The conditioning (Society’s Conditioned View of the Black Man Experience)
Sneak Peak into my conversation with Podcaster Willie Porter from The Thing About Us Podcast
Month: February 2022
The Day I Saw an Angel in the Sky
How the Universe gives Us Messages…
By: Christine Zethraus, PMHNP
Before getting Coronavirus back in April 2020, I had already disabled most of my social medica accounts. Working in Mental Health caused me to be super sensitive to drama. Facebook was the worst with all the political noise. After getting Coronavirus, I completely stopped watching T.V. More unnecessary noise I did not want seeping into my subconscious.
Nature became my T.V. I started paying attention to animals crossing my path, birds flying over me, and find a feather when I needed one the most. The clouds in the sky became my news source. One Friday evening I was pulling out of my neighborhood when I saw the Angel in the sky. Took my breathe away.
Around this time is when I began learning about Quantum Physics. The Universe is infinitely made up of energy. Your thoughts create your reality. The human egoic brain has difficulty “seeing” this energy magically waiting for us.
All the answer we are seeking are within. The Universe and Nature have messages for us. If only we would look up….
“Those who don’t believe in Magic will never find it”
Roald Dahl
https://anchor.fm/howcoronavirussavedmylife
Listen to my podcast How Coronavirus Saved My Life to hear my journey
My Racist Father, How his Racism Affected me….
How Hearing my Father Say the N-Word Frequently Affected Me
Growing up with a racist father was exhausting. I have many memories of us riding around in his car. He would scream the N-word to other drivers he felt were driving stupidly. He wouldn’t just say the N-word. The word “stupid” or “dumb” always came before. Hearing “Stupid N***er” growing up was confusing, terrifying, and strange. He never explained how these people were “stupid” or what the N-word meant. My young body told me all I needed to know. My body would become tense and nauseated. My body still tenses when I recall these memories.
My first memory of my father was of him threatening to shoot my Mother. He was pacing the living room, on drugs, and full of hate. I remember being in freeze mode as my Mother and Step-Father were knocking on the windows calling my name outside. This was on Thanksgiving.
My first memory of Thanksgiving was violence.
How ironic.
Because of his racism, I have always been drawn to other cultures and races. Especially the African American culture and community. I have always been a seeker asking many questions– particularly when it comes to injustice. I think on some level I was trying to find the evidence of my racist Father’s misguided hatred. There was none. What I did find were loving communities, big families, good food, and the BEST churches.
I was 15 the first time I went to a Black Church. The JOY was infectious. I remember wondering why everyone was so HAPPY. I had never seen happiness on that level in my life. My body had a different response this time. A response of pure LOVE which I had never felt. A response I am forever grateful for.
The African American Community showed me what LOVE is. More importantly, what LOVE feels like. It felt like a SAFE warm blanket surrounding me.
Towards the end of my father’s life he began to change his mind. My last video of him is being dumbfounded our family once owed slaves. I couldn’t believe what he was saying so I had to record it. I am so glad I did because he was not hopeless. He was not born racist. He was conditioned to be racist by my racist Grandmother. She was conditioned as well.
My father left me one MORE surprise after his death. Most of the people he hired to handle his affairs before he died were African American. He hired those “stupid” people to handle his most important documents.
How ironic.
My Racist Grandmother…
How her Hatred and Racism Affected me
Yesterday, I felt my dead racist Grandmother was summoning me to visit her grave.
One of those gut following kind of things. I had never visited her grave all these years she’s been dead. She is buried not far from my house in a grave next to my Uncle.
When I was a kid she would tell me things like I was not allowed to swim with black people because it was “like bathing with them”. She viewed black Americans as animals.
She was horrible to everyone in general.
Her racism, along with other family members, is most likely the reason I have always been drawn to non-white cultures and ethnicities.
My Grandmother was physically beautiful. Classic 1950s movie star look with perfectly curled hair from rollers. Skin always shiny. Obsessed with her weight. She had a great sense of fashion. In fact, she owned a popular dress shop back in the day.
There was little beauty on the inside. Masculine and tough to the core.
During my 20 min drive I kept wondering why she wanted to be buried in this particular cemetery. And here it was. My answer.
She wanted to be buried with her hatred
She had so much hatred in her racist heart.
When she died years ago, she almost died alone with no family until I decided, with help of my friend, to be there with her. She died within minutes of me arriving.
Visiting her cemetery and seeing this marker caused many emotions to come flooding back. Emotions buried so deeply of her abuse to myself and others.
I am grateful I followed my gut. Why? Because I released all that buried anger, hurt, and confusion. I have been storing and repressing those emotions deep in my body and soul.
Now I can move on. Now I can help myself and others heal.
I am so happy to have so many beautiful people in my life with huge hearts.
It’s a reflection of you and a reflection of me.