Musings Of An Angry Black Womyn
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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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Giving Thanks

11/27/2014

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In the midst of everything, on this day, whose background, backdrop and history are mired in, and fraught with controversy, I'd like to take this moment to say Happy Thanksgiving to those who observe this day.

Though it seems that we all observe this day in the same manner, of course, we don't, so I, being the odd bird that I am, will share my personal observations and thanks for things other than life or a roof over my head, even thought they are very, very important and of which, of course, I am thankful for. Those, however, are obvious things that we all are thankful for.

I want to give thanks and apologies to the Wampanoag people, specifically, the Pawtuxet tribe, and most specifically, a guy named Tisquantum, an interpreter and mediator, who taught the starving, ignorant colonists at Plymouth how to plant corn, fish and hunt beaver, thus, helping them to survive. Later that year, there was a harvest feast with the colonists that Tisquantum and folks from the Pokanoket tribe attended; this is said to be the origin of what we now call Thanksgiving. I'm sure that they, and the people of the Massachusett, Narragansett and other tribes in the region had little inkling that in just a few years time, they'd be slaughtered almost to extinction in the creation of what would become the United States.

Let me give thanks to the Choctaw people, one of the tribes who sheltered escaped Black slaves. Some of these slaves intermarried with the Choctaw people, leading to the ancestors of my birth mother.

Along with the indigenous American nations and peoples who were driven from their lands, suffered untold and unimaginable injustice, massacred and nearly wiped out, and now, who barely survive on scattered reservations, I give unnumbered thanks to the Black African slaves, kidnapped from their countries, brought over to this country, the Caribbean and South America. The conditions on that Middle Passage were so horrific that over half of the slaves died before the ships docked in various countries. They were sold like goods, treated worse than animals, stripped of their names, languages, cultures, and religions. They were not allowed to learn to read and write and had Christianity foisted upon them so that they would be happy that they were enslaved and beaten, raped and sold at will. Though the colonists thought them to be less than animals, this country was built on their backs. Among them were my ancestors on my birth father's side.

I give thanks for immigrants of color, who helped to build this nation. They were the ones who did the backbreaking work, the dirty jobs, the jobs that the vast majority of Americans, even now, would never do. They built our railroads, and today, harvest our food, take care of our children, and clean our toilets. They are the unseen folks who are the backbone of this great country! Among them are members of my family.

Two men whom I never met, deserve my and millions of people's thanks - Mohandas K. Gandhi, who, through entirely peaceful means, freed his home nation of India from British rule. His work inspired a young Black minister named Martin Luther King, Jr., who used Gandhi's methods to fight for the civil rights of Black people here in the U.S. Tragically, they would both be assassinated, but their work continues to inspire many.

There are so many people in this world who give children a home via foster care, adoption or just taking them in. Many families also bring adults with disabilities into their hearts, homes and lives. I give thanks and love to these people because that's how I found my family. I was in foster care, adopted, and as an adult, taken in by my wonderful family!

I am a nerd who loved school, but I started during a time when children with disabilities didn't have the right to an education. I am so thankful that not only was I able to attend school, but I went to class with nondisabled kids from preschool through university. When I hear stories of parents who fight for accommodations for their disabled children, I am grateful that, in elementary school, I had accommodations, such as large print tests and extra tutoring. I also had teachers who cared for, and believed in me - Mrs. Magnavite and Mrs. McBride at Countee Cullen Elementary School and Mr. Kielty, Mr. Strassberger and Mrs. Gray, at George Henry Corliss High School - you inspired me and made me excited about learning!

I remember and give thanks for three specific people in my life - Sr. Anne Mayer, SSND, my Godmother, who introduced me to the social justice movement, Dennis Schreiber, my supervisor at Chicago Lighthouse for the Blind, who introduced me to the disability rights movement and taught me about fundraising, relationship building and networking, and Wade Blank, the founder of ADAPT, the national, grassroots disability rights group that I am a member of. Wade was a friend and mentor, who taught me community organizing and groomed me for leadership. These three were responsible for changing my life.

If there is any entity that I am most thankful for, it is the group, ADAPT. There are not enough words to say how grateful I am for my ADAPT family, who loves me, nurtures me and believes in me even when I don't.

