Tuesday, January 17, 2017

What Color is Your Poverty?

In 1972, the book What Color is Your Parachute? was written to help people determine or change their careers.  It was also a self-help, hippie-dippie manual to figure out your path in life.  I was nine when it was written.  By the time I was starting out on my journey to find my career path, it was the 80’s, and things had changed a great deal from one decade to another.  If you had a career path in the 80’s you were more likely driven, certain, and had some high octane caffeine or other stimulant coursing through your veins and finding the color of your parachute or your free flowing maxi dress seemed passé and lacking in motivation.  I was on a fast route to advertising design, check, marriage, check, children, check, check, check, divorce, check, lather, rinse, repeat, etc. and so on…I changed career paths, but activism, social justice, and public service has been a constant in one capacity or another throughout my journey.

On Tuesday, January 10, I had the opportunity to go to Albany to attend a “speak out” and rally on behalf of CFE, the Campaign for Fiscal Equity.  Rally goers from across the state gathered to request the release of state held funds that are owed to school districts throughout New York. 

A little history;
New York State enacted the Foundation Aid formula following a 2006 court order through CFE's work. This formula was intended to guarantee that the state met its constitutional obligations to all students by phasing in a $5.5 billion increase in classroom operating aid over a four-year period. The phase-in period was implemented to expedite the release of funds to maximize quick improvements in educational opportunities to high need schools. The Foundation Aid formula promotes equity by funneling 72% of new Foundation Aid to high need school districts.  The phase in period began and ended after the second year, and has not been added to the state budget since. 

The day was well organized by chapters of Citizens Action and the Alliance for Quality Education.  Both of these non-profit agencies have a strong grass roots component with a passion and drive to improve public education.  I opted to take the bus to gain the full experience of working collaboratively with other agency members, teachers from around the Hudson Valley, and community members.  This gave me the chance to meet other groups and individuals that support education and strive to make it better.  I encourage you to check out their Facebook pages, attend one of their events, volunteer or simply send them a shout out for their work.

The speakers at the rally were inspiring.  They were impassioned.  They were dedicated to this cause.  CFE is in place to ensure high needs schools have adequate funding for programming in an effort to balance the playing field.  The lowest performing schools are typically located in urban areas with predominantly low socioeconomic populations, and rural districts with predominantly low socioeconomic populations.  Many of the speakers discussed race and many of the signs focused the need for quality education for Black and Brown students.   This did not surprise me, but there were a few moments it made me uncomfortable.  At one point a very passionate speaker pointed out that whites need to share.  I get it, but it made me uncomfortable just the same.  I know my discomfort is nothing compared to the struggles that are met each day by those in poverty, black, brown, red, yellow, and white.  I have concerns that I think are necessary to share now more than ever.  I work in Rondout Valley, a “high needs” district based upon the number of students impacted by rural poverty.  The vast majority of these students are not black or brown.   So I began wondering, what color is my district’s poverty?

We can no longer afford to color poverty.  I write this with a certain amount of trepidation and caution.  It is with no intent to diminish the intensity and extent of adversity experienced by minorities living in poverty, but to point out that poverty needs to be addressed from a clear viewpoint, with a new vision.  In fact, by coloring poverty we continue to support and encourage dangerous and damaging stereotypes.  We create divisiveness and perpetuate a scapegoat culture that requires recognition and blame based on skin color that is not white.  By coloring poverty in this way, we allow the other side of poverty, the white, disenfranchised side of poverty to be empowered to point fingers and blame the more vibrant colors of poverty.  It permits a distinction based on skin color.  It allows one group to believe themselves to be less deserving of poverty, as though one’s level of melanin genetically predetermines his/her capacity for poverty, and not the geographical inequities of economic and social opportunities that can be publically managed and equitably balanced.  

