Tag Archives: progress

LIGHT UP

Photo by William Melvin, April 2025

I am made of stardust

lit by sunlight.

Like lilies of the field

I dig deep into earth

with my toes.

Like birds of the air

I soar on currents stirred

when heat meets cold.

I seek. I soar. I laugh out loud.

I raise my face to the sun.

I dance in moonlight.

My spirit takes flight.

I grow strong.

My beauty abounds.

As earth, my earth

turns round and round.

Time has no meaning

I have found

except to tether my hopes

that change comes around

when most desired,

bright with sounds

of laughter, and courage

unleashed and unbound.

Rejoice in the day,

the month and the year

but stay in the moment.

Have no fear.

Photo by William Melvin, April 2025

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A LETTER TO US ALL

Dear Us:

Did you ever hear of the Golden Rule?  “Treat others as you would be treated.” When asked which of the ten commandments Moses shared with the Israelites was the most important, Jesus advised questioners to “Love others as I have loved you.” In the 60s, even non-believers of any religion, or of even the existent of God, followed the precept “Lead with your heart.” “Flower children” believed in love, for everyone, at all times. And those were turbulent times. We watched freedom riders maimed and killed, their busses set on fire, their murdered bodies hidden and buried in shallow graves. We watched the perpetrators of violence go free; the Citizen Councils ( marketing change for KKK) often included law enforcement and local judges. This is the America currently referred to when Trump supporters urge us all to “Make America Great Again.” They no longer wear white robes nor hide their faces. They wear red ties, dark suits and sometimes red hats.They pretend to be news anchors on FOX News and elsewhere. They pretend to be president like Elon Musk. The delivery system of hate may have changed; the racism and sexism have not. We are experiencing a backlash to the progress made over the past 50 years. It took 50 years for it to grow this strong.

I was a resident student advisor (RA) at Lincoln Tower on the OSU campus in Columbus, Ohio in the late sixties and early 70s. I was also a student activist. I had to become one because I believed in the Golden Rule. I watched Black students, Jewish students and women students derided and demeaned. I was privy to racist commentary because white students assumed they could say them to my white face with my full agreement. White men also felt safe making sexist comments to me despite the fact I was a woman. As an Italian-American I was sometimes mistaken for Jewish and heard my share of anti-semitic remarks. Much of the time such hate-talk was passed off as a joke. Whenever I heard the joke I stopped the speaker and explained nothing they said was funny, nor factual. I demanded such language never be used while in my presence. Those who just joined in to feel safe in the crowd became serious and apologized. The bullies did not apologize. But they shut up. “Stand up to shut them up” became part of every day life on campus. That is activism at its core.

I had a few empty suites on my floor due to an on-going criminal investigation. A mentally ill student was on trial for arson, having set fire in a suite the year before. Once the case was resolved, those suites were re-opened and spaces filled, as were other vacancies on my floor. Who moved in to those spaces? Black women looking for a safe space. Some had repeatedly been locked out of their rooms by white roommates. Several had threatening notes nailed to their door; threats to rape or kill them because they were Black. Most were ostracized and demeaned daily by white roommates. Their complaint to Student Affairs fell on deaf ears. When the spaces opened on my floor, they found refuge there.

Our dorm was typical for OSU where Black students made up a tiny percentage of the student population. My floor was unique. I held floor meetings to discuss expectations that we would all follow the Golden Rule. When I saw or heard of a racial incident I immediately intervened. Soon, I was doing racial mediation on a regular basis. Black women entered the elevator and experienced white women moving close to the emergency call button, with hand hovering, ready to cry for help from women just like themselves  returning exhausted from a day of classes ? Time for mediation! Call everyone together and talk it through. Day after day. Incident after incident. It was exhausting for the Black women, and the Black men who visited them, to face daily racial challenges and outright discrimination.

Another RA and two students worked with me to develop a racial mediation program in our dorm. Whenever the Student Judicial Council was handed a case involving a white student and a Black student in dispute, it was handed off to us to mediate the conflict. Our efforts were not always welcomed, but we persisted. Incidents of violence, write-ups to judiciary, and racial conflict decreased. Today, this program would be outlawed by the President who gleefully extorts OSU by threatening loss of education grants and federal funds for programs and research. OSU has caved to the bullies. OSU is not standing up to shut up the racism. It would cost money. And money is god in America, and on college campuses.

OSU is caving to racists and bullies again. And, not just OSU. Columbia University, indeed nearly all colleges and universities, if not all, are caving to racist bullies under the guise of following the law, accepting the lawless and illegal actions of the current administration. Following the law would require universities to protect the free speech rights of faculty and students, to abide by employment contracts and civil service laws to protect both administrative employees and faculty. Universities with law schools had readily-available experts to stand up, speak out and take action. I was an Associate Director of Law at Ohio University. There is a national organization of such attorneys. Why are they so silent? Why have university presidents and provosts not joined arms to defend their campuses against illegal searches and seizures of students? Why did Columbia University not come to the aid of Mahmoud Khalil and his family? If they did so in any way, it was neither apparent nor sufficient. 

