do you know what it means to miss new orleans?

When St. Louis was hit by a bad thunderstorm last summer, I didn't have power for a week. I was miserable. It was hot as hell out and barely anything was open because they didn't have power either. My partner had to drive 30 minutes to get ice. I was struck by the lack of empathy of those around me, who were lucky enough to have power. "So what? You didn't have air conditioning as a kid, did you? You survived then!" People failed to remember that not having electricity affects the ability to have a lot of other things... like a fan, a fridge, an alarm clock, a radio, a tv.... you get the picture.

When Katrina hit New Orleans, no one had any idea the impact it would have immediately or long term... and a lot of people have no idea, two years later, the impact it had on people's homes, lives, livelihood. After the storm, people had climbed up to their attic, hoping to be saved and died of the heat while waiting if they didn't drown. People did not have electricity for seven months.... if not more. People's lives were ruined, they lost everything they owned, their friends and family members were scattered all over the country, and insurance companies refused to help (because people had hurricane insurance and not flood insurance, and obviously, the damage was caused by a flood and not a hurricane). And our government failed to help...

and so did you and I.

I talked to a woman last week who went down to New Orleans for the two year anniversary - she talked to lots of folks who were working on their houses and they'd come home one day to find their house had been bulldozed with no notification.... this is after all of their belongings had sat in 12 feet of water and they spent almost two years trying to prove to the bureaucracy that they owned the property.

Sadly, I've never been to New Orleans but hopefully that will change. We just finished watching Spike Lee's documentary "When the Levees Broke". Please, if you haven't seen it already, go rent it.

We also ran across a short video that was in the 7th Annual Media That Matters Film Festival called "Still Standing", a youth produced doc you can watch with one woman's story - there's a longer version that can be ordered, with more stories.

This is the stuff that matters.

yes. he said that.

Last night, after a day of training and seeing the new documentary about the US Occupation in Iraq: No End In Sight, my partner and I went to a popular pizza place in the south city neighborhood of St. Louis for dinner. It's a crowded place and not only does it take an hour to get a pizza, it takes about that long to get a place to sit. My partner and I were having a beer, chatting and standing by an old-school bowling game and I kept noticing this guy staring at us. He was with his girlfriend, but not paying much attention to her, and paying way too much attention to us. He was white, built, and had obviously been drinking. I felt uncomfortable, but ignored him, and eventually we went into the other room to see if we could find a table. We found a table, near an obnoxious group of early 20-somethings. My partner went up to the bar to get another drink, and noticed that a table was opening up. She pointed, and I quickly went over there so we could get this booth before any one else. It was where the previously mentioned guy and his girlfriend had been sitting, and they got in line behind my partner to pay their bill while I set my coat down on the booth to save it for us.

I could tell that this guy was saying something to my partner, but couldn't tell what. I stood standing, about a foot from him, and he finally turned around and started to say something to me, but his girlfriend tugged on him and told him to be quiet.

This is the conversation that had ensued, as reported to me by my partner, went something like this... She is MP (my partner) and he is TG (the guy):

MP: Hey, are you guys leaving?
TG: Why? Do you want to come with us?
MP: No, I want your booth.
TG: Why don't you just come with us? I can beat off while you two get it on.
MP: Uh.. no thanks.
TG: Come on, why not? Or would you prefer that she (he points to his girlfriend) beats off instead?

At this point, his girlfriend had pleaded enough that he shut up. They left, to go home to their (un)happy home, and we were stuck with... who says that? how do we live in a world where someone says that? Now this guy didn't harm us physically, but he attacked our sense of safety in a way that he will never understand.

In my work, I work with guys like him all the time. People say, "I don't know how you do it" - I say, "thankfully, someone is..." and the guys I work with are actually in a program that is challenging their abusive and/or violent behavior. This guy... probably isn't... but hey, maybe I'll see him again sometime, for 48 weeks of his life.

visualizing safety

there's an activity I do when leading a training about violence, oppression or violence prevention. in fact, I just facilitated it yesterday... I believe it comes from a Paul Kivel curriculum. It goes like this:

Close your eyes for a moment, get comfortable in your chair, and imagine a place in the world where you feel completely safe. Stay with the first place that comes to mind... the most important thing is that you feel completely safe and unafraid. Think about what it feels like to be in this place. Without opening your eyes, look around in this place. What do you see? How do you feel? How does your body feel? What makes this place safe? This is a place you can go in your mind when you need to feel safe. This is your sanctuary - a place where you can be protected from anyone or anything that might harm you...

After a few moments of silence, I have the group open their eyes. Then, I ask them to draw their safe space. If the group knows each other relatively well, I ask them to share something about the visualization or their safe space. I ask, "how would this world be different if everyone felt completely safe?" How would they feel? What would they do?

The conversation basically leads itself after this. We eventually get to the point that feeling safe is a privilege... one that not many people don't have access to. One time when I lead this activity, a young woman left the room crying. I was told today by one of the participants, that yesterday when she was asked to draw her safe space... she drew a question mark.

What do you think about safety being a privilege? I'd love to hear your thoughts... or even better, where is your safe place? what do you visualize when you think of a safe place?