Gulf Coast Gringa

Christmas Presence

2008-11-16T10:41:00.000-08:00

The summer before I left the country for a year of studying abroad, I had a combination birthday party/going away shindig. On the super-classy computer print-out invitations, I asked my friends to come celebrate with ice cream sundaes and told them "No presents; just your presence!"

In that spirit, I give you the 2008 edition of my dear friend Rachael's Christmas letter (for last year's, see here). I think it's a truly stellar idea because it puts Christmas outside the box (literally and figuratively). It's the birthday of a boy who would grow up to tell tax collectors to sell their possessions and give the money to the poor, so why do we celebrate the occasion by buying more stuff for people who already have enough material things?

Sure, the Magi brought gifts--but do you really think Baby Jesus ever used that myrrh or frankincense to spruce up his guest bathroom? I'm thinking those luxurious gifts were more a symbolic representation of the worth beyond measure of this sacred and special new baby, rather than examples of what to ask for (or give out) on your Christmas list this year. Think about it--the shepherds honored Jesus simply by showing up and spending some quality time manger-side, then going out into the world to pass on the good news. Given all the parables involving shepherds, and the fact that God has a habit of choosing them for important jobs (uh, Joseph, anyone? Or David, little shepherd boy-turned-king?), it's not a bad example to follow.

(If you're really and truly a frankincense-and-myrrh kinda person, or you just like showing people you care through getting them something they'll thoroughly enjoy, I have a post in the works for non-traditional/non-consumerist gifts coming up.)

So Merry Early Christmas (it feels weird breaking out Christmas carols and decorations down here when it's still warm enough to get a sunburn, so all y'all up north sing a round of Jingle Bell Rock for me while you're making sugar cookies, aight? And save me some cookies!!!), and enjoy this missive from the lovely Raquel who has so graciously allowed me to post it here!

My ideal "Christmas Presence" gift would be playing Christmas carols on my accordion with my Grandma--alas, due to geographical constraints, we'll have to wait until next year (inch'Allah).

"Season’s greetings!

As you may remember from last year I have started to change my approach in the celebration of Christmas! In order to do so, I must compete with all the holiday marketers who will begin to fill our television sets and radio stations with reminders of the coming Advent as soon as we put away our Halloween costumes!

This year I watched a hilarious and moving documentary called What Would Jesus Buy? about an activist group called “The Church of Stop Shopping!” that toured the country during the Christmas season and spread the message about the “Shopacalypse”: the mass commercialization of Christmas. The movie challenged me and other viewers to examine: why we buy so much, where we buy, and how we buy in an effort to identify what we can do to transform our habits and communities…not just during Christmas, but year round.

The movie also asked a fascinating question. What would Jesus buy? A Nintendo DS for the disciples? A spa day for Mary Magdalene? A new GPS system for Joseph and Mary? Economists predict that the average American will spend $801 this season, which ends up at a national total of about $241 billion. Something tells me that our friend Jesus Christ (the birthday boy) wouldn’t choose to spend that $241 billion at Amazon.com. So for as much as I love waking up to a tree bearing beautifully wrapped surprises with my name on them I had to ask myself: Is there a way to celebrate the birth and life of Jesus Christ without also celebrating material excess? Can I still retain the tradition of gift giving without also endorsing sweatshops, wasted packaging, and holiday debt? Yes!

Christmas Presence 2008

I approached the pastor at my church and told her that I was interested in creating a service project on Christmas Day to fill a need in the community and provide an alternative way to honor Jesus Christ’s life on the holiday. We discussed the large number of members of our congregation who end up spending the day alone because they are far away from family or simply do not have loved ones with which to celebrate. For them, Christmas is a dreaded and lonely holiday, not full of the joy and excitement I have been lucky to experience throughout my life.

So I devised my response: Christmas Presence, a community celebration to take place in the church basement that focuses on the gifts of fellowship and sharing and provides a place for people to gather and celebrate the joyous day with their extended church family. The benefit of Christmas Presence is twofold: it provides a celebration on Christmas Day for those who otherwise would be alone and also allows for an alternative to the usual fare of wrapping paper and batteries not included.

But Christmas Presence cannot happen without you! On this Christmas, I respectfully request that you not give me a traditional gift. I am a lucky girl and nothing I need can be bought at a store! (Unless you know of somewhere selling The Perfect Man. Because I’ve been looking for him everywhere and he seems sold out.)

If you planned on giving me a gift this year, the best present you could give me is a donation of $20 to Lake View Presbyterian Church designated for the Christmas Presence program. With your donation, I will be able to fund my Christmas Day service project and help to bring joy to the community and honor the life of Jesus Christ in a unique way. Money raised in excess of the program costs will be donated to Unitus, a non-profit that works to reduce global poverty through microfinance services, empowering millions of people throughout the working world. You are also warmly invited to participate in Christmas Presence. Turn this over for details about the festivities and your special invitation!

Send checks to Lake View Presbyterian Church at 716 West Addison Street, Chicago, IL, 60613

Please designate: Christian Nurture Committee “Christmas Presence” Program

Printed on Recycled Paper

* * *

You are invited to Christmas Presence

“No presents, just your presence!”

A holiday celebration for our extended Lake View Presbyterian Church family (and anyone else in the Chicagoland area!)

Christmas Day 2008

4 pm to 7 pm

The purpose of the “Christmas Presence” event is to provide an alternative celebration for the Lake View Presbyterian Church community that focuses on the gifts of fellowship and sharing.

The idea behind this event is to approach giving presents in new and alternative ways. People attending the event can choose to give of their time or talents or provide the present of their presence; because the greatest gift one can give is companionship and love. The event provides a place for those otherwise alone or away from family on Christmas to engage in celebration with their “extended” family. It also provides people with a different way to honor the birth of Jesus Christ, with friendship and love instead of wrapping paper and shopping lists! Members can choose how they enjoy the event, but not pressured to do anything but show up and celebrate!

The church basement will be set up with different stations, where people can choose how they want to celebrate and spend time together. The stations will provide different opportunities for people to give “presents” in alternative ways. Stations include:

1. “Joy To The World” Music Station

Live holiday music provided by church members giving the gift of their artistic talent

2. “Deck the Halls” Christmas Card Station

People are encouraged to make cards for an unexpected recipient, the mailman, their favorite pizza delivery guy, or the new neighbor, to give some surprise holiday cheer. Paper, stamps, art supplies and markers will be provided

3. “Visions of Sugarplums” Cookie Decorating Station

Kids of all ages can decorate holiday sugar cookies. Cookies, sprinkles, frosting, and fun will be provided

4. “Prince of Peace” Letter Writing Station

In the spirit of peace, people are encouraged to write a letter to a soldier away from home, a political prisoner, or a lawmaker influencing foreign policy. Sample letters, addresses, stamps, and envelopes will be provided

5. “The Little Matchstick Girl” Community Art Project Station

Church members will donate t-shirts before the event and during the evening participants can decorate t-shirt patches that will be sewn together after the event to make a t-shirt quilt. The quilt will be a collective gift that will be donated to a local shelter.

Christmas dinner will be served.

The event will include holiday refreshments, games, carols, fellowship, and more!

Give the greatest gift of all: your Christmas presence!"

Thanks, Rach!

It's A New Day

2008-11-15T09:01:00.000-08:00

We did something good the other week.

As a country, we did something good.

Together.

Not often you can say that these days...

Check out the video I stole from my friend Kate's blog--the link's in the title of this post.

I tear up when I watch all the American flags waving in Grant Park--that's my home city. Those are my people. That is our flag. It's okay to be patriotic again. We have something to believe in.

I don't have any illusions that our president-elect will change things overnight--*poof!* Quite the opposite, in fact--since the beginning, I've had my share of reservations about just how progressive the man for change would be. I'd done my homework back in 2004 when I was organizing a social justice issues forum for the Illinois senatorial candidates, and I knew his voting record, his habit of waiting for others to go out on a limb before stretching his neck out there himself.

So throughout election season, I watched, I waited--but I didn't get my hopes up. I didn't get swept up in the fever; I didn't fall in love (with everyone's favorite candidate, at least, ahem). But watching election returns with a house-full of Americorps volunteers giving a year of their lives to serve their country and their community--including 30-something 20-somethings who actually cared about politics, three middle-aged black women community activists, and a Vietnamese-American friend of mine wearing an "Asians for Obama" sticker

--watching Jesse Jackson tear up because after a brutal, corrosive history of slavery, racism, and oppression, we had elected our first black president--talking to my friend Rachael as she cheered and reveled in the instant community that sprang up in our home city's beautiful common space--I felt some of that cynicism die.

I know--Leah, a cynic, you say?? Impossible! But it's true. In this most-hopeful-of-all election seasons, I, the eternal optimist, played devil's advocate to my liberal friends' overflowing O-thusiasm, listened thoughtfully to what my conservative friends had to say, and put any and all thoughts about a bright and shiny new future for our country on the back-burner.

But the day after the election, when I asked my coworker and friend Mary, a solid Republican, what she thought about the previous day's events, she said she was alright with our new president-to-be. She felt like he would listen to the country, like he would build some bridges, even if she didn't agree with everything he did. He said as much in his acceptance speech: "As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, 'We are not enemies, but friends ... though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection.' And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn — I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too."

And so for the first time in a long time--because, as my friend Kate points out, my generation has come of age amidst 8 years of misleadership, political opacity, and war--I feel hopeful about politics. I feel hopeful about the ability of our country's leader to lead. To challenge this very capable country, this innovative, hard-working, creative people, capable of sacrifice, with a new vision, and to marshal us toward it. For as Proverbs 29:18 says, "Without a vision, the people perish."

I've been reading Jim Wallis' God's Politics, from which I borrowed the above verse, and it has confirmed my belief that we as a country need that challenge--the kind that Lincoln, FDR, and Kennedy called us toward--and that when we crawl out of partisan trenches and come into that scary, barren, possibility-filled no-man's-land in between party lines, we are much more likely to accomplish good; we are much more likely to align ourselves with God's vision, as opposed to claiming, as Lincoln prayed we might not, that God endorses our side over our enemy's.

