If I Disappear Please Come Find Me

“If I disappear, please come find me,” my political activist friend said to me at dinner the other night. Is she at greater risk than anyone else? Do we not all have reason to be fearful these days?

This past week, the Supreme Court passed a law stating that anyone arrested for any reason can be strip searched upon booking into jail. This means that a person arrested for failing to pay a parking ticket can be strip searched when booked into jail. Does resistance to such indignity constitute resisting a police officer? Does the law allow a police officer to strike someone for doing so? Of course. Another new law on the books states that it is a federal offense to peacefully demonstrate at any location where secret service agents are present. (This is how Cornel West was recently arrested for demonstrating outside a federal building.) What happened to our right to gather? To protest? How do protestors know if a secret service agent is present or not? Do you want to place bets on whether or not secret service agents will be strategically placed in locations where government would rather not have a protest occur? It is also legal for a “suspected terrorist” to be arrested, denied a trial, denied a statement of charges, and whisked off to a high security prison in a country outside the borders of the U.S. This has happened to innocent individuals, some held for years, some still incarcerated. Held with no ability to communicate with their families or anyone from their former life. It is possible for a prisoner to be accused of attacking a prison guard and therefore placed in solitary confinement for the rest of his or her life. Indeed, two men in Mississippi have been held in solitary confinement for over 40 years as a result of just such an accusation. With no discussion or examination of the facts.

In a “Driving While Black” incident in St. Louis in the early 70s, my husband Ron spent a weekend in jail for having dirty license plates. If that happened today, he could have been strip searched, could have resisted such indignity and therefore been beaten, conceivably whisked out of the country as a suspected terrorist, placed in solitary confinement, denied communication with his loved ones. Each one of us, whether politically active or not, is vulnerable to being swept up in a Kafkaesque series of events that turns our life into a nightmare of vast proportions. Do I want these “safeguards” so that the government can “protect” me? No, I want protection from the government. From the police. What I want at the moment is to flee the country. But my life is here. My children, my friends, my family. I could not start over at this age. And if I had fled when I was young, I would have lived my life in exile from all of my family because I would rarely (if ever) have been able to return to this country to see them. My ancestors fled state-sponsored terror in Eastern Europe in just this way and it is a wrenching experience.

Instead of fleeing I am seeking allies, I am looking for a host of many who will raise an outcry in defense of me and my loved ones should we need it. Let us stick together. Let the whole world be watching when an injustice occurs. If my talented Black son or my distinguished Black husband is gunned down, please stand with me to demand justice. If I disappear, please come find me.

Collective Healing

From time to time a deeply disturbing public act of violence occurs that impacts whole communities, at times the entire country. Then we have a lot of people experiencing varying levels of grief and pain together in a strangely pervasive way. It was like that when 9/11 happened and when JFK was assassinated. The shooting of Trayvon Martin has had that kind of impact. In our local community, the difficulty of coping with the tragedy in Florida has been compounded by the recent local murder of a young Black man in what appears to be, to some extent, a racially motivated act of violence.

To respond to these events, my friend Dianne organized a demonstration that she called the All Humanity March, which took place yesterday. It was billed as a way for us to show solidarity with one another as caring human beings who embrace our diversity. As the event unfolded, it became quite clear that it was, more than anything, an opportunity for collective healing. Dianne’s opening words to begin the event were so eloquent that I asked her if I could post them on my blog. Dianne is a poet. She says she wrote her words in the form of a poem to make them easier for her to read. I am printing them here exactly as she sent them to me.

Opening Remarks for the March 31st All Humanity March
by Dianne Durham

We have been utterly shaken by the news of the murders of Jamal Andrews in Redwood Valley and Trayvon Martin in Sanford, Florida.

I believe I can say today that we’re all here because we know
that we need to see beyond race, that we need to see beyond economic class,
beyond gender identity,
beyond sexual orientation,
beyond religious beliefs.
We’re here today because we need to see truth as being so much bigger
than the old, bold, distracting, destructive lie.
We’re here because oftentimes
the lie is so much easier to believe than the truth.
And what is the lie?
The lie is that we’re so different from one another,
and that different is always suspect.
We’re here because we need help remembering the truth – our truth:

WE ARE BEAUTIFULLY DIVERSE,
INTRICATELY CONNECTED BEINGS
OF THE HUMAN SPECIES, CONNECTED TO THE EARTH & TO ALL SPECIES
OUR CONNECTION IS PHYSICAL, EMOTIONAL, & SPIRITUAL.

