When Everything is Weaponized

Where shall we end, those of us wanting to live in peace in this weaponized world?

Let's not be fooled: weaponizing everything has another word when it is a strategy used by non-White people. 

That word is terrorism. And terrorism is the environment in which we are now living in the U.S. -- and not as a target from foreign entities.

Terrorism: ordinary individuals weaponizing their bodies, vehicles, or arms to achieve control and political aims.

The news from Wisconsin this week has not been good on this front.

Last night, a man drove his red SUV through barricades and into a holiday parade, killing, at last count, five people and injuring many more. Weaponizing his vehicle, as we've seen in Charlottesville and other incidents.

This was not a protest but significantly in many ways a Christmas parade: and even if it were a protest, the response should not be weaponized by either individuals or the government.

We allegedly have the right of peaceful protest in this nation. Of taking a knee whether on the football sidelines or the streets.

But wait: that brings us to the second piece of news from Wisconsin. The verdict in the Kyle Rittenhouse case.

If weaponizing our civic commons is legal -- i.e., everyone has the right to open carry deadly weapons in public -- then the only self defense is weaponized. As the jury found in Rittenhouse's case.

Gun rights activists are predominantly white and male and this is no accident given our nation's history. Pew survey after Pew survey have found that 60%+ of adults with guns in America today are white men, while this same demographic represents just one third of the U.S. population.

Guns are means of violent control. Ask any woman. Every year, more than 600 women are shot to death by "intimate partners" -- roughly one every 14 hours. Ask any indigenous person, against whose ancestors White colonists used guns and fire to commit "total warfare" or genocide to take the land: killing women and children in multiple massacres, placing bounties on scalps, destroying food supplies. Some but not most of these massacres were conducted by the military; the rest by the "militias" or Rangers now so sacred to the conservative right wing. And these "militias" were fiercely defended by the government in the Second Amendment as they were the principle means for the control of enslaved peoples. Disarming militias was seen as equivalent to subverting the slave system.

We don't need to complete a jigsaw puzzle picture from the above to get that the White Colonialist history of the U.S. is based in large part on white male violence centered on the gun. 

The Second Amendment protects "well regulated militias" -- not individual terrorists. And the more our legal system and government seek to protect the rights of terrorists, the further away from democracy we move.

And finally: around "gun rights" as around so many issues, I have to laugh that this nation, and especially the conservative right, considers themselves proponents of Christianity. The Christian faith with which I grew up was quite clear: "All who take the sword will perish by the sword." (Matthew 26:52)

In times like these, I almost wish we really WERE a nation that truly followed the teachings of Christ: feed the hungry. Clothe the naked. Visit the imprisoned. Put down your swords. Peace be with you. But that's a far cry from the deadly White Colonialist nationalism that is our historical legacy. Putting this behind us will take extraordinary acts of will, morals, and vision at every level of society. Where is our Martin Luther King, Jr.? our Dalai Lama? our Nelson Mandela?

#EndGunViolence

#AntiRacism

#AntiColonialism

Maple Syrup Pie

My maple syrup pie just out of the oven.

Last Friday, November 5 my birth mother, Jeanine Yvonne Deslandes Cook, would have turned 80 had she not passed away at the beginning of September.

Having "found her" only 15 years ago, Jeanine and I did not know each other well and the rich Quebecois heritage with which she grew up -- both of her French-Canadian parents had immigrated just across the border to northern Vermont, and Jeanine spoke only French until she was sent to school at age six -- is unfamiliar to me still.

This is especially true as for some reason, my adopted mother told me that the ONE THING she knew about my birth parents is that they were 100% Irish. She was obviously confusing French-Canadian with Irish as my birth father, it turns out, was an immigrant from Quebec as well. Nonetheless, as a middle schooler I fastidiously created an Irish identity for myself: reading and re-reading Leon Uris's novel "Trinity" and crafting a deep, rich, lusty Anglophobia that persists to this day. I truly do not understand the American fascination with all things British and royal, especially Masterpiece Theatre and movies. Really, rebels. Really.

Jeanine Yvonne Deslandes
Cook in 2016.

But one of the first things Jeanine gave to me was a photo album containing printed recipes from her and from her mother. Her death was quite unexpected, and I treasure this recipe book today as I have few family photos or stories.

On the first page of this recipe book there are TWO recipes for maple syrup pie.

Even with my faux-Irish, Anglophobic heritage I did grow up in New England, and maple syrup is one of my favorite things in all the world.

My Bohemian adopted-maternal grandmother, Mary Urban Endrich, used to treat me to tricolor, store-bought pound cake (harlequin! like the ice cream) soaked in maple syrup. The best part was at the end, when all the crumbs in the bottom of the bowl were saturated with syrup. Yum.

So when I stumbled upon these maple syrup pie recipes I was enchanted.

One of the cool things about both recipes is that it is so clear they were treats made by and for people with little in their larders. They are both made from very few ingredients, all of which would have been on their shelves nearly all the time: flour, butter, and maple syrup. You don't even need eggs, or cream -- although the latter is delicious on top. 

