What Price, Injustice?

In our writing group on Monday night, our topic was "Jena Tree." At first I found it hard to write about this, but as soon as pen hit paper, the outrage began to flow.

Perhaps you have never heard of the "Jena Tree." And you probably haven't heard of the Jena 6. I wouldn't be surprised. Most people have not heard about Jena, Louisiana. And up until a few weeks ago, I hadn't heard of it either. So let me inform you about Jena. This comes from The Post Chronicle article written by Mike Baron on September 4:

"In September of 2006, a black student asked permission from school administrators to seek the cool offering of solice under the shade of a tree that is commonly reserved for the enjoyment of the white students of the school.

School officials allegedly told the Black students that it was ok to sit wherever they wanted and they went ahead and did so. The next day, three nooses, in the school colors, were found hanging from the same tree.

After an investigation, the Jena high school principal determined that three white students were responsible and it was recommended that they be expelled. The expulsions would subsequently be overturned by the white superintendent of schools and issued the students a three day suspension, saying that the nooses were simply "a youthful stunt."

As a result, black students organized a sit-in under the tree to protest the soft treatment given to the white students. African American parents tried to voice their opinoins and were repeatedly shot down.

The town's district attorney quickly arrived, flanked by police officers, and told the Black students to stop making such a big deal over the nooses. The school assembly, like the schoolyard where all of this had begun, was divided by race, with the Black students on one side and the white students on the other. Directing his remarks to the Black students, District Attorney Reed Walters said, "I can make your lives disappear with a stroke of a pen."

In November, tension was still high and the academic wing of the school burned in a fire. An attack ensued outside of school where the assailant, a white student, was charged with simple battery after an Black student was punched and beaten with beer bottles.

Hostilities grew.

On Monday, December 4 2006, a white student named Justin Barker got into a fight with Black students. Allegedly, the white student had been allegedly racially taunting the black students in support of the students who hung the nooses and was reportedly taken to the hospital treated and released.

Six Black Jena students (Mychal Bell, Robert Bailey Jr., Carwin Jones, Bryant Purvis, Theo Shaw and Jesse Beard) were subsequently arrested and charged with attempted second degree murder. All six were expelled from school. On the morning of the trial, the District Attorney reduced the charges from attempted second degree murder to second degree aggravated battery and conspiracy.

The all-white jury deliberated for less than three hours and found Mychal Bell, the only one charged as an adult, guilty on the maximum possible charges of aggravated second degree battery and conspiracy. He awaits a Sept. 20 sentencing hearing. Mychal Bell faces up to a maximum of 22 years in prison. The cases against the other five Black students are pending."

This is 2007 - not 1957. (Of course, if it were 1957, the boys probably would have been hanging from the tree.)

First, I am not condoning violence. But this was a lunchroom fight. Happens all the time, has happened since I was a child in school. The "victim", Justin Barker, was treated, released and was well enough to attend a party later that evening. And for this, these boys were charged with ATTEMPTED MURDER! SECOND DEGREE ASSAULT! They may be going to prison for years for a lunchroom fight?

What's also tragic is that has been going on for almost a year and the national media has all but ignored this story. I first heard about it a while back when Jesse Jackson came to my church, but I really didn't get it until I read Mary Mitchell's column in The Chicago Sun-Times that I fully understood what was going on. A subsequent email from Color of Change outlined all the legal details.

Where was the outrage? The Rev. Jesse Jackson and the Rev. Al Sharpton have been working to ensure justice for these young men. Where was the national media? Why wasn't this front page news? Where were Anderson Cooper and Oprah and the boys from Fox and CNN and MSNBC? Oh yeah, they had "real" news to report - Anna Nicole and the custody fight for her money, er baby; the perils of Paris, Britney's breakdown, OJ, OJ, oh please, yada yada...

Why didn't the NAACP and other black organizations launch a major media campaign on behalf of these young men? All the hours devoted to the "injustice" of Michael Vick's conviction and relative silence about Jena? Michael Vick is an overpaid athlete who did a really dumb thing that cost him his career. The young men of Jena haven't even made it out of high school, much less realized their dreams.

In my own small way, I've tried to help. I've sent money to their defense fund, I wore black in solidarity with the marchers who made their way down to Louisiana yesterday. And I've followed this story in the news faithfully. Now the national media is getting involved. One of the young men convicted, Mychal Bell, had his conviction overturned and is finally - after a year - being given a bond hearing so he can get out of jail and be with his family. The Jena 6 have obtained real lawyers who are fighting for justice. D.A. Reed said that this isn't about race, but about an "innocent" victim. He said the noose incident was "despicable," but he couldn't find a law to use to prosecute those who put them out there.

What is despicable is the fact that D.A. Reed wouldn't use the hate crime laws to prosecute the criminals that started this mess. What's despicable is his desire to destroy the lives of these young men and have them tried by an all-white jury. What's despicable is the public defender's failure to mount a vigorous defense on behalf of his client. What's despicable is the media's failure to report on real news instead of what's now passing as journalism. What's despicable is that the only outrage from the folks in Jena is the fact that "outsiders" are coming in and "portraying" their town as racist - and that they can't see that for themselves.

