So, today is Jackson. Dammit. i've wrestled with this all day. i don't want to feel sorry for him. i hate Jackson with an unmitigated passion. But, i cannot help but feel bad for the child he was. Jackson's mother was a quarter native american. She didn't look it. And, i doubt it ever seemed important to her to discuss it with her husband. i wouldn't think of it. But, when Jackson was born, the problem became evident. His father hated native americans with a fierce and racist passion. And, Jackson looked very much like a native american.From early childhood Jackson was beaten daily. He was molested as well. He was made to eat outside under the porch where no one would have to look at him. He was burned with cigars and forced to say things over and over to the mirror. Things like, "I'm a dirty Indian, and no I should die." Finally when Jackson was 11 his father tried to kill him. His mother had enough and packed up her kids and left. None of the rest of the children looked at all native american. Only Jackson. And, his brother and sister continued to treat him with the disdain they had learned from their father.At long last his mother remarried a decent man who treated Jackson well. He made his siblings see that their father was an idiot. He tried to save Jackson. But, it was too late. Jackson screamed in the night and begged for mercy. His nightmares never relented and when he got older he grew into a big man.He thought, that somehow if he could attract a good white girl, he could finally wash away the stains of his youth. Finding out that i was not that girl nearly killed Jackson, and was ultimately his destruction. Because even as he hurt me, he destroyed himself. i was poison to him as surely as he was to me.my weakness, my inability to resist fed Jackson's monster. Soon he couldn't let me go. Because although i couldn't heal him as he had hoped, i did give him a place to vent his rage, horror and hatred. In the end, the only thing that kept Jackson going was watching me suffer. And, for years he bugged me. Tried to get me back. He was afraid of J, i think, so after a while he quit threatening me, but he never lost contact with my mother. Jackson eventually married and had a daughter. Not a night goes by that i don't think of that beautiful little girl. He married a blue eyed blond. But his daughter has jet black hair to go with her blue eyes. i only pray her pale creamy skin saves her. Please don't start in on me about doing something about this situation. i have my own family to protect. If i ever spoke to the police about the things that happened to me, how long do you think it will be before someone comes around and shoots J, me and Bkid in the head some night? i'm sorry. i won't risk it. It makes me a bad person, and i don't care. Dammit i earned some happiness.
