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Linda Keres Carter

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I’ve been writing all my life about the same thing, though I couldn’t tell the ‘rest of the story’ till I was 60.  That was six years ago, as of this date, August, 2018.   I struggled all those years to write a story about who I really was, but couldn’t.  I’d been denied my birthright.  I didn’t know who I was.

Then I tried again six years ago. I went to write a rant about how America treats a woman it identifies as white who has crossed that color line.  My family’s bi-racial.  Most of the people I’ve been close to all my adult life have been people from historically persecuted minorities.  They were black, Jewish or Indian.  Mostly black.

I knew the energy behind that was coming from grandma, so I started researching her.  I only had one word as a clue, but it’s all I needed.  She gave me the word ‘Orthodox.’  She had been Orthodox before she married and converted to Catholicism in order to marry.

That one word speaks to an unimaginable loss.  It meant that she was from a VERY persecuted minority that had done about 500 years as a kind of chattel, then 100 years as vermin, and are now on the brink of extinction.

I had, in effect, attached myself to the one group of people in the world who have developed a strategy and method capable of surviving and overcoming a situation like that.  Purely on instinct, I knew exactly what I was doing.

I was engaging in that conversation my kind have been in for the last half a millenia.  It goes on all over the world, in various settings, variations on the theme.   In America, I’m supposed to be ejected from that conversation since I’m visibly white.  Obviously, I have been non-compliant.  I intend to continue to be.

I’ve been writing volumes on Quora.com for the past year.  I’m reaching a million views now, with 12,000 upvotes and 1,000 followers.  I can no longer whine that the world has no interest in the way I think.

https://www.quora.com/profile/Linda-Keres-Carter

I’ve also finished that rant, though it morphed into a ghost story instead.  Very loving ancestor, guardian-angel kind of ghosts showed up to explain what was really going on all those years.  It’s historical fiction with some magical realism in it to allow the necessary degree of philosophizing.  It’s not a Greek Chorus.  It’s a Serbian Chorus.  What the hell, we’re all Balkanites.  The book is here:

Amazon.com, The Tudjina

 

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