It's June! First of all...I'm a little freaked out at how fast June got here. Secondly, I'm a little freaked out because June means it's time for Bree to attend SIT (Shakespeare Intensive Training) at the Shakespeare Tavern in Atlanta. Normally this isn't a time to freak out...but it's her last year so every day is bittersweet and a reminder that she's growing up. I love these trips...the conversations on the way there (once we wake up...no one ever accused us of being morning people) and the excitement and enthusiasm with which she shares her day with me on the way home. This year, knowing it's the last year, that she's finishing school, preparing to go overseas for a year, growing up...I savor this time knowing it's the last time we'll ever do this.
Since I'm unemployed, have no where to be (what an odd feeling!) and need to save $$$ as much as possible, I tend to stay nearby whether than driving back to Newnan. Typically, after I drop Embree off, I drive the short distance down to Ponce to the shopping center on the left. There's a Starbucks, a Whole Foods...well, there's other stores but those are my two hangouts. I spend most of my day at one of the outside tables at Whole Foods...reading, writing, surfing the web when I can catch the WiFi, and taking a walk before it's too hot. (Some of you will know I did this Bree's 2nd year of SIT when Borders was still open and how that impacted my passion on certain issues and the choice to leave OM for Wellspring Living).
So far, no one has questioned my right to be there or run me off and I'm really glad. It's close, the parking is free, I like the atmosphere and the people watching opportunities are great (in a general interest in humans way, not crazy stalker lady way...I'm not that weird!)
Today, as I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed the men standing in a line on the sidewalk. Sometimes they interact, most of the time, they don't. They are in competition. Having worked for a construction company before, I know these guys...not personally, but I know why they are standing there. It's a common site anywhere there is a Lowe's, Home Depot, etc. Anywhere contractors and construction workers frequent. The guys on the sidewalk are waiting, hoping for work. It happens a couple of ways...a contractor comes by and says "You, you and you" and the lucky ones hope in the back of a truck and off they go. Sometimes the contractor just says "I need five guys" and the first five to get in the truck win. As the morning drags on, the men who weren't picked (or didn't make it in the truck), start to show their disappointment, their worry...in some cases, despair. Finally, at no specific time but when it's apparent they won't be working that day, the men disperse. Some of them disappear, others congregate in the shade on the other side of the parking lot (joining the homeless, the beggars and the panhandlers).
For some reason it makes me think that horrible custom in grade school gym...you know the one...the teacher has you line up in a row and then picks two "captains" to "pick" their teams. The popular kids and the kids good at sports get picked first and then you have the kids like me. Since I didn't figure out how to channel my aggression into sports until middle school and I was way too odd to be popular, I was one of those last picked...or worse, not picked at all and shuffled to the team that was one player short. It was terrible. Being "picked" was all about your validation and value as a person. You had a right to exist...in the gym, in the school...on the planet! You stood there in a line screaming in your head "Pick me, pick me!"
For the guys on the sidewalk, being picked is about way more than a 5th graders need for belonging. It's about survival...about being able to eat today or tomorrow, whether they can feed their children, pay the light bill or the rent, send money to family back home.
Circumstances once brought me face to face with a couple of guys like this. A father and a son. Illegal immigrants who'd made the choice to come to America in order to provide for their family (the Mom and two daughters were still in Mexico). Most of the guys who stand on that sidewalk are immigrants-illegal or otherwise-or otherwise disenfranchised...homeless, uneducated, unable to find regular employment for a variety of reasons. They'll work hard and at the end of the day, they'll be paid in cash. "Under the table" it's called...and it's no where near minimum wage.
Construction and landscaping companies rely on these guys to keep their labor costs low. The don't report wages, pay social security or workman's compensation for these guys. If one of them gets hurt and he's lucky, the contractor will pay his doctor bill but he won't get anything for the time he's out of work. Most of the time, he's not that lucky. Illegal immigrants obviously can't do anything about the way their treated for fear of being deported. And others have no resources or idea where to turn for help.
The father and son I mentioned...they lived in a two bedroom house with fourteen other guys. They took any job they could get and sent most of their money back home. When the dad got sick, there was no money for a doctor and fear would've kept them from going anyway. The contractor they'd been working for had no interest in what happened to the father so the 17 year old son had no where to turn. He nursed his dad as best he could until the man died in the early hours of the morning. The son was deported back to Mexico. There were more guys to take their place in the parking lot.
