Category — America

OCCUPY POVERTY (OP) joins together with Del Paso Heights residents upset with what they are calling “unfair treatment” in the predominately black, low income neighborhood in Sacramento, California. And those residents have decided to organize and fight back. The Del Paso Heights Community Association consists primarily of parents who are standing up for their security against the campus police department, and for the education of their children by the Twin Rivers Unified School District.

The impetus for this activity began when a school district police officer went off campus to make a traffic stop against Tyrone Smith. The officer and Smith engaged in a foot race and Smith was subsequently charged with shooting the officer during the chase. The officer is expected to recover from his wounds, but Smith died a short while later in police custody.

Smith’s death initiated an investigation into the jurisdictions and parameters of campus police. It was during this investigation that a tee shirt designed and sold by the Twin Rivers Police Department was discovered. The tee shirt depicts a child behind bars with the message: “You raise them. We cage them.” This obviously contemptuous message has offended and infuriated parents and spurred them into action.

Organizers of the Del Paso Heights Community Association are therefore registering voters to remove the current school board because parents are upset about the failure of their children in Twin Rivers Schools. According to data reportedly provided by Superintendent Frank Porter, it will take black children “twenty years to close the achievement gap.”

OCCUPY POVERTY stands in support of the parents and their determination to bring better safety and education to their community for the benefit of their children.

For most Americans, it is hard to understand how it feels to be homeless. To not be able to turn the key and walk into their warm, cozy, personal environment is beyond their imagination. But to thousands of Americans, not having a place to call home is their daily reality.

In 1983, I was homeless for almost a year. I lived in a hotel for homeless families. It was a converted 5-story transient hotel converted into a shelter, located in the dreaded Tenderloin of San Francisco. I moved into my “home”, a single room with a bath, for me and my two young sons.

The circumstances of our becoming homeless is very long and too complicated for this submission, but suffice it to say, my life was in turmoil. As was the other 49 families in the hotel.

For the first couple of months, we were required every two weeks to pack all our belongings, move to another hotel down the street for a couple of nights, then return to our hotel where we were given a different room. The purpose of this musical relocation was for us not to establish residency. Some of the more lucid residents were able after a few months, however, to find lawyers willing to fight to have this situation revoked and we were able to remain in one room for the duration of our stay.

Although that was a long time ago, the situation of homelessness exists for many Americans families, and for many more, the crises of limited income, home foreclosures, and unemployment brings the threat of becoming homeless closer and closer.

The demands of OCCUPY WALL STREET and OCCUPY POVERTY is for our government and the powers-that-be to take the plight of the homeless into consideration when funds are dispensed and bills and laws enacted. Protesters are experiencing the nightly cruelty of the homeless by being forcefully removed from our parks, but the homeless are subjected to this victimization on a consistent basis.

We are grateful for those protesters willing to stand up, so that one day others maybe able to lie down in safety and comfort.

I OCCUPY POVERTY, and I’m not alone. There are millions of Americans who have been or are becoming improvised because of the greed, arrogance, corruption and lack of compassion of both our government, and people with big money and power.

As far as the upper 1% of Americans are concerned, I am a non-entity except when it comes to utilizing me as an example, a scapegoat, or a victim to cut back on entitlements and government spending. Then my fixed income suddenly becomes un-fixed and is cut down to shore up mismanaged spending.

And because there was no voice crying out about the injustice to which I am subjected, there was no one to assist me in fighting this iniquity … until now. OCCUPY WALL STREET arrived and the entire picture of my condition and that of millions around the world has changed.

Now there are faces of outrage and demanding voices to speak for those who have been silently waiting; and there are tens of thousands to represent the file folders or case numbers to which we have been relegated. There are determined human beings insistent on obtaining equity, compassion and respect.

Although I OCCUPY POVERTY, I am not, nor have I been lazy or trifling. I have worked, paid into the system, gotten an education and training, never been arrested, been a home owner, tried to become self-sufficient, did volunteer work, voted in every election, and performed my civic duties to the best of my ability. I take full responsibility for my life.

But try though I might, I like so many others, have not been able to advance from my position. Some may say that it is our own fault, and we must take responsibility for the choices we made in life, and to an extent that’s true. However, the disadvantage of one’s origin of birth, color, sexual preference, class, status, age, health, sex, or beliefs should not be a reason to punish or penalize. Our humanity should be enough to qualify for equality.

As I have never left the U.S., my impression of life in other countries is very limited when it comes to their lifestyles. But having lived in America for nearly 68 years, I have a pretty good take on life here. Not only do I have time as a consideration, but experience, observation and being female, black and low income gives me a familiar perspective with millions of others. These characteristics gives both men and women like me a perception that is perhaps quite different from the one most people who have not been to America think about our country.