This doesn't mean that I will let go of my strongly-held values or that I will stop struggling for justice or praying for the guidance and courage to change the world we live in--I'm not going to be happy, for example, that Obama is for civil unions but does not consider it politically expedient to voice support for our gay brothers and sisters to unite in holy matrimony in the same way as our straight fellow citizens--but it does mean that I have come to see the value of unity over division--of post-partisan politics, if you will. That might sound a bit naïve--but then, I always was an optimist at heart.

(Sidenote: when I googled "text of Obama's acceptance speech" in order to find the words for the quotation used above, the first two websites to pop up were The Zimbabwe Independent and The Hindustan Times (India), a fact which highlights how riveting, how truly life-or-death, this election has been for people all over the world. Foreign Policy is one area in which I have experienced an unabashed renewal of hope since this election--our new president will have a concrete, profound, renewing effect on our global relationships, in a way that a simple change of head-of-state would not have accomplished. I am excited, really EXCITED, about the possibilities for rectification, restoration, and--dare I hope it, pray it--peace.)

photo credit--my buddy Vince

Election Day Warm Fuzzies

2008-11-07T20:41:00.001-08:00

Reposted from a Nov. 4 email:

Yay voting! Did mine this morning, first time ever actually going to the polls (instead of voting absentee). Got a sticker! Honestly, even if it weren't my "civic duty" to vote, and I weren't jaded-but-still-ultimately-a-believer in this whole democracy thing, I would do it just for the sticker (I was one of those kids who went to the dentist for the stickers and the cheap plastic trinkets you got to pick out of the "wishing well" at the end of your visit).

Pulled up into the Latimer Community Center (my local polling place) parking lot, which has never had more than 2 cars in it when I've driven by, to find it full to the brim. Short line inside (I waited until after 9am, thank you to bosses who are flexible about performing your civic duty!), got the above-mentioned sticker, thanked the poll workers, and voted in person for the first time in my young life--used a wide-out-there-in-the-open computer touch screen, somehow that seems anti-climactic, where are the little curtained polling booths with actual paper ballots of my youth when my mom worked election polls and brought me along to observe? (I spent most of the that day reading my new issue of Cricket magazine, but I think she knew that as an elementary-schooler I would soak up the whole thing like a sponge and it would become part of my civic make-up. Thanks, Mom, for the electoral osmosis--it worked!)

Walked around on a high all day, smiling at fellow sticker-sporters in a conspiratorial kind of way (Who cares how they voted! It doesn't matter, we shared in this mystical good-cheer-mongering communal act! It's like Christmas!).

From an fMh commenter:
"I always love voting in major elections. The whole process feels almost holy to me. It’s like a secular sacrament."

Ditto. Like I said, for better or worse, I'm a believer at heart.

El Colegio Electoral

2008-11-07T19:28:00.000-08:00

If you think the Electoral College system is complicated, try explaining it to a group of foreigners. In Spanish.

Yeah.

You know, though, I learned an awful lot about why we have the electoral college (to equalize voter turnout discrepancies, give smaller states more power, and preserve the federal character of our nation, to name a few reasons), why maybe we shouldn't have the electoral system (it gives inordinate power to a small handful of "swing" states; it occasionally nullifies the popular vote; it discourages voter turnout in solidly "red" or "blue" states, etc.) and the history of the whole bizarre system (the Founding Fathers didn't want the President being able to claim that he had a direct mandate from the people, making him more powerful than the then-indirectly-elected Senate, or the still indirectly-elected Supreme Court, and they didn't want the uneducated masses to be choosing the leader of the entire nation because we are too, well, uneducated; disturbingly, Constitutional Convention delegates from the South favored the system because it allowed southern states to count slaves in the population census that determined their allotted number of electoral votes, but of course denied them the right to choose electors (aka vote). The latter = bogus; the first made sense at the time; and the second maybe still holds water?? okay, okay, sarcasm. Sort of). Thank you to Miss Mary and Wikipedia for the civics lesson.

It was gratifying to see how interested the our Mujeres Unidas were in the whole process, given that none of them could vote in this past election (still waiting on visas, permanent residency, and/or citizenship. Sigh). They wanted to know what the new president's views on immigration would be (hard to say, as he wasn't very forthcoming on policy specifics during the campaign--I'm hoping he'll be pro-immigration reform, like John McCain was before campaign strategy made his rhetoric migrate more towards the reactionary immigration policy of his base). They wanted to know why the Republican symbol is an elephant when Republican starts with an "R," not an "E" (good question; here's the answer). They had questions about what happens if electors vote against the state's popular vote (it's happened before, but most states have a slate of electors for both parties, and the slate belonging to whichever party's candidate wins in that state is the one that then casts all that state's electoral votes on December 15th. Nebraska and Maine, however, split their votes proportionally instead of using a winner-take-all system). They wanted to know if voting is obligatory--which might seem like an odd question, but it is in other countries such as Peru, where you are fined for not voting. I had an interesting conversation with my Peruvian friend/coworker Rosa about how, for three years, she toiled as an activist working to restore democracy during the Fujimori dictatorship, but she now no longer votes because she doesn't believe in being forced to make a choice, one way or the other (her family in Peru pays her fines for her). Another reason she disagrees with mandatory voting: it is a huge burden for poor, rural citizens who sometimes live up to five or six hours distant from their polling places and must lose a day's or more wages just to obey the law. Oh, and if you thought early voting lines were bad here, just imagine the traffic jams when EVERYONE has to get to the polls instead of just 30 or 40 percent of the population. Gives new meaning to the term "civic duty," no?

But seriously--what would it look like if voting was mandatory here? I believe that voting is a vital part of ensuring that our democratic republic functions as it's supposed to--really, it's the whole basis of our system. And of course, the more people vote, the more our government will serve as an accurate reflection of the people's will (at least in theory; I'm not allowing for shady political maneuvers, Congressional corruption, failed promises, wild misuse of expense accounts, etc.), and that's a good thing. So, again in theory (disregarding traffic jams), it would be great if everyone voted. And that will never happen if we are left to our own devices--apathy, ignorance, logistics, and those pesky other priorities called "work," "family," "health," etc. see to that. But it's a little Orwellian--taking away your free will about whether to exercise your free will--to make it the law of the land that one must vote.

Then I think of my South African friend Craig, who is weeks away from obtaining his citizenship, and how much he wanted to be able to vote in this election. And I think of our SafeSpace homies who, even though they have paid their "debt to society," they are, as ex-felons, ineligible to vote. And then there are folks like my buddy Scottie, who, simple soul that he is, wanted to vote for McCain/Palin because "That Sarah Palin sure is a nice-looking lady," but come Election Day, his registration hadn't come through and he had to cast a provisional vote, which most likely will not count--a vote lost to bureaucratic error.

So no, voting shouldn't be mandatory--but even though it's sometimes a pain to stand in line, and we have a seemingly counterintuitive, Rube Goldberg-ian system of electing our President, every single one of us with the right to register should be out there exercising our civic privilege (since, thanks to the freedoms outlined in our Constitution and Bill of Rights, we have no obligatory "duty" to do so. Sorry, Peru).

¡Sabor de las Américas!

2008-10-18T19:42:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, September 28th, over 500 people attended our second annual Sabor de las Américas (Flavor of the Americas) heritage festival, enjoying authentically prepared food, a live Latin band and folkloric dance troupes representing the diverse cultures of Latin America. El Pueblo held a press conference about the need for just immigration reform, while our women’s group, Mujeres Unidas (Women United), sold t-shirts they had designed themselves, and our health fair offered free screenings geared toward the underserved Spanish-speaking community.

It was a beautiful day of celebration, education, and bridge-building in the unique melting pot that is the Mississippi Gulf Coast. A big thank you to our sponsors and to all of our volunteers for making this wonderful event possible!

Enjoy the photos.

She loves the dancing, she does!

Panamanian dancers recreate the mating dance of a native bird.

Bridget, Rosa y Ana watching the dancers. Check out Ana's fake PUMA shirt: PERU (with a llama).

Is this an Old Navy ad? Or simply the 2007 mullet-toss queen and her groupies? Or maybe just Anne and her homies dancing to the Cupid Shuffle. You pick.

Julio y David, our favorite serenaders, singing Mexican love songs. Ay, ¡que romántico!

Ingrid works her mad face-painting skillz on one of the kids.

Elizabeth, la reina del festival--she made the whole thing possible.

One of the Panamanian dancers, reminding me excessively of one of Gaugin's statuesqueTahitian women.

Kimberly, Carmen y Tere--some of our lovely Mujeres Unidas.

The dancing Colombiana. Her dress looks like an exuberant orchid, no?

Nothing better than a guitar piñata and a stick to smack it with.

Tour of the Faithful--statements from various denominations about the need for just immigration reform are read aloud.

Tour of the Faithful groupies!! They were on TV, too!: http://www.wlox.com/global/story.asp?s=9088370

Mexican folkore dance troupe, courtesy of Mujeres Unidas--even more charming in person!

Available for special events and quinceñearas. No, seriously, we are.

Dance No. 2, à la cowgirl.

the evening ends with a serenade of the lovely Katherine.

* * *

¡Que gran éxito!

Who Would Jesus Deport? Response

2008-10-18T19:35:00.000-07:00

I responded to Doug's comments/questions concerning my last post a while ago in person, but I figured I'd do it here as well in case anyone is still reading this and/or cares. Heh.

My response was two-fold: first and foremost, the goal of the post was to humanize the story of immigrants who are here with good intentions, who contribute to society, who do not merit (no one does) the term "illegal alien." I believe very strongly that one of the primary ways one gets beyond the "us vs. them" mentality that is such an obstacle to real dialogue and community-building is by getting to know the "them"--and then realizing that "they" are not very different from "us." It then becomes difficult to stereotype, ostracize, or hate on the "them"--because "they" have become real people. Case in point: I just went out for coffee with the farm manager I mentioned in the beginning of the post in question, and we spent half the time talking about our love for Manny Ramirez, and how both of us had coached U12 girls' soccer teams. We marveled at how similar our experiences had been--apparently soccer parents in Mississippi are just as high-strung as soccer parents in Massachusetts. And 11-yr-olds across the country hate running laps. Who knew?

