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Posted by ndpthepoetress Jean Michelle Culp in , , , | June 19, 2020 No comments
ndpthepoetress:My 'personal action' is to continue to promote the IDEAS®: Inclusion Diversity Equality Acceptance Solidarity for ALL by saving Humanities 1 Human at a Time, 1 Book, 1 Poem, 1 Quote, 1 Song... at a Time. Join us on Facebook STOP and: S.ee T.he O.ther P.eople.

In my opinion, whether because of ones health, accent, lifestyle, color of skin… whether rejected or ridiculed or some other means of communal castration, no matter how small or large any difference or the bullying or any consequence thereof be; the complete eradication of prejudice will remain a centuries old vicarious plague spurred from societal statistical stigmatic stigma, hysterically injected into the ill-reputed frail failing intellect of the majority who damningly dare to declare what differentiates from the norm. For example; I recently read about a son spurned by his own flesh and blood, “a vicious parent shaming still its child”1. ‘*Revolted by his father’s injustice’, the son left home at an all to early age, set upon a journey to prove or find his roots. Regrettably; during his mission, he was essentially met with a series of harsh condemnations. Ultimately; the son becomes consumed with self-delusion and an insatiable appetite for revenge to be inflicted upon those who once dared to flaunt their popularity, while others refused to embrace his uniqueness cloaked in natural flaws.

Fortunately "2the pen is mightier than the sword", so he merely immerses himself into his literary work. At last the world is his stage and he could not have chosen a better place. For whom among us has not been psychologically moved or entertained by words upon a page. Or our attention drawn to a character in a play, opera, movie, or a mere sit-com? And so with pen and paper the son makes his plight known for others to read then mourn, scorn, ponder, or wonder. Except to him, his anguish was the worse of anyone. Nonetheless; in due course the son grew into his own isolated culture rejected existence. After some time; a Woman professed, “*Evidently God has made us for each another! I am like you…” Soon afterwards the son married her, asserting; “*Blessed be the sorrows I have borne… Heaven was keeping such unhoped consolation in reserve! Until today I feared myself doomed to eternal singleness and to tell you the truth it was a heavy burden to bear”. Though; had he truly loved her for herself and not out of a seemingly Narcissist reflection of himself; then when her true colors came beautifully shining through, he would not have (for shame or other matters) discarded her much as he had been cast off by the population. Yet he did flee from her side; “*to abandon the career of literature, to escape into the desert and if possible shun for ever after the sight of living creatures. To seek, indeed, like Alceste”. Oh but as fate or merely an ill-fated wind would have it; the son landed not far from where as a child he had begun his journey away from his parents home. I surmise that perhaps feeling like the odd man out, surrounded once again by the publicly accepted; here in this familiar place is where he may have learnt the greatest lesson of all, which is; nothing in life is ever as it seems.

Every part I read about the spurned son seemed a humanistic enough story plot, the emotional afflict of discrimination, a temporary successive solution, love, loss, lessons learnt… except this is a tale of the feather type. Written in 1842 by Alfred de Musset; whence combining a vast array of birds with a stylish flare, a story takes flight. Amid the author’s intertwined unraveling assemblage of vividly artistically painted printed words, emerges a subtle view about a struggle with the centuries old trials and tribulations of the societal injected statistical stigmatic stigma, known as prejudice. “^How glorious it is and also how painful to be an exception”.

And so begins:

*The Story of A White Blackbird by Alfred de Musset (Histoire d'un merle blanc)


1. George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans), O May I Join the Choir Invisible!
2. Edward Bulwer-Lytton, Richelieu Act II Scene II

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