My Scars, My Story — poem from Free to Roam: Poems from a Heathen Mommy

My Scars, My Story

My curls screamed
as they were straightened.
My songs
were stripped from my lungs.
Fresh freedom
was depleted when I gasped.
Shackles of indoctrination
imprisoned my peers.
I was alone.
Time was never on my side
in that small tired town.
Even when I left,
cruel judgment branded
a lasting impression—
scars that are just
a part of my story
that I’ll finish in my own words.

My poetry book gives an atheist perspective on being a Midwest Mom. It is for sale on my publisher’s site freethoughthouse.com, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon. (Signed copies are available at freethoughthouse.com.)

The Bench (Erotic Poetry)

This is one of my husband’s favorite poems from my erotic poetry book.

 

The Bench

 

The after dinner
golden hour,
a bench
in the nearby park —
I have a plan
that I think you’ll like.

Take a seat.
A kiss —
we’re alone.
I get down
on my knees,
undo your pants,
and take your cock
into my mouth.

Warmth —
the setting sun
on your face,
my hands
on your body.
You’re anxious
we’ll get caught.
I continue
with eager hands and tongue.
You cum hard
and I look up at you
and smile.

Quiet walks in the evening
in the nearby park —
every time
you see this bench,
I want you
to think about the naughty things
we did here —
and smile.

Racism and the KKK: What I’ve Learned from My Family’s Dark Past

My family has lived in Northwest Ohio since the Great Black Swamp was drained for farmland in the mid-19th century. It’s quiet here. My childhood was peaceful and sheltered. When I was growing up, everyone’s grandpa was a farmer and most of us were of German heritage. 

One night, while sitting around the kitchen table at my grandparent’s farm, my grandma revealed to me that they paid membership dues to the Ku Klux Klan. I was only a teenager at the time. She said it was for protection — they threatened to burn down their property. My grandma acted like they were a band of thugs trolling the county’s farms, but with the hate speech that spewed from her mouth, it’s pretty hard to believe my grandparents weren’t more active in the Klan. Either way, there was some serious racism there that shouldn’t have been. I should have never heard those words as a young child — or ever.

To know your grandparents were dues-paying members of the Klan is pretty fucking horrible, but to be honest, I didn’t just feel anger — I felt a lot of confusion. My dad was a single parent and I spent a lot of time with my grandparents. I loved going to the farm and I have some wonderful memories of them. There were times when they were loving grandparents and I enjoyed spending time with them. I am learning there were many sides to my grandparents and I probably only know bits and pieces of their story. To put it simply — I was hurt, but amid the confusion, I condemned their hateful actions and words.

Family Secrets Verified in Print

Fast forward to now — just a couple of months ago actually. My husband and I were now fully vaccinated and enjoying a night out — dinner and shopping at Barnes and Noble. I was browsing a section of local books when I came across something that really grabbed my attention. It was titled, “The Ku Klux Klan in Wood County”. That’s where my family has lived for generations. I glanced through it. My great-grandpa and four other relatives were listed as Klansmen in the 1920s and ’30s. I bought the book and shared it with a few family members. We were all shocked to learn that more than one generation was involved in the KKK. My grandparents died several years back and none of my living relatives share these hateful beliefs. 

Of course, this discovery inspired a poem:

 

My Time

 

Embarrassed —
I hesitate
before the words
slip past my tired lips.

Ashamed —
a stubborn kink of actions
in our line
that can’t be undone. 

Hate on their mind.
Love engulfing mine.
Birds of a feather no more.
I see a new way.

Sheets and arrogance
free in the summer breeze,
flames of ignorance
climbing high in the oak trees.

Crosses ablaze,
crossroads in the haze —
it’s my time now
and times will change.

 

The Klansman’s Granddaughter is an Atheist in the City

We live in Toledo, OH, a truly amazing city — gritty and vibrant with a very diverse population. A lot of people put Toledo down, but there’s such a strong sense of community here — like we’re all in this struggle together. I’m so happy to be raising my daughter here. My daughter’s urban upbringing is very different from my childhood in the country. She’s going to meet so many different people and try so many different things. I will tell her to be a sponge and absorb it all. 

It’s amazing that this whole diverse world in Toledo exists only a short drive from my childhood home in rural Northwest Ohio. My life is so different now. I’m an atheist in the city — a far cry from my family’s conservative roots.

I work for a nonprofit organization where the majority of the employees are black. I’m not going to be one of those people that say, “I have black friends so I can’t be racist.” I do, but that doesn’t make me perfect. White privilege is real and it’s important that I analyze and challenge my own thoughts. Listen to others. I am surrounded by a lot more diversity than I was growing up, and I’m learning. 

I’m also not going to be one of those people who say, “I don’t see color” because color is definitely there and it has a huge impact on people’s lives. With all of the current events, I notice it now more than ever. I wish I could relate in some way or understand but I can’t and I’m not going to pretend to. I will never know what it’s like to be black in America, but I want to help, so I listen. Then I show my support by spreading the word and having conversations with friends and family. Our color shapes our experiences. It is so important to listen and to learn when others share their stories. 

Showing the Full Story

I shouldn’t bring the whole family down. I also have plenty of ancestors and relatives that were loving people who did amazing things. I look to those family members for inspiration. I am really exploring my family’s past right now and using it to write another poetry book — the good, the bad, and the ugly will all be included. I’m not going to gloss over my family’s dark past and I’m also not going to leave out the stories of the good people in my family doing good things. 

Don’t like your family’s legacy? Change it. Set future generations on a new path. My daughter and I are shaping the future of this family and we are listening — we are learning. I will never repeat my grandma’s hateful words or my ancestor’s hateful actions. I won’t hide our family’s past from my daughter. She needs to learn from their story. My daughter will know love — to give love and be loved. 

