Hi everyone!

Initially I had been thinking I was going to review another author’s work this week, but I felt instead it might be good to explain a little more about myself and why I write the things that I do. To that end I want to share a personal story, one I eventually plan to turn into a novel. Certainly I will have to add some fictional elements to that, but at least this much is true:

I was raised in what I call the “Bible belt” of Michigan. It’s a small town on the coast of Lake Michigan, picturesque in its own way. The beauty of the place, though, is marred by an ugliness that I didn’t see for the bulk of my formative years. The majority of the town’s population tends to be heavily right-wing and highly religious (see disclaimer below).

When I was young, my parents would talk about their disdain for Bill Clinton as the president. As a child, I didn’t understand the intricacies of politics, but I believed what my parents were saying. Then, Bush was elected, and I had believed that that was the best thing when I was in middle school. 9/11 happened and I thought we were in the best hands possible.

My parents had never brought us to church, but religion still felt implicit, especially in a town with more churches than people (that might be an exaggeration). I wanted to spend more time with my friend, and so I began attending church with his family. To my still-developing brain, it all made sense to me.

Then came high school. Bush remained president and war dragged on. I was heavily involved in performing arts in high school, and we had a really unique performing arts department. My high school was, for the most part, very lacking in diversity. In fact, when I was there, we didn’t meet the requirements to perform The Miracle Worker because we didn’t have a high enough percentage of African American students.

The one thing we did have a relatively high percentage of, was LGBTQ+ students. That was where I started unlearning things and learning more things about myself. It broke my heart that I had friends that couldn’t marry the people they wanted. I was also concerned for their souls, thinking that if homosexuality was a grave sin, that they were in all likelihood to be damned for it. I felt conflicted.

The conflict grew. Suddenly it made no sense to me that a “loving” God would create an entire group of people for the sole purpose of “burning in Hell.” Then I began to realize that I wasn’t straight either.

It still wasn’t enough. I had begun the “unlearning” journey, but I had no idea how long the road ahead of me would be.

When I turned twenty, my ex and I had broken up and I was devastated. I dropped out of the college I was attending. I was living with my parents and working at McDonald’s. I was miserable. I developed an eating disorder and l lost eighty pounds way too quickly. I had a group of friends that I spent most of my time with, and drinking heavily was frequently our activity of choice.

They talked about California a lot, like it was a paradise. This attitude is common in the Midwest since the weather is considerably warmer and the sun shines most of the year. Then they started talking about moving there. Moving there with the plan of being homeless. Any hope of fleeing the hellscape in which I was living was enough for me. Then the clutch on my lemon of a car broke for the third time, and it was the final straw.

Five of us packed our entire lives in a Toyota Camry, and then crammed ourselves in as well. I could probably write a whole post on just the road trip, suffice it to say the journey was great. It felt like a pure, unadulterated freedom.

We spent our first night in California at beautiful Joshua Tree. We got to LA the following day, and this is where I began to realize how sheltered I grew up.

We slept various places: church steps, parking lots, and alleyways mostly in Hollywood. If you’ve never been to Hollywood, don’t be fooled by what’s shown on TV and movies. Homelessness runs rampant in Hollyweird, and once you pass a certain street the air smells constantly of stale urine.

Now contrast that with the other side of Hollywood. One of our group knew a lady who lived in Hollywood and we spent one night in her apartment. It was up on the hill, and luxuriant doesn’t seem like a strong enough word. It was filled with modern looking furniture, had a great view. Surely, the rent there must have been astronomical.

One night, another of our group, with some rando, sought out narcotics in a section of downtown LA. Small huddled groups sat around tents and other make-shift shelters that were strewn about. We drove around, and they called out the car window in an effort to draw their desired drugs, which they eventually found. I didn’t want any part of that, and I laid back in the car trying to stay out of sight. My heart pounded in my throat.

One by one the group I had come with all went back to Michigan. It felt a bit like winning “Survivor: Los Angeles.” Eventually, I had gotten a job, and I stayed for a while with the friends we met at Joshua Tree. If ever they read this, I want to say thank you again. I don’t think I would have made it there without you both. They had to move though, and I was homeless again. This time I had a job though, and it made things significantly easier.

Another group of friends from Michigan had come to LA, so we met up. We stayed on a group of mattresses collected near dumpsters and placed them in between the 101 and what they call a “river” in LA, which is little more than a concrete channel with a couple inches of flowing water.

One morning, while all but me and one other of our group had gone to get food, a lady approached our camp.

“Oh no! Someone’s in my house!” she yelled. We were outside. In a flash she had jumped on top of me and tried to choke me.

Thankfully, she was incredibly weak and I could still breathe. I pulled her arms off of me. We got her calmed down. She had a house arrest anklet on and explained she had left the box in a car with someone.

After remarking on the alcohol that it must have looked like only two people had drank, she offered to go get more as an apology for choking me. She wandered off and a short while later we heard a siren go in the same direction she had left. She didn’t return. We surmised she had been rearrested.

That group of friends had all gone back to Michigan as well. So I was once again alone. But now I had better goals, and was in the process of applying to culinary school.

I reflected on all that I had been through during that time. I was exposed to so many truths about the world, and so many inequities. Over that whole process I became abundantly aware that the people I had encountered do not get the opportunities that I had been given. I felt an intense compassion for those less fortunate souls that I had encountered.

It was eye opening to say the least. It felt like a grave injustice. Why was no one helping these people? What caused them to end up in this situation?

The answer is, like any facet of humanity, complicated. The government seems more intent on trying to cure the symptom of “unsightly” homelessness than they do of solving the disease of inequity.

Of course, it would be much later before I would fully understand the concept of hegemony and how perpetuating the inequity helps the goals of hegemonic power structures. But still, for me, compassion had moved in where ignorance had previously been.

I had gotten accepted into culinary school and got into student housing, which ended my time of homelessness. But I never forgot the lessons it taught me, nor the inequity that exists in this country. While some people live in lavish mansions and beautiful apartments there are others who starve on the streets with no shelter or hope.

This is why much of what I write centers on the social issues that exist in this country. There are grave injustices that I refuse to be silent on. It only seems to be getting worse. Police violence against the African American community continues to go unpunished and unaddressed. Reproductive rights are at risk for many women, and furthermore their own bodily autonomy. The LGBTQ+ community is under fire and discriminatory laws are being passed in several states in an attempt to strip them of their rights. Where I live now, the police are consistently harassing the homeless and force them to remove their tents, their only shelter in a snow-laden state.

My books are intended to address these problems. Science Fiction and Fantasy have always been marvelous ways giving attention to these issues. A great example of that is Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, in which literature is made illegal and books are all burned. But doesn’t that story say something bigger about book banning? There are countless other examples. Fiction, regardless of genre, is a lie meant to tell a bigger truth. That’s what I strive to do. Use a fictional story to tell a bigger truth about humanity. I want to address these things, because I know they can be fixed, but only if we work hard and work together.

Kathryn

Disclaimer: I make no claim to be either Republican or Democrat. I think both parties have a great deal of issues. It isn’t my goal to denounce one in favor other, but rather to call attention to the issues we’re dealing with as a nation. Additionally, I don’t have any issue with anyone worshipping whatever deity they see fit, I only wanted to stress the type of town I’m from.

The story above is my own, and is true to my recollection. Any similarity to any other story, real or fictious, is unintentional. The content on this page is protected by copyright law.