The primary misconception, perhaps, is that all Americans have money. That belief is a real illusion. We do not all have money, although most Americans are able to live moderate lives with the money that we have. Nearly everyone has some sort of indoor plumbing and bathroom facility, clean water, electricity to run their refrigerator to keep their food from spoiling, some type of heat and stove for cooking, facilities to wash their clothing and public transportation.

Health care is available for emergencies, but general health concerns are often not addressed without private insurance. The exception is for children where there are entire hospitals set up for their care. Seniors and disabled fare a little better with most of their medical needs being provided at low or no cost, particularly if they are retired and have paid into our retirement system.

Living as a low-income person in a country considered one of the richest in the world takes a certain mindset and determination. Seeing wealth all around and not being able to partake in it can be very frustrating. It is human nature to desire beautiful things and to want more. However, because there are so many others who are living on the same level, after awhile you realize that it is not personal, but just an accident of birth.

The other particular consequence of being a minority, whether rich or poor, can be very real and very personal. That’s where the illusion of America’s greatness begins to break down. There is still great discrimination and injustice. Not only between the races, but also between the classes. Attitudes, preferences, and beliefs are still further grounds for bias and prejudice.

Nevertheless, with all the differences that it takes to make up the United States of America, as a citizen I love my country and its people. We sometimes fight among ourselves, like all families do, but when one of us is harmed or taken we rally together to return that one to our bosom. I am sure that everyone, wherever you live, can and should speak of your place of birth as I do mine. All I can say is that it ain’t perfect, but it’s home.

In a series of articles I have written for this blog, I focused on the intolerance perpetrated by U.S. blacks toward other U.S. blacks. But the subject of this article has gone around in my mind like bits of fabric loosely sewn together with threads of memory and heartache. So rather than continue my own tirade regarding black intolerance, I decided to flip the script and discuss another valid point. Instead of focusing on the pieces, why not reflect on the whole?

Research for this project contained a patchwork of discussions with peers, reading material provided by “experts” and statistics about the supposed division of black people which serve to stir up much debate. Controversy has produced a tattered remnant with uneven edges and puckered seams; an unattractive and uncomfortable quilt whose rhetorical shape does not resemble the blanket which enfolds us all. They do not speak the language of truth that despite our differences we are all black, therefore, we are one.

First, to those who are not black descendants of slave forefathers, or might not have been born in the U.S., I believe I can unequivocally say that there are few blacks in America who are not proud to be black. Whether we are accused of “acting white,“ dye our hair blond, talk “proper” or only date members of other ethnic groups, we love, and are proud of being black.

Second, we recognize each other for the special-ness that we share.  After slavery was abolished in the 1860s, we formed intact communities and lived among those like ourselves. Because of segregation and Jim Crow laws, we were generally separated from white Americans because of  the color of our skin.

The civil rights movement of the 1960s brought the illegality of our separateness to the forefront of the world’s attention, and new laws allowed for desegregation and integration. For many, the opportunity to relocate allowed more urbane blacks who could afford it to move beyond our communities into new neighborhoods. So, we were again separated except it was from our own people due to differences in economics, education and social skills. That separation marked the beginning of the situation we find ourselves in today.

Prior to the 1960, there were variations in education and economic classes among blacks, the same as in other groups. But the one thing that most of Americans, black and white, had in common was their social skills. We all knew “please,” “thank you,” “sir,” and “’mam.” Direction, support and aptitude were the most determining factors as into which class blacks would fall.

As the years have gone by and the populations of both those who left and those who remained behind have grown, the inequality between the two has come more forcefully to the attention of those who made it out. They are looking back, seeing their brothers and sisters lagging behind, and wondering what to do about it.

The success of many who have risen from the ranks has shown such outstanding achievement, the question of why we all have not made it has come to the forefront of discussion. I believe the reason is that there is not enough directional and economic resources available, and not for a lack of inspiration, imagination or ingenuity. There are many local people making and plying goods and services, some legitimate, some not.

The crux of this problem has been how we can focus assistance on blacks without appearing bias toward other groups, as there is a definite desire to help. We see it in the flourish of entertainers and others aiding blacks in African nations rather than at home, because it was viewed as the job of government or churches to provide for the needs of lower income Americans, and those entitlements and charities continue to some extent.

However, in the present economy, black culture needs are not being addressed because items that had a slight resemblance to ridicule or stereotyping was made “politically incorrect” in 1965. That ban on such items, even those created by blacks,  has attributed to their being shunning by other blacks. So the need to support each other has created a microcosm of human to human assistance that is existing to the extreme in the macrocosm of need in the world.