Secondly, I think Doug's right--to a great extent, you can't legislate morality (outside of laws against things like murder, stealing, etc.). You can't make it a law to allow parents who just want their kids to have a better life to come to this country, and to keep out those who just want to milk the system. And even if you could, who would judge which immigrants have come here with "good intentions" and who are hard workers versus those who come here and abuse social services or commit violent crimes (I haven't met many such immigrants, but of course they exist)? So yes, the answer (at least in part) is to legislate economically--create more H2B temporary worker visas so that more immigrants who are already here doing dirty, dangerous, low-paying jobs that many Americans don't want to do can do so legally. Make it easier to extend or renew them. And (vitally important) create and enforce stronger oversight for employers, in order to prevent the immigrants holding the visas from being traded from company to company like so much cattle, housed 6 to an apartment, at the mercy of company dictates for everything from transportation to second jobs to cafeteria meals.

The short version, but there you have it. Legalize more temporary immigration, and oh, create more paths to residency and citizenship for those who have been paying into the system (taxes, social security) for years. Those SS $s especially are just sitting there in a separate SSA fund, never to be paid out to those who contributed them out of their hard-earned, low-wage paychecks.

Whatever happened to "Liberty and justice for all"?

Ask Yourself: Who Would Jesus Deport?

2008-08-17T15:46:00.000-07:00

WWJD--A New Twist on a (Very) Old Bracelet Acronym.***

One of my friends here is the manager of a fruit farm. He's been in the US for five or six years; he left his family farm in northern Mexico to work here as a migrant laborer when prices for Mexican corn couldn't compete with the low, low cost of subsidized grain imported from the US through NAFTA. He is part of a generation known as "NAFTA kids" who have sought a way to make a living in the US after their small family holdings fell apart in the wake of the trade agreement. The owner of one of the farms he worked on here in Mississippi recognized his experience and talent in agricultural management, taught him English, and hired him on as her foreman. Since then he has become her right-hand man, running the farm and getting involved in the organic food movement. He is a well-respected leader in the local Catholic Spanish-speaking parish, and he has spear-headed several projects aimed at bridging the gap between the immigrant community and the local Mississippian community. Mississippi is his home--his work, his spiritual life, his friends are all here, as is his goddaughter, of whom I am the godmother. If he is deported, to what "home" would he be sent?

Another friend of mine, Mercedes*, belongs to our Mujeres Unidas (Women United) empowerment and support group, as does her mother, Elisbeta*. At 19, Mercedes is the youngest of our participants, and truly represents the "next generation" of Latina immigrant women living in this country. Her mother, in search of a job that paid enough to support her family, brought her and her siblings into the country when Mercedes was about 6 years old. In a recent Mujeres Unidas gathering, Elisbeta told us how she used to send her daughter, who spoke no English at the time, to first grade with classmates who would relentlessly tease her during recess and rub her face in the dirt, yelling epithets she couldn't understand. Each day Mercedes would come home from school in tears, begging her mother to let her move back to Mexico and live with her grandparents, where everyone would speak the same language and no one would taunt her. Elisbeta told us that she wanted her daughter to learn English and to have a better life than she herself could ever hope for, and she couldn't imagine separating her family; but 13 years later, tearing up, she says "me sentí un monstro, un monstro horrible"--"I felt like a monster, a terrible monster"--for continuing to send her precious daughter through this awful gauntlet day after day.
Mercedes grew a thick skin, however, and her language skills developed until they matched the natural aptitude for mathematics, a subject without language, which her elementary teachers had noted in her. By the time she was in high school, she spoke English with no accent; she had proven herself to be a dedicated, intelligent student, graduating with her class and hoping one day to become a doctor. Upon graduating, however, she was not able to apply to any four-year colleges or universities, because she has no Social Security number. She is currently enrolled in community college, unsure whether she will ever be allowed to pursue a higher education in the land of her adolescence and young womanhood.

One more story: my friend Lauren* has been dating her boyfriend, Armando*, for over 2 years. Armando left his family and crossed the border in search of better job prospects--in his home city in Mexico a decent job, one that makes more than the 49 Mexican pesos (or $4.81 USD) daily minimum wage, is extremely hard to come by. He was stopped for a traffic violation--a broken headlight--by local law enforcement and thereafter detained by Immigration & Customs Enforcement (ICE) in an overcrowded jail, where he slept on the hallway floor for several weeks before being sent back to Mexico with a permanent bar on his passport (meaning that he cannot legally return to the US, for any length of time, even on vacation. Ever).
After long, frustrating months of trying to find a stable job making enough money to contribute to his upkeep at his parents' home, he crossed back over the border at the risk of being incarcerated for multiple years. He has been able to find a more reliable stream of work here in the construction industry; but one traffic stop for something as minor as a faulty taillight would mean that he and Lauren will never be able to live together in this, her home country, even if they decide to marry. They would have to live separately, seeing each other only when she could take extended vacation; or she would have to move away from her family, friends, and home to Mexico and hope that they find work, and he would never be able to travel back to the United States with their children to see their American grandparents.
We are used to the question of the government's right to interfere in the bedroom of gay couples; what about mixed-legal status couples? Should a government be able to legislate your right to live with your spouse? As Lauren says: "The current law negates my ability to seek life liberty and the pursuit of happiness in my own country. Something I am supposed to be guaranteed."

So which one would Jesus deport?

I don't pretend to advocate for unequivocal opening of our borders to whomever wishes to come here (although I do believe that state and national borders are human creations which have no bearing on a person's God-given human rights, or his or her status as a human being, not an "illegal" or an "alien")--and I understand the sentiment of those who where born here or who immigrated legally and who wish to see others go through the process legally, to "get in line." But the truth is that our immigration system is severely broken, and for the vast majority of those wishing to come to our country, there is no "line"--no legal way to come to this country in order to put food in their children's bellies, or to work as the seasonal agricultural laborers, meat packing factory workers, or construction workers on which our economy relies**.

Until we achieve comprehensive immigration reform--and even afterwards--it is worth considering the question:

Who would Jesus deport?

*Not her real name.

**For Mexicans and many other Latin Americans, you must have a clean immigration record and you must have a clean immigration record and be the spouse, parent, child, or sibling of an adult U.S. citizen, or the spouse or unmarried child of a lawful permanent resident, who is willing to sponsor you. Even then, the process is long and arduous, and legal technicalities often close the door to those who would otherwise qualify. (Thanks to our immigration specialist Mary for that concise explanation of a complex policy!)

***I borrowed the title of this post from an article my boss wrote for the local paper--she, in turn, borrowed it from someone else In my opinion, it's too good not to pass on.

Boulevard Beer

2008-08-12T23:23:00.000-07:00

Apparently this beer out of Kansas City is only available in 13 Midwestern states...and guess what, Mississippi doesn't count as part of the Midwest (although I've had some East Coasters & Californians ask me if Tennessee does. Or Oklahoma. Ahh, geocentrism...).

But I still like it (the beer, that is).

We tried the IPA & the Bully Porter in a nifty little vegan-friendly joint called Prairie Blue in downtown Jefferson, Iowa, where we spent our overnight during RAGBRAI.

Long time coming

2008-08-12T20:11:00.000-07:00

I checked the date of my last post this evening and realized it corresponded roughly to the start of the Big P's Project SafeSpace, a homeless day center providing shower, laundry facilities, and most of all, a community of welcome and respite for the "residentially challenged" in our city. As the main staff person for this program, a role which often requires me to pull 12-hour days, I should not, therefore, be surprised that it is now August and I haven't found the time to create one single post on this blog. Yet I am--so many issues lately weigh on me and inspire in me just such depths of reflection as would fit perfectly into a nice, meaty blog post, and it's frustrating that I haven't been able to use this outlet to process the challenges of working with marginalized communities. I've missed my little blog, and I missed hearing from those of you who read it!

So the nose goes back to the creative grindstone, and I'll catch you up on some of the happenings of the last few months.

--

April: I traveled to Washington, D.C. for a spate of congressional lobbying with the tri-state Equity & Inclusion campaign, which fights for a just & equitable use of Gulf Coast recovery funds with the ultimate aim of eradicating poverty in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. What can I say--we like a challenge. (See longer post, with many more photos, here.) The Economic Development/Workers' Rights team in front of the Cannon Office Building.

Getting to sit down with Congressional staffers and elicit some interest from a few of them in regards to the Gulf Coast Civic Works Act (a WPA-style pilot program designed to create 100,000 high-quality, non-exportable jobs focused on rebuilding existing and developing new public infrastructure & civic works projects in hurricane-affected states) was an empowering experience. The glimpses we stole into the inner workings of the legislative branch of our government were fascinating, as was the development of strategy to push our legislation to the forefront--who do you target based on membership in relevant committees and subcommittees? Who owes whom favors in terms of sponsoring legislation? What important tidbits can you cull that will help you tailor your pitch to appeal to a representative's home district or personal history? It was easy to see how people get caught up in the game, the powerplays and tactical moves and the win/lose/compromise calculations. And the suits.
But that was also what disturbed me most about our visit--the fact that there is a game to play, when you're talking about real people's lives, the fate of real communities. The fact that in a supposed democracy (although really we live in a republic, a fact that is often conveniently glossed over in social studies class) the people have to travel a thousand+ miles to a 4 acre block of office buildings where the dress code is Ann Taylor and Brooks Brothers in order to have any kind of a chance to get a law passed that is vitally important to their survival...well, let's just say that isn't exactly an accessible option for the vast majority of our nation's residents. Which was the great thing about E&I--it gave us ordinary folk a chance to do just that. But it bothers me that I am listened to and taken much more seriously when I am part of a well-funded, large campaign that can fly me into D.C. to corner a staffer in the Senate cafeteria* instead of simply showing up at my representative's local office and trying to get on his/her appointment calendar. The tip of the iceberg...
*(where Senators pay $3 or $4 for a buffet meal for which everyone else has to fork over $12!! What about a discount for Americorps VISTA serving their country on a shoestring volunteer stipend (not me but close)?? Or for that matter, a discount for ordinary, tax-paying citizens who don't make the Senate's yearly salary of almost $170,000??)

Okay, let's not be entirely cynical--let's take a moment for paparazzi celebrity highlights! We saw Sen. Barbara Boxer dress down a security officer who didn't recognize her and tried to make her stand in the metal detector line. Nuh-uh, Mr. Security Man, you don't mess with the Senator! We also watched Dennis Kucinich's wife flit through his office looking dressed to kill and trilling along in her lilting British accent...yeah, so I'm reaching.

