My school

Come on in, spring is here. My kitty has decided she is needed to help me write this so she is perched on my lap staring at the keyboard as my fingers go clickityclack. Oh and trying to tempt same hands to pet her. Ooooh and there's nachos for snacking on today.

So you'd think I would have written a lot about the problems at my school. You'd think, I, as someone who might have a couple readers, would actively attempt to educate you all on various issues within this particular problem and spend great gobs of energy on ensuring that at least a few people out there were fully aware of all the issues involved. But I haven't.

Why? Asked with a note of concern and confusion. When has the Coyote ever shut up about issues that concern him? When he's angry. When he's very very angry. When it could best be described as a rage. When I know that my own base nature will cause me to snap out and bite you all despite our friendship and love. Because this situation has me in that rage.

It makes me want to say things that are fueled by bitter, vengeful feelings, to use words that will slash at you and make you bleed like I do when I think about these things. When I get like this, I want you all to feel the pain of the last 400 years of a people who invited in guests, to have those guests shit on the carpet, light the couch on fire, and then lock them in the coal room of the basement.

And some of you would say, 'But Coyote, this is not my fault, this was done hundred of years ago, how can this include me?' And again I would rage, and want you to feel my teeth and claws, because you don't get it. You forget that we all have benefited, have enjoyed the privilege of a society built on the backs of others and that makes us all responsible for those issues. Why does it matter now? Because now wouldn't exist without then.

I get so angry and I clench my teeth and fists, I feel my claws puncture my own skin and I howl and screech at the world around me and I say, I think, I ask, 'If they knew what would happen now, if those Anishinabe, my ancestors who helped Cartier stay, who led the whites further and further inland, even watching as these Europeans abused sacred practices like the pipe ceremony, would that do it again?' And this bitter, dark, poisoned part of me screams 'Of course not!! They'd kill those fucking interlopers and burn their bones to ash!' But that same voice laughs, and sits back down and shakes it's feathered, wide eyed head. It speaks and I don't just listen, I live it.

Owl speaks, 'You witness the darkness all around you and sometimes you're just too stupid to get it aren't you? You are lucky I watch and come to you when you start to do something wrong. Like now. Your people are beaten and weak, they bleed when they walk, when they breathe! When they die is the only time their pain stops and you sit there in your little place of privilege, able to act like the moniyas and think you get to rage? Stupid child, listen now. Open now. Your people are not bitter people. They would have done nothing different, for they foresaw that the welcoming of new people, no matter the pain, was always better than exclusion. They knew what the Europeans would do, they called them Wendigo. They knew. Stupid child, they would have welcomed them in just the same and given them the same hospitality and loved them, hoping that in time the love would pay off. Do you love stupid child? Do you? Then find those words. Don't use the angry ones. Love. In the dark, love is the only thing that makes you see your way out.'

With that I ask you, I beg you, forgive my anger. I mean harm but not hate, and as such I will leave this question in regards to the FNUC. In regards to this issue:
If you knew you could say something, something that was fueled by love, by your soul, rather than by the black ink of the issue, would you say it?