Dear Poljo: I'm sitting here trying to do my taxes, late (!), following our last class Thursday and my family's remembrance of my dad on Saturday, followed by a lovely Mother's Day. I've been reading messages from some of you, and now came to the blog, almost like a fix. Thank you all for posting your work. I've been sharing so many of your stories and discoveries with friends and family. Your work has changed me. The chalk footprints are integrated into who I am becoming. I thank you, each, and all, for engaging thoughtfully, generously, with discerning and intelligent openness, into an educational process.
I hope we keep the blog going. June Jordan said, and Obama's campaign has used: We are the ones we've been waiting for.
Well, you are definitely.
Take care. And as Garrison Keiler says, stay in touch!
Kathy
Monday, May 12, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
from Aileen
Cliffs Provide Shelter for the Homeless
The small town of Hoboken in New Jersey has been notorious for its history. The town which lies on the west bank of the Hudson River is claimed to be the birthplace of many celebrities like Frank Sinatra and Whitney Houston. Throughout the past couple of years, Hoboken has gained a reputation for being one of the most up and coming towns in all of New Jersey. Its proximity to New York, a five-minute ride by Path train, has also influenced its status by attracting many young professionals to live in its neighborhoods. However wealthy the town has become, a number of its residents still live in public housing developments that seem to have survived the recent reconstruction of the area. This alone may be surprising to the individuals living in pricey condominiums on Hoboken’s waterfront avenues. However, the wealth disparity stretches beyond these public housing developments over to the cliff that separates the town of Hoboken from Jersey City. This cliff has become a sprawling neighborhood on its own, with more than a dozen people living among the trees and rocks in makeshift houses. No matter how notorious Hoboken has become these last couple of years, these shanty houses have long been kept a secret.
The cliff, which stretches about two miles from just beyond the North Wing Viaduct in Jersey City to Second Street in Hoboken, has become a home to many homeless individuals. In recent years, this area has undergone a number of renovations. The last of the renovations has been the creation of the North-Hudson Light rail which connects the cities of Hoboken, Jersey City, North Bergen, Union City and Bayonne. Every day thousands of individuals hop aboard the light-rail which takes them to the Hoboken/Jersey City Path Stations for their commute into New York City. Others even go on to Exchange Place in Jersey City, another area which is going under numerous renovations. These individuals ride the trains everyday, along the cliff with these sprawling “shanty condos.”
Those who work closest to the cliff are the ones with the most knowledge of their existence. Many of these individuals claim that these houses have been in the cliffs for a long time but the difficulty in accessing them has impeded many from doing so. It is very difficult to reach the bottom of the cliff and climb your way up to the houses. In doing so you would need to cross train tracks, climb fences and do your best at ignoring “No Trespassing” signs. Once you have managed to pass these obstacles you are in the clear but may be astonished at how elaborate many of these makeshift homes are. Some include glass windows and wooden floors. Others have even created “deck-style” structures with wooden planks.
In recent years there has been little attention drawn to these shanty houses. Last summer there was a fire that was started in the woods along the cliff that brought the situation to the eyes and ears of many. About a decade ago there was an article written in the New York Times addressing the “razing of a shantytown” in the same area. Besides these two stories, only neighborhood bloggers have written a couple of pieces on them.
Though the shanty houses I was able to visit were empty, I still felt as though I was entering a house whose owner had just stepped out. Mattresses and lawn chairs were carefully placed. Colorful posters and cardboard boxes became decorative walls. Blue and black dirty tarps became permanent leaky roofs.
The small town of Hoboken in New Jersey has been notorious for its history. The town which lies on the west bank of the Hudson River is claimed to be the birthplace of many celebrities like Frank Sinatra and Whitney Houston. Throughout the past couple of years, Hoboken has gained a reputation for being one of the most up and coming towns in all of New Jersey. Its proximity to New York, a five-minute ride by Path train, has also influenced its status by attracting many young professionals to live in its neighborhoods. However wealthy the town has become, a number of its residents still live in public housing developments that seem to have survived the recent reconstruction of the area. This alone may be surprising to the individuals living in pricey condominiums on Hoboken’s waterfront avenues. However, the wealth disparity stretches beyond these public housing developments over to the cliff that separates the town of Hoboken from Jersey City. This cliff has become a sprawling neighborhood on its own, with more than a dozen people living among the trees and rocks in makeshift houses. No matter how notorious Hoboken has become these last couple of years, these shanty houses have long been kept a secret.
