UPDATE (8/25/17) I cannot thank each and every one of you enough for continuing to press forward in this fight. 1,500 supporters? Wow. I'm floored by the support this petition has gained; I had no idea what this would become. WE are making a difference here.
Many of you have read yesterday's disappointing response from the Collegian's ad staff. If you haven't, I'd encourage you to read it - the link is here. I was contacted by the head of the advertising staff yesterday and expected to speak with them at some point; this has yet to occur. I have also been in contact with some of the most wonderfully supportive faculty & staff at K-State who are researching best steps forward. Let me be clear: This is not an issue of free speech. Relativism of opinion or belief will not stand as a valid argument, not with me. The core issue here is that strip clubs perpetuate one of the most sinister and overlooked crimes this country knows: the trafficking of human beings for sexual exploitation. We do not want a paper so closely associated with our university (or any paper, for that matter) to continue to publish such degrading material. I hope that you will continue to stand for this. Our hope must come from knowing this battle is ultimately already won. (Ephesians 6:12-13) As my dear friend Lauren said in her response yesterday, "Each time we leverage our power and privilege to actively reject the dehumanization of others, we win battles that eventually culminate in winning wars." I believe in this wholeheartedly. Keep pushing forward, friends. Every seed planted makes an enormous difference. IMPORTANT UPDATE (8/23/17): We are past 500 signatures - that is amazing. I did need to make one very important connection: the Collegian's staff is not responsible for which ads make it to the paper. Rather, there is a separate advertising staff responsible for those decisions. This petition has been newly directed at this team. My apologies to the Collegian's staff as I have been made aware that they have also made many requests of the ad staff to stop running these ads as well. Thank you, Collegian! I have also been made aware that because the Collegian is independent from Kansas State University, K-State has no ability to enforce or change the way the paper runs. The views and decisions that the Collegian makes do not necessarily reflect Kansas State's values or opinions. To Collegian Media Group's advertising staff: We stand behind this request. Please share this update so that people are aware of who we are petitioning towards! You can sign the petition here: www.change.org/p/the-collegian-remove-strip-club-ads-from-the-collegian?recruiter=533589986&utm_source=share_for_starters&utm_medium=copyLink To the Collegian's advertising committee, and to all my fellow Wildcats: My name is Wheeler Crimm and I am an alumni of our wonderful university, with a degree in Family Studies and Human Services and a minor in Conflict Analysis and Trauma Studies. I spent my time at K-State learning about what makes people who they are, and about how, unfortunately, traumatic experiences have a significant and lasting impact on the who we are as human beings. I took a class during a winter intercession as part of my minor requirements called "Advanced Trauma." During this class, I learned about many forms of traumatic stress, one being the horrors of human sex trafficking and the havoc it wreaks on vulnerable people. I learned that trafficking happens not only in the red light districts of Thailand and Amsterdam, but within our nation's borders, even in our backyards. A fire was sparked deep within me, one I knew wouldn't be put out quietly. I needed to figure out how to play my part in eradicating this terrible system. I went on to intern during the spring of 2017 at a nonprofit in Manhattan called Homestead Ministries, Inc. This incredible organization is dedicated to the transitional care of women who are exiting the sex trafficking industry in one way or another. I had the outrageous privilege of getting to know several Homesteaders - women who were participants in the Homestead's program. I was honored to hear their stories and walk alongside them as they battled addiction, hopelessness, and shame. I saw many of them walk forward in victory towards the glorious future that awaits them. They walked out of some of the darkest places - abusive relationships, trafficking rings, strip clubs - into the light of hope and freedom and grace. As part of the ministry of the Homestead, I participated in monthly trips to several strip clubs in a nearby town in an effort to spread some light to women steeped in darkness. We saw firsthand where some of our Homesteaders had come from, and it was heart-shattering. The women we met had some of the roughest stories I've heard and yet carried the most resilient spirits within them. It was heartbreaking to see such beautiful women in such dark places. Many of them were there because they in desperate financial situations, and many of them faced heavy addiction issues. They came from broken places, as do many of us. What most of them failed to realize is that they were being treated as sexual objects, as toys to gratify the desires of greedy and addiction-ridden men. There are always signs posted in these clubs that touching the dancers is unacceptable. However, there were "VIP Rooms" in the backs of these clubs where unspoken indecency occurred, and the women were given no choice whether or not to participate. They were supposedly paid extra for these experiences. In short, the trafficking of women (young women, might I add - we met several ladies who were freshly eighteen years old) for