13th

WARNING: The content of this post might be triggering to black people living in America. Proceed with this caution in mind.

Today, I finally watched the documentary 13TH. The content of the documentary is no holds barred and it explains the crucial state of our prison industrial complex that exists in America.

I am no stranger to criticisms of the criminal justice system, although I certainly am not a qualified expert. I have written about it in the past. I also wrote about the system of power that slavery, Jim Crow and the current state of racism have on our society today and why it matters.

In short, racism is a very strong economic tool used by government to keep a system of status quo in place. I am not an expert on the matter for the following reasons: I am not black and have not lived that experience and I am not a scholar in that (or any) subject matter.

However, here's a very over-simplified tabling of the structure:

• THE ELITE (Government, CEOs, The Wealthy)
• MIDDLE CLASS WHITE PEOPLE 
• POOR WHITE PEOPLE
• PEOPLE OF COLOR (Immigrants, Muslims, black people, Latino people, you name it.

The structure of continued discrimination is important because the top class (the elite) know that if the bottom tier of middle class and poor white people ever wake up and realize that their shitty position in life is the fault of the elite, there would be a revolt. This is why strong effort is put to keeping media about people of color to a highly negative constraint. This is why strong effort is put to make sure the white conscious believes black people are criminals. That immigrants will steal our jobs and cause terror. As long as we, in the lower tier barriers, believe we have someone below us, we won't find the need to rise up. Our problem is the crime and the culture of people of color, at least, that's what they want us to believe. Again, I am not a scholar and that is why I am only able to explain it so simplistically. 

The many people interviewed in 13th, however, are scholars on the subject. They know what they are talking about and they have the resources and the research to verify it. One of the many speakers is Michelle Alexander, who authored "The New Jim Crow", which is on my list to read.

Much of the information I heard in 13TH was not particularly new information to me. I had studied it and understood most of it to be true before I had watched it. However, what it did was put in words and ways that I hadn't known how to express and it backed it up with well-researched fact.

If you are white, you need to watch this film. You to need to understand the way these structures exist and why they do. Especially if you are an "ally".

I am going to put together a few facts I learned (or re-learned) from the film:

• Slavery, of course, was an economic system and its abolish caused a fall in the economic structure. As a result, the government knew they needed to make use of the clause in the 13th amendment that allowed for forced servitude to those duly convicted of a crime. As such, after the civil war, black people were arrested en masse for even the pettiest of crimes. All of this was done to reclaim the economic structure that was lost by the abolish of slavery.
• Black criminality and the threat of violence by black people has been and still is used as a media tool. Birth of a Nation is mentioned in this film as an example of early uprising of these stereotypes to keep the system in place. The imagery of black people as animalistic and violent creatures helped justify, in the white conscious, as to why "those people" were dangerous. This was because the political establishment needed black bodies working to sustain the economic structure.
• As time went on, Jim Crow laws were developed. Gradually, states enacted laws placing black people into a permanent class of second-class citizenry. It is obvious that these policies prevented many black people from achieving what they deserved to achieve due to a lack of resources.
• In the 1970's, we saw an increase in incarceration. The film outlines the number of people in prison in 1970 as 357,292 with an increase to 513,900. This was largely due to President Richard Nixon's stance on a "war on crime" and a "war on drugs".
• President Ronald Reagan, however, took this to the next level. His policies funded more prisons and put more police on the ground to be "tough on crime". By 1985, the prison population increased to 759,100.  In 1990, crime bills were pushed further with the "super-predator" narrative and by the end of 1990 we saw a prison population of 1,179,200.
• Much of President Bill Clinton's crime bill is to blame for the systems we now have in place. Mass expansion of prison and funding, increase of policing, police militarization, truth in sentencing laws and mandatory minimum sentencing laws have created perpetual prison hood. This era's effects on imprisonment were so profound that by 2000, we saw a prison population of 2,015,300. In 2014, the population increased to 2,306,200.
• Legislative groups like ALEC combine corporations and politicians together to create legislation designed at increasing profits from criminalization. ALEC has done everything from funding prisons, supporting mandatory minimums and working to pass SB1070 in an effort to increase policing and imprisonment of immigrants. All the while, it's big corporate sponsors, like the American Bail Corporation, Walmart and The Correction Corporations of America benefit tremendously from these types of laws. (See the conflict of interest?)
• The film also addresses plea bargains and the traps that plea bargains place even innocent people charged with a crime.

It is important that this type of information becomes part of our regular conversations. The system will not change when people, namely white people, take a blind eye to it. We must be diligent in discussing how these systems hurt us and how they keep the elite in their elite status.

Did you watch 13TH? Any thoughts?

