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Category: Politics & Activism

POEM: devotion

devotion

I can’t call it a struggle
not in the sense I would wish
I’m sure I don’t believe
in fact it’s hard for me to imagine
I ever did, except as obligation

and yet this morning again —
while walking the quiet sidewalks
of this Southern college town
listening to a priest read Herbert and Jarrell —
I imagined what it would be like
to say goodbye to all this day-to-day
to wrap my body in black
stand in the glow of stained glass
say the words I can still recite from memory
nearly thirty years after

I picture their faces, lost as I am
looking to me to make sense of
what cannot be made sense of
what a gift that must be
to sit at the center of so many lives
to reassure them that it all means something
that today is more than another spin
around an axis most of them
must also take on faith

I want to be the one the grieving family calls
the calm presence at the bedside
or the smiling face to those whose days
contain few smiles
I want to wear the uniform of compassion
to speak with the voice of righteousness
to say to the strikers, the protesters,
the homeless, the jailed:
you are not alone
and in that moment to see in their eyes
their silent response:
we need you

17 April 2013
Auburn, AL

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Ain’t Gonna Play Slum City

[Note: This piece originally appeared on Page A6 of the March 28, 2013 edition of The Auburn Plainsman.]

Ain’t Gonna Play Slum City

Slum City is a row of makeshift shelters erected in front of Auburn University’s Student Center with the intention of showcasing poverty around the world. I believe the intentions of the builders of Slum City are honorable. I think they’re trying to do good work. But I believe they’re going about it the wrong way, for several reasons.

Poverty Over There Vs. Poverty Right Here

Several of the shelters have signs with country names — I saw India, Cambodia and Kenya. It was a very windy day and I thought some of the signs might have blown away, because the other shelters were unmarked.

One difficulty with the way the “city” is set up is that is suggests that poverty is something that happens to unfortunate people of color in far-off places. That’s particularly sad given that 1 in 5 people living in Lee County, Alabama — home of Auburn University — live below the poverty line. (The poverty line itself is a poor measure of quality of life. In 2012, the poverty line for a family of four was $23,000. So if you and your partner have two children and make $24,000, you live above the poverty line, but it sure doesn’t feel like it.)

All Of [Insert Country Name] Looks Like This

I’m also uncomfortable with the image this creates in the mind of the public that, for example, “Kenya” equals “slum.” This reinforces the stereotypical image of the “Dark Continent” as a place of poverty, savagery, lack of technology. But have you ever seen photos of Nairobi? It looks like any modern American city. The same is true for Phnom Penh, capital of Cambodia.

Hear me clearly: I do not mean to suggest that poverty is not real in these places. I’m simply pointing out that labeling a cardboard hut “Kenya” or “India” or “Cambodia” is too simplistic and misleading.

Why Are Poor People Poor?

In large part, it’s because of us. Look at what we wear. If you took off everything you’re wearing that was made in a far-off country with poor labor standards, would you be reading this naked? I know I’d be writing it that way. The reason I can buy work shirts for $9.99 each at a chain store is because someone suffered to make them.

The same is true for our food. How can a fast food place sell five tacos with meat in them for $1 if someone down the production line isn’t being paid far below a living wage?

The cars we drive, the gas that powers them, the clothes we wear, the food we eat, the elements in our smart phones and laptops — these all come from the labor of people without whose poor compensation we’d be paying much, much more.

False Distance

The effect of Slum City, in my opinion, is to create a false distance between the observer and the observed. Surrounded by multi-million dollar buildings, with a Starbucks and a Chick-fil-A just a few feet away, it’s easy to feel like this is a museum exhibit or a look at something with which the viewer has nothing to do. That’s just not true. We’re able to live the way we live because other people live in places like Slum City. And even engendering feelings of “gosh, this is horrible, those people must be suffering,” isn’t enough, unless those feelings are tied to concrete action.

OK, So What Do We Do?

As students and community members, the main thing we can and must do is ask how to craft better campus policies to confront some of these realities. This could cover everything from the paper used to the food served to the way employees are paid. These questions aren’t easy to ask, and they’re not easy to answer, either. The people who run the university have a budget to answer to and they don’t have complete freedom to change course. But working together, there are ways to make changes that could mean a real difference in people’s lives.

