Category: Black Issues

I'm Sick of "All Lives Matter"!

12/15/2014

Lately, I've had White friends and colleagues come to me for guidance on how to be a good ally in the wake of recent events involving the murder and brutalization of unarmed and innocent Black men, women and children around the country. To be honest, I am happy that they trust me and my views enough to come to me with their questions and concerns.

One thing that I have been asked about is the hashtag, all lives matter, that is appearing all over Twitter and Facebook. I have been asked if I like it and should it be used. The short answer to both is NO!

On it's face, it seems good, but let me tell you why it's not good and why it is so offensive to me.

All lives matter was created in response to #BlackLivesMatter by White folks who were offended by that hashtag and wanted to try to say that the murder by police of Black men, women and children was not about race.

Let me tell you why this is highly offensive. All lives matter seeks to erase, indeed, obliterate Black voices in the conversation that IS about us. It is a derailing tactic used to take the focus off of us and make it all about them by equalizing things. It is a manifestation of the discomfort, guilt and defensiveness that many White folks harbor when the conversation is about race.

Look, folks, there is a reason why there is the hashtag, #BlackLivesMattter. That is because Black folks know that all lives matter, but lots of folks don't realize or care that Black lives matter, too. We are dealing with an epidemic that is only recently being realized and understood - that Black folks - men in particular, but also, many women and children - are having our lives ended at the hands of mostly White cops and vigilantes who see us as demons, threats, etc.

Some time ago, I wrote a blog post that I got pushback from the mostly White disability community because we were making the events in Ferguson all about us, instead of centering it where it belonged - on Black lives. I see this same thing happening with White supposed allies, both nondisabled and disabled, around the whole "all lives matter" issue because most cannot acknowledge that this isn't about equality because equality doesn't exist, nor did it ever, no matter how much we want it to. There are some lives that matter far more than others and trying to erase that fact by saying all lives matter isn't going to work.

Here's the deal: I don't do all lives matter because YOURS already matters - it's MINE that doesn't matter! It's ME as a BLACK person who has to assert and prove my humanity time after time. I'm the one who will be murdered for living while Black, then, demonized and blamed for my own death. I have said it before and I'll say it again: I endure FAR more discrimination because of my Black skin than I do as a disabled lesbian!

So, White allies and others, take note: We, as Black people know that all lives matter. Now it's time for you and everyone else to realize that ‪#‎BlackLivesMatter,‬ and let the focus and centering be on us, where it belongs!

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I Have No Refuge

12/4/2014

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I have come to understand that there is no self-care for me. I have no refuge from the injustice that gets worse by the day. I try to lighten the mood by posting funny pet pics and vids and acts of kindness, even if it is superficial, on social media. Still I can't get away, because I'm chastised by others who also can't get away, that I'm slipping, giving in, somehow, not being true because I'll try to snatch the tiniest bit of refuge from the pain in a kind act that shouldn't be, by someone who wouldn't afford me that kind act because of my color.

There is no hiding for me. I see, eat, hear, taste, smell injustice every waking minute. I live the struggle to keep people with disabilities from unnecessary institutionalization, to keep us from being killed, either by neglect or legislation, to ensure that we are thought of in the building of public spaces, in the Governor's budget, or in times of disaster.

I have no refuge from fear, exclusion, discrimination, othering. I cannot shut down. I cannot get away. I'm forever open to it, even in my sleep. With my waking eyes, I see the shadows of Mike, Eric, John, Ethan, Tamir, Renisha, Trayvon, Tajieme, London, and so many other men, women and children murdered by cops, vigilantes or parents who disposed of them simply because of their disabilities.

Every 28 hours, a Black man is killed by police or vigilantes and that doesn't even begin to address the Black women and children who die at the hand of amped up, racist cops and vigilantes. Each time I leave my house, I wonder will I join their ranks.

Sometimes, I get jealous, envious, angry, rage-filled that there is no refuge for me. It's not a matter of choice - I did not choose this Black, disabled lesbian body that I live in, so I cannot choose not to see or be subject to or survive the injustice, hatred and racism around me. I cannot escape it if I tried.

