humanity
Humanity begins at home.
Breaking Tradition
When I grew up, we attended huge family gatherings for Thanksgiving. Most were direct family, which was quite large as it was, but often included many shirt-tail relatives and friends. It was fun. Growing up in the Midwest, the fare included a lot of creamy, sugary, butter-laden dishes. And one Aunt always brought the candied yams - Yuck! But a lot of people like them. We always had apple/banana salad in honor of my Grandmother who had passed. It was gross, and I wasn’t alone in my distaste of it, made with apples, bananas, lettuce, gluttonous amounts of sugar mixed with mayo or Miracle Whip. When I got old enough to voice an opinion, I refused to eat it anymore, inspite of the vocalizations of my Aunts telling me I must eat it and like it unless I really didn’t love my grandma. I loved my Grandma very much and she wouldn’t make me eat that crap!
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Ghostface WriterPublished about a year ago in FamiliesYellow Shirt Girl
In my family, Thanksgiving is always quite the ordeal. There are so many people in my family that it’s always a really large gathering, but it’s usually the same people who attend it every year. Cousins, siblings, grandparents, and even some of our more distant relatives all join together at my great aunt’s large home, where we host a potluck brunch and everyone brings their favorite dishes. We gather around to watch movies and eat as many helpings of food as we can fit in our stomachs. However, a few years ago, we had an unexpected guest.
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During Covid-19 lockdown in Kenya the incidents of gender-based violence grew out of control. Hundreds of Kenyans ended up on the streets, many with their children to escape violence in their homes. So much so that BBC filmed the famed documentary in Kenya about the high rising incidents of gender violence.
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