The cliff, which stretches about two miles from just beyond the North Wing Viaduct in Jersey City to Second Street in Hoboken, has become a home to many homeless individuals. In recent years, this area has undergone a number of renovations. The last of the renovations has been the creation of the North-Hudson Light rail which connects the cities of Hoboken, Jersey City, North Bergen, Union City and Bayonne. Every day thousands of individuals hop aboard the light-rail which takes them to the Hoboken/Jersey City Path Stations for their commute into New York City. Others even go on to Exchange Place in Jersey City, another area which is going under numerous renovations. These individuals ride the trains everyday, along the cliff with these sprawling “shanty condos.”
Those who work closest to the cliff are the ones with the most knowledge of their existence. Many of these individuals claim that these houses have been in the cliffs for a long time but the difficulty in accessing them has impeded many from doing so. It is very difficult to reach the bottom of the cliff and climb your way up to the houses. In doing so you would need to cross train tracks, climb fences and do your best at ignoring “No Trespassing” signs. Once you have managed to pass these obstacles you are in the clear but may be astonished at how elaborate many of these makeshift homes are. Some include glass windows and wooden floors. Others have even created “deck-style” structures with wooden planks.
In recent years there has been little attention drawn to these shanty houses. Last summer there was a fire that was started in the woods along the cliff that brought the situation to the eyes and ears of many. About a decade ago there was an article written in the New York Times addressing the “razing of a shantytown” in the same area. Besides these two stories, only neighborhood bloggers have written a couple of pieces on them.
Though the shanty houses I was able to visit were empty, I still felt as though I was entering a house whose owner had just stepped out. Mattresses and lawn chairs were carefully placed. Colorful posters and cardboard boxes became decorative walls. Blue and black dirty tarps became permanent leaky roofs.
Just a thought...
Yesterday, Kathy said:
"My family had football games at every family party- my brother would put me on his shoulders and I would tackle everybody."
Picturing that, I was thinking... could there be a more perfect metaphor for the woman Kathy has become?
"My family had football games at every family party- my brother would put me on his shoulders and I would tackle everybody."
Picturing that, I was thinking... could there be a more perfect metaphor for the woman Kathy has become?
A Force to be Reckoned With: The Unheard Voices of Today’s Youth (Op-Ed)
Where have all the young people gone? What do they think of the world today, and what do they care about? When I ask these questions to members of the older generations, I often hear answers such as “they’re holed up in a room somewhere chatting online,” “they think the world revolves around them” and “they’re apathetic as long as they get what they want.” I am personally disheartened by these responses; has our society forgotten that it is these same young people who are expected to grow up and become the future bearers of this world, in all its glory and its shame?
Unfortunately, it’s easy to see where some of these pessimists get these preconceived notions. Just flip on MTV for a couple hours and you will see shows such as “My Super Sweet Sixteen” and “The Hills”, which portray young people as needy, greedy and cruel. Turn on the news and there is bound to be a report on some teenager vandalizing property or getting caught with drugs. You will read about teenagers stealing their parents’ pain medication, crashing their cars and participating in risky sexual behavior. To tell you the truth, it’s pretty scary. But last time I checked, every single one of the qualities I’ve just listed applies to a great number of adults as well. Why don’t they get any media wrath?
When I was younger, I read “Dear Abby” every day until she passed away. The following column resonated with me personally:
DEAR ABBY: I'm a 14-year-old girl who often hears negative comments directed at teenagers as a whole. The other day I was sitting in a bookstore, quietly reading, when an employee commented to a customer that "some teenagers were just in here -- that's probably why the display is a mess!"
I have heard other strangers make remarks about teens being lazy, slovenly, apathetic and rude. If these comments were directed at specific ethnic or religious groups, they would be regarded as discrimination, so I want to know if my saying something to these people would be appropriate -- and also why ageism, clearly a hurtful form of stereotyping, is acceptable when it's directed at young people.
