I've been in an interesting place lately. Like the kind of interesting that spawns from possibilities that seem to stretch beyond one's wildest dreams!
I have a number of possible courses of action to pursue this year.
1. Go to Perth, Australia and work and study at the YWAM (Youth With A Mission) base there for about two years, taking part in a Basic Leadership School and possibly going on outreaches and being a part of ministry within the base's leadership and Christ-centered agenda.
2. Go to Purdue University and carry on my studies as a Political Studies major with minors in German and in Religious Studies.
or...
3. Stay in Lafayette, not necessarily attending Purdue, while working and move into a low-cost apartment in a nearby neighborhood that struggles with poverty and crime, and hang out with kids in the neighborhood, potentially opening doors for a fellowship and community Bible study with people of all ages, and attach the ministry to my church here in Lafayette.
4. Study at Purdue for the fall and spring semesters, save up money to go to Perth to work on staff for the summer next year, and learn the ropes of the base, and consider the BLS (Basic Leadership School) after finishing up my degree.
5. Regardless of where I go, I'll also have the capacity to continue working for the Not For Sale Campaign [to combat human trafficking], since I'm the Deputy State Director here in Indiana, and NFSC will be hosting a seminar at the Perth base later this month, and thus might end up more heavily involved with ministry and practical outreach at the Perth base, or in Australia in general.
The thing is, if I take on either of the first two options, it's possible the opposite will follow in due time, shortly after whichever I do first. And the third and fourth ideas could both also work with the second plan, of attending classes.
I have a lot of my personal demons to fight off before I can be relatively comfortable with jumping into any more involved ministry of any kind. I intend to spend much of my summer walking with The Rabbi and intensely delving into God's word, attempting to fight off some of my deepest rooted sins and learning to act justly, love mercy, and to walk humbly with my God, my beautiful Adonai.
Friends, family, and loved ones, I pray for your guidance, prayers, thoughts, encouragement, advice, and suggestions as I try to seek out what is best and right for my next step in life.
Shalom.
Showing posts with label slavery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label slavery. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Not For Sale Campaign
Well, folks... I suppose I'm back then, aren't I?
I've been away for far too long and I feel sort of like spitting out loads of sappy cliches just to bog you all down. But I won't.
In reality I was always within reach of my computer, bus so hardly involved in anything bigger than myself, and I was ever more encouraged by loved ones to keep my private life private. I made a lot of mistakes with my direction and... the long and short of it is that now I am re-engaged in a battle I've made mention of a few times in these posts.
I've recently been appointed the Deputy State Director for the Indiana chapter of the Not For Sale Campaign [to combat human trafficking and modern-day slavery].
My boss and partner in leadership is Sarah Joy, and she's been a pleasure to work with so far!
About a month ago I applied for the Abolitionist/Investigator Training Academy in San Francisco, a 2-week training session put on by the Not For Sale Campaign four times this summer to train new abolitionists to work closely with the organization, and to watch out for and expose incidents of human trafficking and modern-day slavery in the States, and around the world.
(How's that for a run-on? I'll be sure to keep the rest of this a bit more tidy!)
Shortly after booking my flight and solidifying plans for the trip, I grew bored of sitting around, aching for more to do. In a fit of such monotony, I went to the NFSC website and found out that there are Regional/State Directors who volunteer to coordinate efforts under their supervision in a given geographical area. It was a blessing to see that there was someone I could work with in Indiana and I immideiately contacted Sarah Joy. Within a week, after quickly exchanging all sorts of information, initiatives, ideas, and desires for the future of the states, I asked to join her more officially and the higher-ups granted me that permission, et voila!
We've laid out a lot of groundwork for the organization and have come to understand ourselves as the foundation-layers of the state, working to build a framework for future volunteers to take on the "big things." Due to my upcoming stint at the Academy, I'll be leading the investigative and mapping department, while Sarah will spear-head the victim aftercare initiatives and the public relations. (She's got stellar speaking skills!)
There are several people already lined up to help her with the vision of starting a shelter for trafficked women and children, and hopefully one also for men. We're moving forward at an incredibly rapid pace! I've been so pleased and excited to learn that she and several others have already spoken to various groups and individuals, at multiple events, long before I even came on board.
It's incredible to be involved now, and though I struggle with balance and forcing myself into exhaustion every few days, I'm not willing to stop fighting any time soon.
There's a powerful scene in the film Gattaca, in which the protagonist and his brother are trying to out-swim each other across a lake. The protagonist, Vincent, was born naturally, with the usual human deficiencies, while his brother, Anton, was born with scientific and genetic enhancements, part of a new generation of super-humans. Vincent fights his whole life to become better than he was born to be, to the annoyance of Anton. On the eve of Vincent's dreams coming true, his brother learns the truth, finding that Vincent has taken on someone else's identity and deceived everyone in the space program, desiring to go up in the next shuttle launch.
Anton asks him, between coughing breaths and slaps of water, how he did it, how he made it so far. Vincent turns and, watching his brother who, in defeat, starts to turn to swim back, replies:
"You want to know how I did it? This is how I did it, Anton: I never saved anything for the swim back."
