Category — Underclass

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.

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.

In a recent article appearing in the Sacramento Bee, dated October 10, 2010, a proposal to remove black children from traditional integrated schools and place them in segregated charter schools has been suggested. This proposal has been made by a black person, Margaret Fortune, who has operated a similar school in Sacramento.

Ms. Fortune suggests that up to 5,000 black children, who are also considered low-income, and beginning with K thru 3rd graders, would benefit from receiving an education in a school set apart from their peers of the same age. To me, this is absurd as this nation has and continues to fight long and hard to diminish and extinguish the ugliness of segregation in all of its stigmatizing forms, in all systems of our society.

To consider returning to the dysfunctional method of segregation in our system of education is not only frightful but downright bizarre. Poor, black children already suffer from two strikes against them. To put them in a situation which sets them apart will not only affect their self-esteem, but may also cause them to suffer the pain of being stigmatized for not attending an integrated school with other children who are different from them.

A great part of one’s education, particularly as access to the global community is opening up to anyone who may chose to explore it, is to be socialized to understand, tolerate and accept the differences between us. How can that be accomplished when one begins their educational experience with only faces of one’s own kind? How can one perceive a different reflection of how the world is made up if one only sees one image, the same as oneself ?

I can understand the intent of providing a more intense educational experience for children, but the effort should be open to all children, not focused on any particular ethnic group. As for the children being low-income, there are low-income children in every ethnic group who need and require a quality education. For a black person to focus this attempt to obtain funding for charter schools by selling out black children is shameful.

If tax-payer money is used to fund charter schools, representative children from every group should be represented. Placing black children in segregated schools is a backward move and should not be considered as being in the best interest of those children.

http://www.sacbee.com/2010/10/10/3093039/former-st-hope-leader-begins-push.html

When Arnold Schwarzenegger, Governor of California, threatens to reduce state workers’ salaries to minimum wage, there is a great cry of alarm from many sectors. According to an article written by Jon Ortiz, reporter for the Sacramento Bee, “doctors and lawyers would get no pay…and (the workers who) don’t get overtime would receive a flat $455 per week.” The order to reduce pay would be voided once the state budget is approved, with back pay rewarded and pay levels returned to normal.

Considering this situation by having been a state and federal civil servant during my working years, I can relate as there was a time or two when I was a victim of the same budget-related procedure. Now, as a retiree who is living on the fixed income of Social Security and Supplemental Security Income or SSI, I can again relate to a reduction in income because for the last two years we in my current financial position have felt the pinch of reduced income and no cost of living increases. But I say to the California state workers and all those up in arms about a reduction to $455 a week, try living on less than $900 a month, which is what most of us receive.

I believe that nothing happens by accident and there are no coincidences. Everything in life is being played out as it should, and in every special situation there is a lesson involved. The lesson for state workers may be to feel for a brief period, brought on by political in-determination, what those whose welfare they are in charge of is feeling all the time, due primarily to no fault of their own.

The Bee article spoke of workers having exhausted their savings or not having a nest egg to fall back on and how having to stretch their $455 for a week will be hard for some. But existing on $900 for a month leaves nothing for savings or a nest egg and is hard for everyone on SSI. Our incomes force us to live only in specific areas because of the need for low-income or subsidized housing, and some cut corners or take advantage of whatever extra funds are available, even if that means doing something immoral or other than legal.

Our low-income diets are less than healthy because we usually shop in self-service warehouse-type markets; variety stores where everything is a dollar or less; or the corner grocer that sells mainly junk and liquor. The other option is cheap fast food with all its sodium, fat and unhealthy ingredients. The majority of us have preexisting conditions which are make worse by a poor diet leading to additional health issues.

Because we are usually dependent on the state’s health provisions or MediCal in California, the quality of care is less than adequate even when compared to prison inmates, especially the dental, mental and vision needs.

For state workers, the budget will be signed soon and salaries will return to normal, and workers will be able to continue their comfortable lifestyles. This will not occur for us on the lowest level of state or federal funding. Many of us receiving SSI have worked, paid taxes and lived productive lives prior to our serious physical and mental challenges forced us to seek the only financial solution available. But there will be no restoration of the reduction in our income which has been taken due to budget cuts.

The lives of low-income people who work for minimum wage and SSI recipients will continue as a struggle from day-to-day. I hope that those whose help we depend on to finalize the processes they are in charge of will remember how it was during the time of wage reduction and speed things along. Our well-being and lives depend on it.

In celebration of Juneteenth, I wish I had the ability to express the wave of powerful emotions that washed over me and brought scalding tears to my eyes when I thought about writing this article. My mind flashed on my grandmother who was born in 1865, the year the slaves were “freed,” wearing her long white apron in Louisiana. I saw the fields of cotton my fiance took me to see in 2003 in California because I had never seen similar places down south where my people had labored during slavery.

In my mind’s eye I saw pictures of my black sisters and brothers being attacked with water hoses, dogs, Billy clubs and savagery. Then like fast forward, my mind brought me back to sitting in my bed and a blank sheet of paper, but the pain lingered.

I am a person who does not like black rhetoric, in fact I hate it; particularly when we linger and wallow in our ex-slave misery, using it as an excuse not to perform on the level we are capable of; we meaning black folks. But then I remember those who were left behind when the flight to white neighborhoods and a “better life” lured away our teachers, doctors, business people, ministers, and others of higher status and education after civil rights laws were mandated.