Is this labor trafficking? Only in the broadest sense. But without a doubt, it is exploitation. As these men stand around waiting, hoping to earn money that day, hoping someone will pick them, they are being used by a system that refuses to acknowledge they have dignity, deserve respect or that they deserve to be treated like most laborers should be treated.
I don't know how to fix it all: education, job training, churches and groups reaching out to communities in extreme need, and revising the immigration process are all good steps. But none of those will happen until we stop avoiding the site of these men and take a good long look at them. See them as human beings, men of dignity, deserving respect and fair treatment for the work they are doing.
Let's be real, the moment I admitted that most of the men standing on the sidewalk were immigrants and probably illegal, your attitude changed. You grumbled about immigrants taking jobs from "Americans" (the jobs they do, most Americans would never do...let alone in the conditions they work in), you deemed them criminals never realizing the desperation that causes them to decide to come into the country illegally, you started ranting about welfare (believing-wrongly-that most of them can actually get it). Take some time to learn about the immigration process, the amount of paperwork and the money involved. Take some time to think about the conditions most of them are coming from.
Tell me, if your kids were starving, what would you do to feed them? I remember that question in high school during an ethics discussion...is it okay to steal to feed your family. Somehow, we almost all agreed that 'yes' it was justified even if it was still wrong. But we don't give illegal immigrants the same grace.
And remember not all of them are illegal. No more than every homeless guy you give money to is a con artist or a drug addict. Each one of them has a different story, a different background. But each one of them has value.
I hate to end without some idea of next steps...but I just don't know. I don't know if this problem will ever be solved. I know that in the '80s there was a housing boom and we needed cheap labor so we turned our heads at the influx of illegal immigrants coming in, working for ridiculously low wages and building our houses and businesses and then we demonized them for doing it. I know the practice is still going on but to stop it would mean these guys would have no work. I just don't know...
All I know is watching them stand there, yelling in their heads "Pick me, pick me" meant that someone needed to notice them.
Monday, June 3, 2013
The Big Red Couch
Downtown Newnan is one of my favorite places. When we decided to move, it was my heart's desire that we could move close to the Square. I love the small town feel, the artsy shops, the local restaurants...and the fact that my favorite coffee shop is located there.
Espresso Lane is everything you could hope for in a locally owned coffee shop. The music, the baristas, the ample seating and sense of community. Of course the coffee is good. And I give two thumbs up to their vanilla lattes. But one of my favorite things about the place is the big red couch.
The big red couch is just...welcoming. It seems to beckon you to come, make your self comfortable, spend time with friends or read a good book. It doesn't mind if you put your feet on it either. It doesn't complain if you use poor posture. It's there to make you comfortable. It's my happy place. At least one of them...certainly the closest.
It's one of those places you can go when the world is falling apart and sink into the cushions suddenly assured that everything will-eventually-be alright. Recently, sitting there with a friend, criss cross apple sauce, facing her, I exclaimed "All I need to get through life: Jesus, friends and a good latte" I'm afraid the couch might have been insulted...it was like forgetting to thank your spouse during your Oscar's speech. But I have assured it since that I didn't mean to leave it out.
If only life could be as comfortable and welcoming as the big, red couch. But it can't.
But isn't it awesome to have somewhere to go to just be comfortable? To have friends who love you even when you whine?
I'm not sure what's going on in your life. I just lost my job and I am absolutely freaked out! Your week might be better, it might be worse. But I'd encourage you. Find a comfortable spot. A coffee shop, a lake, a beach (or a simulation of a beach...like a lawn chair and a water bottle with the "Sounds of the Ocean" cd playing in the background). Take a mental break. Be grateful for the small things in life. And if you choose to check out the couch...I'll make room for you.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
A conversation...
Let's start a conversation...
This might be a blog post or article eventually...but for now, it is just a conversation. A chance for some dialogue. A civil conversation.
Last week I had the privilege of being part of a women's empowerment seminar hosted by Agnes Scott College and CPAC. This was the last of four seminars and we talked a lot on the issue of domestic violence and trafficking.
During the discussion, one of the other panelists who works with immigrants in the Atlanta area expressed frustration with the anti trafficking laws and programs Georgia has created because they rarely provide help for immigrant women being trafficked...particularly if they are illegal immigrants. My understanding of VAWA act and TVPRA is that there are services and help available to immigrant women who are being trafficked but according to the panelists, GA laws on illegal immigrants means that these women will be deported rather than helped...and that knowing this makes them afraid to come forward.