Moreover, it’s time to stop thinking of poverty as something that happens far away. For example, how many Auburn students and staff qualify for food assistance? Do they receive it? If not, let’s help them register for programs such as SNAP (the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program).

I encourage you, as you explore these questions, to adopt the solidarity model. Go to the communities you think might need help and ask them what they need. Don’t assume. Don’t swoop in to “save” people. Figure out how to help with the plans these communities already have and the work they’re already doing.

Good Intentions

Again, I believe the people who built Slum City thought they were doing the right thing. But poverty is a systemic issue, not a set of random circumstances. And it starts right here at home, with our actions and with the lives of our neighbors, rich and poor. Let’s take down Slum City and start building a better community right here, right now.

(By the way, for those of you younger than I am, the title of this piece is a reference to “Sun City,” a song from the anti-Apartheid era.)

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POST: his master’s tombstone

his master’s tombstone

“Amos Wynn, born in slavery
at his own expense he had a marker placed
on the grave of his former master
erected by a white friend 1947″

— on a marker in Baptist Hill cemetery, Auburn, AL

near the cemetery gate is a marker
to commemorate Amos Wynn
who saved up his money
to buy a headstone for the man
who had enslaved him since birth
the marker reads erected by a white friend
oh the happy slave
who was treated well
who loved his master
who grieved when his master passed
by all accounts they were friends
Amos and the man whose last name he shared
not through birth but through possession
when his master died violently
at the hands of another
Amos worked and saved
borrowed and begged
until he could afford to place the stone
that his friend’s widow never placed
it’s hard to know what to make of all this
the natural tendency is to be angry
to feel — on Amos’s behalf — that it’s all a lie
a horrible misrepresentation of history
a false telling of Amos’s inner life
but perhaps harder still to imagine, to accept
is that he might really have loved his master
for if that is true, what else might be true?

17 March 2013
Auburn, AL

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POEM: Ode To William Stafford

william-e-stafford (1)

Ode To William Stafford

I can see him spread out on the couch
pad of paper in one hand, pencil in the other
a far cry from the camp where he’d spent time
as a conscientious objector during the war
in high school, two of my friends
counseled male students about selective service
and how they could register as objectors
there was no war on — or at least no draft
but my friends were eager to tell their fellow students
that resistance was possible, even necessary
really, though, we had very little at stake
we were middle class white kids
none of us would be wearing a uniform
unless we chose to
not so in Stafford’s day, when the arm of the state
could pluck you from your kitchen table
drop you in a European field
before you’d had time to put down your cereal spoon
when to say no was a criminal act
because everyone else was saying yes
planting their Victory Gardens
buying their War Bonds
never asking how they’d gotten there in the first place
“Wouldn’t you have fought Hitler?” is too easy a question
a better one is: “What could we have done earlier
so Germany had no need for a Hitler in the first place?”
this is what I think of when I think of him
there on the couch, pencil and paper in hand
trying through his writing to fix our broken world

2 March 2013
Auburn, AL

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My newly decorated ukulele

I’m a big fan of Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger as people, as musicians, as activists, and as decorators of instruments. Woody had this on his guitar:

20060417-woodyguthrie-killingfascists

And Pete has this on his banjo:

"This machine surrounds hate and forces it to surrender."

I thought for quite a while about what to write on mine. I decided to use a phrase from Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh on the front, and then drew a lotus on the back. You can click to see larger images:

IMAG6389

IMAG6392

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POEM: stained

spot_961_625

stained

there’s a red stain on the cracked driveway
it’s no longer wet to the touch
yet it still drips onto the yellowing paper promises
we keep under lock and key and glass
in the places we call sacred
what kind of man does it take to hide in the honeysuckle
to shoot another man in the back
for the simple act of wanting to be human
Utah Philips said the government doesn’t give you your rights
so it can’t take them away
that’s too simple, though
for that to be true, we all have to decide it’s true
we’re a long, long way from that day
for now, those whom a few of us elect
and those they choose in turn
get to decide which of us gets a key
to the small red gate set into the high wall
they’ve built around the last expanse of open space
standing on this cracked driveway
feeling the red stain through the soles of my shoes
I’m not hopeful that all that many keys have been made

27 February 2013
Auburn, AL

/ / /

This poem was partly inspired by this column by Charlie Pierce.