Much love,

ArchAngel O:)

Papers from Coursework

Well, my experience at Eckerd College was top notch! It was a lot of hard work but I managed with a 4.0 grade point average. I have included links to many of the papers I worked on, in the event anyone is interested in learning about what I learned!

Cultural Anthro: Introduction to Mexico
Cultural Anthro: Mexico: Interview with Informant
Public Health: Review of Body Toxic
Public Health: In my Hometown
Public Health: Suicide
Social Work: Compassion Fatigue for Hospice Workers
Human Development: Adversity and Exposure


If you liked something you read, I'd love to hear about it!

Fiction: Short Story: Honorable Teeth

Every time a person lies their teeth become a little more unhealthy. You work as a dentist and your client has impossibly clean teeth.

Dentistry was the honorable man's work, I always thought. Yet, in many ways, I was a fraud of my own. Every dentist was. We all wore dentures because by the time we got settled in our careers, our teeth had rotted to the core! The entire industry was set up on lies. Brush your teeth, floss, use mouth wash...all of these things will keep your teeth looking fine. The ultimate irony of deception was at play here. The only thing that kept your teeth looking good was true, genuine honesty. I saw it every day. Everyone has a story. Some people with the seemingly most genuine personalities had a few cavities that told stories of some forbidden pasts.
When I met Sandra, I swore she must've been a nun or something. In my career, aside from dentures, I had never seen such perfectly straight, white teeth. So clean, not a cavity in sight.

"Wow, you have a beautiful set of teeth," I glanced.

"I've always kept up with my dental hygiene, I get a cleaning every year!" Sandra smiled, flashing her charm.
"If you don't mind me asking, what do you do Sandra?"

A nun, surely. That's all she could be. "I'm a State Senator," she let out a chuckle.

"Now, now, don't lie to me. It's not good for your teeth!"

"Oh, I'm not lying." She showed me her business card. "I don't represent the district you live in but I am, I've been a Senator for three years now. I come out here for my dental work because you have the best reviews."

"Three years?" I couldn't believe it. Certainly the one profession besides dentistry itself that was full of dentures and she had magnificent teeth.

"Yes," she grinned. "It's not easy work. I'm sure you know, but us politicians don't exactly have the best of reputations."

"No, they don't." I was stunned. "So, how do you do it? How do you keep honest around so much corruption?"

"Some people run for the power. Some do it for the money. If either of those are your motives, you're bound to corruption. It's not just true for politicians, it's any position. Corruption doesn't always mean taking bribes or payouts. Anything that goes against your moral integrity really is corruption. I face a lot of adversaries in the state's government and the population but I sleep well at night."

"well, that is certainly admirable." I responded.

"So, why have you gotten into dentistry?" she questioned.

It was for the money. I have a boat I own and a charming suburban home. I have a wife and children that I'm sure love me for me and not the gifts I give them. I honestly hate dealing with these patients day in and day out and their rotten teeth. But I get paid well for what I do. I suppose I don't sleep as well at night as she does.

"I have a genuine joy in helping people, you know?" I said, as I felt one of my only real teeth left in my mouth, way in the back, throb. "Just strongly passionate about people. Like you."

Fiction: Short Story: Depressed Old Man

A man is severely depressed, crying in a crowded street, when someone comes to talk to him.

"No! No! No!" I heard a man frantically yelling as I started my walk home from work.

I turned around and there he was. Had to be in his 90's and he was just bawling his eyes out on the sidewalk. Crying and screaming out chants of No. People were walking past him, which was not unusual in this town.

I had too much on my mind. My wife and I had been fighting, again. My oldest son was failing algebra. My boss was really grinding my gears and working me to the bone. I swore it couldn't get any worse but today I found out that despite all that hard work, I wasn't getting that promotion that I most assuredly deserved.

I thought about continuing to walk but something inside of me told me to stop. "Can I do something to help you, sir?"

I reached my hand out to introduce myself. "I doubt it," he said, whimpering.

"Well, at least tell me what has you so upset that you're crying out here on the streets."

He wiped his tears away slightly. "You wouldn't understand,"

I probably wouldn't. "Maybe not, but I can hear. So talk to me old man, what's going on."

"They're taking her away," he began sobbing again. "They're taking her away!"

Oh lord, he is probably crazy and thinks someone's being abducted. Maybe I shouldn't have stopped. "They're taking who away? Who is they?"

He looked up and gave me the most sorrowful look I've ever seen. "My sweet Angela. My partner, my wife, the mother of my children."

"Who is taking her? Where are they taking her?" I asked, intrigued.

"My children." He cried. "My own flesh and blood!"

"I don't understand, why are they doing that?"