Another point was made that there are no services for boys who have been trafficked nor are there any that focus on LGBT homeless youth who are trafficked. My research has only found one homeless shelter specifically for LGBT youth and they have six beds. And no services for the boys.
My thoughts are that Georgia is making great strides in counter trafficking measures but it is clear we have a ways to go. However, as much as it stinks, money and budgeting will play into that.
My questions are:
What do you think of current legislation?
What do you think of current legislations specifically as it relates to immigrants?
What needs to be done to address needs of boys and LGBT youth?
As we address awareness and treatment, what else can we do to focus on prevention?
Any other opinions or information specifically related to topic?
Please comment below!
Please note any derogatory comments about any groups of people will be deleted immediately.
This might be a blog post or article eventually...but for now, it is just a conversation. A chance for some dialogue. A civil conversation.
Last week I had the privilege of being part of a women's empowerment seminar hosted by Agnes Scott College and CPAC. This was the last of four seminars and we talked a lot on the issue of domestic violence and trafficking.
During the discussion, one of the other panelists who works with immigrants in the Atlanta area expressed frustration with the anti trafficking laws and programs Georgia has created because they rarely provide help for immigrant women being trafficked...particularly if they are illegal immigrants. My understanding of VAWA act and TVPRA is that there are services and help available to immigrant women who are being trafficked but according to the panelists, GA laws on illegal immigrants means that these women will be deported rather than helped...and that knowing this makes them afraid to come forward.
Another point was made that there are no services for boys who have been trafficked nor are there any that focus on LGBT homeless youth who are trafficked. My research has only found one homeless shelter specifically for LGBT youth and they have six beds. And no services for the boys.
My thoughts are that Georgia is making great strides in counter trafficking measures but it is clear we have a ways to go. However, as much as it stinks, money and budgeting will play into that.
My questions are:
What do you think of current legislation?
What do you think of current legislations specifically as it relates to immigrants?
What needs to be done to address needs of boys and LGBT youth?
As we address awareness and treatment, what else can we do to focus on prevention?
Any other opinions or information specifically related to topic?
Please comment below!
Please note any derogatory comments about any groups of people will be deleted immediately.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
A Mother's Son...
I recently read this article and felt the need to respond. That response gives me the chance to brag on my son is just an added bonus...
Robert Morrison recently used the murder of Matthew Shepard in 1998 as an argument against same sex marriage. I'll skip over my rant about the gall and audacity of his comments. I'll also only briefly mention the fact that it seems his comments actually refute his point since-by his own argument-having two dads is better than one. It's only in the case of two females getting married that a male figure is absent. (Mental note, if you are going to make a case for or against something, speak clearly and with forethought...otherwise, someone like me comes along and points out the obvious.)
The idea that a young man who grows up without a father is going to grow up to hate minorities enough to commit hate crimes is ludicrous. Hate is taught. It's learned. No one is born hating Muslims, Latinos or homosexuals...they are taught. Whether they have two parents in the household or one. Whether they have a father in their life or not...they grew up with bigotry and accepted it as truth. It doesn't even mean their parent(s) taught it to them...communities teach children values as well.
The good looking tall kid in the middle? Yep, he's mine. My son. My son who grew up without a father in his life. My son who I taught Christian values. My son who grew up in an environment where prejudice was not allowed...unless it was against a GA Tech fan and then only in fun (it's SEC football country people, smack talk is a way of life). My son who has been so blessed to have a number of positive influences in his life. Who grew up in an atmosphere and community that accepted differences even when they weren't necessarily agreed with...and who deliberately made choices that influenced his character and shaped him into the man he is today. The guy who makes friends with people regardless of color, culture or sexual orientation. The guy who accepts people for who they are and has an uncanny ability to genuinely like people in such a way that they are drawn to him. A boy, growing up to be a man...a good one.
I'm not sure if Mr. Morrison has children, but I would be willing to bet their attitude about homosexuality is similar to that of McKinley and Henderson. Would they take a homosexual man and beat him to death? No. But most of us wouldn't. We just avoid them. Make jokes about them. Think less of them.
My son doesn't do that. Has growing up without a dad been hard for him? Of course it is. I'm sure it was for McKinley and Henderson as well. But that is not what drove them to their actions and to say so not only belittles the issue but it insults Matthew's family as well as all single mothers.