The difference between the two is primarily that one is double-crusted and baked, and the other is poured into a pre-baked pie shell and allowed to set. 

One has a shake of pepper in it. You bet I did that.

And of course I researched other recipes -- because truly, the recipes were so simple I wasn't sure how they held together! One of them sounded like a maple flavored roux in a crust, and I wasn't so sure about that...

I ultimately adapted Mom's recipe with this one from Florence Fabricant in the NYTimes in 1987 -- it has eggs, and I kept Mom or Grandma's shake of pepper, adding some salt flakes on the top just for good measure.

Fire Shut Up in Our Bones

Foreground: Char'es Baby, Billie, and adult Charles
in the new opera, "Fire Shut Up in My Bones."
Photo by Ken Howard

Yesterday afternoon, a warm and sunny fall Sunday, we treated ourselves to a Metropolitan Opera HD broadcast way down east here in Ellsworth, Maine.

We had multiple reasons for wanting to experience Terence Blanchard's milestone new work, "Fire Shut Up in My Bones," based on the book by the same name by Charles M. Blow. First opera by a Black composer at the Met -- and, as Blanchard himself said, not because there isn't a lot of truly great work by Black composers out there deserving of this stage. The book was edited, proudly, by a dear friend of ours.

And last but not least, as women and lesbians who have experienced poverty and abuse, we're all too familiar with the original saying of Jeremiah 20:9 from which Blow's tale takes its title: "But if I say, 'I will not remember Him or speak anymore in His name,' then in my heart it becomes like a burning fire shut up in my bones; And I am weary of holding it in, and I cannot endure it."

We know that the oppression we repress with our silences has been deadly for us. Silence = Death.

Blanchard and Blow's new work is opera on its grand, traditional scale with all it promises: will there be blood? Revenge? Murder? The libretto, by Kasi Lemmons, depicts Blow's choices and actions on setting his fire -- fire burning internally over his sexual abuse as a 7-year-old boy growing up in poverty in northwestern Louisiana -- openly upon the world. 

The abuse, homophobia, sexism, poverty and toxic masculinity with which the opera portrays Blow wrestling is a constant for women, and particularly BIPOC women. As I sat in the dark watching the character of Blow struggle with his angels of Destiny and Loneliness (embodied by soprano Angel Blue), I could not but wonder: what would my friend, activist and playwright dee Clark, think? and would, or could, her story ever be validated and made visible on a world stage as large as the Met?

As many of my friends, colleagues, and readers are aware by now, dee passed away last Sunday, on All Hallow's Eve. The chronic health issues with which she struggled, including a genetic pulmonary disorder that demanded she be on oxygen 24/7, had spiraled downhill too quickly in just one week. She was only 64 but like many of opera's mythical female protagonists had lived lifetimes. It is a loss for all of us, for survivors everywhere and for our communities -- and tragic in that she did not live to see her memory-play, THE LAST GIRL, fully produced as she so dearly wanted.

Everything dee did with her life after surviving years of sexploitation and trafficking, including and perhaps especially writing THE LAST GIRL and creating a healing advocacy program for survivors around it titled Making the Last Girl First, was to support and amplify the voices and needs of other BIPOC girls surviving similar situations.

Like Blow, dee learned that telling her own story was healing, and encouraged others to tell their stories as well. Unlike Blow, dee's circumstances didn't support her in attending Grambling State or any university, nor did she have the male privilege and visibility to become a regular columnist at The New York Times. Last Girls too often become Forgotten Women. BIPOC girls are last precisely because it is their voices and lives that are viewed as disposable in U.S. culture; lives that remain invisible beneath the narratives and repression of this nation's dominant culture, forged as it is by racism, sexism, and poverty.

We will continue to develop and to share dee's story and play in tribute to her and to advance the legacy of her work. 

Would she have enjoyed "Fire Shut Up in My Bones"? I found its framing of homosexuality and women troubling: these oppressions are not just presented as Charles's crosses to bear, but in scenes, such as the top of Act 2 with beautiful gay male spirit dancers, that connote homosexuality more generally as punishment -- as a lower-level choice than his privileged relationships with women.

But dee said to me over and over she was an opportunist: she had learned to take advantage of those small gaps and windows and resources when they appeared. And she loved music, and the way Blanchard skillfully wove together jazz, gospel, and classical into the operatic form is stunning, as are the performances. I am hopeful that the success and visibility of "Fire Shut Up in My Bones" provides an opening for the voices of Black survivors of sexual abuse to be heard, recognized and supported. 

I imagined that if dee were sitting next to me she would have known this and, enjoying the spectacle, wanted it for her own story. "How do we get THE LAST GIRL at the Met?" she'd lean over to whisper, just as she did when we discussed sharing her memoir in book, cinematic, or dramatic form (she wanted to do all three).

I want this level of acknowledgement and visibility for THE LAST GIRL and for all forgotten women, too. Charles Blow and Terence Blanchard, are you listening?!

Sunday Morning Reflections: How We Make Meaning and Act Upon It

Continuing my ponderings on what we know, how we know it, what it all means and the choices we make as citizens based on this meaning.