We are here today to remember, to nurture, and to protect our connection.
To remember,
to nurture,
and to protect
our connection.
Today we honor the lives of Jamal Andrews and Trayvon Martin,
and as we send our love to the families of these two young men
who were ruthlessly murdered,
we honor the life of every person throughout history
who has been bullied or taunted, hated, hunted or killed for being uniquely human!
As we remember, nurture, and protect our truth
Let us march today with a renewed sense of strength and unity.

To find out more about Dianne’s activities go to her organization’s website by clicking here.

For photos of the All Humanity March visit the Ukiah Aware Facebook Page by clicking here.

Here is a photo of Dianne (on the right) holding the microphone for Lillian Vogel (seated) to speak at the March. Lil is 102 and still as brilliant as ever (totally there mentally). In the background you can see my lovely husband Ron on the far left.


Photo by Trudy Morgan

What to Say to Our Black Children to Keep Them Safe

One day in 1996, when I was working a 9-to-5 job at Head Start, I received a phone call from my friend S., who lived about 45-minutes-drive from town. S., who is part Black and part Native, was in a panic because her son, R., who was maybe about 20 at the time, had called to tell her he had been arrested for “making an unsafe maneuver on his bicycle.” She begged me to go to the jail to make sure R. wasn’t mistreated or injured before she could get into town. She was terrified he would be beaten. It was late in the day and I was about to leave work to pick up my boys from afterschool daycare. My boys were about 8 and 4 at the time. I promised S. that as soon as I had gotten my boys I would go to the jail.

As I drove over to retrieve my own Black sons, I suddenly realized that I would have to explain to them why R., who often babysat them and whom they adored, was in jail. And to explain that, I had to explain why the police arrested him on a fabricated charge. And to explain that, I had to break the news to my children that the police were not always your friendly neighborhood helper if you happened to be a Black boy (or a Black man). And if I did that, it meant that their dad and I would have to have the talk with them, the talk that I didn’t think we needed to have until they were older, about the precautions that Black young men should take to attempt to stay safe in a racist society. It broke my heart. They were so young, so trustful.

We later learned that R. (who wore his hair in a huge fluffy Afro) had crossed the street in the middle of a block (instead of at the corner) on his bike. A police car immediately bore down on him. R. was in front of the house where he rented a room from our friend J. (who had a son R.’s age) and he was terrified when the police pursued him. He threw his bike on the front lawn and ran into the house. Within moments (this seriously happened), a half a dozen police officers forcibly entered J.’s house, with a snarling police dog and weapons drawn no less, threw R. on the floor, cuffed him, and accused him of resisting arrest! Meanwhile J. (who was physically restrained in her own home by officers) was screaming at the officers that they had no legal right to enter her house without a warrant. In the end, the city offered to drop all charges against R. if he agreed not to sue them. R. wanted to put the whole awful experience behind him and he agreed to the deal. S. didn’t want him to have a criminal record and the agreement would ensure that his record remained clean so she didn’t protest either.

Why am I remembering this story today? Because of Trayvon Martin of course. It brings all of my thoughts on this subject to the fore. The most insightful, moving, and downright useful words that I have read yet in the wake of the murder of this Black child in Florida were written by Touré in this week’s Time Magazine in an article entitled “How to Stay Alive While Being Black.” My Black husband takes exception to this overly dramatic and inherently defeatist title, and I don’t blame him, but the article behind the title is the most healing discourse I have yet read. I would dearly love to just put the whole article up on my blog, despite the copyright. I think this is where I’m supposed to tell you to pick up a copy of Time Magazine. Here is an inside tip: the article has been lifted in its entirety and posted elsewhere on the Internet. (Click here to go to one of those places. Don’t tell anyone who sent you.) I wish to respect the copyright, but I feel compelled to share some of Touré’s words because they touched me so deeply as the parent of Black children. He provides ideas about what to say to young Black boys about what happened to Trayvon, including excellent advice to Black young men regarding how to respond in potentially life-threatening situations. Here is an excerpt from Touré:

It's unlikely but possible that you could get killed today. Or any day. I'm sorry, but that's the truth. Black maleness is a potentially fatal condition. I tell you that not to scare you but because knowing that could save your life. There are people who will look at you and see a villain or a criminal or something fearsome. It's possible they may act on their prejudice and insecurity. Being black could turn an ordinary situation into a life-or-death moment even if you're doing nothing wrong.

