Yesterday I went running in the morning. The weather was really nice but to avoid mosquito bites I wore long pants and a bright orange T-shirt that I got from running a ½ Marathon in Philadelphia. It was amazing to run along the road and be surrounded by the mountains.
After I showered I met up with the rest of the group and we took a tour of the organization we were visiting – the MPP, the Peasant Movement of Papaye. I will do a full blog on this organization and their amazing work. As we were walking to see their 30,000 seed plant nursery, we passed a man and he was wearing the same tshirt that I had been wearing that morning. It was crazy to think that of the 2000 or so tshirts that were made for that race, there was a man in a small rural community of Haiti who was wearing that same shirt on the same day as me. It was a really small thing, but it reminded me how small the world is.
In some small way that tshirt made me feel connected. Now I am typing by the side of the road reminded of how much we have in common not only in the good, but the dark side of our human existence.
Last night I had the opportunity to check email and realized that I had gotten multiple emails about the murder of 17 year old black young man named Trayvon Martin. He was walking home from getting candy for a younger sibling and ended up being shot by a man who was part of the “neighborhood watch.” Despite witness accounts that the shooting was unprovoked, and despite the fact that Trayvon was unarmed, the man who shot him was not arrested.
Right now we are in Thomonde, Haiti and our bus cannot move because people in this city have decided to blockade the road until the police arrest the man who killed a young person named Wendy. They gave an ultimatum 48 hours ago and when it was not met, they took over the road that is our only way of getting to the community of Corail.
Because we are Americans, the United Nations just arrived to ensure our safe passage. We cannot see what is happening in the town but I pray that no violence is happening on my behalf. I cannot see the people but I can imagine that this community is not altogether different from my own. I can imagine that people are tired of being ignored about so many things, including the senseless killing of a young person.
As we are passing through, I see so many people who could live where I grew up. Except for the fact that some of them are wearing Yankees gear (which would not be tolerated in Boston), there are people who look like my friends. We just passed a young man with a shirt that says, First Haitian Church in Brockton and my heart feels even more connected.
Right now I am working to hide my tears from my fellow travelers. I am sad and I am angry. I am angry because anywhere you go in the world the life of Black people, the life of poor people and particularly the life of poor Black people is the least valued.
I would love to write some deep analysis of this, but the bottom line is that the life of my people means so little worldwide and right now I cannot be intellectual about it because I am just angry. Years of running a non-profit have taught me to be “level-headed” and “strategic” but right now I am actually happy that I have not lost my capacity for rage. Some things are just wrong and while I would love to believe that these things will change through reasonable, peaceful dialogue. I fear that things will not improve until more communities take to the streets and take over the streets.
So we are running pretty late to our destination, but I am grateful because I feel more alive and more connected. From Sanders, Florida to Thomonde, Haiti – we are connected in our struggle for justice for both Wendy and Treyvon. We must demand that the lives of our people and the lives of all people be sacred – this it the first level of the justice I am working for. While I am certainly glad that our truck was not hit, I do feel just a portion of the rage of the young men that were throwing the rocks. The struggle continues.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
On the plane to Haiti
I am on the plane to Haiti preparing to return to then country almost 20 years after I was last there. I have gotten all my shots and I have tons of gifts for my host family and I am looking forward to going back. Now that I am hours from landing I am just starting to ask - "Am I emotionally prepared to return."
I was last in Haiti in 1992. I was a few weeks from my 13th birthday and I got to go with ny best friend because her mother was the trip nurse. When we arrived it was averaging 102 degrees during the day so it took a couple days to adjust to the heat. We would spend the mornings working in the nursery. At that age I loved that I got to hold the babies. Because the staff was stretched so thin it was our job to make sure that every baby got to be cradled each day.
I fell in love with one little girl named Antoinette. She had big beautiful eyes and she loved to smile. The fact that she was such a happy baby stood in stark contrast to the fact that she was born with HIV. I remember that I was not allowed to change her diaper because of this. I also remember that her mother still came to visit her, but had given her up because she was sick and could not give her the care that she needed.
Anoinette was indicative of so much of what I saw in Haiti - a beautiful resiliant spirit constrasting with a challenged and heartbreaking reality.
I don't to romanticize poverty or paint all Haitians as victims. Between the historical tyranny of the French, the imperialistic exploitation of the US, and the selfish corruption of the Haitian elite there is ore than enough blame to go around.
When I was there 20 years ago I stayed with a family that had three children who were 17, 19 and 21. I never quite understood what the father did but I remember that he was somehow politically connected to police. One day we were outside hanging out in front of the house and a military truck pulled up in front of our house. They said something to my host father and he called us all to come inside. As we went in the entire neighborhood started going in. Moments later I heard the screams and a woman pleading. Then I heard shots and sobbing.
I know that my host family all heard the same thing. We were all together and it was loud enough that they heard but we watched TV and ate as if nothing were happening. About 30 minutes later we were back outside and everyone seemed to pick up where we had left off before the army truck had rolled in. A couple of days later I got a frantic call from my mother who was worried about how we would get out of the country. It was she who informed me that me that there had been a coup d'etat in Haiti. Armed men had come in and removed the president and I hadn't even heard about it. I asked my host family what had happened and was told, "something happened downtown."