I am tired of being followed by store owners and watching other passengers on the bus grab their belongings and scoot away when I come near them. What should I do? - - SICK OF AGEISM IN
I had similar experiences in my teenage years and agree that it seems far easier to “blame the teenagers” than to believe that they can be as well-read and thoughtful as this fourteen year-old girl is. Because of this, teenagers are essentially “shut up” before they can even open their mouths. In my opinion, this goes far deeper than simple discrimination or ageism; I think the leaders of this country are very aware of the potential power of young people and are trying to suppress it. So they have done two things:
A) Leaders have realized that young people are ignorant of their rights as citizens. This is their biggest weapon against them. They have been lead to believe they are powerless, and therefore justify their non-action with the thought that anything they tried to do would essentially be irrelevant.
B) Leaders have instilled a fear of young people. They have been portrayed as a destructive force that, if not controlled, will bring a certain downfall to society. Because of this framing, it is easy to convince people that, if not subdued, young peoples’ ignorance and carelessness will create a mass crisis. Therefore laws are passed to restrain young people (such as curfew laws, or laws that ironically allow young people to be tried as adults) without much debate.
Young people are treated as though they are second class citizens instead of the budding future. Adolescence should be a time when young minds are cultivated in preparation of becoming productive members of the public. When a society alienates its own people, it loses fruitful minds and cuts short potential greatness. If adolescents were respected instead of feared, taught instead of preached, our nation would have far more intellect on which to fuel a deliberative democracy.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
from crissy
How About We Say We are African?
After my interview with Gale Jackson, I met up with some of my friends at a party. Incidentially most of the people at the party were Asian. As I was sitting down a guy in a chair next to me tried to start a conversation we.
“Oh hey you’re white too, that makes like four of us.” He joked.
“I’m not white, I’m mestizo.” I replied.
“What” he said, I wasn’t sure if he just didn’t hear me or didn’t understand what mestizo meant.
“I’m not white.” I said. He looked confused, and then suddenly Gale Jackson’s words from our interview earlier that day entered my thoughts. She had told me that it is important to create your own language about who you. I found this was the perfect opportunity to do so. I remembered Gale also pointing out that we are all traced back to Africa, the first humans were from there.
“I’m African. We’re all African.” I told him.
He looked taken aback as if I was some weirdo. But he’s right I was being a weirdo. I was trying to experiment with the language that we identity ourselves with. I was playing around and trying to say something different.
What Gale had said struck a cord in me. I was not going to use the language given to me to describe others and myself. I was not going to compartmentalize myself against people if I was supposed to be enjoying their company. Saying that I was African seemed a little extreme for the circumstance, but necessary. Where else was I going to start?
All night I kept hearing comments about most people at the party being Asian and few people being white. I found myself saying over and over again,
“I’m African, We’re all African.”
At first I was saying it jokingly, but as the night went on I began to see the power that a shift in language can have in yourself and others.
Some people smiled at the prospect, some people laughed thinking it ridiculous, and I began to see it as a wonderful mode of equalization. Without changing my words they began to say other things:
“We are all human.”
“We are all brothers and sisters”
“We are all from the same place.”
“We are all equals.”
“We are all one.”
I was surprised by the ease and felicity saying these words had. It felt like inventing something that could sit warmly in others and kill that which was cold before. I was turning an us/ them dynamic into a We.
I’m not sure if I will continue telling people that I’m African, because I’m not sure that’s what I want to say, but I think that inventing words and new ways to describe who we are is important because it gives us connection to ourselves and each other.
Just think what could happen if we all just went around saying we were African?
What harm could we run into?
Not much I think.
Perhaps, some people would find me- a non-black girl- using the word African offensive to describe herself, but doesn’t this offense spark the right kind of internal discourse that needs to occur. I imagine people asking themselves, “What is this white doing calling herself African?”
“What does she really mean?”
I think that if we can spark discourse through simple subversion of oppressive language we can begin subvert the oppression. I saw this even at the party where some people began to respond with “I guess you’re right.” Or “That’s funny but true.”
As a biracial person. I’m living proof that there is no real separation between racial groups, because I can no more split myself into one group than I can split myself into two physical pieces and hope to live. What’s wrong with knowing that whether my friend or a stranger has had the same or different cultural experience as me but that we share the same human experience.
The words we use now, black, white, Mestizo, Mulatto, Native American, Indian, etc. are all words given to us by our historical oppressors. My hope is that we can invent words that will allow us to transcend the innate oppression found in these words by abandoning them all together or using them in an ironical fashion.