Great Lakes Atheists Picnic/Juneteenth Update

Last night was the first time I had met anyone from Great Lakes Atheists in person since I joined the group last December. It was really nice. Unfortunately, only a few people could make it and it started storming a little over an hour in. There were only five of us there and that’s the most atheists I’ve ever been around! I am hoping to meet other groups in person soon.

I’m working really hard on my blog post for FtB’s Juneteenth celebration. The post is titled, “Racism and the KKK: What I’ve Learned From My Family’s Dark Past”. Look for it on Saturday.

Thank you all for your support!

Ode to My Husband’s Tongue/Erotic Poetry Book Update

I am wrapping up my erotic poetry book. At the moment it stands at 73 poems. I have no idea what the future holds for this book, but I’ve had an absolute blast writing it.

Ode to My Husband’s Tongue

It’s soft —
luscious.
Pink like me.
A weapon
when my husband’s on his knees.
The creator of tingles
and shockwaves.
It strokes,
swirls,
leaving me floating
among the clouds.
When my husband
opens my world with two fingers,
it sweeps across my button —
the epicenter.
He likes my taste.
It’s warm,
wet,
delicious.
It speaks
even when it’s not speaking.
It brings pleasure
that lingers in my dreams.

My Social Media and Juneteenth

A few people have asked me for my social media info at speaking engagements and unfortunately, I didn’t have anything to give them. I had only been using Facebook and my workplace encourages us to keep our profiles on private. I got a few friend requests which are great, but it’s obvious I need to do something else. So, Twitter it is! You can find me @MeganReneeRahm. I’ve put up a few tweets in the last couple of days but I promise to add more. 🙂

Also, FtB will be celebrating Juneteenth. Look for our special posts on June 19th. I am writing about racism, the KKK, and my family. I am learning a lot after my recent revelations. There will be a poem, too, of course.

Christian Admirer

This is a poem about young boyfriends who try to convert you. (Another selection from my book, Free to Roam: Poems from a Heathen Mommy.)

Christian Admirer

Eyes of lust and honeydew
don’t mean I grant you permission
to invade my liberated world.
Drop the slate
and let the luster fade.
If you want in my life
I’m gonna need you raw, be real.
Give up
because you’ll never change me.
Your envy shines like emeralds.
I bet purity burns like hell.

 

My poetry book gives an atheist perspective on being a Midwest Mom. It is for sale on my publisher’s site freethoughthouse.com, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon. (Signed copies are available at freethoughthouse.com.)

I am also available for speaking engagements.

Grandma was “set in her ways”.

Is being “set in your ways” ever a good enough excuse? Is it best to leave older generations be?

I have a family member who is gay and came out a little over ten years ago. She was nervous and she said she would be okay if our elderly grandma never found out. 

Grandma was conservative — definitely from a different time. She was often racist and sexist. Horrible shit would just fly out of her mouth with absolutely no remorse.  While I had never really heard her say anything homophobic, I feared her reaction. 

Spoiler alert — grandma found out. It was bad but it could have been a lot worse. 

My family member was brave. Grandma died a few years ago and I never told her I’m an atheist or even that I’m not a Christian.

I’m sure lots of people feel like we did — maybe it’s best not to let older generations completely into your personal life. After all, they’re “set in their ways”. 

Do you think this is okay? Better question — who here have grandparents that know they’re an atheist or freethinker?

Far from Home

A few days ago I posted about atheists in rural areas and shared a little about my childhood in the country. I currently live in Toledo which really isn’t that far from home, but right now it feels like I grew up on another planet.

My high school classmates have been posting over the past couple of days on Facebook about our 20-year reunion. I can’t believe it’s been twenty years since we graduated high school. I doubt I’ll attend even though my dad told me the 20-year reunion is way more interesting than the 10-year.

What is completely blowing my mind is that the conversation on Facebook has of course turned to our children. The majority of my classmates now have kids in high school and college. My daughter is in preschool! I thought I’d be a smart ass and ask if anyone is a grandparent yet but I refrained. I probably already know the answer.

Just for reference or if you’re like me and don’t like math — I’m only 38.

I’m not saying there’s really anything wrong with having babies when you’re in your twenties, but I can’t believe so many of them did. Some of them were even younger.

To top the weekend off there was a hate crime against a gay teenager near my hometown. It’s absolutely disgusting. My heart goes out to any kids that are “different” growing up back home. I know it can be really hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to live back home right now, but I can see it’s not worth the time or energy. I made the right choice in leaving.

Back to Work!

I have some exciting news! I’m going back to work!

Prior to the pandemic, I worked part-time facilitating art, writing, and music groups for people struggling with homelessness as well as mental health and addiction issues. While I don’t always agree with the larger organization I’m a part of, working with the participants has always been a rewarding experience. The arts have played a huge part in my own recovery and getting paid to share my passions is amazing! I am quite literally working at my dream job.

There’s a core group of people that used to come to the arts space and I miss them terribly. We text but it’s just not enough. The atmosphere at the arts space was magical when we were all creating together and it’s clear that we are all in need of that right now.

I have remained employed and paid over the past year but there wasn’t a lot of work for me to do. People higher up in the organization found things for me to do here and there but it definitely wasn’t the same.

Next week I will be facilitating my first in-person group since the pandemic! It’s going to be an art group for kids. It’s been fun buying supplies and my daughter is excited because she’s going to come to work with me and help with the group! I’m thinking sidewalk chalk if it’s nice out!

While this is all very exciting to me, it is, unfortunately, the only group planned at the moment. I don’t want to rush anything — I want everyone to feel safe in the groups — but I am definitely getting antsy. Fingers crossed the situation keeps improving!