Showing posts with label intersectionality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label intersectionality. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Victim-blaming and "Fear drives hate"

I loathe the phrase "Fear drives hate."

Fear is a normal human emotion. There is nothing wrong with being afraid.

Fear is a completely appropriate response to oppression and to danger. And since most oppressed people spend an awful lot of our lives afraid, and coping with danger from the dominant majority and society, "Fear leads to hate" sounds, and has always sounded, victim-blaming to me.

Telling people basically to suppress their feelings, or that their feelings are "wrong," does not help. I'd say, based on my personal and professional experience over the decades, that stifling feelings is a *lot* more likely to result in people acting into them without thinking about it.

What's more, telling people to stifle their fear sounds a lot like grooming to me. Yes, grooming, as in for abuse. "Don't listen to yourself; you'll just hate people" teaches people not to trust themselves and to ignore danger, and that makes abuse and oppression easier for those in positions of power-over. Saying "Fear leads to hate" in an era when we're supposedly teaching children, and adults who are targets, to listen to their discomfort for the cues it gives us about power-over, is *gaslighting* -- and that is in and of itself a form of oppression and abuse.

Damned right, I'm afraid. I have lived with the experience of violence, and the threat of violence, targeted at me for who I am, my entire fucking life. That violence is part of the edge-of-awareness, subconscious, calculations I make every time I answer the door or leave the house. I have lived with the effects of that violence my entire fucking life; I live with them every day. I am alive right now, and in the current political climate, damned right, I'm afraid, for myself, and for my siblings.

And yeah, that fear leads to anger.

But there's nothing wrong with anger, either. Anger is a normal human emotion. It's a signal.

Anger is a completely appropriate response to oppression and injustice. And yeah, oppressed people can spend an awful lot of our lives angry, coping with injustice from the dominant majority and in society -- so again, "Fear leads to hate" sounds, and has always sounded, victim-blaming to me.

And damned right I'm angry.

Anger can be born of love. I wouldn't be angry if I didn't love justice. If I didn't love my siblings. If I didn't perceive and love That-Which-Is-Sacred in other people and in this Earth.

Also, I can hate what other people do and still love That-Which-Is-Sacred in them. I can still recognize their humanity and their sacredness. *That* is what helps us retain our commitment to non-violence. Our experience -- and the research -- are really clear on this.

It's dehumanization, not fear, that leads to violence.

Fear, anger, and love are fuel for the fight for justice.

And without justice, there can be no peace.

Sunday, January 7, 2018

Winter Solstice and A Winter Solstice Singing Ritual on The VUU!

On Winter Solstice -- at the moment of the Solstice, too! -- I had the pleasure and privilege of spending an hour in the on-line living room of the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Larger Fellowship, as a guest on The VUU. It was a lovely experience -- gift after gift during that hour.

Many thanks to everyone involved for our lovely conversation and experiential celebration of the Solstice, and especially to Lori Stone Sirtosky and Rina Jurceka, for much more than I can put into words in this space.

And just a reminder -- you don't have to have a group to do A Winter Solstice Singing Ritual.  You can do it by yourself in your living room, or with a small group of friends, or with 20 people in a friend's living room.   

Blessed Solstice and Happy 2018!

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Watch the video on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iuGDm9Yr-c

Watch the video here:




Listen to the podcast/audio:

Download podcast here:

More on A Winter Solstice Singing Ritual:

A Winter Solstice Singing Ritual on Facebook:

Erica Baron's wonderful Yule story, which she read on the program:


Thursday, February 25, 2016

Announcing "Pagan Consent Culture: Building Communities of Empathy and Autonomy"

I am so excited to announce the release of the anthology "Pagan Consent Culture: Building Communities of Empathy and Autonomy," edited Christine Hoff Kraemer and Yvonne Aburrow!  

I have a chapter in this book, "Consent Culture: Radical Love and Radical Accessibility." So do lots of other fabulous authors, including Unitarian Pagans and at least one other Quaker Pagan. 

Available in paperback, e-book, and .pdf at

Friday, November 27, 2015

Cherry Hill Seminary: My Paganism has no room for hate speech

I had been waiting to write about this until I could carve out some time to address it in more depth.  But integrity is demanding I say something now.