I will take a few moments now and then to tread water and catch my breath. I will pause briefly to remember who drives me to do this, who is fighting slavery right beside me and within me, who is allowing me to be a part of something so necessary, right, and awe-inspiring. I will seek the face of the Adonai who inspires Abolition, and I will continue fighting and swimming and working, and I'll kick the darkness till it bleeds daylight.
Shalom.
I've been away for far too long and I feel sort of like spitting out loads of sappy cliches just to bog you all down. But I won't.
In reality I was always within reach of my computer, bus so hardly involved in anything bigger than myself, and I was ever more encouraged by loved ones to keep my private life private. I made a lot of mistakes with my direction and... the long and short of it is that now I am re-engaged in a battle I've made mention of a few times in these posts.
I've recently been appointed the Deputy State Director for the Indiana chapter of the Not For Sale Campaign [to combat human trafficking and modern-day slavery].
My boss and partner in leadership is Sarah Joy, and she's been a pleasure to work with so far!
About a month ago I applied for the Abolitionist/Investigator Training Academy in San Francisco, a 2-week training session put on by the Not For Sale Campaign four times this summer to train new abolitionists to work closely with the organization, and to watch out for and expose incidents of human trafficking and modern-day slavery in the States, and around the world.
(How's that for a run-on? I'll be sure to keep the rest of this a bit more tidy!)
Shortly after booking my flight and solidifying plans for the trip, I grew bored of sitting around, aching for more to do. In a fit of such monotony, I went to the NFSC website and found out that there are Regional/State Directors who volunteer to coordinate efforts under their supervision in a given geographical area. It was a blessing to see that there was someone I could work with in Indiana and I immideiately contacted Sarah Joy. Within a week, after quickly exchanging all sorts of information, initiatives, ideas, and desires for the future of the states, I asked to join her more officially and the higher-ups granted me that permission, et voila!
We've laid out a lot of groundwork for the organization and have come to understand ourselves as the foundation-layers of the state, working to build a framework for future volunteers to take on the "big things." Due to my upcoming stint at the Academy, I'll be leading the investigative and mapping department, while Sarah will spear-head the victim aftercare initiatives and the public relations. (She's got stellar speaking skills!)
There are several people already lined up to help her with the vision of starting a shelter for trafficked women and children, and hopefully one also for men. We're moving forward at an incredibly rapid pace! I've been so pleased and excited to learn that she and several others have already spoken to various groups and individuals, at multiple events, long before I even came on board.
It's incredible to be involved now, and though I struggle with balance and forcing myself into exhaustion every few days, I'm not willing to stop fighting any time soon.
There's a powerful scene in the film Gattaca, in which the protagonist and his brother are trying to out-swim each other across a lake. The protagonist, Vincent, was born naturally, with the usual human deficiencies, while his brother, Anton, was born with scientific and genetic enhancements, part of a new generation of super-humans. Vincent fights his whole life to become better than he was born to be, to the annoyance of Anton. On the eve of Vincent's dreams coming true, his brother learns the truth, finding that Vincent has taken on someone else's identity and deceived everyone in the space program, desiring to go up in the next shuttle launch.
Anton asks him, between coughing breaths and slaps of water, how he did it, how he made it so far. Vincent turns and, watching his brother who, in defeat, starts to turn to swim back, replies:
"You want to know how I did it? This is how I did it, Anton: I never saved anything for the swim back."
I will take a few moments now and then to tread water and catch my breath. I will pause briefly to remember who drives me to do this, who is fighting slavery right beside me and within me, who is allowing me to be a part of something so necessary, right, and awe-inspiring. I will seek the face of the Adonai who inspires Abolition, and I will continue fighting and swimming and working, and I'll kick the darkness till it bleeds daylight.
Shalom.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Traffic and Revenge.
the gun i wish i had is quivering in my hand right now, my violence and rage is overpowering and intoxicating, but what if the coin was flipped, what if i couldn't do anything about it, what if it actually played out like this:
The door opens a crack and a soft, mildly upset voice passes through with deceptive ease, "Has anyone seen Nikki?"
I'm sitting on the floor across from my roommate, playing cards, leaning on our bunks. The voice outside belongs to David, one of Nikki's best friends here at the house. He's never really this timid, that's why he and Nikki hit it off. The outgoing people here found each other quickly and spent lots of our group's free time together. I glance at my watch and look up at David, "No, when was the last time you talked to her?"
"She told me after lunch that she was heading downtown to buy a new shirt or something."
It's almost 8 o'clock in the evening. San Francisco is getting dark about now, towering buildings blotting out the sun in the heart of the city, this fine August night.
"Asher, it's almost 8."
"I know David." He's starting the freak me out the more I look at him, watching his expressions change, quickly becoming more and more panicked. "I'm sure she's here somewhere, just keep asking around."
"I've already checked with everyone else."
My heart skips a beat. I feel a chill ripple through my arms and I accidentally drop a couple cards. Derek, my roommate, is none the wiser, and I can see the same wave coming over him.
Here at our group house in San Fran, all of us know all too well what might have happened to Nikki. There are about 25 of us students from around the country studying human trafficking and how to spot it, report it, and take it down. Our high blood pressure is well warranted right now. Every night prostitutes line the streets in certain districts of the city.
