
I am sitting here before my keyboard with my insides all heavy and congested. I don't understand how people can consider other people to be less than human. After watching this documentary, the only explanation I can think of for the way Afghan women are treated is that the men don't think women are human.
Of course this probably strikes me more profoundly because I'm a woman and because I know, pervasively, throughout history, women have been considered an inferior species.
It's not just women; anyone who's different can be conveniently labeled as inferior. It was okay to have black Africans as slaves in colonial America because, after all, they weren't really human. Never mind that white folks could cross breed with them and produce viable offspring. Anyone who's a different religion is suspect at the very least, more likely damned. Gays, no doubt about where they'll be cooking for all eternity. Don't yah know that their raison de'tre is to destroy the heterosexual family. And, hey, if people speak a different language, can't trust 'em, they're probably plotting in their heathen tongue against us.
I read a science fiction story when I was a kid that really left a mark on me. It compared an alien in human society to a green monkey, The story claimed that if you took a monkey from his troop, painted him green, then returned him to his troop, the other monkeys would kill him and tear him limb from limb because he was different. The author claimed that aliens would never be able to live among humans because they would provoke the same reaction from us. Different is bad and frightening and needs to be controlled or killed.
Sometimes I'm ashamed to be human. Especially when I don't feel like I'm doing anything to make it better.
It's supposed to snow pretty much all day tomorrow, then get cold for a couple of nights. If this can protect the garden until Tuesday, it should be clear sailing for another week or so. There are still tons of green tomatoes that I hope will start to color up before I have to tear everything up for the winter.



This morning, as I was eating my oatmeal and Kitsu was nibbling on her canned cat food, I heard the cat door creak open, then kitty scrambling and some unknown creature squawking.
Both of the cats dove into the heap. All the critters scrambled under the piled furniture as I danced around the periphery with my towel.
It was about a half an hour before the cats gave up the basement search.