I am eternally grateful for my beautiful, loving wife, Lisa, whom I met through ADAPT at a time when I'd given up hope of finding true love.

Finally, I am thankful for my disabilities. That may seem strange, but if not for them, I would not be the person I am. They helped to shape me and my life.

It's great to be thankful on Thanksgiving, but hey, it's only one day. I'm thankful and grateful every day of the year, even for the not-so-good stuff, because often, they are blessings in disguise.

So, there's my list - part of it, anyway. What things are you thankful for every day?

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A Call From FEMA

11/8/2014

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As many of you know, I have two major passions - disability rights advocacy and activism and emergency preparedness. I have been involved in disability advocacy for 28 years and emergency preparedness for 10 years. To me, this comes as naturally as breathing and education is the key to raising awareness in the community, which is why I have written numerous articles and blogs on disability and emergency preparedness issues and have recruited over 30 folks with disabilities to train as CERTs (Community Emergency Response Team).

Now, I am one step closer to realizing my dream of working in emergency management with an emphasis on disability. About six weeks ago, a friend and colleague who lives in Montana sent me a job announcement from FEMA, the Federal Emergency Management Agency, regarding a job with FEMA here in Denver. A couple of days later, another friend in Montana sent me that same job announcement.

Trust me, it wasn't lost on me that two friends in MONTANA were the ones who sent the job announcement to me, so of course, I took notice! After reading it over and over and visualizing myself in the position, I made a couple of updates to my resume, sent it in, and asked my wife to pray for me. Since the process takes 4-6 weeks, I knew it would be a while before I head anything, good or bad.

Then, it happened.

FEMA called me yesterday (Friday, November 7th) and told me they want to interview me next Friday, the 14th, for the Regional Disability Integration Specialist position. If, no - WHEN - I am hired, I'll have to travel around Region 8, which is Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, Montana, North Dakota and South Dakota to make sure that the needs of people with disabilities are met before, during and after a disaster.

Because I'll be considered an emergency manager, if a disaster happens, I will have to go to where it is. I'll also have to do lots of outreach and training, as well as write policy on disability integration. I will be on call 24/7/365 and will have to travel quite a bit, being gone sometimes for weeks or months, sometimes living in very austere conditions.

When hired (I have been visualizing myself in the job ever since I saw the announcement), I'll report to the Regional Administrator and the Office of Disability Integration and Coordination of FEMA. My position is unsupervised, so I'll be on my own a lot.

Ok, here it is straight from FEMA:

JOB SUMMARY: As the Disability Integration Specialist, you will prepare individuals, families and communities before, during and after a disaster by providing guidance tools, methods and strategies to integrate and coordinate emergency management efforts to meet the needs of all citizens, including children and adults with disabilities and others with access and functional needs.

EMERGENCY ASSIGNMENT: Every FEMA employee has regular and recurring emergency management responsibilities, though not every position requires routine deployment to disaster sites. All positions are subject to recall around the clock for emergency management operations, which may require irregular work hours, work at locations other than the official duty station, and may include duties other than those specified in the employee's official position description. Travel requirements in support of emergency operations may be extensive in nature (weeks to months), with little advance notice, and may require employees to relocate to emergency sites with physically austere and operationally challenging conditions.

DUTIES: In this position, you will be recognized as an authority, expert, and senior technical advisor on disaster disability integration and coordination issues.  You will be responsible for ensuring that the access and functional needs and requirements of individuals with disabilities are being properly included and addressed in all aspects of emergency preparedness are being properly included and addressed in all aspects of emergency preparedness and disaster response, recovery, and mitigation. Typical assignments include:
 ·         In collaboration with the Offices of the Regional Administrator and the Office of Disability Integration and Coordination (ODIC), participate in developing and implementing comprehensive procedures for managing the regional disability integration and coordination in disaster programs in accordance with Federal policy and guidelines.
 ·         In collaboration with the Office of the Regional Administrator, participate in developing and implementing Standard Operating Procedures (SOP) that include the needs and requirements of people with physical, sensory, intellectual, cognitive and mental health disabilities to evaluate disaster programs and measures for providing equal access to persons with disabilities.
 ·         In collaboration with the Office of the Regional Administrator and the ODIC, participate in developing and implementing policies and procedures that ensure equal access for all disaster survivors.
 ·         Perform outreach briefings, which promote diversity and inclusive practices to include people with disabilities in preparedness and disaster programs that are in compliance with appropriate disability policy and procedures.
 ·         Perform outreach briefings to raise awareness of reasonable accommodations, policies, procedures, and resources available to disaster applicants in FEMA programs; and process requests in accordance with appropriate Federal regulations.