There is nothing wrong with you. You're amazing. I love you. When I look at you, I see a complex human being with awesome potential, but some others will look at you and see a thug--even if their only evidence is your skin. Their racism relates to larger anxieties and problems in America that you didn't create. When someone is racist toward you--either because they've profiled you or spit some slur or whatever--they are saying they have a problem. They are not speaking about you. They're speaking about themselves and their deficiencies.

What if it's the cops who are making you feel threatened? Well, then you need to retreat. I don't mean run away. I mean don't resist. Now is not the time to fight the power. Make sure they can see your hands, follow all instructions, don't say anything, keep your cool. Your goal is to defuse things, no matter how insulted you are. We'll get revenge later. In the moment, play possum. Say sir. They may be behaving unjustly, but their lives aren't in danger. Yours is. If you survive, you will be able to tell your lawyer what happened. If you don't ...

I have often wondered if Emmett Till’s mother had had “the talk” with him before he left Chicago and went to visit her people in Mississippi in 1955, if something she said would have stuck in his mind and prevented him from risking and losing his life at the age of 14 by casually flirting with a white woman he did not know. If you don’t remember the story about Emmett Till, look it up. He was brutally beaten to death. His death was a significant event in the advancement of the civil rights movement. But if you were to ask me to choose between having my sons make history and having them alive and well, you can guess which result I would choose. I have emailed Touré’s article to my children. I do not exaggerate when I say that his words could quite possibly save their lives sometime (although I would prefer that they are never in a situation where they must use his advice). Thank you, Touré.

Trayvon Martin. Such a loss. Such a beautiful child.

Edwin Reminiscence

My friend Phyllee and her daughter Bonnie (who is 24) made a StoryCorps recording in August 2011 of themselves remembering Phyllee’s husband and Bonnie’s dad, Edwin Lockhart. The recorded conversation was aired on KZYX radio yesterday evening. Listening to Phyllee and Bonnie talk about Edwin brought him, and those times we spent together in the year before he died, back to me vividly. Unfortunately for me and Ron, we didn’t become good friends with Edwin and Phyllee until the last year of Edwin’s life, so we missed out on all the years before that during which we could have enjoyed his company. Edwin was a Native Pomo, part Hopland Band Pomo and part Pinoleville, I believe, if I remember correctly. He was known in our community because every month, at the full moon, he made a bonfire at his home on the Pinoleville Reservation and people came to share the warmth of his fire from near and far. He called it the Full Moon Burn.

My boys were friends with Edwin and Phyllee’s girls. Bonnie and Akili were the same age and grew up together as did Sequoia and our Sudi, who were also the same age as each other. When Edwin died suddenly of a heart attack in August of 2003, our families became extremely close, with the children spending a great deal of time together in what could only be described as a sibling sort of relationship. In their StoryCorps conversation, Phyllee and Bonnie talked about working through their grief in those first months and years after Edwin passed over and how they have reconciled themselves with their loss and remade their lives. It was clear from everything they said that Edwin is, and has been, very much with them in these years since he died. I know he has been with me.

At the time that Edwin passed over, I was working on The Call to Shakabaz. I had abandoned writing an adult novel called Penelope’s Odyssey in 2001. I had begun Penelope shortly before 911 and couldn’t get back into it after the Twin Towers fell. Once I completed The Call to Shakabaz, Edwin sort of took over Penelope and became my spirit guide as I returned to it and continued writing. I completed Penelope in 2009 (still looking for a publisher for it). I think Edwin is continues to hover in my energy field. Last year I was asked, out of the blue, to write a grant for the Hopland Band of Pomo to expand their tribal court so that it could hear domestic violence, child dependency, juvenile delinquency, and nonviolent drug/alcohol offense cases. We got the grant. I want to note here that Edwin worked as a facilitator in the Victim/Offender Restitution Program. The court being established at the Hopland Rez with the funds I got them (called the Family Wellness Court) is based on restitution and healing. It would have delighted Edwin. Right now I am working for the Hopland Pomo again to write a grant to allow them to assist three other area tribes in setting up their own tribal courts. Go Edwin!

