why do the good die young
Admirer of beauty and the soul. 19, SoCal.
"At Rio Americano High School in Sacramento CA, a student named Dejza, was violently assaulted by a vice principal, Matt Collier, for attempting to take back a piece of art with a political message that the administration didn’t like. She was put in a chokehold and slammed against the desk. When she tried to resist this unlawful abuse of authority, she was slammed and held onto the ground. Matt Collier laid on top of her, crushing her with his weight. Dejza could not breathe, and begged Collier to get off of her. Luckily, another faculty member came in and ended the situation. Dejza went to see a doctor for severe whiplash, and yesterday was her first day of physical therapy. Despite this being blatantly wrong and illegal, the administration has put her on suspension for resisting, and Collier was not disciplined. On the fifth day of her suspension, she will attend a meeting held by bias members of the administration to determine if she will be expelled.
They have tried to silence anyone who speaks out on social media, but today we have gathered in person for a silent sit-in protest.
Dejza has been wronged, and brutalized, and now she is receiving punishment. They’ve tried to silence her. They’ve tried to silence us.” -Grant Wright
One of my friends Grant posted this on facebook and even though im not in Sacramento I want to help. This girl has been mistreated by a full grown man who may never be punished. I want to help spread awareness. So please, spread this around. Let people know that this is NOT okay. The more support we have, the better.
i’m so proud to have been a part of this today but you guys please please please please reblog/spread this around any way you possibly can it’s so important and her story needs to be heard by people outside of our city because what this man did is so so so incredibly far from okay
arrest Matt Collier. protect and redeem Dejza.
My creative writing professor told me to stop
writing about love. I asked him why and he said,
“Because you have turned it over and over in your hands,
felt every angle, every fault, every inch,
every bruise. You have ruined it for yourself.”
I spent the next 3 weeks writing about science
and space. Stars exploding.
Getting sucked into a black hole.
How much I wished I could sleep inside of that nothingness
without being annihilated. What an exploding star
would taste like. If it would make our stomachs glow
like fireflies, or tingle and shake like pop rocks
under our tongue.
My creative writing professor told me that those poems
weren’t what he was looking for.
He tells me to stop writing about outer space.
Stop writing about science.
Again, I ask him why. Again, he says,
“You have ruined it for yourself.”
I spend the next three weeks writing about my mother,
how we are told we can’t make homes inside
of other human beings, but the foreclosure sign
on my mother’s empty womb tells me that women
who give birth know a different,
more painful truth.
My creative writing professor tells me I am both talented
and hopeless, that everything I write is both visceral and empty,
a walking circus with no animals inside
but a beautiful trapeze artist with a broken hip
selling popcorn in the entrance-way.
He tells me to stop writing about my mother. I don’t ask why.
I pick up my books and my notepad
and I leave his office with my war stories
tucked under my tongue like an exploding star,
like the taste of the last person I ever loved,
like my mother’s baby thermometer, and I do not look back.
We are all writing about our mothers, our lovers,
the empty space that we will never be able to breathe in.
We are all carrying stones in our pockets
and tossing them back and forth in our hands,
trying to explain the heaviness
and we will never stop writing about love,
about black holes, about how quiet it must have been
inside the chaos of my mother’s belly,
inside the chaos of his arms,
inside the chaos of the spaces in every poem
I have ever written.
None of this is ruined.
Do not listen to them when they tell you that it is.