Tag Archives: women

DEAR PROTESTERS

Photo by Chris Alo on Pexels.com

We see you. We hear you. We stand beside you.

But now, in spirit, bowed down 

by age, and illness, and disability

we no longer meet you at the march in body.

The feet and legs no longer allow

standing on the corners, hugging the curbs,

marching along with you one-by-one.

The hands and arms no longer allow

lifting the sign, carrying messages aloft,

marching along with you one-by-one.

We can still lift a pen, still lift a brush.

We know it is not nearly enough

to calm the heart, comfort the soul

or change a stiff and unrelenting mind.

It is enough to calm, comfort and awaken

our weakened, weary, warrior selves.

We send our spirits to stand beside you

as you march along one-by-one.

We can remind you and all who watch

that more stand with you than they can see.

You are not alone

as you march to keep us free.

Photo by Life Matters on Pexels.com

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

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

D.E.I. and I

Photo by Nicholas Swatz on Pexels.com

I have stayed away from words, 

breathless, in my grief,

for too long.

Diversity is my faith.

Equity is my hope.

Inclusion is my love.

Each breath I take is a promise

that things will be better someday.

And, they have been for a time,

in places expanding across space,

across multiple divides.

In a school, then university.

In a church, then a community.

Across a state, on national forums

Each breath inhaled the hate,

expanded and expelled love in its place.

Breaths took down barriers, created programs,

enacted policies, changed syllabi,

created courses and news ways of seeing,

new avenues of progress, new ways of being.

The backlash always came,

in drips and drabs, all the same.

But this! This! It is a fearsome game.

It is not D.E.I. which they decry.

They want to see us hold our breath

and die.

They SNAP food from the mouths of babes.

They ask the aged and disabled to work their own miracles,

heal themselves without medic-aid,

waste away, and die.

They place tariffs on those who stood at our side.

Making us all pay more for less to save their pride.

They fill their pockets with our labor,

changing coins to crypto for their greedy favor.

They extort heroes who fight to protect freedom world-wide

so that dictators and killers can be by their side.

They miss the days when the few controlled the many.

They refuse to compete, or share even one penny;

pennies earned from our labor, not theirs.

Lately, it seems we have not got a prayer.

We seldom did. But, do not despair.

What we did have was the freedom to try.

Now, our hard-won freedom to speak and act is denied.

We are being denied the right to even try.

We still have one another, and our God-given rights.

We will never allow those to be shoved aside.

And at the end of this life we shall hold hands and sigh

We tried. 

We tried.

We tried!

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COLORFUL GRACE

Acrylic on canvass by Louise Annarino, 2-22-2025

Nature is a generous patron, and quite witty

She paints our world and makes it pretty

with a variety of colors, none like another.

Yet, each color is sister and brother

on the wide spectrum of light

which turns us away from night.

Not content to withhold her grace

She asks each of us to simply embrace

All the colors of our world,

all the joy her works unfurl.

She asks us to find our own space

among the wonders she has put in place.

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THE BOOT

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Bodies tell stories.

The boot is on the right foot.

It lifts up the right side.

It tilts the body left.

The left leg shortened,

for a short while;

long enough for the right 

heel to heal the heil.

The right heel steals balance.

The right heal steals my right

to take walks, plant seeds,

to talk with ease, laugh aloud.

The right heel pains me,

isolates me,

leaves me motionless.

Soon, the boot will be off.

Therapy will begin to complete

the healing needed to stop

the pain in the heel, and heal the heil.

The extra weight will be lifted.

Both feet will balance the gait

of a body ready to move forward,

beyond the lies, beyond the hate.

Time to heal, if patience allows.

I ask so little it seems;

and yet, too much for now.

Now, when words destroy bonds

formed from shared adversity,

in fear of diversity and loss of power.

I stumble through the day, booted

by the weight of the jack boot

on a leg that has born too much weight

of too much fear, too heavy a hate.

And still, despite the added weight

and uneven gait, I march on,

in my own, stilted way,

on this President’s,

not King’s,

Day.

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WITHIN

AI Generated image

I thought I could not write because of my pain.

Not, so.

I hesitate to write because of my disdain.

You know.

I think you have may felt it before.

It rises not from my within.

It rises from your within. It is your most-feared sin.

It sleeps in the place your secrets are kept

of all the times you felt inept.

While I simply raced along your side,

trying to match all the runners with pride.

But, you did not want me there.

That is your eternal prayer.

You thought I should stay in my place.

You feared I could actually win the race.