Derek and I stand up in a split second and David steps into the room, closing the door behind him. He lowers his gaze and slowly looks up at us, saying, "we need to go find her."
"How the hell do you expect us to do that?" Derek's voice almost cracks, "None of us know our way around here."
A second of silence gives the weight of this situation a little bit more time to etch itself into our collective psyche. Shallow breaths scrape from each of us in raspy turns. I want so badly to panic. And then I just want to be armed. Then I wish I had a car. And, again, a gun.
David breaks the tense stillness, "there are already a couple people on board and willing to go look for her. Nate and Mike and Ernest. But obviously none of them brought their cars."
The three of us stand in a tight cluster at the center of the room. I'm probably stepping all over our card game. I don't give a damn at this point.
"David, maybe we could call the cops."
"Derek, that's insane, they'd be nearly useless. Unless they have a trafficking unit... Okay, we won't rule that out, but let's get other people on board first."
David turns and opens the door and the three of us shuffle out, looking for anyone else with an open door. Mike, Nate, and Ernest come up the stairs, huffing. They must have been running through the whole house. Mike stops a few feet from us, "guys, the Professor's calling the cops. They should be here in a few minutes."
David turns on him, "Why would they need to come here, Mike, huh? Nikki's downtown and needs them there!"
Mike is taken back with David's tone and clears his throat, "Dave, they're gonna take a couple of us downtown to look for her, see if she's just lost."
Nate tries to level out the situation, "Dave, do you know exactly where she was going? Like, what store, what district?"
David looks like he's tripping over his own thoughts. He closes his eyes, saying through gritted teeth, "Macy's, by Union Square."
That's not too bad, I'm thinking. Then I remember Union Square is actually a park. As big as a downtown block, and pretty shady at night. Frankly, it's downtown San Fran--it's not really that safe anytime during the day. I grab David by the shoulder and push him toward the steps, "guys, let's get down there and do what we can. Grab water bottles or blankets and stuff them in a bag. Depending what... well... Nikki may need..."
I don't need to finish my sentence. Since Monday we've heard people speak of the terrors of being hand-cuffed to bed-posts for weeks at a time, laced with drugs enough to sterilize a cow. It only takes about a day or so to get girls addicted to any drug you give them. Nikki's no exception. She's an attractive blonde with a thin frame and long legs. It wouldn't take much of anything to render her senseless. My adrenaline races and I push past them all, yelling at them to go to their rooms and grab something helpful. My yelling causes a couple other doors to open in the upstairs bedrooms.
As I get downstairs, ignoring questions and calls from the others upstairs, I find the Professor waiting by the front door. He stands alone, fidgeting, his cell phone at the ready. In my blurred state of vision right now it looks like he may be packing under his jacket. But for all I know it's just the influx of adrenaline that's causing these visions.
"Asher, hey, are you okay?" He looks concerned.
"Nikki's missing. No I'm not okay. When are the cops getting here?"
"Just a couple minutes."
"We're almost ready to go."
"To go? Asher, you're not going anywhere. The police are just getting a description and a couple photos."
"The hell? Yes, I have to go. David has to go! Mike said they'd take us to help look for her."
"No, not anything like that. We can't get involved."
"Mike wouldn't lie about that, Professor."
"I'm sure he misunderstood or something."
Mike and the others show up behind me.
The Professor turns to him, "Mike, what made you think you all were going with the police?"
"Professor, uh... you said you'd have us ready for them to pick up when they got here."
Everyone looks confused, my heart rate's going insane. Would someone please make a definite statement soon!
The Professor extends his hand, holding an envelope containing a few photos. Outside, we can see red and blue flashes growing brighter. There's no siren, or maybe there is, but I can't focus enough to hear it if it's there. "Mike, I told them I'd have these pictures ready for them to pick up."
Mike and David nearly collapse.
"I'm sorry, but no one here is going with them."
Ernest blurts out, "But Nikki's out there! We don't know if she's okay! Professor, we're the only ones who know anything about her, about the way she walks, what she looks like, what she might be wearing! The cops need us out there! Nikki needs us!"
The Professor's eyes flash with anger and anxiety and in a cold, thinly masked wavering tone, "I know. The cops don't work that way, and we don't have any jurisdiction to see if we could find her in another person's house or business." He pauses and I can see a vein bulging on his neck. "Guys, I need you to help calm everyone else down right now. The cops will do the best they can out there. The law only allows them to conduct searches anyway. We can't break laws trying to find lawbreakers... That's just not how this works."
"That's bull!" Did I really just say that? The skin over my knuckles seems tight and stretched. God, is this really happening?
"Asher, calm down. There's nothing else you can do right now. If any of you want to pray, that would be great, and for those that don't, I need you to stay calm. Nothing can get done without--"
Someone's knocking on the door. The yellow light from the lamps in the room is intermittently over-powered by red and blue hues flashing almost as fast as my pulse.
The Professor walks to the door and opens it with a shaking hand. Two uniformed officers step in. The looks of apathy smeared across their faces disturbs me. You don't know what you're doing, do you? You little pricks can't do anything with that lack of concern! Just give me your damn badge and gun. I'll do your job better.
"Hello Professor, What was Nikki wearing?"