See? This has Anita Cameron written all over it!

This will be my dream job, and trust me, the pay is WELL worth it and the benefits are awesome! It's a permanent position - a federal job - not tied to any political situations.

So, all of you out there who know, love and respect me - please send well wishes, prayers, good thoughts, good energy, good juju, good vibes and positive affirmations to strengthen my positive visualizations that I have been chosen for the position. I know that I am up against strong candidates, but I know that my passion shines through in my resume, in my writing and when I talk about the subject. All of my skills - teaching, organizing, writing, team-building and advocacy will be brought to bear in this position - I will be an invaluable asset to FEMA. I will dazzle and shine in that interview!



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 I Ain't Here For You - Musings of An Angry Black Womyn

9/20/2014

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I've been here for everyone else all my life. I've wasted precious time and energy worrying about what other folks felt and thought because if I didn't, somehow I was either punished, shunned or got into some kind of trouble. I had it literally beat into me that I didn't matter; it was all about other folks. Even as an adult, when I'd try breaking out of those thoughts and think of myself, I'd find myself in some kind of political trouble, and I'd pay, sometimes dearly, for my insolence. I have come to learn that some folks who say they love me only do so when I'm doing what they want or saying what they want to hear. As long as I am safe for them, they're ok with me, but when my fierce, independent side surfaces, - oh lawd- then, at the worst, I'm just a bitch and c---, and at best, I'm just another angry Black woman to be discounted, silenced, put in my place. Frankly, I'm sick and tired of living my life always being there for others and worrying about how others feel instead of being there for me. So, I have decided - and must keep remembering this - I'm not here for you. My true friends, those who truly know and truly love me will understand where I'm coming from; they'll understand the spirit that I'm saying this in. The ones who don't know me, don't like me, don't respect me or just don't "get" me - oh well! I don't apologize if you choose to be offended and I stand by what I say.

Having said that, I'm going to offer up some other musings from this Angry Black Womyn. They're my original thoughts, so if you quote 'em, quote 'em right and give me my props!

First, lets talk about my name - Angry Black Woman. I've had people, even friends, express trepidation, concern and even offense at it. I'll not sugarcoat my thought: You have the nerve to be offended by my name? I've done nothing but take back and own the name you've put on me all of my adult life. If you can't get past the name to hear my wisdom, then, your mind is small, indeed - there is nothing that I can say or do for you!

Another thought, folks - I ain't here to win hearts and minds - I'm here to speak the truth. If the truth upsets and offends you, so be it!

By all accounts, I'm not a bad or an evil person, but people can't stand me, so I must be doing something good.

Here's the deal, folks - I'm not creating controversy by what I say and do, I'm just exposing the unaddressed conflict that was already there to begin with!


I'm so sick and tired of people spouting hate speech and calling it free speech. STOP confusing hate speech with free speech. There IS a difference - learn it! If you're denigrating, insulting, putting down or calling for the injury or elimination of someone or a group of people based on their race, color, religion, place of birth, gender, sexual orientation, or disability, you're spouting hate speech, NOT free speech! Your right to free speech ends when you start talking hate. If you don't understand that, you are truly lost.

If there's one thing I've known since I was a small child, it's this: Civil rights aren't given. You have to fight to get them, then, fight to keep them. Nobody, especially minorities, folks with disabilities and other marginalized groups got, or are getting their rights because some politician thought it was a cool thing to do. Every right we have was gained in blood, sweat and tears, with bodies and lives sometimes given in the struggle. All of our rights were gained by direct action, protests and nonviolent civil disobedience. ANYONE, politician or ordinary citizen, who tells you otherwise is at best, obtuse, and at worst, dangerous!