I am so disappointed in and angry about Cherry Hill Seminary's response to the transphobic and transmisogynist behavior and hate speech of its faculty member Ruth Barrett.  (Content warnings on that second link.)

Cherry Hill Seminary had an opportunity to support academic freedom, and also to stand up for some of the most vulnerable members of our community and in their constituency -- people whose lives are in danger every day.  That danger is increased by behavior like Ruth Barrett's.  (No, I didn't make this up; the experience of transgender people and the research are very clear about that.)  I am particularly aware of this in the wake of this year's Transgender Day of Remembrance. 

Instead Cherry Hill Seminary threw transgender people under the bus.

If Chery Hill's President and Executive Director -- Jeffrey Albaugh and Holli Emore -- support its faculty in bullying and directing hate speech against my transgender sisters, I know I can't count on them to stand up for me when I'm in the crosshairs, either.

In the past, I have recommended Cherry Hill Seminary to many friends, including transgender friends.  In the past, I have donated money to Cherry Hill Seminary.  I'm sorry I can no longer recommend taking courses at CHS to anyone, and can no longer donate money to CHS.  I'm sorry I have to choose between my integrity as a Witch (and my safety as a member of several minorities), and supporting Cherry Hill Seminary. 

The Board and staff of Cherry Hill Seminary still have the opportunity to respond differently to this situation.  For the sake of all Pagans, I hope they choose to. 

Monday, October 12, 2015

Fellowship of Friends of African Descent -- 2015 Fellowship Gathering Clerk’s Letter and Epistle


Dear Friends,
The Fellowship of Friends of African Descent was born out of the Worldwide Gathering of Friends of African Descent organized by Philadelphia Yearly Meeting's Racial Concerns Committee in 1990. Since then, the Fellowship has held gatherings in various U.S. cities and in the year 2000, in the Caribbean nation of Jamaica, bringing Friends of African descent together to worship, nurture ourselves and our families, and to respond to issues of concern.

In this our 25th year of existence, we gathered in Philadelphia in August 2015 to re-establish the regularity of our gatherings and to address issues of concern, including the incidences of violence against African Americans in cities and towns throughout the United States.

In addition to me, our new leadership team includes Laura Boyce, Assistant Clerk; Claudia Wair, Recording Clerk; Robert Thomas, Treasurer; and Marille Thomas, Communications Committee Clerk.

We invite Friends of African descent who are just learning about the Fellowship to visit our Facebook page, read the attached Epistle and hopefully join us next August when we will meet again in Philadelphia.

In the spirit of peace,
Francine E. Cheeks, Clerk

2015 Epistle
Fellowship of Friends of African Descent
1515 Cherry Street
Philadelphia, PA  19102
October 12, 2015

Greetings to Friends everywhere:

The annual session of Fellowship Friends of African Descent convened August 21–23, 2015 at Arch Street Meetinghouse, Philadelphia, PA. Our theme, “Can I Get a Witness? Honoring our Past, Celebrating our Future.”This call for a witness is a prophetic imperative in Acts 1:8.

Affirming the presence of God in all people—Friends settled into an attitude of worshipful listening: listening to each other; listening to the still small voice; and listening to a host of spirit-filled speakers.

We were blessed to hear from Pulitzer Prize winner Harold Jackson, who is the Editorial Page Editor for the Philadelphia Inquirer.  He read from his article, “The Memories of a Black Child in Birmingham,” describing memories of his life as a 9-year-old in 1963 Birmingham. He recalled the violence: marchers beaten and “knocked from their feet by powerful water cannons operated by city firefighters, and then taken to jail.” One of the four little girls killed in the church bombing, Carol Denise McNair, was a friend of his. He recalled the foundation that his family and the Black community provided for him, and noted that such support is no longer present in many communities. “Fifty years later,” he concluded “the hatred has subsided, but it's not gone…. We all must remember the past, so as not to repeat it.” In silence, spoken word, and song we remembered, celebrated, and poured libations honoring we gave thanks for the presence of God, as shown in the lives of our recently departed Friends Noel Palmer, Daisy Palmer, Edward Broadfield, Nancy Peterson, and Jane Cuyler Borgerhoff.

We were heartened by the reports of Paula Rhodes, clerk of the Community, Equality and Justice Committee, Laura Boyce, Associate General Secretary for U.S. Programs, and Paul Ricketts, member of the Community, Equality and Justice Committee. AFSC staff members gave compelling accounts of the essential work the Committee is doing at home and abroad. The work of Peace by Piece engages young people in their communities; particularly important in this time of systemic violence across the nation towards people of African Descent.

Our clerk, Diane Rowley, asked “Where does the Fellowship go from here?” which led to our developing three priorities:
  • Planning a long hoped-for trip to Ghana        
  • Developing a comprehensive Communications and Outreach plan
  • Revisiting the Fellowship’s mission statement
The ensuing discussion produced several concrete goals: Endeavoring to travel to Ghana in August 2017; updating our website and creating an online forum for continuous communication among members; and deliberately incorporating our mission statement into all future activities.

Vanessa Julye reported on the Pre-FGC People of Color Gathering. Feedback from the gathering indicated the importance of the event to those who attend, leading FGC to add the gathering as a budget item. The Friends of Color Center provides materials and support for attenders and is a significant resource. Regional gatherings for people of color give far-flung Friends important face-to-face time. We are extremely grateful for and will continue to support the work of Vanessa and the Ministry on Racism Program. To this end, we have attached a minute to the FGC Central Committee expressing our wholehearted support for the Program.

Ruth Flower of FCNL gave a powerful presentation on Mass Incarceration, detailing the unequal application of justice, the effective for-profit prison lobby, and the numerous alternatives to the current system. We were then treated to hearing Sari Sari Lupe Guinier read from her book "To Face It."

Philip Lord, Clerk of AFSC, delivered the keynote address. He referred to the weekend’s theme as “appropriate and profound” before sharing his experience of having “The Talk,” with his sons; that painful necessity in our society. By telling them that “there’s a prison cell with your name on it,” he related the reality of institutional racism. He spoke of the courage it takes to stand up and be a witness; there are significant risks involved, and all great witnesses make great sacrifices. But no matter the risk, no matter the sacrifice, we are called to be witnesses. Even if we need to step back and take a break, we are called to return, to take on the heavy weight, to change the world with the revolutionary act of being ourselves.

On behalf of the Fellowship of Friends of African Descent,
Francine Cheeks, Clerk

Original here: 

The Fellowship of Friends of African Descent on Facebook:

Friends General Conference Ministry on Racism:
 

Friday, September 4, 2015

Katrina, 10 Years Later -- part I

Hurricane Katrina satellite view, 28 August 2005*
Hurricane Katrina satellite view, 28 August 2005*

The ten-year anniversaries of Hurricanes Katrina, Rita, and Wilma have been much on my mind lately.

In August, 2005, our family had just moved to the Midwest.  I'd grown up in hurricane country and had lived most of my life in majority-minority cities.  I spent the days before Katrina's landfalls tracking the storm on weather websites and anxiously listening to the news.

I spent the days after Katrina hit, like so many people, getting more and more angry, desperately wanting to Do Something.

Hurricane Rita, satellite view, 5 September 2005*
Hurricane Rita, satellite view, 5 September 2005*

I spent Hurricane Rita in Montgomery, Alabama, stranded with hundreds of other disaster relief volunteers in a big box store converted to volunteer staff shelter.  We were incredibly frustrated at being stuck there instead of being out in the field, and given how impossible things already were for Katrina survivors, we were worried about how much worse they were getting.

When it was safe enough to travel -- still lots of wind and rain, but lower winds and fewer tornadoes -- I was assigned to go to a newly-opened service center in Jackson, Mississippi as a family services caseworker.  There, my volunteer colleagues and I worked with thousands of hurricane survivors every day -- for weeks.  Many of the people we saw had been displaced twice -- they'd lost everything and been forced to move to another part of the country, then they lost what replacements they'd been able to scramble and were forced to move again.

One of the things I remember most about that time is the incredible people I met and worked with, over and over and over.  The other volunteers.  The survivors.  The National Guard service members, local law enforcement, firefighters, and paramedics.  The people who offered their workplace for our volunteer staff shelter, and tried to make it as homey as possible.

The way people pulled together to pull together.