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POEM: out of nowhere

Rosa-Parks-9433715-1-402

out of nowhere

what she did, she planned to do
from the NAACP to the Highlander Folk School
she had prepared for this moment
it wasn’t even the first time she’d done it
a decade before, that same driver had
thrown her off that same bus
for not entering through the back door

when we ignore the preparation
we turn an activist into an impossible saint
we turn resistance into a miracle
we say that what she did only she could do

NO

we must all refuse to move to the back of the bus
we must all get educated, get organized, get ready
we are all capable of throwing our bodies
onto the gears of a corrupt system
we can all be — must all be — Rosa Parks

4 February 2013
Rosa Parks’ 100th birthday
Auburn, AL

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POEM: MLK Day

IMG_6530

MLK Day

all these feet and fingers and hearts and brains
all these lungs and muscles and nerves and veins
all in the service of the greater good

in these times, making art is a revolutionary act
beauty is a power that can vanquish despair
“this machine surrounds hate and forces it to surrender”

if a banjo can change the course of history
imagine what all of us together could do
building a new world, one street corner at a time

21 January 2013
Auburn, AL

/ / /

PHOTO: Poets and others gather on Toomers Corner on MLK Day. [Photo by Brennen Reece]

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POEM: we were burning

we were burning

in those days we skipped the folk songs
made speeches to the pounding drums
of Michael Franti & Spearhead
a righteous fire blazed in our guts
kept us warm through the lake effect winters
we were burning, we were burning, we were burning

we ran through the streets of Rochester
with the police hot on our heels
cops shouted our names through bullhorns
but careful hands passed us through the crowd
like children under the protection of the village
we slipped into an alleyway and were gone

a decade on, I sit at my desk eating a banana
listening to Spearhead in my button-down shirt
watching the plugged-in, tuned-out faces
cross the campus outside my window
I put my hand on my much more ample belly
to see whether I can still feel the flames

10 January 2013
Auburn, AL

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POEM: Avoid Route 91 after dark.

Avoid Route 91 after dark.

it’s not safe to be dark out where
the streetlights end / the wheat takes over
constantly scanning the rearview mirror
for approaching headlights
knowing there’s nowhere to run
the engine can’t outpace the anger
a hate born of fear / a fear born of ignorance
not so far from here, in planetary terms
they’d ask for your papers / flashlights
poking your eyes through the car window
obscuring the face of The State
on Route 91 they’ll just run you off
force you to the side of the road
pull you from the car / have their way
here in the dark wheat fields
nothing but the sound of the wind
and the engine they never turn off
rumbling back there on the roadside
they don’t care if you see their faces
who would you tell?

27 August 2012
New York City

/ / /

This poem was inspired by an article written by Ta-Nehisi Coates in The Atlantic. The title is a line from the article. LINK

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An open letter to This American Life

19 March 2012

Dear Ira Glass and the staff of This American Life,

Four of us gathered around a laptop in Brooklyn last night to listen to the live broadcast of the retraction episode of This American Life. We started with a real feeling of respect for the idea that TAL would spend an entire episode fact-checking its own broadcast, coupled with worry that the problems with Mike Daisey himself would lead to a lessening of concern about Apple’s labor practices. We came to the show with varying levels of familiarity with TAL. All but one of us had listened to the original Daisey episode, and two of us are regular TAL listeners.

In the initial segment, in which Rob Schmitz tracked down the translator, we all found ourselves asking several basic questions:

  1. Why was the translator any more credible than Daisey? What about this was different from any “he said/she said” argument?
  2. What, if any, influence did Apple, Foxconn or the Chinese government bring to bear on the translator or on This American Life?
  3. Is it just a coincidence that the retraction episode aired just as Apple launched a new iPad?