He let out a morose sigh. "She was late stage dementia. I've been her caretaker for the last twelve years and my children think it's aged me. I'm only 59. And it is taxing, it is rough but she's my lady. She's my love. I made a commitment to her and they are planting her in some stuffy nursing home."

"I'm sorry," wow, 59 I thought. His caretaking had really aged him. "I'm terribly, terribly sorry. What does she think of it?"

"Nothing," he bawled. "She has no idea who I am or who they are even. No idea. If I weren't disabled, I would stop this but I've been out of work, taking care of her. I have depleted all of our savings and all of our funds. She was a teacher for 30 years. She had a pretty pension. It's gone. My daughter asked me to move in with her but I'm so stinking mad at her because she's sending my wife away. She doesn't think it'll be safe for her mom or for her children. But I can't be without her."

He began wiping tears away and slowly stood up, relying on a cane to maintain his balance. "Listen, son, thinks for stopping by. You have compassion. I have to go, I just have to accept this. Be easy."

I waved goodbye.

You truly never know what someone is going through until you take a moment to listen. My heart hurt as I walked home that night, trying to think of anything more devastating than wanting with all your heart to care for the one you love but being unable to do so. It made me think about life, it made me think very hard.

Fiction: Short Story: 911 Call

This is another one.

The topic was You are a 911 Operator, you receive a call from your neighbor. I wrote:

It was a normal graveyard at the communications center. I was exhausted. My wife and I had been arguing for the last three weeks. I loved Susan but I swear to God she knows how to really push my buttons! Our two boys were in middle school and were starting to get rebellious. We really needed a vacation but could not afford it at the time being. We were burnt. Both of us had highly stressful jobs, her as a trauma nurse and myself as an emergency dispatcher. Doing this job for fifteen years I was pretty desensitized to some of the most troubling things imaginable. But I wasn't prepared for this call:

"911, what is your emergency?"

All I heard was a harrowing scream! "911, dispatch. Please state the nature of your emergency!"

"Sir, sir!" a frantic woman is yelling. "They're going to kill us!"

"Who is? I am sending the police. Who is going to kill you?"

I hear what sounds like a struggle in the background, followed by a bloodcurdling scream.

"Gary!!!!!" I hear the caller yell. "Lord! No! Please send help!"

I dispatch the police and the ambulance. That is when I noticed the address. 5457 Wilcox Lane...that was my neighbor to the right. Gary Jackson and his family lived there. What was going on? Was there a burglar? Was my family safe? It became harder to focus on the call.

"Ma'am, I know you are afraid. But please, are you able to tell me what's happening?"

"These monsters!" It must've been Clare Jackson talking. "These monsters have us tied up! We are tied up! They came in here in the middle of the night! And they're torturing my husband and my children. I'm tied up across from them, forced to watch. This sadistic bitch is here watching me! She put the phone up to me so I could call."

I hear a distant cackle. Shortly after, I hear the sound of children screaming in pain.

"She's kicking the shit out of my children! Somebody stop her!"

"The police are on their way! Ma'am, who is she?"

I heard the sound of another painful scream from the caller. Then I heard gasping, it sounded like now she was being choked.

"Ma'am! Ma'am!"

It went silent for awhile except for the sound of children crying in the background. I continued screaming, alert as ever, thinking about my dear family praying they were okay.

Suddenly, I hear the phone drop to the ground. But a moment later, I hear shuffling as though someone is picking it up.

"By the time the police get here, my children and I will be dead too!" A voice on the other end said, hauntingly.

It was Susan.

Fiction: Short Story: End of the World

I wrote this on Reddit back in September in a writing group.

The topic was 5 minutes before before the world ends and everybody dies, two best friends are having their final conversation. Here's my response:

The moments leading up were intense. A freakin' meteor coming for Earth. I couldn't believe it! All these conspiracy theories I lived through about the world ending and here it was. At the ripe age of twenty-three, it was about to be over.

Shane was my best friend since at least the third grade. We went way back. His first girlfriend and eventual first heartbreak. That time I got suspended from high school for vandalizing the school's mascot. Sneaking out late to meet up with girls. Frat parties and beer pong. There was no one I would rather have been with in these last moments before the fatal blow to the Earth.

"I can't believe this man, I am scared," Shane welled up. "What happens next?"

"I don't know," I responded calmly, stroking my blonde hair. "I don't know man but whatever it is, we will find out soon."

"I had big dreams. I wanted to be a doctor, I've been working so fucking hard. And it's all gone. None of it matters. None of those times I stayed at work instead of spending time with family, to make a buck. All that, pointless."

"I guess even if this wasn't happening, it would still be pointless bro." I looked at his soulful blue eyes, filled with tears. In our years of friendship, I never saw him cry. Guess this would be the first and last time.