David steps forward, "A green jacket and um... these blue jeans with little swirlies of gold and red or pink or something. Her sister Sandra, she made them for her last year, she..." David drops his eyes, "Take me with you, officers, I can spot her from a mile away."
"I'm afraid we can't do that, sir."
David seems to be convulsing. "She's my best friend. You have to understand."
"There are ways we can and cannot go about things. We can't take you with us. You just have to trust us."
"Find her. Find her, officers." He raises his eyes to meet the taller officer's, catching him off-guard. "Find her tonight, or expect that I'll be joining the search first thing tomorrow."
"You can't do that, sir. That's not in your jurisd--"
"Damnit! Don't tell me what I can and cannot do."
I'm not sure, but I think I could absolutely expect David to take someone's life for Nikki. These cops better know how serious this is to us.
David's not done, "Find her tonight. You don't want to have to deal with all of us if you don't."
I am expecting some sort of confrontation from the cops right now, but for some reason, these two seem to get the point, and instead of anything further said to aggravate David, they simply say:
"Green jacket, blue jeans with colored swirls. We'll do our best."
The Professor closes the door behind them and I ponder how trite and half-ass that statement always sounds: "We'll do our best."
Will you, really? Cause I'm sure I could do better.
I am told to return to my room. I feel a hand on my shoulder. I notice David's as frozen as I am. Someone is trying to urge us both to move and head upstairs. Eventually the hand on my shoulder loosens its grip and I and David are left alone in a silent, tense, pulsating foyer. My ears are throbbing.
The gun I wish I had is quivering in my hand right now, my violence and rage is overpowering and intoxicating...
Find her. Get her here safe. Bring her captors to justice. Or I, and most likely David, will seek revenge. Every one of those creeps deserves a full clip of hot lead in them.
It seems like hours before I release my muscles and try to walk away from the foyer. David is still standing there, motionless, when I close the door to my room. I look at Derek and catch his eye. We don't have to say anything. We're on the same page.
As I lay down and Derek kills the lights, I stare blindly up at the ceiling. Just a few thoughts running through my head:
Find her. Get her to safety. Bring her captors to justice.
Find her.
Save her.
Now.
The door opens a crack and a soft, mildly upset voice passes through with deceptive ease, "Has anyone seen Nikki?"
I'm sitting on the floor across from my roommate, playing cards, leaning on our bunks. The voice outside belongs to David, one of Nikki's best friends here at the house. He's never really this timid, that's why he and Nikki hit it off. The outgoing people here found each other quickly and spent lots of our group's free time together. I glance at my watch and look up at David, "No, when was the last time you talked to her?"
"She told me after lunch that she was heading downtown to buy a new shirt or something."
It's almost 8 o'clock in the evening. San Francisco is getting dark about now, towering buildings blotting out the sun in the heart of the city, this fine August night.
"Asher, it's almost 8."
"I know David." He's starting the freak me out the more I look at him, watching his expressions change, quickly becoming more and more panicked. "I'm sure she's here somewhere, just keep asking around."
"I've already checked with everyone else."
My heart skips a beat. I feel a chill ripple through my arms and I accidentally drop a couple cards. Derek, my roommate, is none the wiser, and I can see the same wave coming over him.
Here at our group house in San Fran, all of us know all too well what might have happened to Nikki. There are about 25 of us students from around the country studying human trafficking and how to spot it, report it, and take it down. Our high blood pressure is well warranted right now. Every night prostitutes line the streets in certain districts of the city.
Derek and I stand up in a split second and David steps into the room, closing the door behind him. He lowers his gaze and slowly looks up at us, saying, "we need to go find her."
"How the hell do you expect us to do that?" Derek's voice almost cracks, "None of us know our way around here."
A second of silence gives the weight of this situation a little bit more time to etch itself into our collective psyche. Shallow breaths scrape from each of us in raspy turns. I want so badly to panic. And then I just want to be armed. Then I wish I had a car. And, again, a gun.
David breaks the tense stillness, "there are already a couple people on board and willing to go look for her. Nate and Mike and Ernest. But obviously none of them brought their cars."
The three of us stand in a tight cluster at the center of the room. I'm probably stepping all over our card game. I don't give a damn at this point.
"David, maybe we could call the cops."
"Derek, that's insane, they'd be nearly useless. Unless they have a trafficking unit... Okay, we won't rule that out, but let's get other people on board first."
David turns and opens the door and the three of us shuffle out, looking for anyone else with an open door. Mike, Nate, and Ernest come up the stairs, huffing. They must have been running through the whole house. Mike stops a few feet from us, "guys, the Professor's calling the cops. They should be here in a few minutes."
David turns on him, "Why would they need to come here, Mike, huh? Nikki's downtown and needs them there!"
Mike is taken back with David's tone and clears his throat, "Dave, they're gonna take a couple of us downtown to look for her, see if she's just lost."
Nate tries to level out the situation, "Dave, do you know exactly where she was going? Like, what store, what district?"
David looks like he's tripping over his own thoughts. He closes his eyes, saying through gritted teeth, "Macy's, by Union Square."
That's not too bad, I'm thinking. Then I remember Union Square is actually a park. As big as a downtown block, and pretty shady at night. Frankly, it's downtown San Fran--it's not really that safe anytime during the day. I grab David by the shoulder and push him toward the steps, "guys, let's get down there and do what we can. Grab water bottles or blankets and stuff them in a bag. Depending what... well... Nikki may need..."