All across this nation there are children being taught hate and fear and whether that is in a household where there is one parent, two parents or a grandmother doing her best to raise her grandchildren, the lesson is a terrible one. We have become a nation of extremes. There is no middle ground. No compromise. No understanding. We are blinded by our prejudices.
And as long as we refuse to stop the shouting and the yelling and the finger pointing, there will always be a mother's son being a bully, being bullied, living in fear...of being different or those that are different.
The reality is, the responsibility for Matthew's death and the epidemic of hate crimes in this country rests on the people who spew bigotry and those that tolerate it. Mr Morrison, are you willing to be responsible for something like that? Because I'm not.
Robert Morrison recently used the murder of Matthew Shepard in 1998 as an argument against same sex marriage. I'll skip over my rant about the gall and audacity of his comments. I'll also only briefly mention the fact that it seems his comments actually refute his point since-by his own argument-having two dads is better than one. It's only in the case of two females getting married that a male figure is absent. (Mental note, if you are going to make a case for or against something, speak clearly and with forethought...otherwise, someone like me comes along and points out the obvious.)
The idea that a young man who grows up without a father is going to grow up to hate minorities enough to commit hate crimes is ludicrous. Hate is taught. It's learned. No one is born hating Muslims, Latinos or homosexuals...they are taught. Whether they have two parents in the household or one. Whether they have a father in their life or not...they grew up with bigotry and accepted it as truth. It doesn't even mean their parent(s) taught it to them...communities teach children values as well.
I'm not sure if Mr. Morrison has children, but I would be willing to bet their attitude about homosexuality is similar to that of McKinley and Henderson. Would they take a homosexual man and beat him to death? No. But most of us wouldn't. We just avoid them. Make jokes about them. Think less of them.
My son doesn't do that. Has growing up without a dad been hard for him? Of course it is. I'm sure it was for McKinley and Henderson as well. But that is not what drove them to their actions and to say so not only belittles the issue but it insults Matthew's family as well as all single mothers.
All across this nation there are children being taught hate and fear and whether that is in a household where there is one parent, two parents or a grandmother doing her best to raise her grandchildren, the lesson is a terrible one. We have become a nation of extremes. There is no middle ground. No compromise. No understanding. We are blinded by our prejudices.
And as long as we refuse to stop the shouting and the yelling and the finger pointing, there will always be a mother's son being a bully, being bullied, living in fear...of being different or those that are different.
The reality is, the responsibility for Matthew's death and the epidemic of hate crimes in this country rests on the people who spew bigotry and those that tolerate it. Mr Morrison, are you willing to be responsible for something like that? Because I'm not.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
A Mother's Rage. A Mother's Hope.
I am angry.
It feels like rage is literally burning my throat, I'm so angry.
I have this beautiful daughter. She just turned 18. Most people look at her and see someone much younger, which is annoying...but she'll love it when she's 40.
She loves to read. She loves to laugh. She's a great actress. An artist. An amazing teacher whose kids think she is the best thing since sliced cheese. She has a brother who loves her even when she annoys the crap out of him. Her puppy sleeps with her every night.
She's been working at her Aunt's shop on the Square. She's having a blast. Since it is so close to our house, she walks to and from work. She listens to music, practices her monologue, enjoys the weather.
Until yesterday.
Yesterday a man drove by my beautiful daughter and tried to engage her in conversation. He told her she was pretty and asked if she had a boyfriend. She took a deep breath, politely but firmly said "I'm not interested" and kept walking. She tried to remember all the things I told her about walking with purpose, head high...all those things that make you look like you wouldn't be a good victim for a predator. He started following her. Driving past her, coming back...all the way home. She forgot all the things she was supposed to be doing and panicked, called me crying. At one point the call dropped. I was terrified. Trying to call her back, my coworker on standby ready to call 911.
Last night I had to remind my daughter that instead of calling me she should have dialed 911 herself. That if he had done anything, I couldn't have gotten to her fast enough. We had to have a talk about safety. We had to have those conversations Mothers are forced to have with their daughters because we live in a rape culture. A culture where we spend more time teaching our girls how to not get raped than we do teaching our young men not to rape girls.
I want to find this guy. I want to beat him to a pulp. I want to gouge his eyes out so he can't ever leer at a young girl again. At some point I will have to let this go, work through forgiveness, pray for him. But not today. Today I'm in a rage and frustrated. This man took so much from my daughter yesterday. He didn't just mess up her day. He messed with her innocence. With her sense of who she is. He rendered her powerless. And he enjoyed it. It was a game to him. He kept coming back. He had to have seen the panic on her face. Bree is a great actress but utterly fails at hiding her emotions in real life (wonder where she gets that from?!). He got a kick out if it. It made him feel powerful.