sexual exploitation is happening miles from our college town of Manhattan, Kansas, if not closer. I have seen it with my own eyes. All this being said, I am extremely disappointed to see that the Collegian frequently publishes full-page advertisements for one of these clubs, advertisements that specifically offer employment to young women. I love our alma mater. Following graduation, I moved out to the West Coast. I am proud to tell people where I went to school. But this? This is a disgrace. Collegian, you are promoting sex trafficking. There is no other way to state it. It pains me to see rape culture perpetuated in and around our university. Several recent events have caused me to feel ashamed of Kansas State. It's discouraging enough to watch members of the armed forces who are stationed at Fort Riley visiting these clubs. But to know that my school's newspaper is promoting visiting these places and even employment within them to our own students? I cannot stay silent about this. I am not interested in name-calling or blame-gaming. I am interested in change. I am starting a petition to call for the end of these advertisements in the Collegian. I am calling for all K-State students to realize that promoting the objectification of women is unacceptable. I am calling for us to shine a light on the dark places in and around our community. I am calling for us to look at the faces of these women and to see the faces of our sisters, daughters, mothers, nieces, friends. I am calling for anyone - student, fraternity member, Fort Riley resident or otherwise - who has visited these places as a consumer or otherwise to think about the consequences of your actions. Not only for yourself - that beckons another letter entirely - but for the women you encounter. On the front page of K-State's website, there is the following statement: "The K-State family is powered by world-changers, answer-seekers and difference-makers - that's the Wildcat Way." I am so proud of the family atmosphere K-State says that it stands for, but I'm not seeing the follow-through as of late. Let me be clear: We cannot minimize this issue - nor other issues concerning rape culture which have arisen as of late - and move forward as a unified family. One of my favorite animated movies as a child, Lilo & Stitch, says this about family: "Family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten." By publishing this ad, you are leaving behind the personhood of millions of women. You are choosing to forget the humanness and the innate value within them. A family is not just a crowd of purple shirts at a football game. If that is how we define it, we really need to take a good look at what we value. Stand up for what's right, K-State. Stand up for those whose voices have been drowned out by the shouts of oppression and objectification. Stand up for what family really means. You can sign the petition here: www.change.org/p/the-collegian-remove-strip-club-ads-from-the-collegian?recruiter=533589986&utm_source=share_for_starters&utm_medium=copyLink
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It's the kind of thing that stops you from breathing, from thinking, from knowing where you are or what you're doing.
It'll leave you reeling. Desperately trying to recall the last time you felt ground beneath your feet. Wondering how long ago you turned left three times when you were supposed to turn right. Asking yourself when you'll catch your bearings again. Maybe you saw it coming but you ignored all the signs. Maybe it hit you like a derailed train. Maybe it's happened so many times you can't even feel it. Maybe that part of you is numb to pain. Or maybe you thought it was, but the tissue never seems to quite thicken up enough and the whole thing rips open again, leaving you standing there bleeding and raw, carving out old shrapnel you forgot was there. Then the fury sets in, and you're banging dishes around and forgetting to talk to your roommates. You're caught in your head, playing the blame game, looking for any reason to hate, to fight back, to wound. Life is excruciatingly and infuriatingly and absolutely unfair. Someone else got what you wanted. Again. Big surprise. Next thing you know, you are sitting cross-legged on your bed, desperately trying to get all the tears out, just like the foolish thirteen-year-old you can't believe you've grown up from. You wonder how you could have let this happen again. It's the same game, just with different players. You're stupid and an idiot and it's all your fault. Of course this happened again. You let it, after all. Let down the walls again and got too ahead of reality. Then heartache is the aftermath. And ache it does. There's no better way to describe it. It's a thorn in your side, a constant battle to scratch away the memory of the whole damn thing and just move on. You wake up feeling lighter three days in a row, then the fourth day slams you down like you're an empty pint glass in a dive bar. You know what, girl? All your pain - it's not fair. It's not fair that the wound that just seemed to be covered over with new scar tissue has been torn into once again. It's not fair that someone you thought was always honest with you wasn't brave enough to be honest after all. It's not fair that a boy - not yet a man - has power to make you feel less-than. It's not fair that he didn't chase you the way you deserve to be chased, that you were left feeling unimportant and neglected. It's not fair that you're left standing in the aftermath of someone else's poor communication, or lies, or absentmindedness, or shortcoming, or sin. You know what else? It's not fair that the friend from home