As before, blacks helping their neighbors on the other side of town would serve as an example to the world of raising up a culture from its lower status. The opportunities are plentiful as there are many black artists, writers, inventors and designers, dreamers of great dreams, who could use financial backing, direction and support. To be able to move their products and services to the mainstream would allow them to return the favor and help those organizations struggling to educate, feed and clothe others. The trend could continue until the majority of, not only blacks, but all Americans are achieving on the level of which we are capable.

There are many who are capable and desiring to move beyond their undeveloped state to be able to realize the American dream. But without help, their dreams will not be realized. Recognizing that we are one, our blackness should serve as the cover big enough to enfold our discomfort and discontent, as we bind the edges with the distinctive fabrics that represent our unique and varied features.

No longer do we have to hand stitch our identity with the tattered rags and scraps left over from cloaks of servitude and slavery, or sew them together with worn and tired fingers blistered from the drudgery of picking cotton. Now we can construct a quality cover sewn with the finest needles and thread on a marvelous machine stitched by the efforts of the hearts of brotherhood.

It is time for black people to wrap ourselves warmly in the mantle of our blackness, proudly edged with the many colors of our attitudes, quality of our souls and feel of our culture. As James Brown penned so long ago and we heartily sang to help us survive the hostilities of the civil rights movement, we should pick up the song again and sing with spirit and dignity, “I’m black and I’m proud.”

I am proud to be me, proud that as a people we have overcome tremendous odds and prospered and proud that we can finally come to terms with the truth that has always existed from arrival in this country. We were brought here with one identity…we were black. That identity still exists today. We are an American group among many American groups, and in both cases, there’s no disputing the  fact that we are one.

Song by Frankie Beverly and Maze.

When I awoke this morning, I had the words of my title in mind, but I was remembering an old Negro spiritual we used to sing in church. “How I got over. How I got over. My soul looks back and wonders, how I got over.” I remember my mother, grandmother and others singing it with gusto, thanking God for helping them to “make it through.” Then I typed in the words on YouTube, and found this song by The Roots, and it changed my whole attitude.

Rather than praise and worship, the words, music and images took my heart and mind into a totally different mood of distress, despair and disturbance. Tears began to flow, and my heart began to ache. For I remember, can almost smell and feel, the sensations of the people portrayed in the video; because it wasn’t too long ago that their plight was my own, and it hit too close to home.

I sit now, at my computer, with my heater going full blast in my cozy third-floor apartment overlooking a majestic oak tree, while the capitol building of the state of California is at the end of my block. There are limos, Lamborghini-es, and other luxury cars nightly pulling up to the restaurants, coffee houses and cafes that line my street.

Happy people sitting outside having lunch, dinner or just over coffee fill the air with their laughter and content. They smile and some even nod as I pass, thinking and accepting me as one of them, an equal. But I wonder what they would think about me if they knew that it wasn’t too long ago that I was homeless, living in a shelter with my two kids…friendless and alone? Would their looks be diverted away from me?

This is not the way I envisioned my day going when I woke up full of gratitude and rejoicing this morning. I had no intention of spending my morning revisiting an episode in my life that I seldom visit anymore. Not that I am trying to forget it, because I think it plays a significant part in my current sense of empathy. But today was not going to be one of those days when it would come back to me with such force, with a video as stark evidence that what happened then was real to me, just as now it’s very real to others.

But now that I think of it, both the rejoicing and the pain belong to me. I embrace them as value which has been added to my life. For without the pain there would be no joy. I would not know that it is possible to overcome and not be genuine in sharing that hopeful message with others. I would also not be able to serve as an example to those who think themselves above and beyond the possibilities of becoming like their less fortunate neighbors. It can happen to anyone.

There is a message for all of us in this, I think. For me, reminiscing keeps me grounded. For those who are struggling, I wish them God’s best. For those who are reading this, I hope it stirs something in you to reach out to even one in whatever way you can to those disenfranchised by the state of their birth or whatever life has thrown their way. A simple smile of encouragement will go a long way, and with just a little help one day those who are suffering won’t have to wonder how they got over, they will know.

Many times in our lives, occasion to be conflicted arise. I am experiencing one of those occasions, because of some of the methods proposed to be used in the push in America to reform our school system. Test scores have shown that many of our students are failing or barely holding on, and will be unable to compete with others in the global marketplace. Many young people have given up and settled for or given in to lives of idleness, dependence on government handouts, and/or criminal activity.