Bet you anything he didn't think about her age. Bet you anything he didn't think about how she was going to sleep last night. About how we've had to make arrangements so she's not walking to and from work by herself. Bet if he knew how angry I was, he'd laugh it off.
Men like this. A culture like this. Explains how and why over 300 girls a month are sold for sex in Georgia. It's why studies show that one in six women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime. Why-on average-a woman is beaten every nine seconds in the United States.
Enough is enough!
Culture must change. Parenting styles must change. Media that sales sex and portrays women as the playthings or servants of men must change. Songs that reflect misogynistic lyrics or devalue women are not freedom of speech! It should be considered a hate crime! And it's not just hip hop...how many country songs do you know that refer to a woman's body parts as her "money maker"? We shake our heads at fundamentalist Muslim countries that force a woman to wear a burqa but how is the US culture overall any different in the way it treats women?
It's time to take a stand. Men need to hold men accountable. Women need to understand their value and demand to be treated accordingly. I don't expect it to change overnight but I also know how you eat an elephant...
One bite at a time.
I believe this can happen. I believe it because I see it in my son. It's not only the way he was raised but in the decisions that he makes. When we turn off the Superbowl because the commercials make him uncomfortable. When he acknowledges that porn is a temptation and takes steps to fight it. When he treats girls around him with respect (including-most of the time-his sister).
I believe it because I've spent a lot of time recently hanging around college students and talking to guys who want to be leaders in the movement to change a culture and end slavery. Who know that part of that is doing their part to change culture. Who know that doing their part means treating women with respect and caring that other men do the same.
Every time I think about stories like Steubenville, I also have to think of the 40,000 plus college students at Passion 2013 standing in the cold, holding candles, singing worship songs and taking seriously their pledge to End It. The guys I met at Bryan College who are helping in the organization of a book drive for our girls.
I'm frustrated and I'm mad but I'm also hopeful. I hope I can hold on to that...
It feels like rage is literally burning my throat, I'm so angry.
I have this beautiful daughter. She just turned 18. Most people look at her and see someone much younger, which is annoying...but she'll love it when she's 40.
She loves to read. She loves to laugh. She's a great actress. An artist. An amazing teacher whose kids think she is the best thing since sliced cheese. She has a brother who loves her even when she annoys the crap out of him. Her puppy sleeps with her every night.
She's been working at her Aunt's shop on the Square. She's having a blast. Since it is so close to our house, she walks to and from work. She listens to music, practices her monologue, enjoys the weather.
Until yesterday.
Yesterday a man drove by my beautiful daughter and tried to engage her in conversation. He told her she was pretty and asked if she had a boyfriend. She took a deep breath, politely but firmly said "I'm not interested" and kept walking. She tried to remember all the things I told her about walking with purpose, head high...all those things that make you look like you wouldn't be a good victim for a predator. He started following her. Driving past her, coming back...all the way home. She forgot all the things she was supposed to be doing and panicked, called me crying. At one point the call dropped. I was terrified. Trying to call her back, my coworker on standby ready to call 911.
Last night I had to remind my daughter that instead of calling me she should have dialed 911 herself. That if he had done anything, I couldn't have gotten to her fast enough. We had to have a talk about safety. We had to have those conversations Mothers are forced to have with their daughters because we live in a rape culture. A culture where we spend more time teaching our girls how to not get raped than we do teaching our young men not to rape girls.
I want to find this guy. I want to beat him to a pulp. I want to gouge his eyes out so he can't ever leer at a young girl again. At some point I will have to let this go, work through forgiveness, pray for him. But not today. Today I'm in a rage and frustrated. This man took so much from my daughter yesterday. He didn't just mess up her day. He messed with her innocence. With her sense of who she is. He rendered her powerless. And he enjoyed it. It was a game to him. He kept coming back. He had to have seen the panic on her face. Bree is a great actress but utterly fails at hiding her emotions in real life (wonder where she gets that from?!). He got a kick out if it. It made him feel powerful.
Bet you anything he didn't think about her age. Bet you anything he didn't think about how she was going to sleep last night. About how we've had to make arrangements so she's not walking to and from work by herself. Bet if he knew how angry I was, he'd laugh it off.
