tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695022089890081967.post3393782623534315940..comments2023-03-16T07:37:36.372-07:00Comments on Video Artist. Activist. Student. Life.: Dear Mother.Helyx Horwitzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08557783474035972578noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695022089890081967.post-7286726996555437092009-06-05T19:22:51.003-07:002009-06-05T19:22:51.003-07:00I hope you can tell that my previous comment was t...I hope you can tell that my previous comment was to another one of your posts. I am overwhelmed by the pain in your words. Your sense of alienation is palpable. My heart aches for you. I want you to feel loved from your very core to the tips of your fingers and the ends of the hairs on your head. You are loved and you are perfect. Your body does not define you. Your body is the temple in which your blessed soul lives. It pains me to hear you set your self aside from your body. Your body is perfect and a miracle. You and your soul is perfect. You inhabit this body that allows you to bring your reality into this world. I'm afraid that if you spend so much time in conflict with your body, you will lose your focus and your opportunity to become your true self: A beautiful, talented soul shining through the frail, temporary house in which it lives.mscearcehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16679052117408289549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1695022089890081967.post-73270069194490382312009-06-05T18:55:37.941-07:002009-06-05T18:55:37.941-07:00Thought provoking. When I was growing up I did no...Thought provoking. When I was growing up I did not identify with any "ethnic" culture. As a true white American, my "ethnic" culture was assumed to be the normative culture. The access to white privilege was un-noticed and unacknowledged. In my perspective, I was not longing for the fading memory of a culture, I just longed for an identity that was not mild white and unnoticed, I felt like background noise.mscearcehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16679052117408289549noreply@blogger.com