My White, straight, nondisabled friends can take a break for self-care - they can back away, not deal, refuse to see, hide until they feel safe enough to come back out. I'm not shaming them because they didn't choose to be who they are, either. At least, they have that to keep themselves sane. I just wish that my friends, who mean well, understand that I and others like me don't have that option.

When I hear people say, take a break, take care of yourself, do something fun, get out, I wish I could make them understand that for me, there is no break, no respite, no refuge except death, and that is permanent, and not an option - at least, not an option that I'll choose to take.

I wish that I can tell you what it feels like in my body to live this way, to always be in fear, on guard, ever vigilant, angry. There is a soul pain, a psychic pain, a spirit pain that never leaves me. There is a tense expectancy, heightened fear, awareness, waiting. There is sadness, hopelessness, a tiny kernel of bitterness and yes, a hatred for this unjust system that I can't get away from even in my sleep, even in my dreams.

I can't escape the words of hate, shame, recrimination, the taunts hurled at the memories of dead Black bodies, the hate unfurled against those who fight back against injustice with both rage and love, who have brought this to your neighborhood, your door, your face, and who inconvenienced you by blocking a street, a highway, a store, an agency, with their bodies so that you'll see in some small way, what we go through. I say we, because I am often one of the ones that you yell at, scream at, curse at, spit on, shove, hit in your rage and indignation - how DARE we put this on you!

So I try to take a second here and there to post a funny pic or vid on social media. I try to lose myself in my music, my books, my fantasies, my wife's arms, my cat's eyes, my friends' laughter, my hopes, my visions, my desire to try and pluck something good out of something problematic, even, sometimes, my writing. I try to hang on to something, even as I know the troubles linger in the background, indeed, all around me.

So, see - there is no refuge for me, no way of escaping, nowhere to hide from injustice, so I'm left to do the only thing I know to do - fight. Fight with anger. Fight with hope. Fight with love.

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I Just Want To Know

9/7/2014

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Each day, at least 3 or 4 times an hour, I hear stories detailing the horror of what it's like to be me - a Black, disabled, poor, lesbian. I wonder, then, what is it like to be someone other than me? I've thought about that a lot, since I was a small child. What would it be like to live for a day, a week, a month, a year as a member of the dominant cultures?

Now, let's not get things twisted, haters. I am in no way saying that I don't want to be me, or that I'm ashamed to be me. I'm just dreaming, ok? You know, how sometimes, kids will dream of being princes or princesses, or adults dream of being super rich and famous? It's the same thing, except that 1. for you, it's reality and 2. I don't want to stay. Besides, it's all well and good for you to look down on me and try to shame me; you sure as hell aren't wanting to know what it's like to be me!

Let's get this started, shall we?

Let me get money out of the way, ok? I know what it's like to be well off. I was born into such a family. My birth dad worked hard to get the family to the state it was by the time I was born, and beyond. I know what it's like to go to the opera and plays and eat at five star restaurants. I know what it is to live in a nice house and to have several homes, cars, TVs, phones, back when most families only had one of each - maybe. Unlike many rich folks today, our family knew the value of money, so we didn't splurge often. We were not extravagant. We had nice clothes, but we weren't fashion plates. We had several nice cars, but not Ferraris, Rolls Royce's or Mercedes. Ok, so you get it, right? We didn't need to bring attention to ourselves simply because we had money. When I had my cushy jobs, I was the same way. Yes, I lived in nice buildings in nice neighborhoods, but that was all. My years with the nuns taught me that having a ton of money while others suffered was obscene, so, to this day, I don't want to be rich - I do want to be comfortable again. I want to be able to pay my bills and have a good amount of money left over. I want to be able to save money and to have some nice things again. Thankfully, this is the only dream that is within my grasp. All it will take is me either getting the right cushy job again or starting my own business again and working to make it take off. I plan to open a business again very, very soon, so relative wealth, with hard work is within reach.