I don't need to finish my sentence. Since Monday we've heard people speak of the terrors of being hand-cuffed to bed-posts for weeks at a time, laced with drugs enough to sterilize a cow. It only takes about a day or so to get girls addicted to any drug you give them. Nikki's no exception. She's an attractive blonde with a thin frame and long legs. It wouldn't take much of anything to render her senseless. My adrenaline races and I push past them all, yelling at them to go to their rooms and grab something helpful. My yelling causes a couple other doors to open in the upstairs bedrooms.
As I get downstairs, ignoring questions and calls from the others upstairs, I find the Professor waiting by the front door. He stands alone, fidgeting, his cell phone at the ready. In my blurred state of vision right now it looks like he may be packing under his jacket. But for all I know it's just the influx of adrenaline that's causing these visions.
"Asher, hey, are you okay?" He looks concerned.
"Nikki's missing. No I'm not okay. When are the cops getting here?"
"Just a couple minutes."
"We're almost ready to go."
"To go? Asher, you're not going anywhere. The police are just getting a description and a couple photos."
"The hell? Yes, I have to go. David has to go! Mike said they'd take us to help look for her."
"No, not anything like that. We can't get involved."
"Mike wouldn't lie about that, Professor."
"I'm sure he misunderstood or something."
Mike and the others show up behind me.
The Professor turns to him, "Mike, what made you think you all were going with the police?"
"Professor, uh... you said you'd have us ready for them to pick up when they got here."
Everyone looks confused, my heart rate's going insane. Would someone please make a definite statement soon!
The Professor extends his hand, holding an envelope containing a few photos. Outside, we can see red and blue flashes growing brighter. There's no siren, or maybe there is, but I can't focus enough to hear it if it's there. "Mike, I told them I'd have these pictures ready for them to pick up."
Mike and David nearly collapse.
"I'm sorry, but no one here is going with them."
Ernest blurts out, "But Nikki's out there! We don't know if she's okay! Professor, we're the only ones who know anything about her, about the way she walks, what she looks like, what she might be wearing! The cops need us out there! Nikki needs us!"
The Professor's eyes flash with anger and anxiety and in a cold, thinly masked wavering tone, "I know. The cops don't work that way, and we don't have any jurisdiction to see if we could find her in another person's house or business." He pauses and I can see a vein bulging on his neck. "Guys, I need you to help calm everyone else down right now. The cops will do the best they can out there. The law only allows them to conduct searches anyway. We can't break laws trying to find lawbreakers... That's just not how this works."
"That's bull!" Did I really just say that? The skin over my knuckles seems tight and stretched. God, is this really happening?
"Asher, calm down. There's nothing else you can do right now. If any of you want to pray, that would be great, and for those that don't, I need you to stay calm. Nothing can get done without--"
Someone's knocking on the door. The yellow light from the lamps in the room is intermittently over-powered by red and blue hues flashing almost as fast as my pulse.
The Professor walks to the door and opens it with a shaking hand. Two uniformed officers step in. The looks of apathy smeared across their faces disturbs me. You don't know what you're doing, do you? You little pricks can't do anything with that lack of concern! Just give me your damn badge and gun. I'll do your job better.
"Hello Professor, What was Nikki wearing?"
David steps forward, "A green jacket and um... these blue jeans with little swirlies of gold and red or pink or something. Her sister Sandra, she made them for her last year, she..." David drops his eyes, "Take me with you, officers, I can spot her from a mile away."
"I'm afraid we can't do that, sir."
David seems to be convulsing. "She's my best friend. You have to understand."
"There are ways we can and cannot go about things. We can't take you with us. You just have to trust us."
"Find her. Find her, officers." He raises his eyes to meet the taller officer's, catching him off-guard. "Find her tonight, or expect that I'll be joining the search first thing tomorrow."
"You can't do that, sir. That's not in your jurisd--"
"Damnit! Don't tell me what I can and cannot do."
I'm not sure, but I think I could absolutely expect David to take someone's life for Nikki. These cops better know how serious this is to us.
David's not done, "Find her tonight. You don't want to have to deal with all of us if you don't."
I am expecting some sort of confrontation from the cops right now, but for some reason, these two seem to get the point, and instead of anything further said to aggravate David, they simply say:
"Green jacket, blue jeans with colored swirls. We'll do our best."
The Professor closes the door behind them and I ponder how trite and half-ass that statement always sounds: "We'll do our best."
Will you, really? Cause I'm sure I could do better.
I am told to return to my room. I feel a hand on my shoulder. I notice David's as frozen as I am. Someone is trying to urge us both to move and head upstairs. Eventually the hand on my shoulder loosens its grip and I and David are left alone in a silent, tense, pulsating foyer. My ears are throbbing.
The gun I wish I had is quivering in my hand right now, my violence and rage is overpowering and intoxicating...
Find her. Get her here safe. Bring her captors to justice. Or I, and most likely David, will seek revenge. Every one of those creeps deserves a full clip of hot lead in them.