I learned so much more about Edwin as I listened to Phyllee and Bonnie talk yesterday on the radio. One of the things that Phyllee said that resonated with me is that she loved the way Edwin recognized and modeled the importance of spending time with others for no purpose other than just hanging out; and that he would drop in on people spontaneously and people he knew would do the same at their house. Phyllee said, “It’s unheard of for someone to turn up at someone else’s house unannounced these days.” So true. With our high tech rapid communication systems we have lost the value and the skill of spontaneous visitation and hospitality.

Had Edwin lived, I am not sure that I would have ever grown so close to Phyllee, Bonnie, and Sequoia. I sometimes think of the relationship that our families have, the friendship of our children, the friendship I have with Phyllee (who I think of as a sister), and the love our families have for each other, is a gift that Edwin gave to us. After we moved beyond the grief, and even as we were moving through it, and even as we still feel it, we have laughed and danced and share food and watched the flames of many a fire together with spontaneity, joy, and delight. Edwin would have SO approved.

Here is a photo of me, Phyllee, and Bonnie at Bonnie's graduation from CSUMB in May 2011.

On the Occasion of Ron’s 60th Birthday

My husband Ron turned 60 this past week. As my gift to him, I picked up the tab so our children could come home as a surprise to be here for his party last night. He had no idea they were coming. First to arrive were Akili and his girlfriend Tina from San Diego, who turned up in the evening Friday and we took Ron out to dinner, where Sudi (drove up from Oakland) appeared during the meal. Later, at home, we sat around the kitchen table talking. Ron was suspicious that our daughter was also coming but we tried to put him off the track. Then at about 9PM, I got my own surprise when the front door opened and closed, someone entered, and began to play “Fur Elise” on the piano. My baby brother Dan, who lives in Pennsylvania, was coincidentally at a business conference in San Francisco this week so he checked in with Sudi about plans and drove up Friday evening. I took one look at him and said, “What the hell are you doing here?!” At 9:45 the door opened again and Ron knew it had to be our daughter (she had to work and had taken a commuter flight from Santa Monica in the evening) and sure enough she appeared in the kitchen a minute later. The final surprise of the night was that my stepson Brian, who lives in St. Louis, had picked my daughter up in Santa Rosa on his way North and brought her to us. He waited until Ron greeted her to show his face. Ron was blown away that all his children came home to celebrate his birthday.

Several of my dedicated blog readers asked me to write on today’s blog what I said before we lit the cake last night. I doubt I can be as eloquent as I was last night since I am running on very little sleep at the moment, but I’ll make an attempt to write down the thoughts I expressed last night.

As we grow older we begin to look at the things we hoped to accomplish in our lives and to assess what we actually did and did not do. We all have things we wanted to accomplish that we just couldn’t do and I know that there are things that Ron had hoped to accomplish that he has not done. But one of the biggest reasons that he did not get all of those things done is that he was pretty busy raising our beautiful children, all of whom have come home to be with him for his 60th birthday and I thank them for being here. Being a dad to these guys is a pretty big accomplishment.

Last week I said to Ron, “I think we’re going to have close to a hundred people at your party. We have over 20 guests who are coming from out of town.” And Ron said to me, “Why are so many people coming to celebrate my birthday?” It’s so like him to wonder why he’s so popular. I told him it was because we know how to throw a really good party! But seriously, it’s because he’s a really really good guy. A lot of people like him. A lot of people love him. He’s just been there for a lot of people. Sometimes I wish there was an award that regular folks would get to recognize them for just being a really good person who leads an upright life. I didn’t mention this last night, but the word “integrity” comes to mind when I think of how to describe Ron. He’s a man of integrity. He’s also a heck of a lot of fun. I’ll say it again. He’s just a really really good guy!

I think that everyone here [at the party] pretty much knows that Ron struggles with serious health issues and he has struggled with them for 20 years. Some of you have the same health problems so you know from the inside how tough it can get. But Ron works incredibly hard to manage his health conditions so that he can be here for his children, and for me, and for all of you, for many more years to come.

None of us knows how much more time we have left in this life or what will happen tomorrow, but with someone like Ron, who has so many health problems, I am particularly grateful for every day that I have him with me. And I wanted to celebrate his 60th with a big celebration because I don’t know if I will have him for another big birthday, but I hope I will and I think I will because he is determined to stay here with us, so you’re all invited back next year, no just kidding! We will have been married for 30 years in August and tonight I’m celebrating that I still have Ron with me. That he made 60. And thank you to all of you for coming out and celebrating with us.

Well, it was something like that. Now I need to get some sleep….