Men like this. A culture like this. Explains how and why over 300 girls a month are sold for sex in Georgia. It's why studies show that one in six women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime. Why-on average-a woman is beaten every nine seconds in the United States.
Enough is enough!
Culture must change. Parenting styles must change. Media that sales sex and portrays women as the playthings or servants of men must change. Songs that reflect misogynistic lyrics or devalue women are not freedom of speech! It should be considered a hate crime! And it's not just hip hop...how many country songs do you know that refer to a woman's body parts as her "money maker"? We shake our heads at fundamentalist Muslim countries that force a woman to wear a burqa but how is the US culture overall any different in the way it treats women?
It's time to take a stand. Men need to hold men accountable. Women need to understand their value and demand to be treated accordingly. I don't expect it to change overnight but I also know how you eat an elephant...
One bite at a time.
I believe this can happen. I believe it because I see it in my son. It's not only the way he was raised but in the decisions that he makes. When we turn off the Superbowl because the commercials make him uncomfortable. When he acknowledges that porn is a temptation and takes steps to fight it. When he treats girls around him with respect (including-most of the time-his sister).
I believe it because I've spent a lot of time recently hanging around college students and talking to guys who want to be leaders in the movement to change a culture and end slavery. Who know that part of that is doing their part to change culture. Who know that doing their part means treating women with respect and caring that other men do the same.
Every time I think about stories like Steubenville, I also have to think of the 40,000 plus college students at Passion 2013 standing in the cold, holding candles, singing worship songs and taking seriously their pledge to End It. The guys I met at Bryan College who are helping in the organization of a book drive for our girls.
I'm frustrated and I'm mad but I'm also hopeful. I hope I can hold on to that...
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Where Do You Come In?
27 Million slaves in the world.
Over 300 girls under the age of 18 being sold for sex in Georgia every month.
The numbers get overwhelming. The stories are horrifying.
You feel powerless, uncomfortable, frustrated.
You know you should do "something" but what? And would it really make a difference?
Here's the deal...I can't promise you can change the world...but I can tell you you can make an impact. You aren't powerless. You can change the world for someone. And if everyone changed the world for someone, the world would be changed.
Let's talk about Casey. Not her real name. In fact, she's not a real person...but her story is very common to those we hear and see. Every story is different. Every girl is an individual. Whatever you do, don't forget that. But hopefully, in Casey's story, you'll understand your place.
When Casey was four, her Dad left. Her Mom started dating. Some of these men touched Casey in places they shouldn't. She tried to tell her Mom but her Mom didn't believe her. When Casey was ten, one of the boyfriends moved in with her and her Mom. Casey's Mom got pregnant and Casey had a little brother. Casey's Mom and the boyfriend got married. Casey thought things were going to be okay but then her Mom got a second shift job. Casey's step-dad started molesting her. Then he started letting his friends do things to her. Then he started selling her to his friends and friends of friends. He tells her if she tells her Mom, her Mom won't believe her. He tells her if she tells, he will hurt her Mom and her brother. Casey is constantly depressed. She doesn't do her school work. She doesn't play with the other kids. She used to love art but not anymore.
When Casey is twelve, she's had enough. She runs away.
Within 72 hours she has fallen into the hands of a trafficker. She was hungry. He fed her. Offered her a place to stay. He told her she was beautiful, that he wanted to be her boyfriend. He told her she had value, that she was valuable to him. That he loved her. And then he took her to a motel room and told her she had to have sex with every man that came into the room. When she refused, he beat her and let men rape her. The next day he told her he was sorry she made him do that...and that if she loves him, she won't make him do it again. So she does what he tells her to because he loves her, because she's valuable to him. She hates herself. She hates what is happening to her.
Months pass...
Casey decides to escape.
Casey is arrested.
Casey is hospitalized.
Casey is free. She is brought to a recovery program where she gets the chance to finish high school. She has group and individual therapy. She isn't crazy about all the life skill classes but she learns from them. She begins the road to recovery.
Where are you?
What if you volunteered a couple of hours one weekend to put posters up all around the city? The poster talks about trafficking and gives the National Trafficking Hotline number (888-373-7888)?
What if Casey's teacher saw the poster and called the number? Thanks to that call and Polaris Project, an investigation was launched, they found out what Casey's step-father had been doing and she was rescued before she ever ran away.
What if you were Casey's art teacher? What if you noticed that the colors she used had went from light to dark, that her painting depicted something dark? What if you talked to the guidance counselor?
