About the Brooklyn Protests Last Night..

When you read a friends post - about an event happening in their community that is far outside of yours, not in your country, not in your town and outside your realm of experience - please try to read it with curiosity, kindness, and concern, not judgement. Do not presume to know what that person is going through what their experience is, or what they are feeling. Do not presume to know what is happening near them. Or what they are experiencing.

Remember first, BE KIND.

They aren't you. And you do NOT know what they would do.

I am trying to be kind. I do not always succeed. When I'm angry or scared, it's very hard.

This morning, I cried for two hours - watching the Mayor and the Governor's press briefings.

I am sharing links here:

* Mayor De Blasio's Briefing on the Brooklyn Protest

* Governor Cuomo's Briefing on Coronavirus and the Brooklyn Protest

The protests took place outside of Atlantic Avenue Terminal and Barclays arena. This a twenty minute subway ride from my home. I did not know about the protests. There were two - one in Foley Park in Manhattan, which never became violent, and one in the streets around the Barclay's Center in Brooklyn. I found out about the second one last night via a friend who lives in the area live video footage from her apartment.

To put this into context - the Brooklyn protests took place in an area that is just a couple blocks from various "hotspots". It had over 3000 people. No social distancing. Brooklyn currently has 54,817 confirmed cases of COVID-19 (that's not counting the ones that have yet to be confirmed), with 5,085 dead. That's the highest of any county in the US for deaths, and the third highest number of cases of any county in the US.

Currently many of the people in these areas are unemployed, they aren't wearing masks or practicing social distancing - hence the uptick in cases. Many of the people are essential workers.

I take the train and work with many of them. The area I live is among the most diverse in the country.

Throughout my life - I've worked in social justice. I went to law school to become a civil rights attorney - unfortunately couldn't get a foothold, so ended up doing what I could within a Railroad and through church, and various volunteer pursuits.

Last night scared me. Why, people chose to go out without regard to their safety or anyone else's and instigated violence near the train terminal I commuted in and out of daily. It was 20 minutes away. And it resulted in more violence and pain. And no, it is not an isolated incident. I've seen more violent protests in my lifetime. The only difference about what is happening now and what happened in the twentieth and nineteenth centuries is we have the internet and social media. So you can see it now.

I've lived through it. When I first started working in Jamaica, there were protests over the police killing of a man at a Gentleman's Club a block from where I worked. And my church had their banner "Black Lives Matter" stolen.
I've had people stare and move away from me and friend on subways back in the 1990s, because she was black and I was white.

And I walked through a housing authority project, in Kansas City, Kansas, with severe infractions - that I worked to resolve with Legal Aid of Kansas City. I've stood outside a courtroom with domestic violence victims and their abusers, as they attempted to get orders of protection. I've marched (I don't believe in person protests solve anything any longer - particularly if violence is involved.) In the 1980s, I remember standing up in a room full of activists regarding the apartheid situation in South Africa - and telling them that protesting for disinvestment by camping out on the front lawn or waving signs, was fucking easy, it was fun and games and the administration was treating them like unruly children because they were acting like unruly children. If you want to get their attention take a page from the smart activists of the 1960s such as Martin Luther King who staged a sit-in. Do a sit-in at the Dean's office where the alumni have to walk by and use that time while sitting there to write letters to them. (They took my advice, and I joined them, sitting on the floor of the Dean's office to write three letters to various members of the board. And you know what? It fucking worked! The college disinvested in South Africa.)

Fresne - want to know what she's been doing? She's working with a major phone bank and calling constantly to get out the vote and change the people who are in office. She's making masks and distributing them to shelters around Los Angelos (another area hard hit by the virus).

A consultant this week that I spoke with over the phone, who lives in the suburbs of Long Island.

Consultant: Every day I sort out eggs and food and take them with my daughter to the El Salvadorian Community where I live.
Me: Thank you so much for doing that. If only I could. [All I can do is give money to various places like the Robin Hood Foundation, Food Bank of NY, and City Harvest, and COVID-19 First Responders. That and wear masks, and stay out of grocery stores, tip delivery people high, and stay home.]
Consultant: I know, I feel like it is such a small thing.

