I read an article in the New York Times today that stated the future for Hurricane Katrina and Rita victims living in FEMA trailers and temporary housing: there isn't one. FEMA plans to take back housing facilities they have offered to these victims by the end of May, leaving a little more than 4,000 people without homes and a means to access shelter. The majority of these victims are homeowners, and have been working to rebuild their homes since December 2008, when funds were finally sufficient enough to allow such activities. Two months away from being done with the rebuilding of their house, many victims are left with only three weeks to come up with a plan for housing themselves and/or family members. The rental units these families are using have yet to be repaired/restored, which FEMA promised would happen, and the 500 homes FEMA agreed to build have not been completed, prohibiting them from being occupied. However, as one can imagine, when asked where the ball dropped, both the victims and FEMA had different stories to tell.
The people suggest FEMA has never shown their face until the past 2 months when they were disseminating eviction notices to the inhabitants of their housing units.
FEMA says they have offered countless opportunities for help to these victims.
12 victims were interviewed and each person's story had the same underlying tone: FEMA did not give a dern.
So here is my dilemma with this whole scenario. I for one have no trust or faith in the government; none whatsoever. The only reason I trust Sallie Mae is because they are required to get money back from me or I get punished. But I despise situations where the media portrays an image of the word of the government against that of the people. It is such a belittling and degrading thing, on the side of the people of course. Are readers supposed to believe the word of the government simply because they are the government? I mean, honestly, what in the world has the government done for you personally to gain any sort of trust from you? Why do we, as Americans, put so much trust in man who is completely and utterly capable of intense and certain failure?
Having worked in an agency that was constantly battling the word of the client over the truth of the matter, I can sometimes sympathize with agencies who get a bad rap. But in situations like these, where large masses of people are giving the same story, I support the people. It is such a shame the media presents cases where one has to make a decision about who's story to believe the government or the people. And for those who constantly stand by America and its systems simply because it is America, I dread the day the government decides to turn its back on you, and people are left to wager whether your story is the truth or the government.
Think about it...
For more information on the story and FEMA's plan, please visit the following websites:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/08/us/08trailer.html?_r=1&ref=us
http://www.fema.gov/news/newsrelease.fema?id=48166
Friday, May 8, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The Importance of Agency Collaboration
Having spent the majority of my field placement year interacting with homeless and mentally ill clients, I find myself intrigued by news articles that talk about homeless shelters within the city. This particular article, however, has me wondering how better solutions can be made in order to combine efficient shelter services with resources for the mentally ill.
Margaret Jones, a 61 year old severely schizophrenic woman, died along the steps of a SEPTA station on January 19 of this year. She had been staying in a West Philadelphia "overnight cafe", where more than 250 homeless men and women gather during the winter months, 70% of whom possess some form of mental illness. The sad thing about this story is that Ms. Jones family and mental health provider had been working to track her down in order to keep her and provide services. The gap came about due to the fact the shelter services was unaware of how severe her mental illness needs were, and her mental health provider was unaware of her staying in the shelter.
After reading the article posted today in the Philadelphia Inquirer, shelter services and mental health agencies are suggesting some form of collaboration with the hopes of better serving their clients. The only problem there is that such a feat would also breach confidentiality. So how can agencies within cities create a solution that does not disclose personal information of the client but also be able to compose a system of resources that are more helpful and efficient for clients? Having been a witness to the disconnect of agencies in the lives of their mentally ill clients, I would suggest that the solution come fast and quick, lest we continue to lose our people in this gap we have created.
If you would like to read the story in more detail, please click http://www.philly.com/philly/news/homepage/20090506_Woman_s_death_spurs_change_in_shelter_system.html
Margaret Jones, a 61 year old severely schizophrenic woman, died along the steps of a SEPTA station on January 19 of this year. She had been staying in a West Philadelphia "overnight cafe", where more than 250 homeless men and women gather during the winter months, 70% of whom possess some form of mental illness. The sad thing about this story is that Ms. Jones family and mental health provider had been working to track her down in order to keep her and provide services. The gap came about due to the fact the shelter services was unaware of how severe her mental illness needs were, and her mental health provider was unaware of her staying in the shelter.
After reading the article posted today in the Philadelphia Inquirer, shelter services and mental health agencies are suggesting some form of collaboration with the hopes of better serving their clients. The only problem there is that such a feat would also breach confidentiality. So how can agencies within cities create a solution that does not disclose personal information of the client but also be able to compose a system of resources that are more helpful and efficient for clients? Having been a witness to the disconnect of agencies in the lives of their mentally ill clients, I would suggest that the solution come fast and quick, lest we continue to lose our people in this gap we have created.
If you would like to read the story in more detail, please click http://www.philly.com/philly/news/homepage/20090506_Woman_s_death_spurs_change_in_shelter_system.html
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
The Theory of Causality
It has been a while since I last wrote anything, but please do not mistake that for not having social ills to discuss. I simply just did not have or make the time to write about them, finding myself overtly frustrated with the madness this world embodies. However, as I just nestled back into my apartment from a day/night trip to Atlantic City, I figured now would be a great time to delve into an issue. American society is to blame for many a defect in this world; yet, the one that is recently bothering me is an addiction I am not quite familiar with: gambling.