Also, a real joy, truly, to spend time with my family's good friend and my advocacy mentor/heroine Cat Cloud, Vice President of Important Things at the National Fair Housing Alliance (NFHA), and her lovely stepdaughter at the brand spankin' new Nationals park, where she helped me score my first ever complete baseball game!

Also in April: Jazzfest. It rawked.
Feathers + SoCo + Babies = Jazzfest.

Like Woodstock, but with more clothing & fewer mind-altering drugs.

Hot 8 Brass Band--one of my fave-o-rites--with Mardi Gras Indians. Sweet.

We saw also Alain Toussaint, Elvis Costello, Al Green, Calle 13 (my new favorite Puerto Rican hip hop/reggaeton/salsa/funk/rap/brass group), and a bunch of swing stuff. And Mamadou Diabate!

May: Our first Open House/Block Party as The Big P! We finally caught our breath from moving into our new offices (in January) and getting SafeSpace and ESL and a bunch of other programs up and running, so we threw a party to celebrate/show off our digs/welcome the neighborhood.

First food & libations: Then dancing ensued:

June: Visit to Hotlanta to see The Fam/The Sister. Botanical gardens, they were beautiful!
Weird poofy trees.

Lovely waterlilies.

Frog and Toad. I mean Leah.

Also in June: Our prayer vigil for immigration reform on the steps of the Capitol in Jackson--read the article about it in the Mississippi United Methodist Advocate.

July: Wow, July was insane. I was out of town every single weekend; came back the last weekend late Saturday night to help build a fence Sunday for our move from the old house to my roomies' brand new house a few miles away. No wonder I'm still recovering.

First weekend: 4th of July in NYC with friends from Habitat, mainly to see the Red Sox school the Yankees on their home turf. Mwahaha. Scored my second ever baseball game--thanks, Doug! (Clarification: I've been to several pro baseball games, but these were the first two for which I've kept score.)
Also trekked to the top of the Brooklyn Bridge (a fascinating feat of engineering!), reveled in the glory of deciduous trees in Central Park--I didn't realize how much I'd missed deciduous forest here in the Land of the Pines. Hit up the Met (my first time there--this
painting of haunted Russian pacifist/activist/writer Garshin, plagued by mental illness, stopped me in my tracks), including a visit to my old friend Cézanne, some QT with the toothpaste thick texture of Van Gogh's sunflowers & Degas' bathing women, and an ogle or two at my favorite French photographers, Cartier-Bresson & Doisneau. A modern photography exhibit introduced me to this gem of ironic composition, "headless" authorities photographing the body-less human head remains of the infamous Cake Box Murder.

Also enjoyed: Afghani & Moroccan cuisine in the Village; REAL bagels with tofu cream cheese (ahhh, heaven--I went there so often the bagel shop men wished me bon voyage and wanted to know when I was planning on returning); and saw the Tony-award winning out of Chicago's Steppenwolf Theater. Read reviews here and here. It was excellent--brooding and dark and hysterical and masterfully acted, especially by Estelle Parsons as the strung out matriarch, Violet Weston, and Steppenwolf veteran Amy Morton as Barbara, the eldest of three daughters trying to salvage the family vessel from the rocky shoals upon which her mother has steered it; she ultimately, however, ends up taking her mother's place as the vice-gripped captain of a sinking ship. Highly recommend it.

Second weekend: Our first ever Mujeres Unidas (Women United) leadership retreat! A smashing success involving visioning/mission statement development, communal art project, charades, beach time, good food, great women, and maybe just a smidge of merry-making. :)

Third & Fourth weekends: a 2,000-mile roundtrip drive to RAGBRAI (The Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa) and a visit to my grandma's house in the land where the tall corn grows. Excellent use of Spandex.

I break my sunglasses before we even get on the road. Classy.

"RAGBRAI: Just you, the open road, and 10,000 of your closest friends."

The Cuzins, Day 2 (did I mention we biked about 115 miles in two days?)

Flossie & Leah prepare to take their two-woman show on the road.

Jobby, our little monster thingamabob, shows off the corn we picked from my uncle's sweet corn patch. I ate a lot of that, helped freeze some of it with my sister & mom, and brought a bunch back for lunch for folks at Project SafeSpace. The homeless community of the Gulf Coast concurs: Iowa Sweet Corn surpasses any and all Mississippi corn impostors. Mmmmm.

Alright, now that we're all caught up--look for more focused, subject-specific musings in the near future.

Happy August!

Our Nation's Capital/Capitol

2008-04-24T23:24:00.000-07:00

Time for the promised report on my visit to DC: "Ms. Leah Goes to Washington." (PS I actually get called "Ms. Leah" by my boss' kids and other small children around here. Weird.)

I've been to DC twice before, but for sightseeing purposes. This time, I went as part of the Louisiana Disaster Recovery Foundation's Equity & Inclusion (E&I) campaign, a multi-state advocacy effort to bring about legislative change favorable to a just and inclusive hurricane recovery in Louisiana, Mississippi, & Alabama. The campaign focuses on bringing together non-profits interested in a wide range of recovery-related issues to work on wider initiatives designed to create not only a bandaid solution to the Gulf Coast but a foundation for future prosperity--especially pertinent given that LA, MS, & AL are consistently at the bottom of the barrel in education, health, and poverty rankings.

The bill I spent most of my time working on is HR 4048, The Gulf Coast Civic Works Act, a WPA-style program that would bring 100,000 high-quality jobs & the necessary training to the Gulf Coast, along with infrastructure & public works rebuilding, and would provide for the preservation of Gulf Coast culture by organizing and centralizing all of the hurricane refugee stories that were gathered post-Katrina & Rita in the Library of Congress, a la the collections of slave & Depression-era narratives. Public works rebuilding is critical for our region--many communities still look like Pass Christian, where almost all essential public services, from the police to City Hall to the library to the local bank branch, continue to operate out of trailers. Many schools remain still shut down, including Frantz Elementary School in New Orleans, the location of this famous Norman Rockwell painting:

Roads, harbors, bridges, levees--across the region infrastructure is in sore need of replacement, rebuilding, or shoring up. The work is there; the irony is that we don't have enough local, qualified workers to do the job. I should note that I'm not, in principle, against workers coming in from elsewhere to accomplish the work (I'm an imported "worker" myself and I work with immigrants), but it only strengthens the local economy to grow the existent workforce, giving them the training to secure living-wage jobs and establishing a solid base of high-skilled workers to maintain the newly rebuilt infrastructure & public works facilities for years to come. The Gulf Coast Civil Works Act addresses this with a 3-tiered system: the first round of jobs would go to local residents and displaced storm refugees; the second, to state residents; the third would be open to workers from everywhere. All rounds would prioritize women and minorities as potential job candidates; my friends K & J, who work in a women-in-construction program, point out that often, (minority) women are the sole breadwinners and it is in everyone's best interest to provide them with training & quality jobs.
Another good thing about this bill is that it will leverage successful existing programs, like Job Corps and NCCC (National Civilian Community Corps), not reinvent the wheel. One of my roles during our talks with Congressional staffers was to share a story that would "bring to life" the reason we need the Gulf Coast Civil Works Act. Here's the story I told:

I'm a caseworker at an organization that works with the immigrant community on the Coast. One of my client's sons, Jaime, is 17 and has dropped out of high school to support his family by working a construction job. We're getting him enrolled in Job Corps, a federal program which will help him get his GED, improve his English, and learn HVAC [heating and air conditioning] skills so that he could earn more money, better support his family, and contribute more to society. But the local Job Corps center, in the town where Jaime and his family live, has been closed since the storm, and the next nearest site is three hours away. Jaime will only be able to come home twice a year, and we're worried that without the support of his friends and family, he won't make it through the 2-year program. But with the Gulf Coast Civic Works Act, the center could be re-opened and the highly successful program--it has upwards of 90% job placement--could be incorporated into the Act as a solution to both the deficit of high-skilled jobs in the area and as a public works project in and of itself.

Then I deferred to my colleagues as to the numbers, the "ask" (what we're looking for the Congressman/woman to commit to), etc. Each of us had a part to play, coming from different issues, states, and organizations; we tag-teamed it beautifully and almost had Dennis Kucinich's top legislative adviser crying. No really, she teared up talking about how her family wouldn't have survived without the New Deal. Granted, Kucinich's office was an easy win; but we tailored our presentation to each office, pulling in the fact that Congressman Wu (D-OR 1st) is an immigrant himself (from Taiwan), or flooding Rep. Danny Davis' (D-IL 7th) with all our Chicagoland ties, or chattin' up Rep. Hinojosa's (D-TX 15th) front desk man whose grandfather died in the same Houston hospital where I was born (no connection too tenuous!). We hit up all the members on the Education & Labor committee, where our bill will have to go if it is to reach the House floor (see the School House Rocks video I used in my ESL the other day to help one of our students study for his citizenship test: "I'm Just a Bill" ). On Friday, our last day there, we reconfigured into state delegations and went to see Reps. Bennie Thompson (D-MS

Did someone say chic, overpriced boutique hotel? (paid for by non-profit $$, eek):
The robes really are a hoot, though:
Our nation's Capitol, with (spring!!) flowers:
The Nationals game at their new park (sadly, they lost, but I scored my first-ever entire baseball game!):
Meems, Turtle Girl (Go Sox!), & the lovely Cat:

The traditional 4th inning stretch Big Head Presidents Race--best 4th inning entertainment ever. Special points for powdered wigs and top hats.

Teddy never gets any love:Dogwoods!More dogwoods:
Metro peeps unaware that I'm photographing them (you fall for public transportation hard when you've gone without for over a year): La Corte Suprema:

Doesn't she look fab?

Word.

From our walk around the Capitol Hill neighborhood--spring!
Steve & Kieulin, lobbying homies:

???

Lovely flowers:

Rhubarb, where have you been all my life??

Enjoying a cold (nonalcoholic) one in Capitol Hill. Note Kieulin cracking up and the wig shop in the background.

Care for a bite of vegan-friendly sandwich, Leah? Why yes, Steve, thanks!
My team, super-sharp in front of the Cannon House Office Building.
We get ready to kick (or kiss?) some Congressional behind!

A half-demo'd building which looks like its face melted off. Public art, anyone?