died in a car accident. It's not fair that your mom has cancer. It's not fair that you haven't seen your dad since you were seven. It's not fair that you took a leap of faith and things aren't going how you thought they would. It's not fair that you've been taken advantage of. It's not fair that you can't crawl free from the crippling depression and anxiety that has a grip around your throat every night. It's not fair that you feel alone, like everybody has a somebody but you. It's not fair that you can't figure how to eat and feel okay or how to look at yourself in the mirror and see the beauty that's looking back. It's not fair that you look back on the last season - no matter how long it's been - and regret all the time wasted, energy spent, headspace consumed. I'm not gonna pretend to know exactly what it is that's making your tender heart throb, your stomach lurch, or your head spin. I'm not gonna try to comfort you. Because it's not fair. None of it. And I'm not going to try to fix you because I am you. I am broken and bruised and torn and tired and livid and lurching. Right next to you. With you. Beside you. Sin is the worst. It pits person against person and creates holes where there were never meant to be any. Unity was the original goal. We were supposed to live in perfect union with our Yahweh God and with one another as his created Beloveds. And we screwed it up. But you know what else? "Nothing is a waste if you learn from it." (Thank you, The Oh Hellos. Bless you.) And the only reason nothing is a waste is because Jesus was treated like a waste. God on earth. God in a body. Treated like dust, like nothing, like scum. Do you hear me shouting at you through this screen? NOTHING. NOTHING IS A WASTE. Did you hear me that time? Not the weeks, months, years you spent wondering and waiting and dreaming, only to watch that dream die. Not the ache you feel so deep you think it might swallow you. Not the wrong turns and screw ups you made when you were confused and battered. Not the relationship now lying in shattered pieces on the floor, the one you seem to be picking up all by your lonesome. Nothing. Nothing is wasted. Jesus died to redeem all of the crap that seems like just crap to you. He died to dust you off, shine you up, and set you back on your feet. And he died to sit with you in your room while you leak those rivers of salt and hurt right out till there's no more. So let it out, girl. Don't stem the tides of emotion that roll over like they're gonna overhaul your whole life. (They won't.) Take it one day at a time. One redeeming sunset, one conversation that isn't about you and frees you up so good, one day filled with joy and sentiments that seem to point to goodness all around. Then take the days you wish never started, too. The ones where everything is in vain, nothing matters, you didn't do enough, you didn't live up to your existence. Take those days to the feet of Jesus the next morning, knowing that he was with you the whole time, right in the muck walking hand-in-hand. Nothing is a waste. Just say that over and over till you believe it. And someday you will. You'll understand just what good he did with what you thought was wasted. You might not until you're good and gone. In fact, you definitely won't. Not completely. But the sweetness of it all is that it's guaranteed to be better than whatever you could come up with. 'Cause what he did with all that life people thought was wasted turned out to be the best thirty-three years ever lived. One more thought for your bleeding heart. If you haven't lately, take a little while to look or think back through your prayers the past few months. What have you been asking God for? What have you begged him to do in you? Is it at all possible that this pain, this ache, this new vacancy, that maybe it's part of his answers to your prayers? When we ask for faith, we get handed situations that need us to tear down and rebuild our faith muscles. When we ask for a heart clean of the idols that tend to build up and clutter it, we may be torn away from things, people we thought would be good for us. When we ask for greater trust, we are often allowed to experience life without guard rails - life that requires us to trust him because we are desolate in all senses except we have him. It's a beautifully bruising reality, God's tender discipline, as our friend James recognizes: "For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it." You know what, girl? Your pain has purpose because your God had ultimate purpose in the most ultimate pain there was. And while all this is part of this walk we walk with Yahweh, whether this heartbreak is God-allowed or God-awful doesn't matter so much in the end. Don't let the either-or get you stuck blaming God or anyone else. Because nothing really means nothing. And nothing is wasted. So chin up, girl, even if you have to let him hold your head up for you for awhile. After sunsets come darkness, and after darkness the sun awakes again. The fullest, most stunning clouds bring the heaviest rains. And the earth always glows again after. There's beauty and glory to be found on all sides of pain. All around it. Because right in the thick of your pain? That's where he is. Don't miss him. Waste not your breath by allowing pain to define your life. Because the One who's defined you from the very start won't ever let a single breath breathed in pain go to waste. |
Meet the writer.Hiya. Wheels, here. I enjoy all forms of espresso & days spent in the mountains of Colorado or the prairies of Kansas or the beaches of SoCal. Also, Royals baseball. Archives
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