What's despicable is that after 40 years, we're still fighting the same fights.

In Him,
Donna

Mayberry Lives - NOT!!!

I just read an article in which weapons were confiscated at a high school in a small town in Michigan. There was no indication of another Columbine; two students were in custody but no arrests had been made. One of the parents was quoted as saying, "...this isn't supposed to happen here."

When I hear statements like that, I often wonder what the person who says that is thinking. It's 2007. Mayberry and Mayfield never existed, except in the minds of some wistful television writers. Granted, every generation can point to a time when life seemed simpler and the idea of a child bringing a gun to a school (other than a water gun) was unheard of. But it's 2007.

And why doesn't it happen "here"? Why is your "here" better than my "here"? It shouldn't be happening anywhere and yet it's happening everywhere. Gangs, drugs, and guns are no longer "urban" problems; they're problems in small town USA, farmland USA, and suburban USA.

Sadly, the more accurate statement should be, "I'm surprised it took this long to happen here."

In Him,
Donna

Marchin' and Meltin'

In the blazing heat of the August sun, my family and I set up camp on 43rd & King Drive and took in the sights and sounds of the Bud Billiken parade. It was an amazing event. Everyone seemed to be having a good time in spite of the heat.

The highlight for me was seeing the grand marshals, President... er, um, Senator Barack Obama and his lovely wife, Michelle. My son thought seeing Mickey and Minnie Mouse was cooler (of course, he is only 3). But he LOVED seeing all the marching bands ("drums" as he called them) and the black rodeo riders on horseback. And up until he saw the inflatable soccer ball he just had to have, the whole parade was fascinating.

I have to confess: I didn't want to attend the parade. I'm not an outdoor person by nature and sitting/standing in the wilting heat was not my idea of fun. Still, it was worth going, encouraging the high school marching bands (some in full dress uniform) and participants and spending time with the family.

Will we do it next year? Probably, if my hubby has anything to say about it. As for the look on my son's face when he saw Ronald McDonald standing in his giant red shoe rolling down the street? Priceless!

In Him,
Donna

Give honor where honor is due...

I found this on the internet today and I thought it was amusing:

Wis. man gets top prize for bad prose
By MARCUS WOHLSEN, Associated Press

A Wisconsin man whose blend of awkward syntax, imminent disaster and bathroom humor offends both good taste and the English language won an annual contest Monday that salutes bad writing.

Jim Gleeson, 47, of Madison, Wis., beat out thousands of other prose manglers in San Jose State University's 2007 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest with this convoluted opening sentence to a nonexistent novel:

"Gerald began — but was interrupted by a piercing whistle which cost him ten percent of his hearing permanently, as it did everyone else in a ten-mile radius of the eruption, not that it mattered much because for them 'permanently' meant the next ten minutes or so until buried by searing lava or suffocated by choking ash — to pee," Gleeson wrote.

Scott Rice, an English professor at San Jose State, called Gleeson's entry a "syntactic atrocity" that displays "a peculiar set of standards or values." Rice has organized the contest since founding it in 1982.

Gleeson, who works at a Madison hospital setting up computer networks, said he submitted about 20 entries, and gave a little insight into what it takes to win the bad writing title and its $250 prize.

"It's like you take two thoughts that are not anything like each other and you cram them together by any means necessary," Gleeson said. He claimed he took time off from his current project, a self-help book for slackers entitled "Self-Improvement Through Total Inactivity," to pen his winning entry.

Gleeson credited his time in college with preparing him well. "There's a certain degree to which academia prepares you to write badly," Gleeson said wryly.

The contest takes its name from Victorian novelist Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton, whose 1830 novel "Paul Clifford" famously begins "It was a dark and stormy night."

Entrants are asked to submit bad opening sentences to imaginary novels. Citations are handed out for several categories, including "dishonorable mention" awards for "purple prose" and "vile puns."


I don't think I could have written a worse sentence if I tried.

In Him,
Donna

A Funny for You

11 people were hanging on a rope under a helicopter, ten men and one woman.

The rope was not strong enough to carry them all, so they decided that one had to leave, because otherwise they were all going to fall.

They were unable to decide who would let go, until the woman gave a very touching speech.

She said that she would voluntarily let go of the rope, because, as a woman, she was used to giving up everything for her husband and kids and for men in general, and was used to always making sacrifices with little in return.

As soon as she finished her speech, all the men started clapping.

What happens in Vegas…

After nine long years, I finally took a well-deserved vacation. I packed up my family and headed to Las Vegas. We were so excited just getting away and enjoyed being away from the daily grind.

Our trip started out rocky. The flight was delayed by weather (the day we leave, there’s finally rain in Chicago?). I have to give big props to the folks at Southwest. They were very kind even though they were getting a lot of grief for stuff that was completely out of their control. (Here’s a tip for parents of young children: bring along a portable DVD player and kids DVD’s. There were several understandably cranky kids and frazzled parents at the airport. I whipped out our DVD player and asked if they wanted to watch one my son’s DVD’s. I picked one out and they all gathered around and watched quietly and patiently until it was time to board. It also kept my son busy on the flight until he finally fell asleep. We will never travel without those items again!)