I told a co-worker once that I've learned over time to ignore what people say and pay attention to what they do. Words can be deleted. I deleted a post and all the comments today, because I was furious at the lack of communication. We are so fucking good at judging each other and telling each other "What I would do if this was my situation" or "What I would do if I was" or "IF was a privileged white woman living there I would hope I'd.."

What are you doing? Not, what would you do, because I got news for you? No one gives a shit what you think or hope you would or might do. That's the most useless phrase you could utter. What we all care about and should care about is what are you going to do?

I have a friend on DW who tries to give blood plateletes every week. It's painful. She's in her sixities. She works in a blood bank. She is considered an essential worker. She went into the office on Memorial Day. And she goes out of her way to give presents to older people on their birthdays, at a safe distance and in a creative way.

What acts of kindness are you doing? Not what you think I should do, or you think someone else should do. What are you actually doing?

What am I doing? I work 8 hours a day trying to keep infrastructure going. I send money to various causes. I meditate to keep myself sane and in check. I take long walks through a cemetery and stay at distance. I wear an uncomfortable mask. I get food deliveries and for the first time ever, have been getting take out to keep restaurants afloat. I wish I could do more.
But I am immune compromised. I'm over fifty years of age. I have high blood pressure (the vast majority of people who get COVID-19 have high blood pressure), I have recently been diagnosed with the beginnings of Type 2 diabetes. If I get COVID - it could very well kill me. There's a 60-70% chance. You may not value my life very much, but I do and so does my poor mother and father.

I do what I can. I work with a boss who is black, and I'm proud of that, as I am proud that the president of my organization is Asian-American, and the vast majority of my co-workers and project managers are people of color or various races. Through my job I provide work to minority and women owned businesses. I abate the environment. A recent project provided elevators and stair wells and other safety improvements to a train station in a lower income community.

I do what I can. I don't have a lot.

I live in an apartment in the middle of a big city. It is a 77 unit building. I do laundry in the basement. I don't have a lot of furniture. I do not have an outside garden or a terrace. I don't live with anyone. The only person I spoke with today was on the phone, and the only ones I talk to all week are on the phone.

I go walk through a cemetery to get fresh air. Half the people I pass don't wear masks - many are young and privileged between their 20-30. With their cellphones out, as if nothing matters. The older ones tend to wear them, and it is a mix.

The crisis isn't over. And what is happening with the protests? That's been going on since before I was born. I was born in the 1960s in Chicago - the year of my birth - they had the race riots in Chicago - a block or two from my parents apartment. The city was literally on fire around me when I was barely a year old.

day #74 of Self-Isolation in Epidemic Central

My emotions were all over the place this morning. ( Read more... )

So, after that - I took a walk to Greenwood Cemetery. A three hour walk. I walked the length and breadth of that cemetery. I ran into people throughout, but I managed to stay kind. I avoided them when I could. I wore my mask, even though several of them did not, and when one woman apologized for blocking a path with her stroller, I just lifted my hands in shrug as if to say - it is what is. One man, I passed, I said hello to, his mask was on his chin, mine on my face - but I got it - we were more than six feet apart, and it was spacious and open. He asked how I was doing. I said "hanging in there", with a brief laugh, he said, he totally got that, he was much the same.

At one point, when I was alone, Wales called. I pulled out my phone and answered. We spoke for a while, as I sat beneath a tree and then in front of a tomb. ( Read more... )

We're worrying about the massive evictions that will occur when the Governor's edict regarding no evictions expires. There's so much to be angry about - it is exhausting. I get requests for money to help daily in my email. More than I can ever possibly afford.

So I stared up at the trees, many older than I am.



And things fall slowly into perspective. I feel ghosts walk along beside me, the ghost of old relatives and old friends, long dead and mourned yet never forgotten. Maribeth Martell aka embers_log, dances, and Richard Walker hums a tune, while my grandmother and aunt smile and nod and embrace me. Death they seem to say is the great equalizer. All things die. Only the trees seems to last alongside long faded tombstones, dating back to the Civil War if not before. I see the Civil War Memorial perched on hill surrounded by flowers - a long ago fight to end slavery in the US. Yet it did not end the hatred that inspired it. Only death seems to end that, or so I think.
( my walk through Greenwood Cemetery )