Students from every ethnic group are included, but my observation is focused on low income youth, particularly black or African-American. Being black myself draws my attention, but my concern is for all children, and how to address this problem is where my conflict lies.

Education reform extends all the way to the White House with President Obama being actively involved. Along with government, many very wealthy individuals, like Bill Gates, are contributing millions of dollars. Unfortunately, with all the funds being made available, many objectionable concepts of how to provide a “quality” education for our students is being tried and promoted, especially the idea of exclusionary charter schools.

Charter schools are not a new idea, having been used by many different organizations, such as religious groups, to promote their ideology as well as educate their members. This scary culturally controlled character seems to be what is also being offered presently by private organizations in order to obtain and maintain funding.

To insure that their students display the highest achievements, certain kids with disabilities, including learning, are being excluded and expelled by some charter schools. There are also schools which intend to segregate poor, black children from other children in order to change their “culture,” meaning their ways of wearing certain hair styles and clothing, for example. These types of selective schools are the ones which are causing me the most concern and conflict.

Since the civil rights movement in the 60s, we as a nation have fought, and some have died, to allow children of all ethnicities to attend school together in an integrated environment. Yet we know that even under the best circumstances racism still flourishes. Also, rampant bullying by all groups has recently flared which has caused the suicidal death of a number of children.

These conditions of separating children by ethnicity, social status, and physical or mental ability, which will set them apart from their peers, can only cause a backlash. Low self-esteem, further acting out, withdrawal, mistrust, anger, and possibly violence, both on the part of those students displaced and seemingly rejected, as well as the development of superior attitudes by those who are allowed to attend other schools can and will result.

My conflict is in wanting a “quality” education for black children, and disabled children, but not at the expense of their cultural identity, acceptance or sense of belonging. None of us wants to feel set apart. Regardless of our differences and/or abilities, we all want the to be loved and respected for our humanity, for the life that flows through us. How can taking children back to a way which we found wrong and wanting in the past be thought to be beneficial in the present? And how will the experience of separation and rejection affect these children in the future?

Since the beginning of man‘s history, humans have struggled with division and control of one group over the other. It has always ended in tragedy, and will continue to do so. Therefore, to solve a conflict, the decision must be made for the greater good, and not the most money.

To expect a different outcome from repeating a misjudgment is insane. So, now that the occasion to change direction in educating children has presented itself, there should be no conflict of how to guarantee that all our children get the best chance at a “quality” education. I believe that open enrollment in charter schools is a viable solution, as long as we alter our ways of doing and thinking, because going back is not a forward move.

When I attended school in the southern part of the U.S. during the Jim Crow days of the mid 40s and 50s, my father placed me and my siblings in Catholic school. Although he and my mother were Baptists, he felt that we could and would get a better education at the hands of the nuns, rather than attend the segregated all-black public schools.

Whether or not that was true, the difference between our school and the others was the teachers. All of our students were black, but all of our teachers were white nuns. So not only did we get an education laced with religious instructions, although prayer was still a mainstay in the public schools, our social education was given from a totally different perspective oftentimes based on the racial differences of student and teacher.

I imagine the nuns felt it was their “Christian duty” to inspire confidence in us to counter the racism we faced day-to-day. Even to some of the protocol our parents insisted we show to the whites with which we came in contact, the nuns added stipulations. We were not to say “yes,” or “no, mam” to anyone who was not as old as our grandparents, including the nuns.

The nuns’ influence made an indelible impression on me, and probably my two sisters and brother also. So much so, that our father relocated the family to California for more than financial reasons. In great part, I expect, it was to protect us from the authority we had learned to defy.

I recently heard the statistics that 75% of teachers in the U.S. are white, and the schools have been integrated since the 60s. But there is something as sinister as segregation afoot in our school system. Many of our children are struggling, particularly in the area of social skills, and there are a number of things which have attributed to this situation.

For one, the banishment of prayer and along with it the teaching of good and bad. I too believe in religious privacy, but now children learn about actions and consequences, and everyone’s rights must be respected. It seems they are getting the message that if it feels right to them then they can do it, as long as they are willing to face the consequences. Our jails and prisons are filling up with criminals, many wealthy and famous, who acted on their feelings rather than whether what they were doing was right or wrong.

It seems to go back to the teachings of the nuns that we were supposed to respect our rights regardless of how others were disrespecting us. But somewhere in there was also the lesson that others had rights too, and it was wrong if we did not respect them.

With everyone seeming to go for themselves lately, along the way we, especially our children, have become lost. It seems that a return to treating others as we want to be treated is in order, but this concept can only be learned. Whether from our caregivers’ laps or in the classroom, social skills training and empathy for others is crucial for a civilized society. We must relearn the values that contribute to an appropriate way of life, and education is the key.