The Poster Boy President leading the racist mob of greedy Americans spoke at the DOJ recently. His racist and personal attacks on lawyers, prosecutors and judges, was accepted and even cheered. Racism and greed cross all boundaries and sexual preferences, exist within every profession, religion and community group. It is a constant and persistent threat to the principles of democracy. Those whose racism had been laid low, who crawled under rocks to hide their sins, have crawled back out, empowered by the greed for wealth and power, threatened by those they spurn who have finally found success on a more equal path, and undermined by their own sense of failure despite the promise of an American Dream. Instead of blaming the greedy power-brokers of industry, banking and finance, politics and education they blame their fellow victims. Their racism blinds them to truth, and they willingly embrace false-hoods and disinformation. They would not recognize a fact if it stared them in the face. They would prefer to attack the fact and the experts offering the truth of the fact.

As a lawyer, as an educator, as a writer, I am heart-broken over the loss of my country, my Constitution and its guarantees of personal freedom for all persons who are in this country…no matter where they came from, or how they got here. That is the promise of America. That is the American Dream. Shopping for cheap goods because your existence only matters if those power-brokers can make a buck off you cannot fill the place freedom once filled within the American heart and psyche. Woke? Woke is what is required to survive the on-slaught against a free people who simply want to find a good-paying job, buy a house, feed and educate their family. The power-brokers want us to stay asleep. Like children, we are angels in our sleep, causing them no discomfort, and quietly staying out of their way as they take over our economy, our government institutions, our military, our banking system, our educational systems and local/public schools…even our post office! 

Wake up, my fellow lawyers, my fellow professors, my fellow school teachers, my fellow social workers, my fellow  counselors, my fellow retail workers, my fellow waitresses and caterers, my fellow babysitters, my fellow students, my fellow Catholics and people of faith, my fellow Americans. Wake up and stay woke! We have work to do, if we can stay awake to do it loudly and persistently. This is no time to lie down and feign sleep. God knows, none of us sleep well theses days.

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Filed under COMMENTARY, FAMILY STORIES, POLITICS

FROM UNDER THE ROCKS

Photo by Tara Winstead on Pexels.com

I cried the night Barack Obama was elected President.

Tears of joy released the exhaustion 

which I had carried door-to-door

for more than a year to those who too often

defiled all courtesy and shared community 

with unrecognized racism, or even with vile threats,

as I pleaded for their vote for HOPE.

While my colleagues cheered with broad smiles

I lay my head in my arms and sobbed. 

And, when they asked why I cried

I replied

“The backlash will be fierce 

by those who now recognize that white power

is no longer strong enough to support their hate.”

It was clear my fellow citizens would not long tolerate

power in the hands of an African-American.

The rage would be unleashed and revealed

from where it had lain hidden 

within our neighborhoods and institutions.

From that day on every African-American child

born after this date would enter a world where

dreams could be fulfilled, no matter how wild.

I rejoiced at this change of perspective,

but knew this would be just too much for a nation 

whose  history was built on white male supremacy.

Two steps forward. One step back. Progress moves

on and off-track until we wonder if we must go back.

We are not going back, just reconnoitering to find a new track.

That night, I dried my tears and planned my attack

ready to fight what I knew was coming and who would lead,

those who would block our progress at every turn

willing to let the country suffer and burn,

willing to break laws and undermine elections,

threaten and attack prosecutors and judges,

willing to engage in insurrection.

They have come up from under their rocks and we can see

those who have always threatened our democracy.

We know the way forward and we are strong.

So strong they know they have lost their control and that we

are moving beyond a world where only the good ole’ boys belong.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

NOT JUST A DREAM

Photo by namo deet on Pexels.com

Dream bigger.

Seek more.

There are no limits

beyond the door.

Stand at the fence.

Find your spot.

Peek through the holes.

Let your interest be caught

by what you enjoy,

by what you have not.

It is all yours

wherever you look.

It is yours to explore.

One foot, then another.

Keep on going

until you discover

something you never

imagined before.

Let dreams guide your way.

Let them tow you along

to places of light and music

where you sing along.

Then dance through the night

and on into the light

emboldened and strong.

What a beautiful sight !

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PROGRESS

Photo by Alesia Kozik on Pexels.com

We sing a swan song with the woman under the only tent left

in the parking lot of North Market once filled with famers’ tents.

Drifting from tent to tent has been over for a long time,

since developers decided condos would be more profitable.

Gone are the Saturday mornings tasting the sweetest melons,

and chewing the most delicate pastries,

and buying produce far fresher than that in any grocery.

Other famers left long ago.

Where, for now, we do not know.

They were promised a nearby lot, still empty,

where progress is sure to follow. 

They seem to have fled to more stable sites 

where they have set up their tables before it gets light,

and their trucks do not have so far to go 

from their fields and farms and hollows.

Trenches are being dug around the perimeter

and still one woman stays on, to our delight.

We sing her swan song with her

over the dead buried beneath this plot long ago.

A cemetery where African-Americans and immigrants

to a new country were buried and forgotten,

even their names left to rot unknown.

Now, developers promise removal will be handled properly,

when nothing seems proper at all to me.

This is progress. I hear it. I feel it. I sing it.

It is the swan song we have all come to know.

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