After landing, we were immediately assaulted by rows and rows of slot machines at the airport. I knew I was in Vegas! It was a blast seeing my sisters-in-law, and walking around in the desert heat.

We mostly decided to just relax and unwind. It was the best thing we have ever done. We watched TV, rested, explored the hotel and I managed to get some reading done (Writer’s Digest and Bettye Griffin’s novel, A Love For All Seasons). I know that’s not the Vegas thing to do, but it’s what worked for us.

We explored the hotel, which has a movie theater, bowling alley and arcade. After a swim and a long nap, we went out with my sister-in-law and got a tour of Las Vegas. We drove down the strip. It was fascinating to see the hotels that I’d only seen on television or in the movies. There’s the “new” Las Vegas – the Wynn, Rio, New York New York – and the “old” Las Vegas – Caesar’s Palace, The Frontier.

As we continued our drive, we went to the “real” Las Vegas, a.k.a the ghetto. The houses were like little shanty towns. The only grass growing was in the lovely little playground parks. We stopped in a shop and they carried all kinds of pipes – “for use with tobacco and other legal herbs.” Except everyone who looks at them knows they’re used for crack and weed. And yet it’s perfectly legal to be sold in the black community. In the “other” Las Vegas, the one that we as tourists visit, the only drugs of choice are alcohol, cigarettes and gambling.

Who needs crack when you’ve got 24 hour slots?

Our day ended with both our boys spending the night with their aunts. After dinner, we ventured down to the casino. I stopped at the roulette table to test my luck. My friend Michelle told me to bet on black; my boss said to bet on red. I checked with my husband – bet on black. I did and I won!

I played a couple of rounds and decided to cash out. I took my winnings to the cashier, who smiled and asked if I needed security to escort me to my room with all my new cash – all $4.00 of it.

The rest of our visit consisted of spending time with the family. I met my husband’s cousin, a bit of a world traveler. He’s a true gentleman and had some very interesting stories. He actually inspired some thoughts for future novel and/or character(s).

And that was really the point of my trip!

In Him,
Donna

A Tale of Two Authors

As I was perusing Blogging in Black, I decided to visit a couple of the author’s websites. One author I found out lived in the Chicago area. So, I decided to send her an email to see if I could generate some correspondence, author to would-be author. The automated response said I could expect a real email shortly. And not less than two days later, Bettye Griffin responded to my email. We struck up a bit of a conversation and she told me she would be doing a book signing at a Borders near my house. I asked her if she’d mind if I came to sit and chat with her. She graciously agreed.

Two weeks later, I met Bettye Griffin at Borders. She was a very kind and gracious woman, who was genuinely excited to meet me. We chatted for about an hour, talking about her writing career (she writes AA romance and mainstream AA fiction) and mine and generally getting to know each other. We also talked about the state of the publishing industry. She’s had over 13 novels published and is working on a few more. Bettye was extremely encouraging, telling me that if my manuscript wasn’t good enough to be published, it definitely wouldn’t have been picked up by an agent. We shared information on upcoming conferences and events and agreed to keep in touch. She autographed one of her novels for me and we parted in good company. Since then we’ve traded emails and I’ve been on her blog several times. (Bettye is also very quick to respond to blog posts.) I will definitely keep in touch with her!

The second author (whom I will not name) is a frequent contributor to BIB. I visited her website and I was curious about her writing as she writes in my genre (Christian fiction). I asked some general questions about her writing, wanting to know more about her specific genre (urban Christian fiction), before I decided to purchase one of her books. SHE NEVER RESPONDED. At first, I gave her the benefit of the doubt, thinking that maybe she never got the email. But after I didn’t get one of those automated delivery failure notices, I’m pretty sure she got the email.

Now mind you, I know people are busy. But at some point, if someone sends you an email, the least you can do is respond. (It’s been well over a month now.) When you are an up-and-coming author, people who send you emails at your website are your best potential customers. It’s not good to alienate them.

Here’s what I learned from this experience:

1) I expected that a reasonably well-known author like Bettye would blow me off. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I will definitely spread the word about Bettye and purchase more of her work to support her.
2) I expected a relatively unknown author who wants to generate publicity about her books would be eager to cultivate a dialogue or at least respond to an email. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Will I support here efforts? Maybe not so much.
3) As I am continuing on this writing journey, I will endeavor to treat each person who inquires about my writing as if they are the most precious person on the planet. Or at least I will reply to their emails. Speaking of which, I owe someone an email response…

In Him,

Donna

I'm Baaaack...

I’ve been out of the blogosphere for a while due to real-life considerations. Most of the time it’s because I’ve just been too tired or busy to post. But I’m resurrecting my blog and I’m going to connect with other bloggers and hopefully, there will be someone out there who’ll read this and want to chat.

And if not, they’ll just discover it when I become famous.

In Him,

Donna