Understanding how something that serious could become so commonplace motivated me to want to understand more about Haiti's history. Studying Haitian history led me to learn more about American foreign policy and colonial history and ultimately led me to be an international relations major in college.
Even though I have not been able to return until now, I have tried to stay abreast of the situation in Haiti. For me Haiti remains a touchstone for what is going on in the world. If Haiti is getting better I will have more hope for the world. If things are as I expect or worse then I don't know how I will feel.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Nails for Justice
I want to be clear that this blog is not about having all the answers, or about me taking myself too seriously. So I thought I would kick it off by acknowledging that while I hope this blog will inspire people to ask deep questions, I also hope that it will lead you to have tons of fun, to not take yourself too seriously, to embrace your creativity - and maybe even to honor your inner diva.
One of the things I love about hip hop is that "keepin it real" is one of the core mantras of the culture. I have to be real that the culture doesn't always live up to that, but I appreciate the fact that we espouse to really be ourselves and not to try to be like everyone else. So as I commit to writing this blog and sharing my thoughts around movement, I wanted to start with a really light subject.
One of the biggest challenges for those of us who consider ourselves part of the social justice movement is that we struggle to find balance in our lives. In some cases we literally work ourselves to death. While we are advocating for universal health care we are often the most unhealthy bunch of people. We talk about how the people we work with can't come to meetings because they have so many family responsibilities and often we can't find any time for our families because we are at so many meetings.
In the fall of this year I found myself in a deeply unhealthy place. I gained 15 pounds, was barely sleeping and started to find myself getting sick every couple of week but "not having the time to slow down." Even as I write this, I am working on my computer with a box of tissues next to me.
So we all need to find some ways to have more fun and get more rest. This blog celebrates one of my attempts to do that. Sometime last year I started to get into getting my nails done. I think I got hooked because it was one of the few things in my life where I didn't have to do anything. I would just sit in the chair and sometimes I would get so relaxed that I would fall asleep. I have grown close with my nail technician and now I like to check in with her every couple of weeks.
There are a lot of issues with nail salons. There are problems in terms of the chemicals in the products and the way workers are paid and sometimes I use my time at the salon to raise some of these issues. I have also tried to get those folks who are eligible to register to vote, but mostly it has become a place in my life where I can just hang out and "keep it real."
But my social justice ideas have to flow into everything that I do, so starting in February, I came up with a new way to even use my nails as a way of raising social justice issues. Every few weeks I am having a design on my nail that illustrates a social justice issue or cause that I am committed to. In February I got two of my nails painted in red, black and green for the Black flag. This month is Women's Herstory Month and you can see my design to the left.
It has opened up opportunities for me to share with both the women who work at the salon, as well as other patrons and even people who see me and wonder what the design on my finger is. The smallest things can be opportunities to raise awareness, demonstrate resistance to oppressive values and create ways for alternative ways of thinking. I don't mean to suggest that my nails are changing the world, but they are helping me do a little self-care and creatively express who I am. How are you taking care of you? What are the little ways that you are expressing your desire for a different world?
One of the things I love about hip hop is that "keepin it real" is one of the core mantras of the culture. I have to be real that the culture doesn't always live up to that, but I appreciate the fact that we espouse to really be ourselves and not to try to be like everyone else. So as I commit to writing this blog and sharing my thoughts around movement, I wanted to start with a really light subject.
One of the biggest challenges for those of us who consider ourselves part of the social justice movement is that we struggle to find balance in our lives. In some cases we literally work ourselves to death. While we are advocating for universal health care we are often the most unhealthy bunch of people. We talk about how the people we work with can't come to meetings because they have so many family responsibilities and often we can't find any time for our families because we are at so many meetings.
In the fall of this year I found myself in a deeply unhealthy place. I gained 15 pounds, was barely sleeping and started to find myself getting sick every couple of week but "not having the time to slow down." Even as I write this, I am working on my computer with a box of tissues next to me.
So we all need to find some ways to have more fun and get more rest. This blog celebrates one of my attempts to do that. Sometime last year I started to get into getting my nails done. I think I got hooked because it was one of the few things in my life where I didn't have to do anything. I would just sit in the chair and sometimes I would get so relaxed that I would fall asleep. I have grown close with my nail technician and now I like to check in with her every couple of weeks.
There are a lot of issues with nail salons. There are problems in terms of the chemicals in the products and the way workers are paid and sometimes I use my time at the salon to raise some of these issues. I have also tried to get those folks who are eligible to register to vote, but mostly it has become a place in my life where I can just hang out and "keep it real."
But my social justice ideas have to flow into everything that I do, so starting in February, I came up with a new way to even use my nails as a way of raising social justice issues. Every few weeks I am having a design on my nail that illustrates a social justice issue or cause that I am committed to. In February I got two of my nails painted in red, black and green for the Black flag. This month is Women's Herstory Month and you can see my design to the left. It has opened up opportunities for me to share with both the women who work at the salon, as well as other patrons and even people who see me and wonder what the design on my finger is. The smallest things can be opportunities to raise awareness, demonstrate resistance to oppressive values and create ways for alternative ways of thinking. I don't mean to suggest that my nails are changing the world, but they are helping me do a little self-care and creatively express who I am. How are you taking care of you? What are the little ways that you are expressing your desire for a different world?
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