Ok, one last thing that has been on my mind while in Little Rock, Arkansas, with ADAPT fighting for disability rights: A lot of us in the disability rights arena seem to forget that we stand on the shoulders of the Little Rock Nine and other Freedom Fighters. We didn't do this by ourselves; we had help. They blazed the trail for us. They made it possible. Our movement stands on their backs and we'd better not forget it! We've been fortunate that, though some of our brothers and sisters died on actions, it was due to illness. NONE of us ever died at the hands of cops or racists while fighting for our rights. Though many of us, including me got our asses kicked by cops during protests, NONE of us went through anything like what our freedom fighting Ancestors went through. And, if you think all that is old school, I've got one word for you - Ferguson! What I'm saying is STOP equating the two movements - Disability civil rights and Black civil rights - as one and the same because they are vastly different! Trust me, we've got it EASY in comparison! When we start getting hosed, dogs sic'd on us, shot, tasered, tear gassed - when we start having tanks and other military equipment show up at our protests - when the cops start stomping our asses and beating the crap out of us FOR REAL - then we can talk about how hard it is! Until that day, we need to remember and thank those who went before us, sit at the feet of those still around, and take heed and LEARN! 

So there you have it - musings from your favorite (or infamous) Angry Black Womyn. Chew on that for a while until I get back, eh?

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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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My Journey with ADAPT

8/29/2014

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Back then...

I was a shy, mousy 21-year-old, who rarely spoke, and when I did, barely above a whisper. I desperately wanted to work for social justice and social change. Having been born only three years before the death of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I felt guilty for not being able to fight for the civil rights of Black people.

At 16, I got involved in the peace and justice movement, but never felt at home, and never felt as if I were a real part of things. Also, I was often the only Black person taking part in the activities.

How I found ADAPT.

I joined ADAPT in 1986. At the time, I was living in Chicago, IL, my home town. A friend of my godmother called her to see if there was anyone that she knew who would be interested in working as an attendant and interpreter for a man with disabilities. The man, Dennis Schreiber, was a member of ADAPT. He traveled often, and needed someone as back-up staff.

My godmother immediately thought of me, and suggested that I apply for the job. I did, and the rest is history. For the first two years, I just hung out, quietly participating in local actions. It was amazing to be involved in the work that ADAPT was doing locally with transportation issues. I also felt at home because there were people who either looked like me, or had similar experiences.

My first national action.

In March of 1988, I was finally able to go on my first national action - DC Siege/DOT. We had been trying for months to get a meeting with the Secretary of the Department of Transportation, Sam Skinner, to no avail. The action was very intense because we took over the headquarters in Washington, DC. The temperature outside was -4 degrees! We held the building for 30 hours until he finally agreed to work with us. I was forever hooked!

I meet Wade Blank and move to Colorado.

Shortly after joining ADAPT, I met Wade Blank, a national leader, and one of the co-founders. Shortly after meeting him, I moved to Colorado Springs, Colorado, to work with Atlantis/ADAPT. We often went to Denver to participate in actions or meetings, so I saw a lot of Wade, and learned more about organizing and activism.

In 1991, I moved to Denver to work in the main office as a community organizer, working directly with Wade, who became my mentor. Though Wade passed away only two years later, I felt enriched and blessed by being able to work with him. The pearls of wisdom that he sent my way were countless!

Over time, I grew from the aforementioned mousy chick, to a fiery activist.

I have become a national leader, sometimes helping with organizing and negotiations, but mostly helping to keep people informed, safe, and pumped up during the actions. I have also become a ham, of sorts, in ADAPT, singing, chanting, and helping to keep up our troops' spirits. Truth be told, I'm known more for being a ham than a leader!

ADAPT has changed my life. I learned how to be an activist, and catalyst for change.

I have learned (and am still learning) the political process, and policy making. Through ADAPT, I have done some really cool and amazing things. I was one of 50 ADAPT members who met with President Bill Clinton in the East Room of the White House. I have since met Presidents George W. Bush and Barack Obama.

I also helped to plan a successful two-week vigil in Colorado to protest budget cuts that could have sent hundreds of people with disabilities back into institutions, and participated in the Free Our People March, where 210 people wheeled and walked from Philadelphia, PA, to Washington, DC. ADAPT organized the March to bring awareness of, and to call for the passage of what became known as the Community Choice Act (CCA).

While living in Rochester, NY, I helped to plan a week-long vigil after the County Executive cancelled a local independent living center's consumer-directed care program contract, giving people with severe disabilities only ten days to find a home care agency that would accept them.