Consider these statistics:

• unemployment was 6.3% when Pres Biden took office
• the Congressional Budget Office calculated it would take until the end of 2023 to get to 4.6%
• we hit 4.6% yesterday after adding 531,000 new jobs in October

Markets are man-made. They don't have a life of their own. Government policy steers them and, in the best nations, helps to protect its citizens from being chewed up by the greed of uncontrolled markets.

Thus my favorite quote from the past few days:

“Bold fiscal policy works,” Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen wrote on Twitter. “A rebound like this was never a foregone conclusion. When our administration took office back in January, there was a real risk that our economy was going to slip into a prolonged recession. Now our recovery is outpacing other wealthy nations’.”

Remember that when Republicans decry interventions such as the American Rescue Plan, the Build Back Better Plan, and vaccine mandates as "socialism" they are really saying: do not redistribute our wealth! We are entitled to being the 2% who control 16x as much wealth is 50% of all Americans!

Worse, Republicans' labeling of government interventions and protections on behalf of 98% of all Americans has racist roots. It began post reconstruction in the south as a way to deny that Black citizens and poor white workers should have the vote and create public services that would benefit them and all. (historical fact h/t Heather Cox Richardson)

The greatest eras of prosperity in this nation were created by Democrat AND Republican presidents in the period spanning FDR to Johnson. This broader-based prosperity was largely the result of government policies and programs.

Don't let the rich folx of any party fool you. Smart government fiscal, treasury, AND legislative policy is what builds prosperity beyond Wall Street (89% of whose stocks are owned by the 10% of wealthiest Americans, BTW). The stock market won't save us. But good government might.

And late breaking news related to this: check out this very cool "Cognitive Bias Codex"! https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/65/Cognitive_bias_codex_en.svg?utm_campaign=Recomendo&utm_medium=email&utm_source=Revue%20newsletter

And this! the economy is getting better, why do we think it is getting worse?! https://www.nytimes.com/2021/11/06/upshot/inflation-psychology-economy.html?campaign_id=2&emc=edit_th_20211107&instance_id=44834&nl=todaysheadlines&regi_id=63630&segment_id=73779&user_id=7abe35e910d636e32eee15d3dcaa3063

#protectvotingrights for all today.

#VoteSmart

#knowhistory

#LearnFacts 

The Amazing Life, Legacy, and Inspiration of dee Clarke

On Monday morning November 1, I received a call from a fellow member of the board of SurvivorSpeakUSA. I was in a meeting and the message was merely to call back.

By noon I'd learned that my artistic partner, friend, and mentor dee Clarke, the founder of SurvivorSpeak, had passed away the previous evening.

I have been unable to speak since then. While all life is temporary and I believe death is merely a passage of the soul between different forms -- it is still a blow to the gut when a dear friend and fiercely burning bright star has flown too soon.

As well documented in today's obituary, dee was not only righteous and fierce: she was a person of great great heart. Softness as well as steel.

She moved me, she changed me, she made me feel I had a compatriot in this world. With dee, our belief that we CAN intersect our work as artists and activists meaningfully, with purpose, to continuously make this world better for those with the least among us was made real and tangible.

dee knew in her bones and blood that the lives of BIPOC girls and women are still predominantly invisible to the great chewing engine of white dominant culture. She entered this fray and did not get spit out -- rather, she made a difference to many. Yes, through her legacy of legislation and her amazing personal story and memory-play, THE LAST GIRL: and perhaps most importantly with great kindness and love and caring for the immediate, real, too-often-dismissed needs of individual women and others experiencing poverty, sexual abuse, violence, trafficking, homelessness and mental illness. She worked every day to put the last girls first, so we end the chain of creating forgotten women. We can all join the nonprofit she founded and led, Survivor Speak USA, in putting The Last Girl First.

“She was a person who very powerfully put her love of survivors, of black and brown folks, of poor people into action. She did that more graciously and warmly than anyone I have ever met,” [Cait] Vaughan, [chair of the board of SSUSA] said. “Part of what drew some folks to her was that she was authentically herself. No matter how much she achieved since she became a recovered person and advocate, she was always able to stay very grounded in who her people were and where she came from. She spoke to everyone directly from the heart.”

Exactly one week before she died, we travelled down to Portland to attend, with dee, a wonderful play at Mad Horse Theatre Company. She had accepted my invitation, aligned with our work together on THE LAST GIRL, and while it was challenging for her to get around, with the able support of one of her caretakers, Amanda, we attended. When we got her and her oxygen settled in the front row, I bent over to show her my jacket. It is an old purple suede thing from my days in NYC long ago. Her eyes widened as she touched it. "I wore it for you," I said, referring to the role a shoplifted purple suede holds at the beginning of dee's play. She chuckled. "I like it," she said. And then she looked me right in the eye. "You and I would have been trouble makers together."

Yes, dee, yes. Making good trouble in the best sense of John Lewis's term -- plus some regular old fun and mischief as well. I will keep making trouble in your name. In peace, love, and strength -- fly on, sister. Fly on.