Instagram Inspiration




So this morning on Instagram I saw this photo posted by Natgeo. Under was a description of the history of the photo (I shall paraphrase). In 2009, Tiwonge and Steven were the first gay couple to marry in Malawi. In December of that same year they were also arrested and sentenced to fourteen years in prison because they married.

This photo is a beautiful portrait that captures the somberness of the constant struggle to live an equal life.


Then I saw the comment below. I’m sure it was just one of many but it was the first one I saw.

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And I mean within this comment alone there were so many blatant hypocrisies, it’s impossible to take gianhockey85’s argument seriously.   There are also a ton of other lessons/quotes from “the damn bible” that mention: hate the sin love the sinner, treat thy neighbor as thyself, acceptance etc. But to answer the question, “. . . if [you’re] born a boy [you’re] a boy why the hell would you dress like a girl?” It’s the same thing as asking, “Why are you wearing that shirt?” “Why are you dressing up to go out?” You wear what you think makes you look good and FEEL good. You wear what is comfortable on your skin. You wear clothes that reflect what you want to express.


First, you want to deny people the right to love whomever they choose. Then you want to deny the right to a free life. And now you want to police how they dress? To deny another equality—to forbid them from even gaining the opportunity/possibility to experience happiness in same way as you is to dictate their quality of life. Condemning them to a lonely existence all because you don’t approve how they see themselves. All of that just shows me how your insecurities make you a person consumed by fear.





12. Watching The Hula

Race has been a thing for me.
Ethnicity has been a thing.
The ignorant haole in Hawai`i
has been a thing for me.

I’ve held captive
a deep hatred for those
haole, those foreign,
those who came to destroy
to take and to claim
what never belonged to them.

But seeing the Merrie Monarch competition
watching the hula–
I was very mistaken.
Hula knows no race, no age,
and holds no detest in her heart.
Hula only promotes
aloha and gratitude,
beauty and grace.

The dancers exude passion
in the stories they tell–
each kāholo extending their love
of the Hawaiian culture,
each ʻuwehe implanting the images
of the lovely ʻāina,
and each ʻami captivating the audience
with excitement and wonder.

Hula unifies all those
native and foreign.
Hula is aloha.
Hula is love.

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6. Not Admitting This Wound

Inspired by Emily Dickinson’s, “A not admitting of the wound (1188)”.

Not admitting this wound.
It is not an open sore.
It does not drip
with warm crimson blood.
Infection does not reign my flesh.

My heart has not drained.
It does not know sorrow.
It is not shattered,
nor is it broken.

Scars do not tarnish my skin.
There are no traces
of slashes from that knife
No marks to remind me of pain.

Not admitting this wound.
I am not battered and bruised–
not defeated nor beaten.
You have not won.
I am not your victim.

Not admitting this wound.

4. Continue In Strength

In college,
there was dis haole chick.
I don’t remember her face,
her hair color,
not even her name–
but I vividly
remember her words.

She was one of those
you know self-proclaimed
prestigious, intelligent,
nose in the air
high maka maka mainland girls.

While we were in English class,
in a circle,
having a discussion bout some book,
she sat there to my right,
and without hesitation said,
“Yeah, like the Hawaiians were definitely
oppressed before,
but I don’t think
they are oppressed anymore.”

“prolonged cruel or unjust treatment
or control”

“the state of being subject to unjust treatment
or control”

what Hawaiians have been suffering through
but still find the spirit to fight against
despite the odds;
despite the ignorance of others;
despite the constant uphill battle.

through the many faces of adversities
continue to show their aloha,
their mana,
their persistence,
and their belief in their culture.

Kānaka Maoli
continue in strength.

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2. ‘Tis Only

’Tis anything but sturdy.
A moment —
so brief,
so delicate,
so precious,
but so fleeting.

’Tis anything but forceful.
Each day–
slowly emerging
into existence,
seeking permission
at every step.

’Tis anything but loud.
Reaching it’s climax–
it’s merely a whisper
a quiet, radiant thrill
filling the body
with sweet,
gentle pleasure.

’Tis only,
but a flower–
made to grace the days
with beauty.