Though this will not allow us to fix the problems we face today with racism and racial inequalities I feel that it can help us understand the absurdity and horror of these problems and a shift in language will help us facilitate the mentality the country needs to create real change.
If nothing else, it would start a thought process and isn’t that where everything starts. A thought or a feeling can turn into a change.
After my interview with Gale Jackson, I met up with some of my friends at a party. Incidentially most of the people at the party were Asian. As I was sitting down a guy in a chair next to me tried to start a conversation we.
“Oh hey you’re white too, that makes like four of us.” He joked.
“I’m not white, I’m mestizo.” I replied.
“What” he said, I wasn’t sure if he just didn’t hear me or didn’t understand what mestizo meant.
“I’m not white.” I said. He looked confused, and then suddenly Gale Jackson’s words from our interview earlier that day entered my thoughts. She had told me that it is important to create your own language about who you. I found this was the perfect opportunity to do so. I remembered Gale also pointing out that we are all traced back to Africa, the first humans were from there.
“I’m African. We’re all African.” I told him.
He looked taken aback as if I was some weirdo. But he’s right I was being a weirdo. I was trying to experiment with the language that we identity ourselves with. I was playing around and trying to say something different.
What Gale had said struck a cord in me. I was not going to use the language given to me to describe others and myself. I was not going to compartmentalize myself against people if I was supposed to be enjoying their company. Saying that I was African seemed a little extreme for the circumstance, but necessary. Where else was I going to start?
All night I kept hearing comments about most people at the party being Asian and few people being white. I found myself saying over and over again,
“I’m African, We’re all African.”
At first I was saying it jokingly, but as the night went on I began to see the power that a shift in language can have in yourself and others.
Some people smiled at the prospect, some people laughed thinking it ridiculous, and I began to see it as a wonderful mode of equalization. Without changing my words they began to say other things:
“We are all human.”
“We are all brothers and sisters”
“We are all from the same place.”
“We are all equals.”
“We are all one.”
I was surprised by the ease and felicity saying these words had. It felt like inventing something that could sit warmly in others and kill that which was cold before. I was turning an us/ them dynamic into a We.
I’m not sure if I will continue telling people that I’m African, because I’m not sure that’s what I want to say, but I think that inventing words and new ways to describe who we are is important because it gives us connection to ourselves and each other.
Just think what could happen if we all just went around saying we were African?
What harm could we run into?
Not much I think.
Perhaps, some people would find me- a non-black girl- using the word African offensive to describe herself, but doesn’t this offense spark the right kind of internal discourse that needs to occur. I imagine people asking themselves, “What is this white doing calling herself African?”
“What does she really mean?”
I think that if we can spark discourse through simple subversion of oppressive language we can begin subvert the oppression. I saw this even at the party where some people began to respond with “I guess you’re right.” Or “That’s funny but true.”
As a biracial person. I’m living proof that there is no real separation between racial groups, because I can no more split myself into one group than I can split myself into two physical pieces and hope to live. What’s wrong with knowing that whether my friend or a stranger has had the same or different cultural experience as me but that we share the same human experience.
The words we use now, black, white, Mestizo, Mulatto, Native American, Indian, etc. are all words given to us by our historical oppressors. My hope is that we can invent words that will allow us to transcend the innate oppression found in these words by abandoning them all together or using them in an ironical fashion.
Though this will not allow us to fix the problems we face today with racism and racial inequalities I feel that it can help us understand the absurdity and horror of these problems and a shift in language will help us facilitate the mentality the country needs to create real change.
If nothing else, it would start a thought process and isn’t that where everything starts. A thought or a feeling can turn into a change.
Rich's final piece: Election Warfare
This entry is an opinion piece about the perceptions of young people (mainly high school students) in the current election. I'd rather not give a description of the piece and let my writing do the talking. Enjoy!
Election Warfare: A Game the Young Never Win
Political strategists often analyze which presidential candidate is going to get the 18-24 age demographic for their votes, or which candidate is going to get the white vote, the black vote, the Hispanic vote, and so on. In this manner, every possible race, class, gender, identity, and age group is covered.
Or so they think.
In election time, all of the people who can vote are accounted for by each political base. Every candidate needs to get every vote they can get, and try to adhere to every voice in order to persuade those voters to their campaign.
When vying for votes, politics is a game, and sometimes the players are genuine, trying to help everyone they can.