It seems like hours before I release my muscles and try to walk away from the foyer. David is still standing there, motionless, when I close the door to my room. I look at Derek and catch his eye. We don't have to say anything. We're on the same page.
As I lay down and Derek kills the lights, I stare blindly up at the ceiling. Just a few thoughts running through my head:
Find her. Get her to safety. Bring her captors to justice.
Find her.
Save her.
Now.
Monday, November 3, 2008
i am
i am the Black Militant.
i am the Muslim Extremist.
i am the Illegal Alien.
i am the Welfare Slacker.
i am the St. Claire Gang Banger.
i am the South Side Whore.
i am the Tattooed Convict.
i am the Sleazy Pimp.
i am the Drug Dealer.
i am the one you throw your stereotypes on.
i am the minority you want to categorize.
i am the minority you fear.
i am the minority you rule.
i am the minority you monopolize.
i am all of these and none of these.
sadly, i am white.
i am just like you.
i am just like you as any one of these.
i am just like you when not one of these.
you don't see it the right way.
you don't see the similarity in our differences.
all you want is our deference.
because you're in power.
i am Troy Davis.
i am Timothy McVeigh.
i am John Brown.
i am Fred Ahmed Evans.
i am Eric Harris.
i am Dylan Klebold.
and thanks to you, i am out of luck.
and thanks to you, i am forced down.
i am oppressed.
i am where i am.
and i think you know who i blame.
i am the Muslim Extremist.
i am the Illegal Alien.
i am the Welfare Slacker.
i am the St. Claire Gang Banger.
i am the South Side Whore.
i am the Tattooed Convict.
i am the Sleazy Pimp.
i am the Drug Dealer.
i am the one you throw your stereotypes on.
i am the minority you want to categorize.
i am the minority you fear.
i am the minority you rule.
i am the minority you monopolize.
i am all of these and none of these.
sadly, i am white.
i am just like you.
i am just like you as any one of these.
i am just like you when not one of these.
you don't see it the right way.
you don't see the similarity in our differences.
all you want is our deference.
because you're in power.
i am Troy Davis.
i am Timothy McVeigh.
i am John Brown.
i am Fred Ahmed Evans.
i am Eric Harris.
i am Dylan Klebold.
and thanks to you, i am out of luck.
and thanks to you, i am forced down.
i am oppressed.
i am where i am.
and i think you know who i blame.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
the white moderate (and why i am leaving "church" as it is commonly known)
in this video i only see a handful of whites who are not police (in this particular case the police involved with Troy Davis have been accused of coercion to reach the verdict against Troy that's now nearly had him executed THREE times!...
"...I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.
...
We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people.
...
I had hoped that the white moderate would see this need. Perhaps I was too optimistic; perhaps I expected too much. I suppose I should have realized that few members of the oppressor race can understand the deep groans and passionate yearnings of the oppressed race, and still fewer have the vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong, persistent and determined action. I am thankful, however, that some of our white brothers in the South have grasped the meaning of this social revolution and committed themselves to it. They are still all too few in quantity, but they are big in quality. Some -such as Ralph McGill, Lillian Smith, Harry Golden, James McBride Dabbs, Ann Braden and Sarah Patton Boyle--have written about our struggle in eloquent and prophetic terms. Others have marched with us down nameless streets of the South. They have languished in filthy, roach infested jails, suffering the abuse and brutality of policemen who view them as "dirty nigger-lovers." Unlike so many of their moderate brothers and sisters, they have recognized the urgency of the moment and sensed the need for powerful "action" antidotes to combat the disease of segregation. Let me take note of my other major disappointment. I have been so greatly disappointed with the white church and its leadership. Of course, there are some notable exceptions.
...
But despite these notable exceptions, I must honestly reiterate that I have been disappointed with the church."
-Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr, "Letter from Birmingham Jail"
...and people wonder why i am so disillusioned with the church and can no longer stand to attend most churches. there is so much jovial worship and so little gritty action. where there is gritty action i am unable to be involved and thus i only witness the hollow-seeming worship. it is too hard. were i to ever find a church CENTERED on SERVICE to GOD AND MAN... well, i would be there. but i seek the kind of church that consists of several people committed to various types of service and love for Adonai and fellow man. so, with this i offer up my reasons for stepping out of the common visions of "church" among most people i know.
i also ask that any others who are disillusioned with church the way it's so commonly done, and seek something different, even if it doesn't turn out to be "better", then i would love community with you and the chance to discuss and eat with you and do whatever we feel should be done. let us serve our God and one another.
Peace.
Salaams.
Shalom.
Friede.
Pace.
Pax.
"...I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.
...
We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people.
...
I had hoped that the white moderate would see this need. Perhaps I was too optimistic; perhaps I expected too much. I suppose I should have realized that few members of the oppressor race can understand the deep groans and passionate yearnings of the oppressed race, and still fewer have the vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong, persistent and determined action. I am thankful, however, that some of our white brothers in the South have grasped the meaning of this social revolution and committed themselves to it. They are still all too few in quantity, but they are big in quality. Some -such as Ralph McGill, Lillian Smith, Harry Golden, James McBride Dabbs, Ann Braden and Sarah Patton Boyle--have written about our struggle in eloquent and prophetic terms. Others have marched with us down nameless streets of the South. They have languished in filthy, roach infested jails, suffering the abuse and brutality of policemen who view them as "dirty nigger-lovers." Unlike so many of their moderate brothers and sisters, they have recognized the urgency of the moment and sensed the need for powerful "action" antidotes to combat the disease of segregation. Let me take note of my other major disappointment. I have been so greatly disappointed with the white church and its leadership. Of course, there are some notable exceptions.