I now use the written word to teach and influence.

In addition to bringing out the fierce activist in me, ADAPT helped me to rekindle my love of writing. I began writing articles for Incitement, ADAPT's newsletter. Soon, I was asked to write guest columns for newspapers, magazines and blogs. I found that people liked what I wrote, even if they disagreed with me. Many people tell me that they have gained a new perspective from reading my writing and that they have learned new things.

There are two things that I'm especially proud of - I wrote a guide to planning and carrying out vigils and protests that has been used by activists around the country, and an article of mine was included in historian Howard Zinn's book, Voices of A People's History of the United States. It was the only article in the entire book that dealt with disability rights. To say that I am honored is a vast understatement!

Giving thanks...

With that, I want to thank my ADAPT family for taking me in and putting up with me. I am not the easiest person to like, yet you've accepted and loved me for almost three decades, even though I must have driven many of you up the proverbial wall. I especially want to thank those ADAPT chapters that - horror of horrors - had to deal with me living in your cities - Chicago, Colorado Springs, Denver, Philadelphia, Washington, DC, and Rochester, New York.

ADAPT is my life and unless you send me packing, you're stuck with me until I draw my last breath. Even when and if I can no longer be active, I will always hold you in my heart and I will always lift you up. My only hope is that I have given even one-tenth as much to you as you have given to me, and if there is anything that you know for certain about me, it's that I love you with all of my heart and soul!


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A Statement Of Solidarity With The People Of Ferguson, Missouri

8/20/2014

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First, I would like to offer my deepest, most heartfelt condolences to the family of Michael Brown. My thoughts and prayers are with you as you go through what no parent should ever have to go through.

Dear People of Ferguson, Missouri,

My name is Anita Cameron, and I am a Black woman living with disabilities. I am here to say that I stand in solidarity with you. I stand with you in mourning and frustration and rage over the murder of Michael Brown, who was unarmed, by Darren Wilson, a member of the Ferguson Police Department. I stand in solidarity with you as you demand answers and demand justice for Michael.

As a person with disabilities, I am aware that Michael's murder is one in a very long list of Black people, particularly, young men, who have been murdered with impunity by police all around this nation. Most often, no charges are filed, and in the rare cases when the officers are brought to trial, they are either acquitted or given what amounts to a slap on the wrist. I, too, live under the systemic, institutionalized racism that makes Black lives and Black bodies unworthy, less than, criminal, other.

I stand with you in your anguish, frustration and rage as the police try their best to smear Michael's name and dehumanize him.

I stand with you in your peaceful, nonviolent protests, even as your town is militarized like a war zone and the police and outside agitators and local opportunists try to goad you and turn your peaceful protests into violence. Hold on and stand strong against them - YOU know violence is NOT the answer to injustice!

I pray for your safety, for the safety and well-being of Ferguson, for the journalists and peaceful visitors and supporters.

I stand in solidarity with you in the name of Michael Brown, Kimani Gray, Kendrec McDade, Oscar Grant, Sean Bell, Amadou Diallo, Abner Louima, Ousmane Zongo,  Aaron Campbell and all of the Black men and women murdered by police. May justice and peace prevail!

In Solidarity,
Anita Cameron
Denver, Colorado

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Stop Derailing This Conversation!

8/16/2014

5 Comments

 

Some of my friends will be angry with me for this, but it MUST be said - STOP derailing this conversation about what's going on in Ferguson, Missouri!

Let me lay out for you what derailing is. Derailing is a tactic used by people in privileged groups, allies, and marginalized groups to silence or distract from the opinion or conversation of a marginalized person or group and make it all about themselves. Many folks in privileged groups do this a lot, and quite intentionally, but people in marginalized groups do it, too, often without realizing it.

Derailing occurs mostly because someone got their feelings hurt over something that someone in a marginalized group said or did, so they get defensive and say things like, "all that anger isn't helping you or your cause", or "White people get shot by cops, too", or "my Black friend said that you should be angry about all the Black on Black crime". Some of the points may be valid, but don't belong in that particular conversation.

