http://guyaneseterror.blogspot.com (written in response to the review of MIchaels' book):
Starvation roams the streets Babies die before they're born Infected by the grief Now some folks say that we should be Glad for what we have Tell me would you be happy in Village Ghetto Land
Village Ghetto Land
I can't say I know Camden . But I know Queens and I know West Philly. I know Kingston a bit , and Birmingham. You see I know these places. I live(d) in them and the live(d) in me. I teach in them, was taught in them and was taught by them. Every now and then these places pop up on your radar and depending on the journalists sympathies I know what it will look like. If the journalist is more conservative its a cess pool of a crime and violence. If they are more " sensitive" it will be the babies. I often pray for the conservatives. It is easy for us to watch these things and feel bad. And send up a prayer that I don't live there, or work there. People from there will tell you over and over how happy they are to escape. I can say non of these things. Broadcasts phrase these circumstances in the " look how they suffer in the land of plenty" or " look at how the destroy their lives the ingrates" It is always a question of lacking, funds or morals, help or control. Make no mistake what we see is a robbery . The things that go unsaid is that this is not a powerful commentary on an imbalance. These " reports" are videos of high way robbery. But to most the poor don't have anything to steal so how can we be robbed. Billy Joe broke my heart the most. He was 17 doing full time school work and 32.5 hours. That magical number , where they aren't forced to give him any kind of health benefits and comes home to sleep on the floor so no one else too. He works FULL Time with travel he works FULL TIME. And he still gets up like a 17 year old boy. On the floor next to his weights and vents , with the heat that we pray will not kill him in his sleep, in the moments he does not speak with a voice that puts the weight of atlas on his still bony shoulders with words that make his life his fault although he has not lived it yet Two grown adults yelling his name , his father smiled and he started ,sat up and for a few minutes before he puts on his mask of I CAN DO IT ,he is tired, he is hungry , he is peevish and would give anything to go back to sleep on the cold floor Because he is a 17 year old boy. And that is when you know he has been robbed . He is a 17 year old boy and he has never been a child. To comprehend why he can't have moments of rest as a beautiful growing child he will be a man every other moment of the day but those minutes. And when he is not he will blame himself for not trying hard enough.
I have been a child hungry, and unsure of my next meal. My mother has made choices between food and books and school and heat. Ten blocks from my cushioned chair in one of the best universities in the world. I held babies in my laps who begged for extra snacks and hid burns and bruises. I checked up on these babies when I had to leave and listened as they thought nothing of being SHOT AT. Because they had been robbed of the expectation that any one thought their life was worth anything. That is the tragedy of poverty , not the lack of dignity, the lack of things but the robbing.
It is not some condition that is diverse.
When we respect " poverty" as a diversity we are not being good people. We are saying that your constant robbing everyday is OKAY. It is an acceptable function of the world we live in that a child asks for pudding for Christmas. When we say we never knew we aren't being honest, we are saying we've never looked. We will applaud those who declare that this is something they aren't and try to ignore the desperation hidden just behind their eyes, because if they believe its their fault we never have to see where it is ours. This agency becomes not about the power of people to do things when treated fairly but the power of people to be blamed when they can not climb insurmountable odds . So that when we do help we are extra rather than not even sufficient. If they are agents and equals , we never have to think about what we have more than them if they do not honor us when we " help". Their " agency" is reason enough for us to play selective with our memories ,our help, and their justice . Our slighted emotions become as important as their broken spirits, and we can nurse our wounds and build our myths. And as long as it's Camden , it's never 52nd and Chesnut or 189 and Concourse. It's this imaginary ghetto far away and on their hands. And if a woman is robbed at Penn we will send Cops but when children are robbed ten blocks up we will send scorn And we will make children who can not wish for anything because they don't want to admit they will be sad when no one comes.