Dentist Oversight Committee

2008-04-21T16:55:00.000-07:00

This is kind of a cheat post, since I basically copied and pasted it, but it makes a lot of sense to me and I think it gives a really memorable, understandable illustration of a controversial subject. It was sent to me by one of my bosom friends, a junior high science teacher in the Chicago Public Schools (and an everyday hero to me!). And given that the Hospitality State is at the bottom of the heap for education, it's definitely relevant to life here in the Mississip'.

"My dentist is great! He sends me reminders so I don't forget
checkups. He uses the latest techniques based on research. He
never hurts me, and I've got all my teeth.

When I ran into him the other day, I was eager to see if he'd
heard about the new state program. I knew he'd think it was great.

"Did you hear about the new state program to measure effectiveness
of dentists with their young patients?" I said.

"No," he said. He didn't seem too thrilled. "How will they do that?"

"It's quite simple," I said. "They will just count the number of
cavities each patient has at age 10, 14, and 18 and average that
to determine a dentist's rating. Dentists will be rated as
excellent, good, average, below average, and unsatisfactory. That
way parents will know
which are the best dentists. The plan will also encourage the less
effective dentists to get better," I said. "Poor dentists who
don't improve could lose their licenses to practice."

"That's terrible," he said.

"What? That's not a good attitude," I said. "Don't you think we
should try to improve children's dental health in this state?"

"Sure I do," he said, "but that's not a fair way to determine who
is practicing good dentistry."

"Why not?" I said. "It makes
perfect sense to me."

"Well, it's so obvious," he said. "Don't you see that dentists
don't all work with the same clientele, and that much depends on
things we can't control? For example, I work in a rural area with
a high percentage of patients from deprived homes, while some of
my colleagues work in upper middle-class neighborhoods. Many of
the parents I work with don't bring their children to see me until
there is some kind of problem, and I don't get to do much
preventive work. Also, many of the parents I serve let their
kids eat way too much candy from an early age,unlike more educated
parents who understand the relationship between sugar
and decay. To top it all off, so many of my
clients have well
water which is untreated and has no fluoride in it. Do you have
any idea how much difference early use of fluoride can make?"

"It sounds like you're making excuses," I said. "I can't believe
that you, my dentist, would be so defensive. After all, you do a
great job, and you needn't fear a little accountability."

"I am not being defensive!" he said. "My best patients are as good
as anyone's, my work is as good as anyone's, but my average cavity
count is going to be higher than a lot of other dentists because I
chose to work where I am
needed most."

"Don't' get touchy," I said.

"Touchy?" he said. His face had turned red, and from the way he
was clenching and unclenching his jaws, I was afraid he was going
to damage his teeth. "Try furious! In a system like this, I will
end up being rated average, below average, or worse. The few
educated patients I have who see these ratings may believe this
so-called rating is an actual measure of my ability and
proficiency as a dentist.

They may leave me, and I'll be left with only the most needy
patients. And my cavity average score will get even worse. On top
of that,how will I attract good dental hygienists and other
excellent dentists to my practice if it is labeled below average?"

"I think you are overreacting," I said. "'Complaining,
excuse-making and stonewalling won't improve dental health'... I
am quoting from a leading member of the DOC ," I noted.

"What's the DOC ?" he
asked.

"It's the Dental Oversight Committee," I said,"a group made up of
mostly lay persons to make sure dentistry in this state gets
improved"

"Spare me," he said, "I can't believe this. Reasonable people
won't buy it," he said hopefully.

The program sounded reasonable to me, so I asked, "How else would
you measure good dentistry?"

"Come watch me work," he said. "Observe my processes."

"That's too complicated, expensive and time- consuming," I said.
"Cavities are the bottom line, and you can't argue with the bottom
line. It's an absolute measure."

"That's what I'm afraid my parents and prospective patients will
think . This can't be happening," he said despairingly.

"Now, now," I said, "don't despair. The state will help you some."

"How?" he asked.

"If you receive a poor rating, they'll send a dentist who is rated
excellent to help straighten you out," I said brightly.

"You mean," he said, "they'll send a dentist with a
wealthy
clientele to show me how to work on severe juvenile dental
problems with which I have probably had much more experience? BIG
HELP!"

"There you go again," I said. "You aren't acting professionally at
all."

"You don't get it," he said. "Doing this would be like grading
schools and teachers on an average score made on a test of
children's progress with no regard to influences outside the
school, the home, the community served and stuff like that. Why
would they do something so unfair to dentists? No one would ever
think of doing that to schools."

I just shook my head sadly, but he had brightened. "I'm going to
write my representatives and senators," he said. "I'll use the
school analogy. Surely they will see the point."

He walked off with that look of hope mixed with fear and
suppressed anger that I, a teacher, see in the mirror so often
lately.

If you don't understand why educators resent the recent federal NO
CHILD LEFT BEHIND ACT, this may help. If
you do understand, you'll
enjoy this analogy, which was forwarded by John S. Taylor,
Superintendent of Schools for the Lancaster County , PA, School
District.
Be a friend to a teacher and pass this on."

Garden Update!

2008-04-19T11:36:00.001-07:00

3 new posts, check 'em out! Plus (to the left) a list of blogs I read (4 so far).

Garden update, after the high drama involving the city Parks & Recreation dept. uprooting people's community garden plots, sporadically planting them with pansies, and spraying chemical pesticides all over the place, all because (supposedly) the local councilman "wants to see color when he drives by the park." This is the same councilman who wanted to get rid of the basketball courts because the drug dealers hang out there. I got news for ya, Mr. Councilman: getting rid of the basketball courts where local kids play--local kids who eagerly agreed to watch over my garden plot in exchange for some of the produce--is not going to fix your ward's drug dealing problems. And if it would--you'd also have to get rid of half the street corners and most of the convenience store parking lots. Just sayin'.

A few pansies in the formerly fertile community garden plots:

My garden--Hurrah!!
The herb corner:
Peppers & okra:

"Take what you need, & nothing more/So that all may eat, & be restored."
(zukes on top)

Random beautiful flowers:

Fido the Guard Cat, at the boys' house:

Pure intimidation:

That's all the time we have for today, join us next weekend for a recap of Equity & Inclusion's Spring Legislative Days in DC: Leah Attempts to be a Lobbyist for the Gulf Coast Civic Works Act! (This should be interesting, as I brought with me not one conservative skirt, suit jacket, or pair of sensible pumps to wear in our nation's Capitol.) Also stay tuned for segments on the long-awaited Friday morning Illinois Constituent Coffee & Donuts Session with Senators Durbin & Obama, and Crashing the DC Area W Young Alumnae Get-Together!

Project SafeSpace

2008-04-19T09:17:00.000-07:00

Like the flier I made??
Thursday was the 'grand opening' of Project SpafeSpace, a new initiative of The Big P, which serves as "a place of welcome for anyone looking for a community of acceptance, a ministry of spiritual wellness & human dignity, or a chance to be in transformational relationship with others." Project SafeSpace offers "case management, laundry facilities and a shower, and communal Bible study with food (Wednesdays at 5pm)."

It is the culmination of months of envisioning, planning, and faithful response to the call felt by the social justice warriors at this non-profit to "care for the least of these." In a timely selection of scripture, Sally, my boss, preached last Sunday on Matthew 25 and the imperative on each of us to show compassion for the sick, visit the imprisoned, give food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, and clothing to the "nekkid" (yes, "nekkid"--she's a Mississippian). The Scripture says the ill, the felons, the starving, the parched, and the people wearing the same rancid clothes for weeks because they have nothing else to put on are all Jesus Christ. (This poses an interesting theological question--are "the least of these" metaphorically Christ-like because they are suffering as Christ did on earth? Or are they literally Jesus? Separately, I feel uncomfortable thinking we should feel obligated to serve them only because they are Jesus-on-earth, and not simply because they are our brothers and sisters in need.) Sally talked about how it may be easy to volunteer once a month stocking shelves at the local food pantry, or to visit your neighbor who's in the hospital following surgery; but we are equally called to see Christ in the drunk, toothless man accosting us for change; in the child rapist serving 25 years at Parchman; in the hospice patient who got AIDS from unsafe sex or drug use; and in the "crazy" missionary Sandra Kay who came testifying of the miracles she'd seen and asking an already poor non-profit--us--for money. We're called to see Christ in the truly least of the "least," and to serve accordingly. Jesus hung out with the dregs of society, those who were a world away from living righteously--not just those "deserving" of help. (This is where part of the "cost" of "the cost and joy of discipleship," one of my favorite lines in the UCC statement of faith, kicks in.) More on this in another post.

Our non-profit's commitment to living out this challenge is how I found myself kneeling at the feet of Miss Roxanne, unwinding the bandages that covered the oozing, greenish hole where the screws in her ankle protruded from the still unhealed skin. An alcoholic with a history of dope usage, Miss Roxanne had fallen through the floor of an abandoned Katrina house where she'd been staying; the plates and screws in her foot are the only thing holding the ankle joint together. To accomplish the major feat of walking, she requires the support of a cumbersome plastic brace and a collapsible walker; even with these aids, her steps are slow and difficult. As you might imagine, she's jobless, but she can't begin to receive disability payments until she weans herself off of her drug & alcohol addictions, a near-impossible feat without the help of expensive detox pills. Likewise, the drug rehab program we have her signed up for will not even enroll her until her system is clean of narcotics (oh, the irony), a process which takes about 3 weeks and the effects of which she can't face without the constant presence of a $2.90 bottle of vodka or a 40 of cheap beer. As for how she came to this point in life, as to why her face bears the battle scars of seven or eight decades' worth of life at the robust age of 43--well, even if you only believed half the stories she tells you, she's still seen and done and been through much more than the average person's share of misfortune, bad decisions, and horrific abuse.

Miss Roxanne was our very first community member at Project SafeSpace (they're not "guests" because this is their community, their place to feel at home). This is a status she wants memorialized with an employee of the month-style bulletin board display. Bitter tears squeeze from her eyes when she describes how the director of the local soup kitchen called the rehab place to warn them not to admit her; her hoarse, gap-toothed laugh rings out with cheery calls of "Hey sugarbunch!" to staff members she recognizes. As I brush through her matted shoulder-length hair so she won't "scare nobody lookin' like a crazy person" when she goes outside for a smoke, she tells me how it used to hang down the middle of her back, silky-smooth. It lost its supple sheen when she let her daughter, who's just about my age and who lives across the bay, convince her to dye it peroxide blonde. I don't know what their relationship is like, although Roxanne claims to have cut off ties with most of her family so they won't "see me like this." She's so far removed from regular society, so invisible, that an old friend she ran into a few months ago told her he'd just seen her obituary run in the paper.

After she's done washing, Roxanne hollers at the top of her lungs for me to come help her out of the shower and put clean gauze on her foot. The screw bits stick out of her flesh, the metal plate distorting the regular shape of her ankle into a boxy, unnaturally wide deformity. As I roll her kelly green athletic socks back onto her damaged legs, the stench of unwashed clothing fills my nostrils, and I think about Jesus washing the disciples' feet. The next day I help her pick through the few dry belongings left in the collapsed tent she used to live in, swatting at the mosquitoes and sweating in my office clothes as she instructs me from the car as to what should be salvaged from the shambles of her life. The owner of the neglected lot where she was squatting pulled up the stakes and crumpled up the tent so she couldn't sleep there anymore, so I'm driving her over to a burnt-out shell of a house where she'll bunk in a 2-man tent with a few homeless men she knows. In an absurd parallel of dinner-party etiquette, she's got her heart set on buying them a 40 of Steel Reserve as a sort of hostess gift for letting her crash their makeshift digs, but she's misplaced her last two dollars and can't afford to buy the beer--"Honey, you better frisk me for 'em, they've gotta be here somewhere," she tells me. The funny thing is, I'd do the same thing--I've been brought up to show gratitude for others' hospitality, and under the circumstances, beer is really the only thing her friends would want; but as an employee of a faith-based organization, I have to tell her I don't feel comfortable spotting her the $2 for the alcohol. Water or soda won't do, so I drive her back, empty-handed, to the blackened house and help her get settled on the concrete slab next to her friends' tent.

Now here's a question that's both metaphorical and literal: What do you give Jesus to drink when he's a homeless alcoholic trying to maintain a little dignity and show some gratitude for life's blessings, however meager?

Just tryin' to figure out how best to make good on our own invitation: "Come lay your burdens down and share the journey with us at Project SafeSpace!"

SB 2988

2008-04-14T18:34:00.000-07:00

SB 2988, a bill imposing felony consequences on employers hiring undocumented* workers and on the workers themselves, recently passed the Mississippi State Legislature. The bill takes effect on July 1st, at which time all entities employing over a certain number of workers will be subject to complaint-based checks on the legal status of their workers. If found to be in violation of the law, employers and employees alike could serve jail time, in addition to the current federal penalties imposing fines and deportation. The bill was written by freshman state representative Brandon Jones, Democrat of neighboring Pascagoula, a town which was significantly damaged by Hurricane Katrina and which has benefited enormously from immigrant workers' (both documented and undocumented) rebuilding efforts. The state manufacturers' association and Governor Haley Barbour both expressed strong reservations about the bill; however, Rep. Jones was able to push the legislation through on a wave of virulent anti-immigrant sentiment. Below, my co-worker's letter to the editor published in the Jackson, MS Clarion-Ledger in response to the new law.

Anti-immigrant bill may hurt our state's economy

The Mississippi Legislature has passed the Mississippi Employment Protection Act, a very costly and ill-advised anti-immigrant bill that makes it a felony to work undocumented, punishable by one to five years imprisonment.
There was a worker shortage after Katrina because of a severe lack of housing and other services. Immigrant workers slept in pup tents, in their cars and on the open ground. Conditions were harsh but the immigrant work force endured them and played a vital role in cleanup and recovery.
Today, in spite of the influx of foreign workers, Mississippi's unemployment rate (5.9 percent) is the lowest it has been in seven years. Whose employment needs protection?
Imprisoning violators will cost the state about $17,000 per inmate per year. If only 100 workers are convicted, that will cost $1.7 million a year. Add the cost of law enforcement and prosecution, and the cost goes higher.
Many immigrants send money home, but they still spend a large part of their earnings on rent, clothes, food, tools, cars, gasoline and utilities. That creates jobs and pours a lot of money into the Coast's economy.
Other cities and states have found that driving out the immigrant community damaged their local economy. A Sept. 25, 2007, article in the New York Times ("Town rethinks laws against illegal immigrants") details how the town of Riverside, NJ., suffered economically from its anti-immigrant ordinance, leading to its repeal two years later.
A May 6, 2007, Associated Press report in the Washington Post ("Attempts to curb illegal immigration prove costly") shows that many cities now face the mounting legal costs of defending anti-immigrant laws against constitutional and other legal challenges.
Finally, there is the damage to Mississippi's reputation, once again showing ourselves to be anything but "The Hospitality State." Perhaps that will be the highest cost of all.
MARY TOWNSEND
Hispanic/Latino Ministries of the United Methodist Church, Gulf Coast Mississippi

*As human beings can neither be "illegal" or "alien," "undocumented" is the most accurate term to describe immigrants who do not have permission to live or work in the United States.

Commercial-Free Music

2008-04-10T12:27:00.000-07:00

I hate listening to commercials while I'm enjoying music, hence my affinity for NPR/Mississippi Public Broadcasting (www.npr.org), and these two websites:

www.seeqpod.com trawls the internet for playable forms of your favorite songs & videos. It's free because it doesn't violate copyright laws by downloading music illegally--you get to listen to songs as many times as you want, but you can't keep 'em permanently on your computer, iPod, CD, etc. You can, however, create playlists accessible by internet--for example, I have one full of obscure songs by The Eagles to supplement my iPod Eagles stock, and one of songs by Yelle, a French electropop chick with a naughty sense of humor whose CD I can't buy here but whose catchy chansons caffeinate my mornings. I've also used this tool like a mix CD to create themed playlists, like "Mary," which features songs about ladies by that name--so far I have "Ah Mary" by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, Proud Mary by CCR (maybe I should add the Tina Turner version but I'm old school), and "Let It Be" by the Fab Four. A very short "mix CD"--other good Mary-themed song suggestions please??

http://somafm.com is a collection of genre-based streaming internet radio "stations" which play through Windows Media Player or iTunes. It's continuous music, with a voice announcing about every half hour that "You're listening to SomaFM, we're free, tell your friends." The artist, song, and album information updates in real time, and on any given "station" there's good variety. It's very low-maintenance; I've never had problems with the music interrupting to sync on me like I do with traditional internet radio stations.
There are 13 stations, or flavors, if you will--many of them are electronically oriented, but they also have Sinatra-y stuff, "bachelor pad," indie rock, industrial, etc. The one I listen to most is called Boot Liquor (ha ha, get it?): "Americana Roots music for Cowhands, Cowpokes, and Cowtippers," which includes the likes of Allison Kraus, Willie Nelson, Kasey Chambers, Emmylou Harris, Johnny Hickman, Dam Combo, Blind Boys of Alabama...basically anything kinda twangy and bluesy and old-school country rock, with some bluegrass & roadhouse thrown in. Right now they're playing "Set My Chickens Free" by Merle Haggard.

So cheers! Enjoy a healthy dose of freedom from the avalanche of auditory advertising.

The Point

2008-04-09T23:38:00.000-07:00

Three new posts for your blog-reading enjoyment--check 'em out!

One of the neighborhoods in our city is called The Point. Located on the tip of a peninsula, The Point is the epicenter of the fishing, oyster & shrimping industries, which since the early part of last century have been dominated by immigrant communities. From the 1880s through the 1970s, it was European immigrants, particularly French and Croatian; although large portions of these communities lived in such poverty that in the 1920s they inspired the creation of the outreach mission I worked for last year, names like Desportes, Reynoir, Gollott, & Gillich now grace street signs, seafood warehouses, and mayoral campaigns all over the city.

The next wave of immigrants arrived in the early 1980s. Vietnamese refugees, "boat people" resettled after the Vietnam war, settled on The Point, taking to the shrimp boats like fish in water (sorry, couldn't resist). Two decades later, these once-feared and ostracized "aliens" have become an integral part of our city's diverse community, running grocery & convenience stores, operating restaurants, and managing whole shrimping fleets. Hurricane relief and solidarity organizations geared towards the Vietnamese community have sprung up since Katrina, and many, though not all, businesses have reopened (among them my very favorite sandwich shop down here, Le Bakery, which makes scrumptious tofu-carrot-cuke-daikon po boys from French bread truly worthy of the name). These days it's not uncommon to drive through The Point and spot a Vietnamese lady unconcernedly hard at work in an expansive garden, sheltered from the sun by a conical rice paddy hat.

The Vietnamese Buddhist temple...

...cheek to jowl with the Vietnamese Catholic church:

Where I get my spring roll paper and my soy bean pudding:

Mmmmmmmmmmmm:

The resilience of these communities and the way they have been gradually, but in the end wholly, embraced by those who've come before give me hope for the current influx of Latin American immigrants who are working hard to take care of their families and contribute to society, just like my ancestors, and yours, did. Latin restaurants, tiendas, and worship services are already thriving; maybe one day some of the clients with whom I work or the friends with whom I attend mass will feel comfortable working their own gardens in broad daylight, free of fear and welcome members in the community.

A Little Southern Charm

2008-04-09T23:21:00.000-07:00

Our new digs!

'The Big P," the non-profit I work for, went before the city zoning & planning commissions a few weeks ago to ask for approval to change our zoning from "offices" to "neighborhood center" so that we can open our doors to the general public, officially hold ESL classes, give people access to a safe space where they can take a shower, wash their clothes, organize themselves, hold community meetings, etc. instead of just being open for appointments only.

The first part of the process involved submitting a proposal to the zoning board, which was a bit of a bumpy process. The zoning board had a hard time understanding that although we are under the umbrella organization of a church denomination, and we will be starting a new church plant somewhere in the neighborhood, we are NOT a church. Church offices and a church worship space are two completely different things and can be located in two completely different spaces. Also against our favor is the fact that we share the same denomination as a local pre-storm homeless mission which was "notorious" for allowing its clients to get a breath of fresh air in the parking lot (aka "loitering") or to find temporary respite from sleeping on the streets by spending the occasional night at the mission (aka "zoning violation"). This association made the city nervous about what kind of operation we'd be running. In response, we downplayed the part of our mission which does outreach to the homeless community and reiterated 17 times that we were NOT going to hold church services in our offices (an activity which would fall outside the zoning we were requesting). And, we dressed up.