I'm seeing this a lot with the Michael Brown murder. Folks are saying all kinds of stuff to distract us from the main thing here, which is that there is a rising epidemic of Black folks, particularly, young men, being murdered by cops for doing absolutely NOTHING! I've seen all kinds of derailing tactics, from blaming Mike for his own death by trying to smear his name with lies that he assaulted the cop, and that he was involved in a robbery (news flash folks - both stories are untrue - the guy in the video  is clearly NOT Michael, and even if he was, he wouldn't have deserved to die), to people complaining about Black on Black and Black on White crime, to people saying that all cops aren't bad, to folks getting disability issues in the mix - you name it!

In ADAPT, we are taught how not to get issues mixed up, so the disability part in this derailing is particularly disturbing to me. First, let me say this: I am BLACK - when you see me, that's what you see - a Black person. It doesn't matter that I'm also Latina, Choctaw and French because I don't have the phenotypical characteristics of these folks. In other words, I don't look "mixed", so what you see is a Black person. Unless I told you, you'd never know that I am a lesbian; in fact, despite my rather ample endowments, I am often mistaken for a man, especially, since I have a deep, bass voice. If I were not in my wheelchair or on my cane, or if you didn't see me holding things up to my eyes to see, you'd never know that I'm also disabled. You would, however, know that I am Black. That is why, for me, being Black is my primary identifier. The vast majority of the discrimination I experience is based on the color of my skin. That's why all of this hits close to home for me. Now, I've spent almost 30 years fighting for the rights of people with disabilities and have put my body on the line countless times, including 119 arrests, so don't go hating on me for what I'm about to say.

We folks with disabilities need to get off of this derailment bandwagon. If you didn't know that comparing what happened to Mike Brown to what happens to disabled folks is a form of derailment, now you know - it is! That is a very valid, but separate conversation - let's not mix the issues!

Here is a blatant form of derailment: Someone posted an old video of a cop dumping a guy out of his wheelchair, asking why didn't that incident receive the level of outrage as what happened in Ferguson, MO. Folks, I'm almost totally blind, but trust me, I saw RED - and posted this scathing comment: "This ish is horrible, and the cop should be fired and JAILED! BUT it's NOT on the same level as what happened in Ferguson - PLEASE stop trying to compare the two - they are VASTLY different situations! Look, I'm disabled, but I'm BLACK - the issues are DIFFERENT and I'm tired of the conversation being derailed like that - it's totally offensive! What that jerk-ass cop did to Brian was HORRIBLE and he needs to LOSE HIS JOB and be JAILED, but lets not confuse the two issues - the abuse and marginalization of people with disabilities needs to STOP RIGHT NOW, but comparing it with the systemic racism inherent in our police system, indeed, in the very fabric of life as a Black person is just NOT cool! I'm far more likely to get killed for Living While Black than for being disabled!"

A more subtle and well-meaning form of derailment was when a disability group posted a letter of solidarity with the people of Ferguson and used incidents of folks with disabilities being killed by cops in their letter. Again, this is a VERY valid conversation that needs to be had, but not in the context of Ferguson. That would be like the disability community speaking about how wrong it is that disability is often seen as a fate worse than death, and some Black person or some group like the NAACP chimes in about  how Black folks get discriminated against all the time. Valid point, but different conversation, folks - it is NOT the same as folks with disabilities fighting for rights that even many Black folks take for granted!

What I wish the disability group had done was simply stand in solidarity and name the names of Black folks murdered by cops in that lettter. Trust me, I understand about intersectionality, and there are times when the mixed conversations need to be had, but again, not in this context.

Look, folks, I'm NOT saying don't join the conversation. I'm NOT saying not to be allies and stand in solidarity. I'm just saying, let's have this conversation and reflect and mourn and deal with this in the context of Black folks. Right now, this is about us. All I'm asking every other group out there to do is to listen to us and respect our lived experience of Black folks almost routinely, with impunity, being killed by cops for doing nothing. Right now, this is about us, so please STOP derailing this!


5 Comments

It's Not My Country - It Never Was!

8/13/2014

1 Comment

 
I've got to write about this before I scream! I've got to get this off my chest, off my back, off my soul before I succumb to the effects of the vicarious trauma that I teach my CERT students about. I am a Black American, but this is NOT my country - and I'm slowly accepting the fact that it never was, and never will be!