Here is a great video of children learning social skills rules in class. Thanks to the students and their teachers for this effort.

Much talk is going on about the building of Muslim mosques in various places in the United States. Since the arrival of the founding fathers, the U.S. has been and is predominately a Christian nation politely sharing its religious expression with Judaism. But the possible expansion of Islam and the building of mosques are controversial concepts disturbing to many people.

I stand in a rather unusual position as I do not belong to any organized religion, although I do believe in the existence of God or a power higher than man. I have no stake in the support or advancement of any one’s belief system other than my own as I respect everyone’s right to believe or worship in their own way. Nor am I disturbed about the religious aspects of the various religions, rather it is the cultural behaviors which accompany them that has and does concern me.

For many years, as a student of the sociology and psychology of my fellow humans, and as a black person and descendant of slaves in this country, I have been aware of the responsibility and activities that members of the white Judea/Christian family had and expressed toward my ancestors. Unfortunately, many of those attitudes still exists today in many circles in this country as well as prejudice and racism toward other groups because of race, sexual preference, religion, weight, financial status, etc., etc.

However, in all fairness, there is also much discrimination by Christian blacks against other blacks and minorities, based on their status, as well as animosity toward whites, regardless of whether they are also Christian. So the point I am making is that it is human nature and not professing to belong to a particular sect or group that does or does not prevent or restrain one human being from disrespecting, abusing or misusing another.

There are broad differences in lifestyles and attitudes of many Muslim groups, particularly compared to Jews and Christians. But like Christians, Jews and other religions, there are many peaceful, loving members. Nevertheless, there also exist in all of them very dangerous extremists groups who perpetrate cruel and usual disciplines on their devotees, for example, Jim Jones and the Ayatollah Khomeini.

In the U.S., because of our societal diversity, we have battled long and hard to put laws in place which pretty much separate church and state while guaranteeing personal liberty to worship as one chooses. Those laws will be required to protect the rights of Muslims as well. But will the activities condoned by many Muslims as part of their religious expression, but found objectionable by our legal system, be carried out in the church without direct interference? How will Islam’s traditional observances fit into the mainstream of American life without putting demands on the general population to accommodate Muslim rituals?

When the two cultures collide, the expansion of mosques and Islam will take a great deal of understanding, tolerance, acceptance, compassion and negotiation. I suggest we begin to adjust our thinking now before the first foundation is laid.

Since writing my blogs, although I’ve written over 40 articles, the ones which get the most comments have had class or race as subjects. These comments come from around the world, so I can assume that people from foreign lands are interested in the social situation in the U.S., particularly from the perspective of a black person. Therefore, I offer this as speaking from my heart about my feelings of being an African-American.

I was born in 1943 in a place called Shreveport, Louisiana, which is one of the southern states. These were the primary states which blatantly carried on slavery, although racism existed and still exists today throughout the U.S. My maternal grandfather and grandmother were born on plantations, and my paternal grandmother conceived my father with her white plantation owner.

My parents were very subservient to whites as I recall as a child, which angered me because my siblings and I attended a Catholic school and had been told by the “white” nuns that we were all created equal. I wholehearted took that information as factual and apparently so did my older sister and brother. Although we observed the “whites only” signs on water fountains and knew “our place” in other areas of interactions with whites, our hesitancy to totally bow to the status quo made my father decide to relocate us to California after I graduated from 8th grade.

Race and race relations were not discussed in our home, so I had no yardstick to measure my parents’ feelings. Whatever they, our extended family, teachers and neighbors truly felt about segregation was kept pretty close to private conversations between adults, and we children were sheltered from their discussions. It was not until I was a young married woman watching the flames of riots in our San Francisco neighborhood and the horrors of inhumane treatment during the civil rights movement of the 60s did I fully realize the extent of what was happening to my people.

The first time I saw a cotton field, in 2003; I broke down and cried to think how long and arduous the journey had been for all of us who are descendents of slavery. We have accomplished many great things and continue to do so today despite overwhelming challenges. All Americans are aware that the wounds of slavery have scabbed over, but in many instances, still fester. Nevertheless, we love our country.

As a black person, African-American, American citizen, I am grateful for my parents and teachers who ensured that I would be able to live with dignity and have no animosity toward those alive today who reap the benefit of my ancestors sweat and tears, but who accept the responsibility to help maintain the freedom which we all crave. It is a tightrope stretched between both races that we walk in the U.S. But there are humane Americans on both ends of the rope which help to keep all of us in balance, even those who want to see us tumble.