One of my coworkers tells the story of a friend of hers from up north who got a speeding ticket here in Mississippi. She went to court to contest the ticket, and watched as the woman in front of her, all done up, pleaded her case with the judge: "Oh, I'm so sorry your honor, I didn't realize I was over the limit, I promise it won't happen again. I'm just so sorry!" (Bats eyelashes, simpers, maybe squeezes out a little tear.) She got her ticket reduced or waived, I forget which, as the judge smiled indulgently and sent her on her way. Next up, my coworker's Yankee friend, who had shown up wearing a not particularly feminine outfit, and who immediately and vociferously began protesting her ticket as unfair and unmerited. She couldn't, for the life of her, understand why the judge, with a stern glare, doubled her fine after the lady in front of her had gotten off scot free.

This story illustrated for me and my good friend & coworker E, the two green Midwesterners, the tenacious power that the Southern Belle archetype continues to exercise over Dixie culture. The woman who flaunts her sex appeal, subverting the patriarchy through use of her so-called feminine wiles, wins the day; every Southern woman has a little Scarlett O'Hara in her, and when necessary, she knows how to turn on the charm.

How does this relate to the zoning commission? The moral of my coworker's story was that, when dealing with Southern males in positions of authority, you play into the archetype and you get what you want. Every member of the commission is male--the only woman in the room (besides us) was the secretary taking notes. So the morning of our appointment, we all got dolled up (seeing that I can get away with wearing a t-shirt and jeans at work, this is a big deal), dressed to the nines (heels! trouser pants! blouses! oh my!), and practiced our most simpering smiles, which the Fire Chief and his cohorts just ate right up.

Did it feel a bit off? Yes--I'm used to being treated as a person first, a woman second; France is the only other place I've felt so keenly a woman first, a person second. The whole thing tasted like a farce, a lovely little bit of play-acting designed to get us what we wanted. (You decide where you fall on the question of whether this is a degrading blow to women's dignity or a feminist co-opting of the patriarchy.)

Did it work? Yes--after several back-and-forths, we were recommended for approval by the zoning commission, and the city council (also all male, also a meeting for which we arrived all done up) unanimously passed our zoning change. Which allows us to open Project SafeSpace next week, which means showers, laundry, and a community of acceptance and transformation for our displaced and homeless brothers and sisters on the street.

A curious culture, a worthy end.

More Azaleas! etc.

2008-04-09T20:20:00.000-07:00

Sorry, couldn't resist.

Azalea Time

2008-03-22T11:45:00.000-07:00

I've been on the Coast a year this past Tuesday, and once again, it's Azalea time, thank heaven!

Feast your eyes:

More to come in white, lavender, and other shades of pink/magenta. They are simply profuse, my friends, and it is only because my digital camera has notoriously short battery life that I have not yet posted more snapshots of these gorgeous things.

A pair of houses I saw driving from church to the beach for my post-service run last weekend:

This house, right next door to the first, and only a few blocks from the beach, still bears the grafitti tattoos of post-Katrina FEMA numbers & insurance claim inspectors.

Perhaps because they sit devoid of the normal furnishings that signify a house taken over by inhabitants, these buildings seem to stand as entities unto themselves--not bare-bones shells waiting to be filled with possessions, but strong, sinewy edifices on the verge of stretching out their pillars and striding solidly off down the road, with purpose, freed of material trappings, never to look back.

This might also be because the one jacked up on stilts has a sign saying "Kosciusko House Movers" hanging out front.

Garden plot update:

My friend E & I turned over two bags of organic compost & two bags of dried live oak leaves into the plot, getting it ready to plant after I get back from our trip to Florida next weekend. I'm chomping at the bit already, can't wait to garrrrrrden! (ooh, piratey.)

A joyous Easter to all, and to all, a good night!

Time Began in a Garden

2008-03-02T20:04:00.000-08:00

So I've been reading this book, Serve God Save the Planet, given to me by a very good friend of mine who is my environmental role model. Its premise is that environmental stewardship is a Christian mandate--if we love God, we love God's creation, and we love God's children living in that creation; and we show our love through transforming our over-consuming, waste-producing lifestyle into one focused on simplicity, creation care, and valuing the spiritual over the material. It's great, you should read it--check it out at your local library, the author is Dr. Matthew Sleeth.

Anyway, I read a passage* in it the other day that jumpstarted my dormant (no pun intended) project to adopt a community garden plot and grow a vegetable garden. My friend KC and I had enthusiastically hatched this plan in January; I had even emailed Felder Rushing, the host of Mississippi Public Broadcasting's The Gestalte Gardener radio show, to ask for advice for a novice gardener--check out the link in the title above; he featured my questions on his show! (I should note that I had a very small garden in our side yard for a few years in junior high, which I grotesquely de-slugged using a salt shaker; but that's about the extent of my gardening expertise, though my love for garden veggies and flowers is abundant).

I had lamented to Mr. Rushing that I knew next to nothing about what to plant, or when to plant it, in this climate; I also confessed that I was itching to start gardening NOW, since we've had several high 60s-mid70s days last month & this month. He replied with a long list of delicious veggies suitable for South Mississippi (though he unfortunately had to ix-nay my rhubarb dreams) and a garden prep checklist to keep me occupied until Good Friday, the traditional "last freeze" date for Gulf Coast planting. (1. Good Friday's calendar date varies widely each year, as does the date of the last frost [thanks, Dad, for that one], so I'm not quite sure how this rule of thumb works; and 2., how amazing is it to be able to plant in March??? Instead of mid-May like up North!!)

So a few Sundays ago, I bought a sack of gardening lime, borrowed a shovel, and went to stake my claim on a plot at the local park. Turns out on Sundays no one is gardening, but lots of people are playing basketball, smoking weed, and cruising lime-green hydraulic-jacked Skittles cars with chromey wheel rims past the park/local drug dealer hangout. Ahhh, I love my community.

I spent about an hour turning over the soil and adding lime to it to change the pH (technically I should've measured the pH first but I didn't have any litmus tape on me, so I just sort of....guesstimated. My high school biology teacher is rolling over in his pocket-protected lab coat).
Digging into the flat gray soil, turning it to expose its dark, rich, iron-streaked underbelly; singing a few snatches of Bernstein's "Sing God a Simple Song" against the backbeat of bass-thumping rap music; feeling the breeze lick across my warm muscles, a reminder of the exquisite grace of a cool wind during marathon training last year...I sweat and bled, bright ruby drops consecrating the soil I will till for the next several months. Pragmatic, concrete hard work mingling with the minor miracles of seed germination and growth to produce a divine synergy, bestowing a blessing on the hands that labor for it, the bodies that are nourished by it, and the community it beautifies...Creation balanced in perfect miniature.

Mine is the top plot:

I can't wait for this Sunday, when I'll mix in some organic compost and get a chance to spend a little time makin' magic with the angels of Eden. After all, time began in a garden. :)

*"It was a perfect day, a day that defies the rules of grammar--it was 'more perfect' than all the days before it. We were putting some parts of the garden to rest, while in another section we harvested carrots and potatoes. Late in the day we sat together to weed the strawberry patch. A feeling of joy and peace overcame me. I felt close to God. I experienced 'the peace that passes all understanding.' ...We were doing what our Maker created us to do." SGSTP, p. 134

Sunday Morning Coming Down

2008-02-10T16:26:00.000-08:00

Monster trucks jacked up so high they need an extension ladder to enter cruise the downtown; signs saying "Catfish Fry Christ the King Tonight, 6pm" (ha) have sprouted up all over the neighborhood; military men and high school girls lay out on the beach on the first seasonable Sunday of the year, getting an early start on their tans.

Ahh, I love Mississippi.

Lent(ils)

2008-02-07T13:29:00.000-08:00

Given my penchant for spiritual musings, there will of course be more posts about Lent appearing in the very near future--it's such a rich, reflective kind of season, lots to dig into there (just like the lentil stew below!). But for now, I'll tide you over with a timely link where you can subscribe to a daily Lenten devotional, for those of you who are so inclined--just click on the word "Lent(ils)" above.
I really like the idea of a daily devotional--the regular time set aside to be with God, the sense of spiritual discipline, and the opportunity for spiritual rumination all appeal to me--but I'm lazy, so I'm really excited about how easy this idea is. The scripture for the day* as well as a reflection written by clergy and lay people of the UCC (United Church of Christ), my home denomination, are delivered straight to your inbox, so there's no need to spend hours surfing the internet or trying to create your own program. And this is a great way to "offer something up"--your time and prayerful reflection--instead of "giving something up" for Lent.
The first one, sent out yesterday, was written by a mentor of mine, the pastor of the church I attended in college. Hope you enjoy!

*When my Bible's not handy (okay even when it is), I use Oremus Bible Browser (http://bible.oremus.org/) to look up scripture lickety-split. You can choose the version of the Bible you want to browse, and select anything from a few verses to a chapter to a whole book. So handy!

And now for a Lent(il) treat--sorry, couldn't resist! I love lentils with a somewhat irrational passion, and this recipe is perfect for Lent: it's an easy no-meat meal, hearty enough to fill you up with or without a nice hunk of whole grain bread on the side. Even keeps you warm during cold winter weather!

Hearty Lentil Stew

-1 cup lentils (any color, I like green)
-4 large carrots sliced
-1 to 2 large onions
-2 to 3 bunch parsley or dried parsley
-large can tomatoes or 8 to 10 fresh ones chopped (these are optional; the stew works just fine without them. You can also try substituting a big bunch of collard greens or a couple big handfuls of spinach if you want more iron & calcium)
-extra virgin olive oil (gives it a little fat to help you feel satisfied--no need to use it if you're trying to stay non-fat)
-balsamic vinegar or freshly-squeezed lemon juice (optional)

(These are really just guidelines, feel free to play around with the proportions and add things along the way--stews never suffer from being cooked longer, so if you decide, halfway through the cooking time, that your stew needs celery or an extra handful of carrots, just add 'em in and simmer 'til the veggies are cooked.)