The situation going on in Ferguson, MO, after the shooting of 18 year old Michael Brown, a Black kid who was unarmed, walking down the street with his friend, minding his own business, has gotten pretty volatile, with cops running around in full riot gear, occupying the town. A peaceful vigil and protest turned into rioting and looting and guess what - I fully understand why! Now before you haters start saying that I condone this, hear me - I don't. I am a peace and justice activist after the style of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. , so I'm not into violence and don't want it around me. Still, I fully understand the level of frustration and anger that would lead someone, even a community, down that path.

It's hell being Black these days. Hell, it was hell being Black in this country from the beginning, but at least then, you knew you had no rights. Now, what makes it so bad is that we live under the illusion that we have rights, but what good is it when you are universally hated? Rights don't mean a damn thing when you can die at the hand of some anonymous White guy or White cop simply for the crime of Living While Black - and you know that they will get away with it! Equality isn't equality when you are profiled because you're Black, when the media willfully misrepresents you because you're Black, painting you as stupid, lazy criminals, good for nothing but death.

Oh, but I'm not supposed to get angry about this, because if I do, then, I'm feeling sorry for myself. I'm not supposed to get mad that the media will splash across the headlines, every crime some Black person does, or every stupid thing some famous Black person does, yet won't say a peep about Black scientists, Black child prodigies, Black geniuses, Black teenagers doing good in school and doing positive thing in and for their communities, Black heroes, Black doctors, Black inventors, or anything good that Black people do. If its printed at all, it's downplayed because the media benefits from vilifying, demonizing, objectifying, devaluing and outright lying about Black folks. Our lives ain't worth a damn!

The reality of Black life is that you have to be 100 times better than anyone else to get the tiniest bit of respect. In college, I busted my butt to be better, academically, than my classmates because you know, Black folks are dumb; we all got in through affirmative action, right? WRONG! Even when we are pristine good, totally innocent, if something bad happens to us, we deserve it, because by being Black, we've already committed a crime.

White racists and Tea Party folks whine about wanting their country back. I'm no fool - I know that's code for wanting Black folks gone or at least, back on the plantation. It's bad enough that the systemic racism in place means that if we're not careful enough, don't work hard enough, not lucky enough, not smart enough or not mentally strong enough, we'll wind up where they want us - in prison or the grave.

We Black folks need to wake up and understand that the notion of equality is a farce, an illusion. We need to understand that though we were born here and love this country and are loyal to this country and will die for this country, that it is NOT ours! If the last few years of cops and others killing us with impunity and getting away with it hasn't shown us anything, nothing will.

How much more of this can we take before a violent revolution happens? I don't know, but I do know this: revolution is at our doorstep - it may only take one more killing of an unarmed Black person by cops before all hell breaks loose. Do I want a revolution? Not if it's violent because violence, ultimately, is NOT the answer.

Unfortunately, I understand from whence this boiling anger comes. I'm going through it right now, knowing that I'm judged and suspect because I'm Black and knowing that this country that I love so much isn't mine and never will be. I can only do what I know best - continue to promote peace and nonviolence and be the best person that I can be
. 

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Looking Up From The Bottom: My Views On Privilege And Race

8/6/2014

2 Comments

 

Look out folks, it's about to get REAL up in here! The thoughts that will come pouring forth have been preying on my mind since that day in kindergarten when my teacher asked each of us what we wanted to be when we grew up. The little White girl next to me poked me in the ribs and hissed in my ear, "say a n-----, Anita, say a n-----"! I didn't say that - I said I wanted to be an astronaut. The entire class laughed at me, and the vibes that came off the teacher could have sent a boiling kettle into instantaneous deep freeze - obviously, I'd said the wrong thing!

I've been saying and thinking the wrong things all of my life, so why stop now, eh? Yes, I know I'm supposed to be proud of who I am, but that is exceedingly difficult when most of society is against me.

Let's face it - I'm at the bottom of the barrel. As a Black, disabled, unemployed lesbian staring down the barrel at age 50, I'm only a couple of notches above dirt. Now, before any of you jump to the conclusion that this is a "poor me" piece, stop right there, because it isn't. I am simply telling MY lived experience. Trust me, when the average person sees me walking or wheeling down the street with my jeans and t-shirt and knee-length dreadlocks, the thoughts swirling in his or her head will NOT be, "look at that nice lady!"