Now, on to the hard stuff.

I want to know what it would be like to be a guy. How does it feel to know that you rule the world, that you are favored, that you make all the rules that govern people's lives, that you are taken seriously, that you are the stronger gender, that you are superior? How does it feel to know that even if you are rock-bottom poor or severely disabled, that you are still better than people like me? I'd like to know what that feels like, just for a little while!

What's it like to be White? All my life, I've wondered about that. I never developed the gonads to ask my White friends, family or even my beautiful wife, so I'm asking you, my readers. What is it like? What's it like to to know that you are the top, that you are superior? How does it feel to know that you rule the world, that you're automatically thought to be the smartest, that though you are dirt poor and severely disabled, you're still better than folks like me, because, at least, you are White? What is it like to know even without being aware of it, that you don't have to care about what I care about or know the things that folks like me need to know in order to survive? How does it feel to know that you can go anywhere, do anything, be anything? What's it like to have automatic privilege so ingrained and inherent that you don't even know you have it until it's pointed out to you? What's it like to know that you can make all kinds of mistakes, live a life of crime, be as obtuse, unclever, unlearned and ignorant as you'd like, and it won't be ascribed to your entire race? How does it feel to know with certainty that you can make all kinds of shady deals, have no scruples or ethics, work the system, live off welfare, hustle and scam and it'll be on YOU, but not your entire race? What's it like to know that in the Western world (which is the one that really matters), your culture is the dominant one, your beauty is the ideal beauty, your history, literature, philosophy, poetry, etc., are automatically taught in schools, and people like me had better learn it better than you if we want to succeed? What's it like to know for sure that your life is priceless, while mine is worthless, that though you were a horrible excuse for a human being, when you die, good things will be said about you, but, though someone like me lived an exemplary life, when we die, people will try to dig up any dirt they can on us? What's it like to be a pauper, but know you can go anywhere with ease, while folks like me who are millionaires and billionaires get followed around stores, publicly frisked because we might have stolen something, denied in all kinds of ways, and assumed that our wealth came from criminal activities, while your wealth is assumed to come from hard work or family inheritance? I mean, really, what is it like to have all these perks simply by virtue of the color of your skin? I want to know what that's like. I want to live it, if only for a little while, so that I can understand, so that I can be - oblivious, live in peace, be - valued.

I want to know what it's like not to be disabled, or have a visible disability. I want to know what it's like not to be thought of as stupid, what it's like to be valued as a person, to know that if I'm bullied, something will be done about it, and it won't be seen as a joke, or nothing serious, that if my parents killed me, that they wouldn't be seen as heroes or long-suffering. I want to know what it's like to not have to face physical and attitudinal barriers at every turn. I want to know what it's like not to have to fight for civil and human rights that you take for granted. I want to know what it's like not to have a price on my freedom and independence - if I don't cost the state or government over and above x amount of dollars, then, I can live in my community, get the medical treatment that I need, get the equipment, services and supports that I need to survive and live on my own. I want to know what it's like to go into a store, theatre, restaurant, stadium, school, courthouse or place of worship and know that I won't be stared at, be told I'm in the way or that I'm a fire hazard or have someone be rude to me simply because they can, or act strange because they don't know how to deal with me, or ask someone else what I want.

I wonder what it is like not to be seen as an abomination because of my orientation, what it's like not to have to worry about getting beat up or killed or disowned or fired or discriminated against because of my sexuality, what it's like not to be expected to hide or live a lie because of whom I love.

Seriously, folks, I wonder about this. I wonder and even obsess on this quite a bit. How can't I, when literally every day, even every hour of my life, I hear of someone who belongs to one of the groups that make up me is killed or some other injustice is visited upon them? Is it any wonder that sometimes, without hating ourselves, people like me may wonder what it is like not to be us? It's not that we don't like ourselves, our culture, our beauty, it's just that we are - I - am curious.

