BIRTH RIGHTS

Sunday again. It's been another good week. This week I got to play mini-geek for a friend who was having problems with her computer. I wasn't able to fix her problem , but I told her I believed she needed a new modem. Since she works she asked me if I would come back to be in her apartment when the computer technician came. I did that two days later. He checked and said, "You need a new modem." I felt a little brilliant for a few moments.

While I was waiting for him to arrive I got a good start on GANG LEADER FOR A DAY by Sudhir Venkatesh. I plan on spending my evening with the same book. The author, while in grad school studying for his degree in sociology, befriended a gang leader and spent years learning about the poor black community and drug dealing from the inside out. Oddly enough in the last six years, I have had a similar experience, only mine has been to live in the "hood" and listen to the mothers, girlfriends, and addicts. I have written letters to judges for mothers whose sons were about to be sentenced, and written letters for a woman who fell in love with a dealer who is still serving time, although he's due to be released n February.

I have shared with those on the street, and sat with them elbow to elbow at the local soup kitchen. There have been moments when I was the only white person in a room or on the street. I have heard the anguish and I have had it directed at me. I have comforted and been comforted by the same people. I have confronted young boys with guns in their pockets and I have received the nodding head salute of their superiors. I learned to wear my hat sideways and walk erect with energy on the street, no matter how I felt that day. I learned to project strength until that strength came to live inside me.

I learned to love fried chicken and collard greens and why people will spend their last few dollars on lottery tickets. I learned to pause and share a hug on the street. I know what it is to have lost a friend because he was beaten to death, and what it is to hear gunfire and back away from the window.

From the time I was a child, I saw no difference between races, other than some people have very different features and skin tones are different. I have understood without ever being told that we are all spirits having a physical experience of life. My ancestry is mixed; I am both Caucasian and Native American. I've always leaned toward my Native ancestry in habits and beliefs, but recently I became grateful that I was born White in America. Having seen how real the oppression is in this country for those born poor and Black, I can only shake my head and then bow it in appreciation. I have had many rough experiences in life, but I had them as a White woman' For as long as I can dress well and hold my head up, there are far more options for me in life than for my Black sisters. We live in the same neighborhood, but in two different worlds.

GANGSTA GRANDMA

White woman on Perry Street
Hey Auntie You straight
Straight longer 'n you've been alive
And your mama too
Hey Baby Waz zup
My age that's what
Old enough to be your grandma
Lady from the suburbs
Gives me a ride home
I tell her I live in the richest part of the city
Kids on my block carry rolls larger 'n their fists
Drug route a better profit than newspapers
Hop on your bike
Ride around the corner and hand the man in the car
A little bag
Beats carrying a sack full of shit that's heavy
Kids on my block are the news
They don't pedal papers
They fill their pages from front to obit
That ain't no water pistol, Mister
Walk tall or don't walk at all
At least not on Perry Street
Doing time means you got stupid
The next kid'll take your spot
Leave the money in a safe
So it takes more time for someone to get it
'Cuz you know in your gut
Ain't no one can be trusted
It's one for all and all for none
On Perry Street
Wanna' be a hero
Get dead
They hang a sheet out with your name on it
And wear their colors
Mama dressed in black
Your friends in red
They talk about cha for a day or two
Maybe even take down the guy that got you
And then it's business as usual
On Perry Street

© 2006 Beth NoLastName