What if you were an after-school mentor who spent time with Casey? What if you talked to her about how you valued her? About how special she was? About how she deserved to be treated? What if she felt safe to confide in you? What if she didn't but those words came back to her one night and gave her the courage to escape?
What if you were the guy who had created an accountability group that gave the guy who'd made an appointment to "meet" Casey someone to call and he didn't keep the appointment? As a result, he wasn't the guy that was with her when she was arrested. His marriage is saved and his kids don't have to grow up without their Dad.
What if you were the person who contacted their state Senator or Representative to tell them that you are in favor of HB 200 and so they support the bill that means when Casey is arrested she is treated as a victim instead of a criminal?
What if you were the group that helped remodel the program that is helping Casey? What if you were the women's group that did an in-kind donation drive and supplied the program with school supplies, toilet paper, and other necessities? What if you gave a financial donation that helps pay the counselors, teachers, the light bill, the school curriculum?
What if you are the volunteer who tutors her and helps her earn school credits? What if you teach a life skill class? What if you come on a Saturday and bake with her? What if you build a relationship with her and mentor her after she leaves the program?
What if you are the cashier who smiles at her one day when she buys a coke and you tell her "have a nice day" and she realizes that not everyone looks at her like she is filth?
What if you are the person who sits next to her at church and introduce her to your family, tell her you are glad she's there? What if you teach her to drive? What if you are the business that takes a chance on her to give her a job?
What if you take the time to help change her life? No matter where you come in, no matter what big or small part you play, we all need to do something. If we don't, children will continue to be victimized.
I'm just not okay with that.
Over 300 girls under the age of 18 being sold for sex in Georgia every month.
The numbers get overwhelming. The stories are horrifying.
You feel powerless, uncomfortable, frustrated.
You know you should do "something" but what? And would it really make a difference?
Here's the deal...I can't promise you can change the world...but I can tell you you can make an impact. You aren't powerless. You can change the world for someone. And if everyone changed the world for someone, the world would be changed.
Let's talk about Casey. Not her real name. In fact, she's not a real person...but her story is very common to those we hear and see. Every story is different. Every girl is an individual. Whatever you do, don't forget that. But hopefully, in Casey's story, you'll understand your place.
When Casey was four, her Dad left. Her Mom started dating. Some of these men touched Casey in places they shouldn't. She tried to tell her Mom but her Mom didn't believe her. When Casey was ten, one of the boyfriends moved in with her and her Mom. Casey's Mom got pregnant and Casey had a little brother. Casey's Mom and the boyfriend got married. Casey thought things were going to be okay but then her Mom got a second shift job. Casey's step-dad started molesting her. Then he started letting his friends do things to her. Then he started selling her to his friends and friends of friends. He tells her if she tells her Mom, her Mom won't believe her. He tells her if she tells, he will hurt her Mom and her brother. Casey is constantly depressed. She doesn't do her school work. She doesn't play with the other kids. She used to love art but not anymore.
When Casey is twelve, she's had enough. She runs away.
Within 72 hours she has fallen into the hands of a trafficker. She was hungry. He fed her. Offered her a place to stay. He told her she was beautiful, that he wanted to be her boyfriend. He told her she had value, that she was valuable to him. That he loved her. And then he took her to a motel room and told her she had to have sex with every man that came into the room. When she refused, he beat her and let men rape her. The next day he told her he was sorry she made him do that...and that if she loves him, she won't make him do it again. So she does what he tells her to because he loves her, because she's valuable to him. She hates herself. She hates what is happening to her.
Months pass...
Casey decides to escape.
Casey is arrested.
Casey is hospitalized.
Casey is free. She is brought to a recovery program where she gets the chance to finish high school. She has group and individual therapy. She isn't crazy about all the life skill classes but she learns from them. She begins the road to recovery.
Where are you?
What if you volunteered a couple of hours one weekend to put posters up all around the city? The poster talks about trafficking and gives the National Trafficking Hotline number (888-373-7888)?
What if Casey's teacher saw the poster and called the number? Thanks to that call and Polaris Project, an investigation was launched, they found out what Casey's step-father had been doing and she was rescued before she ever ran away.
What if you were Casey's art teacher? What if you noticed that the colors she used had went from light to dark, that her painting depicted something dark? What if you talked to the guidance counselor?
What if you were an after-school mentor who spent time with Casey? What if you talked to her about how you valued her? About how special she was? About how she deserved to be treated? What if she felt safe to confide in you? What if she didn't but those words came back to her one night and gave her the courage to escape?