I don’t blame them. When my ex-husband and I bought our first home in 1976, it was in a new development with only one other black family. So I can relate to the desire to live the “American dream,” but what about all those who couldn’t leave and escape their stifling environment? What about all those who had menial jobs, but were decent, God-fearing folks who marched, and were beaten and spat on, but were left behind?

They are those on whose shoulders and graves so many of us black folks stand on today, and the generations they spawned are the people we now call the black Underclass. They are that group of low-income, barely educated, unsophisticated, crude people that many of us now avert our eyes from rather than notice or acknowledge. The ones many blacks and others from various ethnic groups are employed to serve because we are teachers, social workers, government employees, preachers, doctors, lawyers, police officers, prison staff, counselors, etc. etc. They are also the ones none of us can seem to accept as fellow human beings. We denigrate them to cases and files, numbers without faces or souls, but characters who are certainly not like us.

To proper society the Underclass are welfare mothers, drug-addicted or incarcerated or absent fathers, low-lifers, irresponsible, criminal, stupid, crazy, less-than-human wastes of time. And we wonder where they came from, or call them “refugees” as they were labeled in New Orleans after Katrina. We can take their children because they are poor and give them to others without a look back or a thought about their feelings. We can make them wait for hours while we take breaks or talk on the phone, thinking they have nothing else to do, and they need us to give them equity of food, clothing and shelter.

But the Underclass are none of these things, and without them many of us wouldn’t have jobs, or be able to live in our comfort zones. But primarily, we should consider that they are the products of the same stock of people from which many of us have come. They are the descendants of the bridges over which many of us have crossed, and they only want what we all want…to be loved and understood. But primarily, we should consider that they are the offspring of the people who were simply left behind.

For seven years after the child-abuse case I had been involve in was closed and my children restored to me, I worked with parents involved in child abuse. As an advocate who believed Child Protective Services (CPS) removes an excessive number of children from their homes, including mine, struggling with other parents charged with child abuse was the most discouraging. I soon realized why parents were generally ignored during the processing of their situations or their parental rights were removed entirely.

Even my own co-parent became a problem in my effort to reunite our family. He continued to declare that “no one can tell me how to raise my children,” although our children were removed from school without our knowledge and put in out-of-home placement. After our cases were separated, I was able to move more smoothly and quickly through the system.

The day after my children were restored to me, I launched a child-abuse prevention program called “American Family Alliance.” It was a not-for-profit, boot-strap collection of volunteers funded entirely by our welfare, retirement and disability checks. When we began, we were full of great intentions and willingness, but had no idea of the challenges which lay ahead, nor of the struggles we would encounter with CPS and the parents.

The first adventure into our outreach efforts was a questionnaire we handed out at a church picnic. My associate and I had very carefully chosen the wording for what we thought would fit the educational level of our target clientele. To our dismay, when we retrieved the questionnaires, the forms were all blank. We found out that none of the people could read or they had very limited ability! The lesson we learned that day was very important and our expectations were colored by our being more sensitive to the status of most of the people with which we would be working.

I am not implying that all parents involved in child abuse are illiterate. To the contrary, there is no profile to which “child abusers” can be limited. Those who are determined to be inappropriate or dysfunctional regarding the care of their children fall into every social status. But because we chose to work primarily with parents who were determined by CPS as members of the “Underclass,” or those on the lowest social rung, our experiences were colored by that designation.

Nevertheless, in our work we found that the greatest stumbling block to achieving our goals of helping parents recover their children was in the parents’ attitudes. They were either very scared and submissive, and not willing to confront “the system;” or belligerent and stubborn. The latter were not open to any change which would facilitate restoration of their parenting privileges and the release of their children from foster care.

Many parents simply gave up under the weight of CPS because of its ability to use the courts, police, media and other elements of authority and influence to seek out and destroy their resolve to recover their children. This was true particularly of parents who are not aware of their rights. Unfortunately, those parents would often hinder their efforts, as well as ours, by standing in their own way.

“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” Henry de Bracton, an English Jurist born in 1268, gave us that wise saying for whatever reason, and the truth of it has lasted since he spoke or wrote the words. In fields of medicine, manufacturing, space exploration, and many more, the practice of prevention is an important step in the process. So I ask why, if it means so much to protect products and services in so many areas, would it be ignored when it comes to the life of a child?

The death of more children is being reported in our local newspaper, The Sacramento Bee. Some children have died at the hands of their parents or caregivers, but too many have perished in the care of their supposed “protectors,” the Child Protective Services (CPS).

Admittedly, removing children from their homes is sometimes necessary, but placing them in far worse situations is unjustifiable. With all the available educated minds of doctors, counselors, lawyers, therapists, social workers, judges and others trained in the doctrine of acting in “the best interest of the child,” how is it possible that an attempt at prevention rather than restoration and preservation has eluded them for so long?

The best time to begin providing services to families is at the beginning; when a serious enough condition warrants the attention of some official concerning the welfare of a child. Another adage, “where there’s smoke there’s fire,” should be a red flag of warning. Parents whose care-taking has become questionable should be given services right away to avoid possible removal of their children or prevent further injury either at their hands or while in shelter. This intervention may also prove more effective and less costly. In addition, teaching the parents to “fish” would give the family many more long-term benefits and may cause less trauma to the child.

Until and unless CPS takes a more critical look at their current methods of handling the protection of children, the toll of death and destruction of families will continue to rise. The pound of cure is an ever increasing burden and cost that the ounce of prevention may far outweigh and out-achieve in the life and future of those children who are the most vulnerable.