...
But despite these notable exceptions, I must honestly reiterate that I have been disappointed with the church."
-Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr, "Letter from Birmingham Jail"
...and people wonder why i am so disillusioned with the church and can no longer stand to attend most churches. there is so much jovial worship and so little gritty action. where there is gritty action i am unable to be involved and thus i only witness the hollow-seeming worship. it is too hard. were i to ever find a church CENTERED on SERVICE to GOD AND MAN... well, i would be there. but i seek the kind of church that consists of several people committed to various types of service and love for Adonai and fellow man. so, with this i offer up my reasons for stepping out of the common visions of "church" among most people i know.
i also ask that any others who are disillusioned with church the way it's so commonly done, and seek something different, even if it doesn't turn out to be "better", then i would love community with you and the chance to discuss and eat with you and do whatever we feel should be done. let us serve our God and one another.
Peace.
Salaams.
Shalom.
Friede.
Pace.
Pax.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Loophole Legislation (that makes me want to use strong language)
I was reading about something last night that successfully pissed me off and nearly sent me into an outrage!
the downside of this well-meaning outrage was that there's really no longer anyone alive responsible for it and it's results that i could do any damage to.
so i let the initial reactionary feelings rest.
but the idea started working on me and i started writing something down last night...
first, here's what i was reading about. maybe for some of my readers this is a familiar old term:
The Pupil Placement Law.
1954--Brown v. Board of Education--Segregation outlawed because nothing can ever really be "separate but equal."
here's what the famed brother, Dr. King, had to say about it,
"There was another factor in the slow pace of progress, a factor of which few are aware and even fewer understand. It is an unadvertised fact that soon after the 1954 decision the Supreme Court retreated from its own position by giving approval to the Pupil Placement Law. This law permitted the states themselves to determine where school children might be placed by virtue of family background, special ability and other subjective criteria. The Pupil Placement Law was almost as far-reaching in modifying and limiting the integration of schools as the original decision had been in attempting to eliminate segregation. Without technically reversing itself, the Court had granted legal sanction to tokenism and thereby guaranteed that segregation, in substance, would last for an indefinite period, though formally it was illegal."
---Martin Luther King, Jr., Why We Can't Wait
this is the part of the book at which i immediately yelled out my favourite expletive... probably more than once. it's a good thing i was in a pretty much empty campus parking lot (although ironically 10 minutes beforehand a campus police cruiser had driven up behind me, probably smelling for pot smoke, since i generally dress the perfect part of the druggie hippie).
i think i stood up and threw my hands in the air in exasperation and swore some more, beginning to pace, FURIOUS.
sadly of course, i can't REALLY blame all whites for that. as much as i wanted so badly to do so. at that moment i know i would have offered some very choice words to those Supreme Court Justices if they had somehow shown their face on my campus. and i probably would have been so vocal that that squad car that sniffed me would be back in a flash to lock me up for "disturbing the peace".
and to think that allowing segregation to continue, when they did, wasn't an act of gregariously disturbing the peace!
finally realizing there was nothing i could do to change the past, i pulled out a notebook from my satchel on the curb, took a swig from my water bottle and pulled my pen out of my pocket, leaning against a small tree to begin writing something i'm surprised i can still read, for my hands were shaking with anger as the ink flowed...
"Loophole Legislation--9.8.08
Words like 'as best seen fit' are Bull. if the president/congress/or powers that be promise financial aif to a region or country in need of reconstructionary funding, then nowhere in the written promisory note can ambiguous wording, such as that often used for the betterment of the U.S. Constitution, be applied. If it is, there is a negative legislative loophole.
If not, there is a good loophole in the system based on greed, and said moneys may actually make it into greater manifestation among the people for whom it is intended."
as i finished writing last night, i recalled to memory a scene from the film Amazing Grace, in which the abolitionists in the British Parliament drafted a simple law that endangered British sailing vessels as they tried to hide under the neutral flag of the colonies, as those particular vessels carried slaves from Africa to the Isles. if suddenly all ships in those waters bearing the flag of the colonies could become fair game, then the slave trade would be greatly hindered for too many sailors and captains would be too afraid to make that journey knowing they were suddenly viable targets for enemy warships.
if there can be a good piece of loophole legislation like that, then there's certainly something that can be done today to look out for the interests of the masses and the oppressed. the problem is that today there's probably some way to pay closer attention and with a federal system in place, relying also on the permissions of a presidential and executive voice, then it's a lot harder to pass legislation so quickly that could truly benefit those already downtrodden by the law.
anyone have any ideas on this? what if i could actually get my readership to come forward and comment in larger numbers and assist me in the struggle to find a way to pass a protectorate law WITHOUT ambiguous wording...
will anyone please help me?
my father said something in church last week about how so many church-goers complain about change in the church and want things to be done the same old way. he then said that so many get so frustrated and upset about change occurring within a church body, and said that he holds out on giving this response one-on-one, but went ahead and said to the larger group:
"if you're going to get upset about something, let's get upset about AIDS in Africa, starving children or the situation in Darfur. Let's make it about something that matters for crying out loud!"
on that note, i ask you:
will you stand up and not get pissed about the words i use to describe things that i hate, to describe injustice that is unfit for human witness! these stronger words should mean nothing to you in comparison with the greater evils i'm telling you about!
stand against racism
stand against hate
stand against poverty
stand against slavery
stand against apartheid
stand against injustice!
i wish the unrest of God's spirit to be upon you until you take action.
may peace flee from your heart until peace and rest are gained for the world.