Bearing up under multiple minority groups, with the added intersection of poverty is exquisitely...painful. Let's start with being Black. You can lump all people of color into one big monolithic group all you want, but hear me when I say that being Black is far different than being Asian or Latina or Native American. We get treated differently than other folks of color and less is expected of us. Many Black folks my age remember the old quote, "If you're White, you're all right, if you're Brown, stick around, if you're Black, get back!" Nobody would willingly change their skin color to be black, at least, not permanently. When we go out, we are representing our entire race, whether it's in the classroom, on the job or on the street. If one of us does or says something wrong, we are all wrong, yet, if one of us excels at something like reading, math or science, then, we're smart...for one of you people! If you don't believe me, check out this essay by
Peggy McIntosh, who happens to be White. That's another rub - our lived experiences aren't believed unless they're validated by someone from the dominant culture. Oh, and please don't start with the whole post racial thing because we have a Black president. The racial backlash that has happened since he took office has been utterly breathtaking, to say the least! Finally, to those who say that race is a social construct - it is a construct designed to benefit the dominant culture because the outcomes for you and I are vastly different!

Now, let's talk about disability. Generally, we're seen as useless eaters and burdens to society - to be disabled is a fate worse than death. To say that the deck is stacked against us is a vast understatement. The unemployment rate in our community is upwards of 70%, even though poll after poll shows that overwhelmingly, we want to work. 24 years after the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act, we are still fighting to go where everyone else has gone before. 15 years after the Olmstead Supreme Court decision, folks with disabilities are still being unnecessarily warehoused in nursing homes against our will, for the crime of being disabled. Like Black folks, we are presumed to be intellectually inferior, so that when we show that we have two brain cells to rub together, well, we're smart...for one of you people. If we manage to succeed despite the odds - even doing normal stuff like riding the bus, going shopping or just chilling out, why - we're SO brave and SO inspirational - gag!

We women have been laboring under patriarchy since the beginning of time. We have all the babies, but very little power. Men make the laws that govern our bodies. In the 21st century, we still, on average, make less than a man doing the same job and the same level of experience. Double standards are par for the course in our lives - an enthusiastic, hard-charging man at work is a go-getter; that same woman is an emasculating bitch. A man can parade around half naked in the street, but if a woman does that, she is slut-shamed and seen as inviting rape. We are seen as weak, inferior, stupid and paradoxically - dangerous.

Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender folks are only just beginning to attain some civil and human rights in this country, but there are still some places in the world where we can not only go to jail for who we love, we could be put to death, as well! Even in this country, when a gay man or transgender woman is murdered, the killer is often acquitted, or at the very least, the defense will try to justify the murder with excuses of gay scare, or being tricked by the woman.

Being poor in this country is seen almost as a criminal act, a stigma, a blot on one's character and morals. We are blamed for our poverty and most of the programs designed to help us only serve to keep us mired in poverty.

You see, folks, it's all about privilege, and other than the fact that I'm cisgender, I have no privilege. What is privilege, you ask? The best way that I can describe it is a special advantage that is automatically conferred on one group to the exclusion of others. For example, Straight privilege means not having to work on your pride. You don't have to be ashamed that you're straight or come out as straight. White privilege is knowing automatically that 99% of the history taught in schools in this country will be your history; the people depicted in it will look like you. Able-bodied privilege is knowing that when you go to the movies or a sports arena, you can sit wherever you want, not in some designated area.

So, why am I going on about this? Because frankly, the weight of all this is making me angry. I'm tired of working five times as hard to be just as good as the average White, straight, nondisabled, middle class male. Not a day goes by that I don't hear about one of the groups that I belong to either doing something horrible or having something horrible done to us. I treasure every story about ordinary Black folks doing good things because trust me, you rarely hear of it. Still, I'm not supposed to feel down or get angry. I'm supposed to be happy, satisfied, proud and grateful being two notches above dirt - so reviled that other folks of color feel privileged not to be me. Yet, I cannot afford to give up or let this weigh me down. I have to continue to fight against injustice, continue to prove my worth and continue to hang on to my sometimes, tenuous pride. If I don't, who's gonna do it for me...you? 


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