Now, here's a serious question - do you wonder what it's like to be me? No, not the cool, quirky Angry Black Womyn you know, think you know, or have heard of - I'm talking about the Black woman in the wheelchair you see on the street. I'm talking about the Black guy in the hoodie or the Latina girl in your class, the Asian guy sitting next to you on the bus, or the lesbian Native American woman marching in the Pride parade, the kid with down's syndrome who walks your dogs, or the autistic kid who's always there to help you carry your groceries into the house. Do you wonder what it's like to be us, to understand where we are coming from, to have some inkling of our lived experience? Do you even care to know - or are you scared? What do you feel? I want to know!

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On Value and Worth - A Black Person's (well, THIS Black person's) Perspective

8/31/2014

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A few days ago. I saw a post on Facebook that got me to thinking. It was written in the context of Michael Brown, the unarmed Black teenager shot to death by a White police officer. As some may know, Michael was to start college within a few days of his death. In a nutshell, the Facebook poster said that people shouldn't be valued more because they were good people or about to go to university, etc., because everyone's life is worthy. On the face of it, I agree. Still, I'd like to offer a prospective on this from a Black person's point of view - well - THIS Black person's point of view.

As a Black person, I hear every day how we, as a people, are stupid, lazy, criminals, worthless, less than, subhuman, animals, inferior, dumb, shiftless, good for nothing, ne 'er do-do-wells, miscreants, thugs. I hear how we commit the most crimes, have the most children out of wedlock, can't hold down a job, depend on welfare and other government handouts, don't have proper diction, are ugly apes, are repulsive - on and on and on, ad infinitum, ad nauseam. The only things we are good at, it seems, are having sex, playing sports and singing. Wow, that's pretty sad, isn't it?

I find it pretty nerve-wracking when non-Black folks - it seems it's ALWAYS non-Black folks - spout this stuff about how everyone is valued and worthy, when we Black folks see and experience life totally different. Take crime, for example. Punishment is based on the race of the victim, not the perpetrator. If a Black person kills a White person, especially a child, a cop or an elder, that person will most assuredly be punished to the fullest extent of the law, especially if the perpetrator doesn't have money (OJ got off due to a combination of his money and questionable cops - had he been poor, he'd be sitting on death row). A White person who kills someone Black might go to prison - maybe - and - I've not heard yet of a White person getting the death penalty for killing a Black person - not that I'm a proponent of the death penalty, but you know what I'm saying. If a police officer or other law enforcement officer is killed by anyone, Black, White, you name it, in some states, the perpetrator is automatically subject to the death penalty if they are convicted. Talk about some lives being worth more! I could go on an on, but you get the picture, right?

So, of course, when I hear something good about a Black person, I'm going to take notice and appreciate it. I get REALLY angry when people try to downplay the fact that Mike Brown was about to go to college - they sure play it up when a White kid dies! Look, the fact that Mike was headed to college is important to me. Contrary to popular opinion, education is VERY important to us Black folks! Many of us who manage to go to college are the first in our families to do so. So many of us want to go, but cannot afford to. So, for me, yes, Michael Brown's death WAS that much more of a tragedy!

I feel the same way about so-called "good" people. When all you hear about your race is how horrible we are, it is especially sad when someone is murdered who has no blemish on their life - the cops can't dig up stuff to sully their name or reputation. They didn't, or weren't suspected of being a gangbanger, stealing something, being a mean person - whatever. These days, even small Black children who are murdered can have their name dragged through the mud, so when I hear of a Black person who was pretty much pristine, yes, I'm going to feel that person's death more deeply.

Are these people's lives more worthy because they had, or was getting an education or because they were good people with unblemished records? Of course not! But, until a Black life is valued the same as a White life, good or bad, I've go to take what I can get, so yes, the death of a "good", educated or otherwise exemplary Black person IS that much more tragic to me.

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I'm Sick of "All Lives Matter"!

I Have No Refuge

I Just Want To Know

On Value and Worth - A Black Person's (well, THIS Black person's) Perspective

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