Big Island before vectoring north toward Oahu. For five-or-so minutes we were following the path sailed by HMS Resolution in 1779, shortly after its renowned captain, one James Cook, came to grief. Upon killing the great explorer, the natives baked him in an underground oven—not to eat him, mind you, but to expedite the removal of flesh. The bones of such a powerful man were, to them, a source of immense mana.

Native Hawaiians believed—many still do—that their world was guided and influenced by mana, a kind of mystical energy, a force “present in the atmosphere of life” and “manifested by results which can only be ascribed to its operation,” wrote British missionary and anthropologist Robert Codrington in 1891.

When Vai Sikahema describes the North Shore as a place that “reeks of power, spiritual and physical,” he is referring, knowingly or not, to mana. Sikahema, an All-Pro kick returner with the Cardinals in 1987, is a native Tongan who lived in Laie as a boy. He pinpoints another characteristic that, he believes, may predispose Polynesians to football success: “For a lot of people who live in the States, their connection to their warrior heritage”—here he’s talking about close quarters, pre-firearm, hand-to-hand combat—“may go back to the days of Richard the Lionheart or William Wallace in the 1200s. But for some of us Polynesians, our warrior heritage goes back just two or three generations. My great-grandfather in Tonga killed people with a club.”

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A 2003 archaeological survey of Waimea Valley, on the North Shore, identified 78 “surface sites of interest”—burial caves, shrines and temples. It is a sacred place, steeped in history and mana. No less sacred to countless Latter-day Saints is another place of worship, 10 miles due east, over the spine of the Ko’olau Mountains. There, rising from an Elysian arrangement of terraces and reflecting pools, is a vest-pocket Taj Mahal, the century-old Laie Hawaii Temple. Mormons believe in “celestial” marriages, which can be sealed only in an LDS temple. And as the first Mormon temple constructed outside the contiguous U.S., the gathering place at Laie served as a beacon and magnet to Saints from across the Pacific.

Migration to Laie quickened midway through the 20th century when, determined to open a Mormon-affiliated college (now BYU-Hawaii), church elders sent out a new call for missionaries to help with construction. Still more Saints were summoned for the building of the Polynesian Cultural Center, which opened in 1963. And so it came to pass that the hallways of Kahuku High, three miles up the road from the temple, were chockablock with burly first- and second-generation Pacific Islanders: Maori, Tongans and Samoans on whose good side one wanted to stay.

“Take a walk around this place when class gets out,” says Tommy Heffernan, who quarterbacked Kahuku in the 1960s. “You’ll be tinkin’, What da hell dese kids eat over here?”

A 40-foot wave is breaking on the north end of the Kahuku campus. It’s not the actual ocean but a mural painted by local artist Hilton Alves, whose work, in this case, draws the eye away from the corroded exteriors of 40-year-old classrooms.

“The salt air deteriorates a lot of tings around here,” says Heffernan. Known across the island as Uncle Tommy, he is a plainspoken Vietnam War vet and retired maximum-security prison guard who apologizes in advance for any profanity that might escape during his guided tour. A former Kahuku High coach and administrator, he now serves as a caretaker of both the school’s athletic facilities and its traditions. He’s the person most responsible for transforming the locker room from the “dump” (his word) it was a few years ago into what it is now: a multi-purpose changing area, shrine and museum celebrating the team’s glory-drenched past. State championship trophies and banners; Parade All-America plaques; framed Honolulu Star-Advertiser stories announcing all-star rosters lopsided with Red Raiders.

It is remarkable, notes former Kahuku coach Reggie Torres, how many former players have gone on to the college and pro ranks, “but it’s sad we don’t have more.” Torres, who won three state championships during his tenure, from 2006 through ’13, laments the number of Red Raiders prevented from playing at the next level by subpar grades or test scores. He wishes some Kahuku parents would spend fewer dollars sending their boys to the mainland for football camps “to get recognized” by college coaches, and more on tutoring them for the ACT and SAT.

More Sports Free Verse: Why 'The Star-Spangled Banner' is intertwined with American sports

In Friday Night Lights, Bissinger limns a dark, downbeat universe. Odessa is in the slough of an oil bust. Unemployment runs high; racism is baked into the landscape. One of the team’s stars is nagged by the sense that America is on the wane, that he is coming of age “in this place that didn’t seem like a land of opportunity at all, but a land of failed dreams.”

There’s plenty of hardship and disappointment on the North Shore. But despite its distance from the mainland, the American Dream—the chance to improve one’s lot by earning a college scholarship—remains vital and alive here. It could be a by-product of strong faith or the jaw-dropping natural beauty all around, but the vibe one gets from the Red Raiders and their coaches and parents is upbeat, buoyant, optimistic.

And, when necessary, aggressive. Among the vows cried out by the players during their haka: “We will fight with courage like hammerhead sharks, like the Raiders of the past!”

While shouting that line, players pantomime hoisting a heavy rock. What’s up with that?

When pulling that jersey on over your shoulder pads, Fitzgerald reminds the players in his periodic haka tutorials, “you’re holding the legacy of the Raiders who’ve come before you. It’s a blessing, but also a burden. So I want you to reach down and grab it like it’s a 150-pound boulder, and lift it over your head.”

That boulder is the bedrock of this community, this ohana, this extended family whose members are bound together by a violent game that comes to them as much as they have come to it.

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