Posts tagged race
plantation politics of “little norway," and rise up

“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

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the proof is in the pudding, and a little bit of evidence

Approximately 64 percent of Hispanic Students are not succeeding to where they should be in mathematics in one of our local middle schools.

There are close links, with research backing these links, between succeeding in 8th grade mathematics, high school graduation, college enrollment and then earnings

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try to ground the butterflies but don’t count us out, yet.

Conditioned against healing the systems oppressing us, I sit here, too. The spice hits my tongue. I love its hotness, the dare of trying more on the next taco.

Unwavering in my tiredness, delight, anger, angst. The bigness of feelings, embraced. Familiarity with oppression is normalized, to where I am chastised for any attempt to bring relief to mi gente by asking those in power to remove their heavy feet off our necks. But we keep asking, demanding, resisting, and flying.

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Pursuing Justice by Fostering Community by Augie Lujan

Community isn't just the physical neighborhood, homes, and streets - it's the people. Justice isn't just the laws, rules, and punishment - it's the treatment; it's how a community and society function and operate. For decades and even centuries, the United States has been working (and at many times struggling) to become more united. The idealism of "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" written into the Declaration of Independence and the aim to be "one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all" from our school-aged pledges, are baked into this American Pie.

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100 Witnesses Don’t Matter - Call To Action

There is no reason for my children, whether in Spanish or English, to find it necessary to use words meant to depict the power over another with their historical context of 400 years (because the majority Africans were trafficked to Latin America as well). Therefore, there are words that we know, within their historically significant context, but don’t speak directed at other humans.

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Latinx Heritage

I share this quote from Ignacio, “"The homeostatic vision leads us to distrust everything that is change and disequalibrium, to think badly of all that represents rupture, conflict and crisis. From this perspective, it becomes hard, more or less implicitly, for the disequilibrium inherent in social struggle not to be interpreted as a form of personal disorder (do we not speak of people who have 'lost their balance'?) and for the conflicts generated by overthrowing the social order not to be considered as pathological."

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20 years

Please take me, amor.

We dancing to bone rhyms.

Somos los mismos - lots of spice

It’s dark, now. We watch one another,

Breathe, make up, argue, laugh

pass through borders

Cultures argue for which lives count mas

You, my love,

Mi amor, I’ll be here

I’m sorry I let you down sometimes,

My country and place take dirty shots at your beautiful face.

Perdoname mi amor y yo

Tambien te perdono porque– tu eres el hombre que quiero.

You are perfecto for me because you aren’t perfect.

Mil gracias amor.

Your only,

Daniela

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Third of July, and the Fourth of July - Remembering Stonechild Chiefstick

Not Buffalo, or Irvine, Uvalde, or Jayland Walker’s story will shock us enough to change. The paddles which electrify our hearts, aren’t built for centuries of hardened callouses.

A painful peeling must begin to dig at the crust which keeps us from feeling the pain of our scars and our perpetration of violence. May we find pause, this July 4th – to create intentional anti-racist communities which feel and see and hear.

May we remember Stonechild Chiefstick.

Because, his life matters.

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Why diversity, equity, and inclusion doesn’t work.

Why would DEI interventions be any different? Healing comes through an integrated experience of multiple emotions, body sensations, combined with imagination ignited on a cellular level – including our hearts, arms, fingers, thighs, spirits, guts, and yes, the prefrontal cortex thinking/processing brain.

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Hope in Light of Faith and the 2020 Election by Vanessa Sadler

On one hand hope fuels me to meet creative deadlines, stirred by the notion that my words will fall on ears to hear and eyes to see. Hope ignites passion to sit with clients who are filled with rumblings of despair as they look over the debris of trauma in their lives. Hope gives birth to desire and longing for repaired relationships.

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I hope...... by Krishon Allen

I hope you would see me

Before a hashtag precedes my name

Before my face is a mural on a brick façade

I hope you would see me

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A Series: In Defense of Hope

How will hope hold the complexity of systems, people, polarized political parties, governments, estranged friends – faith communities divided? Is hope light enough to find goodness and heavy enough to sit in despair? Will hope provide for the hopeless without asking me or them to live in fantasy?

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The Sun Stands Still

The sun stopped in the middle of the sky and delayed going down about a full day. 14 There has never been a day like it before or since, a day when the Lord listened to a human being. Surely the Lord was fighting for Israel!”

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A Weak Theology of Suffering

Jesus stood in front of the donkey, got on it, no scars yet and they all cheered as he entered the city. I cannot watch the live feed of Facebook without wondering if I am another onlooker, or observer, cheering for the next great moment of harm in someone’s life.

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Cinco De Mayo: the Machete Warriors

The native Zapotec and Mexican fighters didn’t know they would survive the onslaught. Zapotec and Mexican heroes were fighting for the land under their feet — saying no to wealthy French landowners financing an unjust war — liberating their bodies from foreign domination.

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Estela Knows the News: Coronavirus!

A lot of people are being quarantined. So, they cannot leave their houses. My mom showed me a video of people singing on their porches. They could not leave their houses because they are being quarantined. Nobody can visit any of the old folks homes, because they might give them the coronavirus.

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The Road to Recovery

Spaces of dissonance with the life I was coerced into living broke apart. My body screamed, “STOP!”

Friends rushed in. Perhaps they held goodwill in their hearts. Perhaps not. What is clear is that my mind and body were craving validation, and the freedom to express the truth.

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