What if you were the guy who had created an accountability group that gave the guy who'd made an appointment to "meet" Casey someone to call and he didn't keep the appointment? As a result, he wasn't the guy that was with her when she was arrested. His marriage is saved and his kids don't have to grow up without their Dad.
What if you were the person who contacted their state Senator or Representative to tell them that you are in favor of HB 200 and so they support the bill that means when Casey is arrested she is treated as a victim instead of a criminal?
What if you were the group that helped remodel the program that is helping Casey? What if you were the women's group that did an in-kind donation drive and supplied the program with school supplies, toilet paper, and other necessities? What if you gave a financial donation that helps pay the counselors, teachers, the light bill, the school curriculum?
What if you are the volunteer who tutors her and helps her earn school credits? What if you teach a life skill class? What if you come on a Saturday and bake with her? What if you build a relationship with her and mentor her after she leaves the program?
What if you are the cashier who smiles at her one day when she buys a coke and you tell her "have a nice day" and she realizes that not everyone looks at her like she is filth?
What if you are the person who sits next to her at church and introduce her to your family, tell her you are glad she's there? What if you teach her to drive? What if you are the business that takes a chance on her to give her a job?
What if you take the time to help change her life? No matter where you come in, no matter what big or small part you play, we all need to do something. If we don't, children will continue to be victimized.
I'm just not okay with that.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Five Things I Learned From Spamalot
I have to tell you guys I have this thing for Monty Python. I don't know why...if I think about it, it really isn't that funny. Well, even when I think about it, Fawlty Towers is freaking awesome. But the Holy Grail is one of my favorite movies of all time. And when I found out that NTC was doing Spamalot and that Jennifer was directing it, I sort of secured my spot as stage manager a bit early...like a year ago...while we were doing Dangerous Liaisons.
It was a challenging show. Partially because we'd done back to back shows for six months and I was tired, partly because we were rehearsing five days a week almost from the start...and because every show is a challenging show. But it will definitely go down in the books as one of my favorites.
Here is one of the things that I love about Spamalot...the songs are all pretty silly, and yet they are great music. I mean "Diva's Lament"! Chick has to have a dynamite voice (and Allison did!). And, if you really think about it, Spamalot can be educational.
Don't believe me? I'll prove it. Five things I learned from Spamalot (with some rehearsal shots and videos for the less fortunate that don't know the show)
#1 Use what you got.
SOLDIER #1:
What? Ridden on a horse?
ARTHUR:
Yes!
SOLDIER #1:
You're using coconuts!
ARTHUR:
What?
SOLDIER #1:
You've got two empty halves of coconut and you're bangin' 'em together.
Sure, we'd all like to have a horse. But what do you do if you don't have one? Mope? Refuse to go on the quest? Hide in your castle? NO! You find two halves of a coconut (possibly once carried by an African swallow) and you bang them together! It works even better if you have man servant like Patsy or Concorde to do it for you. Then you can pretend to hold on to the reins!
All I'm saying is, be happy with what you have! Or be inventive!
#2 You Aren't Dead Yet
Life is hard. You are feeling beaten. Either you've given up on yourself or others around you have given up on you. But you aren't dead. You're getting better. Dust yourself off. Get out there and dance! Seriously, don't let them put you on the cart! You can do this!
#3 Find Your Grail
Everyone has that something they are looking for...a cup, musical theatre or the perfect mate. Figure out what your passion is, what makes you tick...and go after it! And-if you can-bring along a few friends.
#4 Run Away!
Sometimes, running away is the best option. Especially if someone is hurling cattle at you. It's okay to get away from bad situations, toxic people, unhealthy relationships...or can can dancers.
#5 What you're looking for might be right under your feet...or bum.
Not to give anything away...if you've seen it, you know. If you didn't...well, shame on you. But so many times what we are looking for is right in front of us. We need to pay attention and open ourselves up to the possibilities. Look right beyond the Fourth Wall as it were.
So there ya' go. Life lessons from one of the most fun musicals of all times. And yes, I know I left some out, so feel free to share. Always look on the bright side of life? Make friends with Jews (so you can succeed on Broadway)? Be free to be yourself (AKA His Name Is Lancelot)
Or...make sure your son doesn't point his camera at you while you're singing along.
Next up for the Battles' theatre repertoire: Alice In Wonderland with the Henry Players! Auditions are April 15th and 16th. Visit the Henry Players website for info!
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