--BENEDICTION--
the downside of this well-meaning outrage was that there's really no longer anyone alive responsible for it and it's results that i could do any damage to.
so i let the initial reactionary feelings rest.
but the idea started working on me and i started writing something down last night...
first, here's what i was reading about. maybe for some of my readers this is a familiar old term:
The Pupil Placement Law.
1954--Brown v. Board of Education--Segregation outlawed because nothing can ever really be "separate but equal."
here's what the famed brother, Dr. King, had to say about it,
"There was another factor in the slow pace of progress, a factor of which few are aware and even fewer understand. It is an unadvertised fact that soon after the 1954 decision the Supreme Court retreated from its own position by giving approval to the Pupil Placement Law. This law permitted the states themselves to determine where school children might be placed by virtue of family background, special ability and other subjective criteria. The Pupil Placement Law was almost as far-reaching in modifying and limiting the integration of schools as the original decision had been in attempting to eliminate segregation. Without technically reversing itself, the Court had granted legal sanction to tokenism and thereby guaranteed that segregation, in substance, would last for an indefinite period, though formally it was illegal."
---Martin Luther King, Jr., Why We Can't Wait
this is the part of the book at which i immediately yelled out my favourite expletive... probably more than once. it's a good thing i was in a pretty much empty campus parking lot (although ironically 10 minutes beforehand a campus police cruiser had driven up behind me, probably smelling for pot smoke, since i generally dress the perfect part of the druggie hippie).
i think i stood up and threw my hands in the air in exasperation and swore some more, beginning to pace, FURIOUS.
sadly of course, i can't REALLY blame all whites for that. as much as i wanted so badly to do so. at that moment i know i would have offered some very choice words to those Supreme Court Justices if they had somehow shown their face on my campus. and i probably would have been so vocal that that squad car that sniffed me would be back in a flash to lock me up for "disturbing the peace".
and to think that allowing segregation to continue, when they did, wasn't an act of gregariously disturbing the peace!
finally realizing there was nothing i could do to change the past, i pulled out a notebook from my satchel on the curb, took a swig from my water bottle and pulled my pen out of my pocket, leaning against a small tree to begin writing something i'm surprised i can still read, for my hands were shaking with anger as the ink flowed...
"Loophole Legislation--9.8.08
Words like 'as best seen fit' are Bull. if the president/congress/or powers that be promise financial aif to a region or country in need of reconstructionary funding, then nowhere in the written promisory note can ambiguous wording, such as that often used for the betterment of the U.S. Constitution, be applied. If it is, there is a negative legislative loophole.
If not, there is a good loophole in the system based on greed, and said moneys may actually make it into greater manifestation among the people for whom it is intended."
as i finished writing last night, i recalled to memory a scene from the film Amazing Grace, in which the abolitionists in the British Parliament drafted a simple law that endangered British sailing vessels as they tried to hide under the neutral flag of the colonies, as those particular vessels carried slaves from Africa to the Isles. if suddenly all ships in those waters bearing the flag of the colonies could become fair game, then the slave trade would be greatly hindered for too many sailors and captains would be too afraid to make that journey knowing they were suddenly viable targets for enemy warships.
if there can be a good piece of loophole legislation like that, then there's certainly something that can be done today to look out for the interests of the masses and the oppressed. the problem is that today there's probably some way to pay closer attention and with a federal system in place, relying also on the permissions of a presidential and executive voice, then it's a lot harder to pass legislation so quickly that could truly benefit those already downtrodden by the law.
anyone have any ideas on this? what if i could actually get my readership to come forward and comment in larger numbers and assist me in the struggle to find a way to pass a protectorate law WITHOUT ambiguous wording...
will anyone please help me?
my father said something in church last week about how so many church-goers complain about change in the church and want things to be done the same old way. he then said that so many get so frustrated and upset about change occurring within a church body, and said that he holds out on giving this response one-on-one, but went ahead and said to the larger group:
"if you're going to get upset about something, let's get upset about AIDS in Africa, starving children or the situation in Darfur. Let's make it about something that matters for crying out loud!"
on that note, i ask you:
will you stand up and not get pissed about the words i use to describe things that i hate, to describe injustice that is unfit for human witness! these stronger words should mean nothing to you in comparison with the greater evils i'm telling you about!
stand against racism
stand against hate
stand against poverty
stand against slavery
stand against apartheid
stand against injustice!
i wish the unrest of God's spirit to be upon you until you take action.
may peace flee from your heart until peace and rest are gained for the world.
--BENEDICTION--
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