However, the voices often forgotten are the people who are simply too young to vote.
I visited my old high school in Brooklyn, Edward R. Murrow, and I was stunned when I discovered that there were numerous students who were so aware about the political issues plaguing our country today. Enlightened discussions about how future candidates could affect their lives took place in the halls where the majority of people in that building could not even vote.
The election is so vibrant, that people who are not supposed to be concerned with these “adult matters,” are becoming more involved. In a political warfare game where candidates slander each other left and right, it is so satisfying to see something positive emerge from this election season.
I do not know what caused this awareness among a younger generation. The extended media coverage, the internet, the heated primary battle, Obama’s young age, and just the sheer importance of this election may have all played a part in this political change.
In this case however, the reasons for why this change might have happened do not matter. If these sediments among younger people are sustained over a long period of time, the next 18-24 age demographic will be more informed and better political citizens.
Of course, not every 16-year-old has become politically empowered (nor is every registered voter knowledgeable about political issues). But when I was walked through my high school, I noticed that there was a vibe. More students cared.
Yet, these voices are often ignored because they do not matter in determining who gets elected as the next president. College rallies matter because college students can vote.
High school students have voice as well, and though they cannot vote, and the majority of them are dependent on their parent’s income, this is their country as much as ours. Their concerns are real as everyone else’s.
Most public high school students need better teachers, new books and less crowded classrooms, just to name a few issues they face on a daily basis. Parents complain about these issues to their politicians but the voices would be more powerful if the students had a say as well.
I’m not calling for a drop in the voting age but I think it is important to remember that not every voice is heard. Thinking of the children is not going to cut it anymore. Politicians and the media need to start listening to the concerns of children from there mouths, not only through the filter of parents.
Yes, this may not get presidential candidates anymore votes in their political games, but if the United States government is “for the people,” then everyone has a right to get their voices out in the open regardless of how young they are.
Election Warfare: A Game the Young Never Win
Political strategists often analyze which presidential candidate is going to get the 18-24 age demographic for their votes, or which candidate is going to get the white vote, the black vote, the Hispanic vote, and so on. In this manner, every possible race, class, gender, identity, and age group is covered.
Or so they think.
In election time, all of the people who can vote are accounted for by each political base. Every candidate needs to get every vote they can get, and try to adhere to every voice in order to persuade those voters to their campaign.
When vying for votes, politics is a game, and sometimes the players are genuine, trying to help everyone they can.
However, the voices often forgotten are the people who are simply too young to vote.
I visited my old high school in Brooklyn, Edward R. Murrow, and I was stunned when I discovered that there were numerous students who were so aware about the political issues plaguing our country today. Enlightened discussions about how future candidates could affect their lives took place in the halls where the majority of people in that building could not even vote.
The election is so vibrant, that people who are not supposed to be concerned with these “adult matters,” are becoming more involved. In a political warfare game where candidates slander each other left and right, it is so satisfying to see something positive emerge from this election season.
I do not know what caused this awareness among a younger generation. The extended media coverage, the internet, the heated primary battle, Obama’s young age, and just the sheer importance of this election may have all played a part in this political change.
In this case however, the reasons for why this change might have happened do not matter. If these sediments among younger people are sustained over a long period of time, the next 18-24 age demographic will be more informed and better political citizens.
Of course, not every 16-year-old has become politically empowered (nor is every registered voter knowledgeable about political issues). But when I was walked through my high school, I noticed that there was a vibe. More students cared.
Yet, these voices are often ignored because they do not matter in determining who gets elected as the next president. College rallies matter because college students can vote.
High school students have voice as well, and though they cannot vote, and the majority of them are dependent on their parent’s income, this is their country as much as ours. Their concerns are real as everyone else’s.
Most public high school students need better teachers, new books and less crowded classrooms, just to name a few issues they face on a daily basis. Parents complain about these issues to their politicians but the voices would be more powerful if the students had a say as well.
I’m not calling for a drop in the voting age but I think it is important to remember that not every voice is heard. Thinking of the children is not going to cut it anymore. Politicians and the media need to start listening to the concerns of children from there mouths, not only through the filter of parents.
Yes, this may not get presidential candidates anymore votes in their political games, but if the United States government is “for the people,” then everyone has a right to get their voices out in the open regardless of how young they are.
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