"I never got to know the meaning of life." His hands covered his sorrowful face.

I leaned it and gave him a hug, with a pat on the back. "I don't think anybody did. I don't even know what the meaning is." I released him as we looked up at the sky. The fiery meteors were visible and had been for some time. That is the only reason we knew it wasn't a hoax. Sitting on that rooftop, gazing at the sky, it was almost beautiful despite the fact that it was going to destroy us, literally.

The time was limited. Looking outward I could see people frantic in the town, as though there was anything they could do to change the course of it now.

"I never got to fall in love, I never got to truly fall in love. And no one has ever fallen in love with me," Shane weeped.

I looked at him and let out a sigh. "That's not true man, lots of people love you."

"You know what I mean,"

"I've been in love with you since the third grade, Shane."

He looked stunned. "Are you fucking with me Greg because now isn't really the time."

I grabbed his shoulder. "No, man. I'm not. I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time and I've never been bold enough to tell you. But now I just did, so I guess I can cross that regret off my list." I felt a giant weight lift off my back.

"I've known you for fucking ever, you're gay?"

"It's complicated," I said. "But fuck all that. I'm in love with you Shane Watkins, that's all I know."

In the heat of that moment it got silent. But then the heat really turned up. The meteors were making their way to landfall. My skin was scolding hot. We could hear the screams of people on the streets, the shrills of children not understanding why it felt like they were on fire. I took a quick glance above knowing the end was near. It was probably the most freeing moment in my life.

I looked over again at Shane's beautiful, masculine face. I wiped a tear away from his face and smiled. He reached out and gave me a hug. We were just about to die. If I had a choice, I would have loved to live longer. But since I wasn't given that choice, at least I was going to die in the arms of the man I love.

Apologizing and Forgiveness

Everyone makes mistakes.

Some are larger than others. Some are forgivable and some are not.

My topic today are my own thoughts on apologizing and forgiving.

First and foremost, apologizing comes in many different forms. Everyone responds differently to apologies. Gary Chapman believes in a format known as "apology languages". Similarly to my previous post about implicit association tests, I am not credentialed enough to tell you whether or not Chapman's findings hold accuracy. But I can tell you, my result matched mostly what I expected.

When someone apologizes to me, the best indicator that I will understand and forgive is for them to accept responsibility. I absolutely detest deflection of blame. I hate when people use excuses or try to find where I screwed up that "made them" do what they did. First of all, no one can make you do anything. If you did it, own it. And own it sooner rather than later. Because the only thing I hate more than when people do not accept responsibility is when I have to present a federal court case to them for them to admit it. It is emotionally exhausting and generally unwarranted.

What I learned from taking the test, though, was that my number one criteria was expressing regret. If someone has done me wrong, or hurt me in any way, I believe that I respond positively when they show they are truly remorseful.

If you know me, I have been wronged by plenty of people. Many of whom never apologized. 

What makes me feel better, since no one can go back in time, is when people not only admit their fault but also show regret for it. 

What doesn't jive with me, and the test shows this accurately, is begging for forgiveness. For one, I am not materialistic. I am very emotionally driven. It is difficult to appease me with gifts or presents. I also don't enjoy feeling like you spending time with me or taking me out or buying a gift is a way to make you feel better about you've done. It takes the little joy out of whatever it is away from it.

You can't buy my forgiveness.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, I am a very forgiving soul. I do not hold grudges, usually, and will not find enjoyment in holding something over your head. This has lead, of course, to myself becoming abused and used multiple times. It also, however, has lead to maintaining very meaningful and powerful friendships.

I think requesting forgiveness annoys me for another reason.

Your apology should not be conditional. If you are truly sorry, that means you are sorry whether I forgive you or not. Whether I hang out with you again or not. If it is conditional on my reaction, that is a problem.

Far too often people think they are owed forgiveness and they simply aren't.

I tend to forgive easily. But another factor is people often misconstrue forgiveness with reconciliation. 

For example, I have an ex who did some pretty terrible things to me. I've forgiven him. But I have no plans to reconcile with him. Ever. I don't see it happening. I just don't. I don't want it to.

The same goes for friendships that have ended.

The harsh reality, though, is it goes both way. I've lost friends. I've made insensitive and ill-informed comments that have caused rifts and bad blood. Despite my apologies, they did not chose to reconcile. I have to own that. It hurts. But I have to live with it. 

You do owe yourself forgiveness, though.

I have to forgive myself for my flaws and the wrongs I've done. I just have to. But that self-forgiveness also must not be conditional on whether or not the other part(ies) forgive me. I have to remember that.

If you're interested in learning your apology language, take the test http://www.5lovelanguages.com/profile/apology/

Much love,

ArchAngel O:)