Heat just enough oil to cover bottom of stew pot or use a non-stick one. Add carrots, and onions. Cook until onions are translucent. Add lentils and tomatoes. Simmer until lentils are tender. Add water as needed. Keep in mind that this is a stew, it should be very thick!
Add parsley about 30 minutes in (total cooking time is about 45 minutes, but you can let it simmer all day if you want).
Serve warm the first time around, with the afore-mentioned hearty bread on the side if you like. Makes great leftovers and keeps for EVER. I like to eat a bowl at room temperature with some balsamic vinegar or lemon juice splashed on top to contrast the richness of the lentils. I'm getting hungry just thinking about it....

Serves: 4 Preparation time: 1 hour

Mardi Gras

2008-02-07T12:14:00.001-08:00

Mardi Gras came to town, we partook.
Need I say more?

Photos of the phestivities:

Scouting out the next float, plotting the best location for bead-catching

Mardi Gras 101: Note the traditional three-colored shirt: Purple for royalty, Gold for power, Green for faith. And that tri-colored lei in the upper right-hand corner is a good example of a "throw," or anything that gets launched off a float to the parade-goers, often at high velocity. Going after the good throws (big necklaces with charms on them, t-shirts, cups, stuffed animals) takes cunning, speed, and fine motor skills. Height doesn't hurt, either--but some of the most vicious throw-catchers are small, innocent-looking children who use their size and agility to outfox older, more sedentary parade watchers.

"Throw me something, Mister!"

Captain Jack Sparrow, I presume!

Shriners in mini go-karts always seem to show up at these things....

That's "krewe" with a K. The float-riders have been drinking and carousing since around 8 in the morning--so, oh, about 5 and a half hours at this point? And yet Mardi Gras turns out to be a surprisingly family-oriented event...

Local airmen driving big scary military vehicles all decked out in pretty little Mardi Gras beads.

Tanks on Highway 90--I never thought it would come to this!

I kiss a stranger in the hopes of getting a fake silk flower--and it worked. (Must be those mad skillz I honed kissing sweaty marathoners in Boston.)

Check out the ponytail on that member of the Walking Brigade (aka excuse for old men to smooch hot young things).

We make out like bandits!

On Tuesday, I learned several important things.

I have really good first-time Mardi Gras luck--and the amazing throws to prove it.

There really is no time too early to start drinking on Mardi Gras day.

I am a part of this community, and no matter how strong the pull of a glitzy, glamourous Mardi Gras celebration (and Kevin Kostner as parade marshal for Endymion!) is, I couldn't see myself celebrating anywhere but here, with my people.

Other parts of the country questioned the reinstatement of seemingly pointless drunken debauchery for Mardi Gras 2006, just 5 or 6 months after Katrina, when folks were still living in shelters, tents, or in trailers (well, not that that has changed much...); they couldn't see justifying the tens of thousands of dollars spent on celebrations, tv coverage, parade security and clean-up, floats and costumes and throws. They didn't understand why someone who had been exiled to Washington or Missouri or Pennsylvania would spend a chunk of their insurance money to come back home "just" for Mardi Gras.

Well, now, I get it.

Mardi Gras isn't about getting drunk or exposing yourself or streaking through the streets (although that all happens in good measure during the weeks leading up to Fat Tuesday). Mardi Gras is about family, it's about who you are and where you come from. It's about celebrating your heritage and your community, and giving yourself up with total abandon to the upheaval of status and propriety and rules that happens on Carnival. It's about one last free-for-all before digging into the self-reflection and self-denial of the Lenten season. It's about getting down with your people, eating and drinking and playing and laughing and savoring the time you have together.

And maybe, just maybe, it's a little bit about beer. Just a little. :)

MLK Day 2008

2008-02-07T07:48:00.000-08:00

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." -Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Every year on the day that celebrates the birth of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I read his "Letter from a Birmingham Jail," both as a reminder of the struggle for justice by those who came before us which we must carry on today, and because it is so powerfully written. Whatever else you might say about Dr. King, one thing is sure: he penned with words of fire and proclaimed with the voice of a prophet a message of undeniable Truth--the kingdom of God will be long in coming for those of us who cannot reach beyond the divides we have created between ourselves and our neighbors. We talked in ESL class that week about Dr. King's work, and it was frustrating (though not surprising) to see how well my hispanic/latino students could relate to living under the oppressive cloud of blatant racial discrimination and abuse. A fresh reminder of how much work we have to do, how much work I have yet to do, in order to accomplish that kingdom.

This year on MLK Jr. Day, I started a new tradition: I went to our city's MLK Jr. Day parade. MLK Jr. Day here is a big deal--the festivities aren't quite as grandiose as Mardi Gras, and the crowd is mostly African-American as opposed to everybody gettin' down together (if that's not irony, I don't know what is)--but judging by the fact that you have to get there 2 hours early if you want a decent vantage point, it's pretty important in the community. I did feel somewhat ambivalent about the whole celebration because it seemed to be much more about hanging out, watching pretty young thangs shake it in spandex (see below), and getting into the occasional street skirmish than about honoring Dr. King's memory, although the city's prominent NAACP and faith-based groups did pay him homage with floats, artistic & civic represenations, and broadcasted versions of his speeches. (More on the parade below.)

As much as MLK Jr. Day is a fitting and necessary celebration for our country (evidenced by the monochrome character of the parade-goers--King's message wasn't just for his own community, y'all!), and as much as it functions as a sorely needed catalyst for remembering and honoring the entirety of the Civil Rights movement, it can sometimes feel like a personality cult--King had his faults (as do we all), and he would be the first to admit, I believe, that the movement wasn't about glorifying him, but rather about creating widespread and lasting change, seeking restoration, and advancing the cause of justice.

So I was gratified as well as fascinated to learn more about the city's role in the Civil Rights movement--not a story that often emerges from the shadow of its more well-known sisters (the lunch counter sit-ins, the Montgomery bus boycott, etc.), but one which exemplifies creative, grassroots civil disobedience.

I'm talking about the integration of Gulf Coast beaches through the ingenious concept of "wade-in"s, or the simple act by blacks and non-black allies of laying down a towel, putting up a sun umbrella, and going for a swim on sections of public beach considered strictly "white only." The picture above (borrowed from a website about the book Beaches, Blood, & Ballots: A Black Doctor's Civil Rights Struggle by the estimable Dr. Gilbert R. Mason, founder of the Biloxi, MS chapter of the NAACP: http://www.upress.state.ms.us/books/55) shows law enforcement authorities forcibly escorting wade-in integrationists off of the beach, where, as members of the public, they had every right to be. Except, of course, that at the time, "public" didn't include black people.

I haven't read Dr. Mason's book yet, but it's high on my list of books to check out from the local library (after I finish Mississippi Mud, the true story about the Dixie Mafia's most notorious murder, a hit organized by a close relative of the man we rent office space from...I really had no idea what I was getting into down here!). I could hardly believe I'd never heard about this vital piece of history before--and we all know the old maxim about being doomed to repeat ourselves if we can't learn from our past. Thoughts & comments on Dr. King/Civil Rights Movement welcomed!!

As for our own MLK Jr. Day participation, check out the nifty, social justice-themed float HandsOn Gulf Coast put together:

Yes those are giant blue hands with MLK Jr. quotations painted on them. And yes we were the only all-white parade float. Or even mostly-white parade float. Just like later we were the only white/latino people eating soul food at the AME church in the background (whose fellowship hall walls are covered in gigantic murals of black Jesus and black Moses. I dig it).

This guy is HAPPY to be in the marching band. I mean, who wouldn't be--it's band!!

Check out the fringe, and the pantyhose! There was no shortage of psychedelic, skin-hugging, besequined outfits in this year's parade.

Drumline, anyone? This band kept jumping in and playing their own pieces over the sounds of other bands performing. And that's why it's called a Battle of the Bands!

Happy belated MLK Jr. Day, y'all--now go think about race relations and how you can break down some of those prejudices to which we all cling so very tightly.

Confessions of a Church-Hopper

2008-01-21T14:29:00.000-08:00

As I've mentioned before (see the post entitled "Wait for the Rain" in the April archives), there are no UCC churches in the state of Mississippi. So I have become a bit of a spiritual wanderer seeking sustenance and fellowship where I may, whether that's in the high-liturgy Episcopal church I attend on Sundays, or with the black Missionary Baptist congregations where I go for Wednesday night prayer services, or in the occasional Methodist or otherwise Protestant locale. This adds to my spiritual smorgasboarding a year and a half ago in New Orleans, where there were enough UCC churches that I could pick a new location each Sunday without visiting the same congregation twice; my denominational schizophrenia in southern France, where I was both a member of the local Catholic cathedral choir and a regular attendee at a Madagascar-influenced Reformed Protestant Church; and my exploration of Hindu temples & guru wisdom in India.

All this exposure to the myriad ways in which we worship God has given me a rather potluck taste for liturgical practices--for example, I have a fondness for the familiarity and symbolic weight of centuries-old ritual in the pre-Reformation church, but I also crave the dynamism and creativity of the ever-changing participatory prayers in Protestant churches. I find taking communion each Sunday at the Episcopal church to be very fulfilling and I take strange delight in using kneelers--somehow I feel more devout & focused if I'm kneeling when I pray--but boy could they use some more melodious hymns. We never take communion at Wednesday night prayer services, but the verbal theatrics and pure passion of the evening message will set your soul on fire. I'm not even ALLOWED to take communion in Catholic services (let's not go there...it's a sore spot) and I can't understand the finer points of the homily at Spanish-language mass, but the sudden three-dimensionality of one of the mariachi players singing harmony during a folk hymn is pure bliss. (Plus I love seeing little old Mexican ladies in habits responding to every statement with "Gracias a Dios"--as in, "Isn't it a beautiful day out, Sister?" "Yes, thanks be to God." "The choir was in tune most of the service!" "Yes, thanks be to God." "Are you teaching catechism next week, Sister?" "No, thanks be to God!")

The contrasts amongst this great variety of worship styles and credos have helped me to refine what it is, exactly, that I believe; conversely, the commonalities which tie them together have served to affirm the validity of my core beliefs. It's certainly an enriching process, one which stirs up the proverbial religious pot and makes me put on my theological thinking cap.

P.S. Check out my earlier post for today's flavor on the church-hopping front: Latin(o) Mass!