plantation politics of “little norway," and rise up

plantation politics of “little norway”

you gotta rise up and vote

“If people don't vote, everything stays the same. You can protest until the sky turns yellow or the moon turns blue, and it's not going to change anything if you don't vote.”

Delores Huerta

Latina American labor leader and civil rights activist

Silence stung at our Poulsbo church the day after the terror act against Latinxs in El Paso 2019. Many friends avoided both anger and grief. Texas is far away from Washington, right? I ask myself.

Violence intrudes my dreams. I rush to the High School, looking for my kids, as the next shooter tries to eradicate “Brown” from our so-called little norway. Suddenly, after the bloodbath, foggy mist surrounds the press conference.

Voices plead, “Why will no one listen? Will leaders remain silent?”

The smell of gunpowder in my nostrils, I wake, stunned.

Should I send my children to school? Will the teenager be held responsible in 2023 for threatening to “cut up all of the be#ners”? I think.

The plantation complex of our county firmly says “no.”

On the plantation, rules are set by the master – for the master. He owns everything and everyone, including but not limited to work, punishment, systems, and changes. His allies, other plantation owners.

“Little Norway” policies are interconnected through committee members, from city council and school board, to paid consultants working on construction projects – socio-political power openly double dipping. The closest friendships, cemented in historical stones, between police, county officials, schools and city officials. An El Paso 2019 is possible in Poulsbo 2023.

A Thursday, 5 p.m. start. We’ve learned our lesson. It can be one or two folks, or 50, it doesn’t matter. Here’s a link to the actual “rules.” Set the timer to 3 minutes, and go. The mic volume, low. No one hears beyond a mumbling semblance of language. It’s like using prescription eye glasses that don’t match your actual eye prescription.

Each meeting, prior to public comments, the president of the school board reads rules of engagement for participants. To silence, limit, and stymie community voice, there is a 25-minute window to sign up “online” only for “equity” purposes. A current board member explained were they to open up the sign in period for 24 hours, a tech person would have to be available for 24 hours, awake, like a guard in the night for the democracy of little norway’s schools.

Less than two miles away, in a sparkly city council building, the mayor, city employees, and a small city police department make their homes. The first three Wednesdays of the month, city council meets. Another panel of faces, not just categorically wealthy in finances compared to majority world peoples, but also rich in political favor, systemic supports, fully armed police, loaded with legal defenses for any of their sins.

Author, researcher Phil Allen Jr. says in his summary on the plantation complex, “When sovereign, autonomous power in a plantation-like context is weakened, it then morphs into disciplinary and regulatory forms of power. Disciplinary power uses disciplines (physical, psychological, etc.) and regulatory power uses regulations (laws, policies, and even unwritten rules and norms). They often work interdependently. For instance, regulations and laws can be a means of enforcing disciplinary power. Whatever the case, those in power will always assert themselves and wield some form of agency to reduce the agency of another for the purposes of social control.”

“Please send in concerns, complaints. Document your stories, including names, locations, and details” the people in power encourage. However, each complaint is a mark of shame for the plantation complex. Immigrant, non-dominant culture words are not covered under “freedom of speech”. Our complaints, experiences and advocacy puts many of our livelihoods in jeopardy. It’s the possible loss of becoming a school principal, or receiving a complaint against a professional license. Certainly all testimonies are scrutinized, and our children’s lives are at risk to be shot to pieces.

Felicia Lundquist writes, “Maintaining systems of inequality requires the objectification and dehumanization of marginalized groups. In the face of structural inequalities, the issue of identity and representation can literally and metaphorically be a matter of life-and-death for members of subordinate groups” (Kirk & Okazawa-Rey, 2006, p. 54).

Two African American women are running for city council, and one Alaskan Native for school board. We may be tempted to resist any progress with non-dominant faces attached. However, these courageous leaders, proven advocates, with lived experiences which allow them to access deep compassion along with their necessary technical qualifications — is something we desperately need in todays politics.

Are we brave enough to vote for voices other than the norm?

Darkness covers our city as I drive my teenagers to zero period choir.

 “My Shot” from Hamilton plays:

…Rise up
When you're living on your knees, you rise up
Tell your brother that he's gotta rise up
Tell your sister that she's gotta rise up…

….Scratch that this is not a moment, it's the movement
Where all the hungriest brothers with something to prove went?
Foes oppose us, we take an honest stand
We roll like Moses, claimin' our promised land
And? If we win our independence?
Is that a guarantee of freedom for our descendants?
Or will the blood we shed begin an endless cycle of vengeance and death with no defendants?”

There are no guarantees.

Vote.