We can no longer afford to color poverty.  The need to build a wall, the new president’s endorsement by the KKK, the increase in white supremacist groups, that focus on directing hate and blame towards minorities and immigrants, as though these terms are synonymous, for taking “our” jobs and/or threatening “our” lives via drugs and terrorism and rape.  In doing so, we can pretend the drugs impacting our country don't come from doctors, and pharmaceutical companies, and no wall is going to change that.  We can ignore that terrorism is the code of honor in groups like the KKK, but please know; rape is a violation whether it is at the hands of our husbands, or uncles, or fathers, or boyfriends, or strangers, and when the young white college student is convicted and unpunished, why would we even start to fear the possible immigrant?

We can no longer afford to color poverty, but we need to distinguish the differences between urban and rural poverty because they call for different action.  According to an article featured in International Journal of Basic and Applied Science, 2013, by Amanda Stansell and T. F. McLaughlin;

Rural poverty has many of the same negative outcomes as urban poverty, but it also has its unique challenges. In impoverished rural areas, there is less sophisticated medical care, the towns are spread out, further away from intervention services and often there is little to no public transportation. People living in these areas are less likely to have strong academic backgrounds- they may not have graduated from high school.
The poverty rate for rural children is slightly elevated compared to that of urban children. 

The article goes on to highlight an increased incidence of students identified with disabilities in rural settings, as high as 25% in some.

I can’t stress enough the needs of children in urban settings impacted by poverty. They are excessive. They are unique in ways that must be addressed.  The minority population suffers greatly and disproportionately in urban settings and their needs must not be minimized.  I watched as social media battles ensued after the Black Lives Matters campaign was started to address concerns about police brutality, which incited the response that All Lives Matters.  So I write this with concern that it is not misunderstood.

WE can no longer afford to color poverty.  Calling attention to the very real needs of one group, must not deride the needs of another group, nor should it shut down and further weaken the voice of that first group.  There are, without a doubt, profound and deep issues of poverty that are distinctly related to racism, but when we give poverty that face of color, we make a large faction of the population in poverty invisible.  If we can’t see poverty, or recognize it in an instant, how do we reach those students in need in our rural schools? How do we start making real in-roads to break the cycle?  By allowing poverty to be so invisible in one group did it grow, unchecked into a hate-fueled group looking for a hate instigating leader?

I don’t have all the answers, but after my day in Albany with the Alliance for Quality Education and Citizen’s Action, I feel a bit more optimistic about the power of speaking out and giving voice to change what is unjust.  You can also call or write your local representatives and encourage them to demand Governor Cuomo release the funds that are owed to our schools.  And give a shout out to these active impassioned groups: Citizens Action, and The Alliance for Quality Education.



Monday, January 2, 2017

Around the Bend, at the Next Pass

I’ve decided to throw myself into this New Year, expectant and open to joy and pleasure after a bit of a happiness hiatus.  When I look back at my life over the past few years I can clearly see the checks, the balances, areas of diminishing returns, gains and losses.  I can also see the time was spent in self-care, quiet reflection, and contemplative thought. And yes, there were a few unnecessary bouts of binge tv watching, losing days or weeks dedicated to the lives of criminal-minded fiends, superheroes in the making, and violent, but sexy anarchists trying to make a better life for their children. 

In some ways I feel as though I sat last year out, or at least I kept everything close to the core and moved about at a pace never before experienced.  Slow. Like really slow.  Slow enough to watch TV, a recreational activity I never before had time for, or interest in, or the capability to sit still and attend to.  Life does things to you, or it did to me.  Big things, that cause you to curse the gods, or question faith, or watch mindless TV and slow to a resting state long enough to rest up for the next act, the one you get to produce. 

Since I’m going to produce this next series of adventures in my life, I might as well be the casting director for it.  Why take foolish chances at this point in the game?  I know we all have people in our lives that deplete and exhaust us.  Sometimes there is a good reason to keep them.  Maybe they are temporarily going through something and there’s little to offer in the way of help.  In this circumstance, the gift of time and compassion will increase the investment in that friendship tenfold.  Friendship for me, has always required blockbuster actors, one or two, that produce box office hits time and again, across genres.  I’m learning the seasoned character actors that are always available can’t be easily replaced or appreciated enough.  These friends ask for little and give a great deal.  Authenticity is the key trait that I’m looking for in this next round of casting calls.  The extras also  serve a purpose, but don’t confuse them with true friends.  These are the people that come into your life with purpose, but they are not meant to stay the course or be in each scene.  Let go with gratitude, and remember them warmly,  without guilt.