You deep-down know how weak that feels.

You deep-down know how foul the appeal

to those who would embrace

every runner in the race.

So, you create fake news and tell stories

that cause the runners and watchers to worry

that the race is fixed, corrupt and costly.

You can only lose if there is nothing left to gain.

You prefer full destruction than your personal pain.

You care not the cost.

You cannot handle a loss.

It is you I disdain.

You, I hear explain in rambling detail the goodness,

rightness, advancement of hate.

You who shuts doors and padlocks the gates.

You, I watch burn books and erase history.

You, who imagines a world draped in mystery

where no scientific fact

can remain intact.

My words cannot be allowed to create

more fear, more sense of loss, more hate.

My words could darken the stars.

My words could start wars.

That I cannot allow and must abate.

I cannot add one ounce to your tons of hate.

If you think these words apply to one man,

you sadly misunderstand.

They apply to all of us, to me and to you.

We created the world we try to eschew.

In our deep spaces are we mere bagatelle?

Are we a nation without a story to tell?

We need not seek nor accept our ruination.

We have a Constitution, amended to perfect our nation.

We race not to win a trophy nor prize.

The race does not rely on crowd size.

We run to show how races can be won

when runners align and voters cheer on

every runner who flies by.

By my definition

the greatest competition lies within.

Racism is our Original Sin.

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FREEDOM LOVER

I am not a freedom fighter

in the usual way.

I am a freedom lover

day after threatening day.

I will not duck and run for cover

when bullies blare the call.

I will not turn away my eyes

from all their dubious lies.

I will not fret and stomp my feet 

to match their ugly fascist beat.

I may be small.

I may be weak.

I may be old.

I am not meek.

I am strong to even my surprise.

I grow stronger with every sun-rise.

My strength grows in numbers.

My flower joins the bouquet

my fragrance rousing passion

for my beloved USA.

I cannot let silence stand guard.

I cannot pretend and play

while others fight for freedom

day after day, after day, after day.

My power is a loving blanket

thrown over the fires of hate.

Lovers of freedom, unite.

It is never…never…too late.

I may be old.

But, I am a woman and bold,

as only women know how to be.

I may be sick and weak.

But, I am not meek.

Freedom still smells sweet.

Lift your eyes and feet

and spread love for freedom

along with me.

Photo by ROMAN ODINTSOV on Pexels.com

Let an old hippie show you the way.

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TRY TO DREAM

Photo by Karyme Franu00e7a on Pexels.com

I try to keep dreaming.

But, nightmares interrupt

and catch the seam of hope

and fray the edges 

of the dream.

The night unravels hopes.

Morning brings new light,

but very little, if any, insight

as I try to piece together

a new garment to weather

the storms brewing overhead.

Nothing makes sense.

Every hand is out for cash

to fight the good fight

already lost, and still fraught

with the need to try  

to stand,

to grasp hands,

to still the fright.

Yet, dreams turn to nightmares

day after day and

night after night.

Joy can only bend so far 

and grace hold up heads and hearts

only so long before the silent song

erupts in outrage and disgust.

We do what we must. 

But, dream ? I am no longer sure

that dreams will endure.

All I can promise is

I shall try to keep dreaming

forevermore.

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BY THE WAYSIDE

Photo by Regina Jane on Pexels.com

Yesterday I fell

by the wayside

where hopelessness dwells.

The journey upward felt

like a forced retreat,

no longer a climb

on confident feet

to reach the summit

where love presides,

where ego lives above false pride.

Instead, the slope had become slippery

and I,

and I, 

and I

fell to my knees

my hopes subsided.

There is no time for this

I have decided.

I may slip again

and all my hopes fail 

but, I will stay on freedom’s trail.

The climb ahead 

becomes more rugged.

And I become stronger

the longer 

I climb.

And I,

And I,

and I

will always go up

where skies are blue,

to reach others

willing to climb

up 

from the other side.

This I promise myself

and I promise you.

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ART

JUST BREATHE, acrylic on canvas, painted the day Trump was elected president by Louise Annarino. He is still making it hard to breathe.

Art seldom follows

where there is nothing new to see.

Art creates new eyes

new ears, new hearts to set us free.

Art imagines what minds can’t comprehend

forging new beginnings as old ways end.

Politics is an art form

tossing power to and fro 

showing us what we really think

and where we might go.

Art is everywhere we look

showing us what we need to know.

Art has no end date;

its timeliness simply portends.

Vote! it is still not too late.

Art is our dearest friend.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS