Indoctrinated to be a thief or a terrorist in elementary school, in the late 1970's
My Japanese mother who was one of the first to have an interracial marriage in
the United States (proper) mainland. My father, was USAF at the time OSI. After my sister was murdered by racist/ nationalistic nurses at a rural Bucks County, Pennsylvania hospital, my mother was being pushed to what would be severe emotional scarring. As I gained more understanding at an early age, my parents repeatedly informed me of why my name is white washed. Why it is that I look different and that my parents were given set criteria for my upbringing. The baseline rules for them tolerating me laid forth, that the US Government or some military body told them to name me within constraints of having the initials A.M.K.. It wasn't till my later 20's that I learned about the MK Ultra programs. So, my mother cried to me that they forced her to name me white for fear of some other punishment after they murdered my sister in front of her at the hospital. Also in my late 20's I returned home and investigated the story of my sister's burial. She was buried in a Philadelphia suburb cemetery.
In later years , 2001, I discovered a birth certificate at the bottom of a drawer with my birth documentation.
It read: Angela Merideath Knell. I was puzzled at the spelling of my name as it appeared to be the original birth certificate though not registered state form. It became clear to me that despite the Patriot Act, that the USA had predetermined my role. That the Patriot Act and all the discriminations against me having a Caucasian name were intentional constructs of the USA terrorism agenda as well as psy ops or clandestine political operations against Japan. I obviously never looked very white. And the emotional, mental, financial bludgeoning that came from the United States was unbearable for anyone. While Guantanamo is an enclosed facility;- my torture and that of my mother were a daily interaction 1 generation after Hiroshima.
That is before she fell ill with cancer and landed in a Philadelphia Hospital for quite some timeby the time I was 7.
I silently taught myself how to play piano in my Country home, neighborhood devoid of children near my age.
My Japanese mother who was one of the first to have an interracial marriage in
the United States (proper) mainland. My father, was USAF at the time OSI. After my sister was murdered by racist/ nationalistic nurses at a rural Bucks County, Pennsylvania hospital, my mother was being pushed to what would be severe emotional scarring. As I gained more understanding at an early age, my parents repeatedly informed me of why my name is white washed. Why it is that I look different and that my parents were given set criteria for my upbringing. The baseline rules for them tolerating me laid forth, that the US Government or some military body told them to name me within constraints of having the initials A.M.K.. It wasn't till my later 20's that I learned about the MK Ultra programs. So, my mother cried to me that they forced her to name me white for fear of some other punishment after they murdered my sister in front of her at the hospital. Also in my late 20's I returned home and investigated the story of my sister's burial. She was buried in a Philadelphia suburb cemetery.
In later years , 2001, I discovered a birth certificate at the bottom of a drawer with my birth documentation.
It read: Angela Merideath Knell. I was puzzled at the spelling of my name as it appeared to be the original birth certificate though not registered state form. It became clear to me that despite the Patriot Act, that the USA had predetermined my role. That the Patriot Act and all the discriminations against me having a Caucasian name were intentional constructs of the USA terrorism agenda as well as psy ops or clandestine political operations against Japan. I obviously never looked very white. And the emotional, mental, financial bludgeoning that came from the United States was unbearable for anyone. While Guantanamo is an enclosed facility;- my torture and that of my mother were a daily interaction 1 generation after Hiroshima.
That is before she fell ill with cancer and landed in a Philadelphia Hospital for quite some timeby the time I was 7.
I silently taught myself how to play piano in my Country home, neighborhood devoid of children near my age.