I have a modest budget for sets.  I’ll be filming on location, which is convenient because…wherever I go, there I will be… .  It has come to my attention, over this period of slow motion that I am departing from, that I have held on to far too many props.  For no other reason than the fact that I am aging on the side of old-er, I recently looked around and actually formed this thought, if I die suddenly, my children will have to take care of, (which really means: rent a dumpster) and get rid of all this crap.  People do die, suddenly.  Certainly more people than I had been aware of in my 30’s and 40’s.  The thought was a mature version of the adage make sure you wear clean underwear in case you’re in an accident.  In one scenario you might die of embarrassment, in the other your legend could be marred for eternity. 

I suppose all that TV viewing has given me a flare for the dramatic…. I’m not afraid that my legend, as it might be, will suffer from great marring, but I am confident that my children will be caught laughing at the ridiculous until the reality sets in that every scrap of potential art project fodder, has no real use or value.  Instead it will be an expense they inherit in cubic square garbage weight and time spent looking through so much beautiful crap.   First, there will be the touching of things, turning them, wondering what the hell I saved that for, and then throwing it away. 

We are “touchers”, my children and I.  Art folk have this strange regard for the tactile features of just about everything.  It’s worth noting, tactile features can suddenly and unexpectedly feel like living in an amusement park for art folk.  Worse, we aren’t always sure if the tactile feature of an object will scare us to crying like being in the Spook-A-Rama, or it might soothe you like floating down the Lazy River.  Art folk don’t tend to fare well in amusement parks, all of that stimulation crashing into our ever-stimulated beings. 

I have a pretty good idea which of my children will be soothed by my collection of rocks, shells, bones, and random feathers, but I can’t be sure who will get to the scene first.  The overflowing boxes, bowls, and drawers of beads will be an issue.  Some of the containers have more value than the beads, but dumping beads and preserving industrial inspired containers will add time to this task.  The sound of beads, crashing will throw one into a near fit.  The laughter will have ceased days ago, jobs will be lost from the time needed to sort, and curse, and maybe cry at my post mortem irresponsibility.   Is that the way I want to be remembered? Surely not. I definitely have to spend some time clearing some of these props. 

When I introduced this idea to a friend recently, she bristled slightly at my morose seeming concern.  Fine, I said, I still need to clear things out.  One recent late night escape into a Netflix induced coma brought me to Meek’s Cut-Off.  Michelle Williams and Shirley Henderson on the Oregon Trail.  Now that was some act of faith and ballzy casting!  The Oregon Trail is a bit of a guide post for me.  It represents some crazed stoic determination against adversity.  Something I need to maybe lessen my load of in the coming year(s).   I need to avoid hardships when there are other options available.  I am, however, using the Oregon Trail as a gauge for determining my rest-of-life partner.   It goes like this; will he be dead weight on the trail?  If he gets the sniffles will he survive the discomfort or kill us all when the coyotes smell his insufferable torment?  Can he change a wagon wheel? Make a new one from the random tumbleweed? Ask for directions when he’s lost? Can he make me feel like a woman after I walked along side of our wagon gathering roadkill rodents for our proverbial love feast? 

For the New Year, I have decided  to start looking at all of my earthly belongings and determine which things will fit in my wagon and which things to throw off at the next pass.  My load will be lighter.  Adding joy and pleasure is my intention for 2017.  And the Donner Party?…well that’s there business.  Who am I to judge, I’m hoarding found bones, and random feathers, and 4 individual gloves with no mates in sight, and too many ratty-assed towels, and no! don’t open that box!!! 

I’ve been on the Oregon Trail.  I saw Shirley’s beads, and chipped china and broken dreams.   Stay the course, pack lightly, create joy and manifest happiness, the rest is extraneous crap, and no one fights lawyers for that.