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It is vitally important to lift up recognition of the structurally racist nature of emergency planning and response by local and federal officials in the Gulf Coast region before, during, and after hurricane season 2005.   Yes, natural disasters generally affect people who are poor, people with disabilities, and people of color harder than they affect non-disabled middle-class white people.  But with Katrina especially, that disproportionate impact was so. much. greater.  It was, and still is, very hard not to see that as almost deliberate -- as the logical consequence of a long, long series of racist decisions and choices.

Black lives matter, dammit.  

Other people, especially people of color, have written about this much better than I can, and I encourage you to seek out what they have to say. Especially about the roots and the long-term effects of that racist decision-making. 

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I know I have more to write about that time, but none of it is quite here yet.  In the meantime, while that's brewing, here are two excerpts from other things I've written in the past: 

At the five-year anniversary: 
Five years ago, we had just moved to the Midwest, and I was listening to the news coverage after Hurricane Katrina and getting angrier and angrier.

Well, that had happened after September 11th, too; and then, the Red Cross had desperately needed help, too.  So I'd taken my three community service days from work and answered phones at the SE PA Red Cross.  It wasn't glamorous, but it freed up trained people to go out in the field and deal with local disasters like house fires.  And it gave me something constructive to do.  Which was better than listening to people bitch all day at work about how we should, in fact, bomb Afghanistan back into the Stone Age.

So when I was getting pissed off after Katrina, I called the local Red Cross in Michigan, thinking I'd answer phones again. 

They asked me to go to the Gulf Coast and do Family Services / Client Services.  Case management.

And I did.

And it was an amazing experience.

I didn't have time to write much about it, and when I got back home, I left almost immediately for a family funeral; but I did write some.  And I also wrote a little in my article for Friends Journal. 

Excerpt from my Friends Journal article, "The Peace Testimony and Armed Forces Emergency Services":
As a Friend, I first got involved with the Red Cross through Disaster Services just after September 11, 2001. Like so many of us, I had a deep need to do something – something to help, and something that expressed the Peace Testimony. What I did was answer phones, all day, every day. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was needed, and it freed up experienced, trained volunteers to go out in the field.

After Hurricane Katrina, I again found myself raging at the news, and again felt that need to do something. So I thought I’d go answer phones again. But because I have experience as a pastoral counselor and case manager and the need was so great, the local Chapter asked me to go to the Gulf Coast instead.

Five weeks after the disaster, at just one service center, in just one town, my fellow volunteers and I saw and spoke with thousands of people every day. None of us could “fix” anything for them. True, we could help them apply for financial assistance. True, we could try to connect them with services. But we couldn’t repair their lives.

Mostly, what we could do was just be there with them.

It turned out our simple presence meant much more than financial assistance to many people.
“You came from where? To be here with us?”
“But you’re not getting paid?!”
“What about your family?”
“Thank you for coming down here.”
“I haven’t told anybody what happened, and it’s been more than a month.”
“We thought nobody cared about us.”

I already knew what a difference it made for me to have someone simply be with me when I was going through hard times. In Mississippi, I learned yet again that bearing witness is sacred work.

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Hurricane Wilma, satellite view, 19 October 2005*
Hurricane Wilma, satellite view, 19 October 2005*



*

Hurricane Katrina, 28 August 2005.  By Jeff Schmaltz, MODIS Rapid Response Team, NASA/GSFC (http://visibleearth.nasa.gov/view_rec.php?id=7938) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Hurricane Rita, 5 September 2005.  By Jacques Descloitres, MODIS Rapid Response Team, NASA/GSFC (http://visibleearth.nasa.gov/view_rec.php?id=7957) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Hurricane Wilma, 19 October 2005.  By NOAA Satellite and Information Service [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Suicide prevention, support, and resources

There is an excellent and timely post by dualitea at Tenure, She Wrote, about the increase in suicide attempts after highly-publicized suicide deaths.  The article includes resources for talking about suicide and supporting people who are struggling. 

It's helpful.  Please read it.  Thank you. 
Research has shown that there is an uptick in the number of suicide attempts following a highly publicized suicide death. Such has happened recently within the trans community, which is prompting this off-day post. Given that 41% of trans people have attempted suicide, right now would be an excellent time to reach out and support the trans people in your life, as well as brush up on your skill set of responding to [those] in crisis who confide in you.
http://tenureshewrote.wordpress.com/2015/01/05/suicide-prevention-psa/