During the interview with Schmitz, Glass and Daisey, we were struck by Daisey’s unfortunate inability to better frame his performance. Rather than simply saying “some of these characters were composites of people I met and stories I heard from workers who had first-hand knowledge,” he stumbled around and sounded very insincere. It’s important to say that we all felt, upon hearing this segment, that the original story shouldn’t have been broadcast as aired on TAL. That might also be true even if TAL had included a disclaimer about the composite nature of some of the characters, although that’s harder to judge.

The most disappointing part of the show was the final segment in which Glass spoke with New York Times reporter Charles Duhigg. This entire segment came off as an ill-informed or willfully ignorant dismissal of the role of first-world consumption in harming the lives of the people who make what we consume.

For example:

Duhigg: We know from Apple’s own audits and the reports that have published that at least 50 percent of all audited factories, every year since 2007, have violated at least that provision. More than half of the workers whose records are examined are working more than 60 hours per week.

Glass: Now, is that necessarily so bad? I mean, aren’t a lot of these workers moving to the city to work as many hours as possible? They’re away from their families; they’re young; and they’re there to make money and they don’t care.

This exchange is built on the idea that there’s no possible way to run the world other than the way it’s currently being run. Are you seriously suggesting that anyone wants to work 60 or more hours per week and wouldn’t gladly trade that for 40 hours at a decent wage? Have we really become so inured to human suffering that we actually believe people want to work at slave wages for giant multinational corporations? Is this the most we can imagine for our fellow human beings?

This segment of the show also suffered from a very first-world-centered opinion about how other cultures work. For example:

Duhigg: That being said, I think that China is a little bit different and that the expectations, particularly as a developing nation of workers, are a little bit different. I don’t think holding them to American standards is precisely the right way to look at the situation.

There’s a lot wrong with that statement. To begin, it’s maddening to hear two well-off white American men talking about what the Chinese want from their working lives. How do you know? And what would make you assume that what they want is different from what you want?

Additionally, it’s hilarious to hear about “American standards.” Our guess is that there are quite a few people within walking distance of the New York Times building or the WBEZ offices who could tell you a thing or two about what it’s like to be a worker in America. Particularly a non-union worker, as almost all private-sector workers are. Of course, it would be a challenge to ask an American about what it’s like to manufacture electronics, given that we have people in developing nations do that for us now.

The final nail in this coffin was Glass’s remark toward the end of his talk with Duhigg:

Glass: But to get to the normative question that’s kind of underlying all the reporting and all the discussion of this, the thing that we all want to know when we hear this is like, “Wait, should I feel bad about this?” As somebody who owns these products, should I feel bad? And I don’t know that I feel so bad when, when I hear this.

To Duhigg’s credit, he seems fairly surprised by this statement and offers several reasons why Glass should feel bad, although he says it’s not his job to tell Glass how to feel. But Glass’s statement struck us as the fundamental problem underlying this episode, which was that people of privilege with little sympathy for workers were much more concerned with protecting their own reputations than exposing injustice.

When the show ended, one of the regular TAL listeners in our group said, “I feel like I want to take a shower.” We all felt that way. It was extremely disappointing and a perfect example of why more people don’t know or care about the plight of workers here and abroad.

Sincerely,

Jake Aron
Jason Crane
Emma Goldsmith-Rooney
Kate Moser

Brooklyn, NY

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POEM: original black

original black

three men in white
investigating black
all-caps BLACK

digging at:
        the roots
        the rhythms
        the rhymes

blood samples
lined up against
blue-black bodies
strands of DNA
leading to Pryor’s
“original black”

Andrew Lamb
(“The Black Lamb”)
lives behind this poem
his saxophone weeps
for New Orleans
salty tears running
down black cheeks
saliva on cane reed
sweat on his brow

there were two black
kids in my high school
out of twelve hundred
one Cambodian girl, too
(“a boat person”)

“the thing I like about you”
John said to me
“is that you talk
to black people
just like other people”

just.
like.
other.
people.

/ / /

This poem was inspired by two things: going to see Vernon Reid’s Artificial Afrika at Dixon Place last night and then listening to Andrew Lamb’s brilliant album New Orleans Suite again this morning.

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