Walking into the casino on my first day in Atlantic city, I was immediately overtaken with the continuous flow and flash of colored lights illuminating the area. Looking back, I still get a sense of the anxiety I felt when I first walked in, wondering how in the world my naive self was supposed to navigate through all this mayhem. Being aware of my tendencies to express attention deficit, I quickly pulled together a game plan, along with a friend of mine, as to our EXACT method for dealing with this place. Unfortunately, I could not hold the same truth for everyone in the building. This morning as the crew and I went to breakfast, I noticed the casino was open and people were still at slot machines. Again showing my youth about casinos and gambling, I asked if casinos ever closed. I was informed they did not. At that moment, I knew this world was corrupted.
Causality is known as the relationship between one event and another event which is a direct consequence of the first, better known as cause and effect. Gambling problems are not an issue of gambling every day; rather, it becomes a problem when it causes other problems (helpguide.org). For example, a person in a casino gambles away his paycheck. Without his or her paycheck, the person is unable to pay rent or utilities. Without the two, the person no longer has a place to leave. Without a place to leave, a person is known as being homeless. Homelessness was an effect of a gambling situation gone wrong. But let's say the person did not lose all his or her money. On the other hand, the person played until he or she hit the jackpot. Sounds good right?!?! Perhaps. But with pleasure comes pain. Coachingtohappiness.com claims that the pleasure of addiction
"is rampant because our society operates on an Economic Mindset. Pleasure gives us the chemical high of the sensation of happiness. It is easy to produce, unfortunately a necessary downside is that after the high comes the low. Pleasure is unsustainable as it is based on a neuro-chemical reaction, which must then stabilize. This creates an addictive cycle and a need for continual excitement."
Continual excitement, meaning a person will continue to engage in activities he or she has been pleasured by or experience happiness with, thus creating an addiction.
This concept is quite fascinating to me. The number of addictions are as countless and diverse as the people who embody them. As I begin my journey to working directly with clients who not only suffer from certain addictions but vices as well, I could not help but wonder how we as a people make it possible for people to experience and endure certain pain, suffering, and oppression. Have I had a part in someone's addiction, or pleasure-seeking cycle? Have you? Is addiction really just a journey to be happy all the time? If so, why is the desire to consistently be happy, in whatever form a person chooses to reach that level, sometimes frowned upon?
Think about it...
Walking into the casino on my first day in Atlantic city, I was immediately overtaken with the continuous flow and flash of colored lights illuminating the area. Looking back, I still get a sense of the anxiety I felt when I first walked in, wondering how in the world my naive self was supposed to navigate through all this mayhem. Being aware of my tendencies to express attention deficit, I quickly pulled together a game plan, along with a friend of mine, as to our EXACT method for dealing with this place. Unfortunately, I could not hold the same truth for everyone in the building. This morning as the crew and I went to breakfast, I noticed the casino was open and people were still at slot machines. Again showing my youth about casinos and gambling, I asked if casinos ever closed. I was informed they did not. At that moment, I knew this world was corrupted.
Causality is known as the relationship between one event and another event which is a direct consequence of the first, better known as cause and effect. Gambling problems are not an issue of gambling every day; rather, it becomes a problem when it causes other problems (helpguide.org). For example, a person in a casino gambles away his paycheck. Without his or her paycheck, the person is unable to pay rent or utilities. Without the two, the person no longer has a place to leave. Without a place to leave, a person is known as being homeless. Homelessness was an effect of a gambling situation gone wrong. But let's say the person did not lose all his or her money. On the other hand, the person played until he or she hit the jackpot. Sounds good right?!?! Perhaps. But with pleasure comes pain. Coachingtohappiness.com claims that the pleasure of addiction
"is rampant because our society operates on an Economic Mindset. Pleasure gives us the chemical high of the sensation of happiness. It is easy to produce, unfortunately a necessary downside is that after the high comes the low. Pleasure is unsustainable as it is based on a neuro-chemical reaction, which must then stabilize. This creates an addictive cycle and a need for continual excitement."
Continual excitement, meaning a person will continue to engage in activities he or she has been pleasured by or experience happiness with, thus creating an addiction.
This concept is quite fascinating to me. The number of addictions are as countless and diverse as the people who embody them. As I begin my journey to working directly with clients who not only suffer from certain addictions but vices as well, I could not help but wonder how we as a people make it possible for people to experience and endure certain pain, suffering, and oppression. Have I had a part in someone's addiction, or pleasure-seeking cycle? Have you? Is addiction really just a journey to be happy all the time? If so, why is the desire to consistently be happy, in whatever form a person chooses to reach that level, sometimes frowned upon?
Think about it...
Friday, January 16, 2009
Over 300 hundred years and I have yet to see a change...
Sitting here watching an episode of Tyra Banks, I cannot help but feel enraged. 1) Tyra Banks makes my skin crawl with how she so desperately tries to be an Oprah prototype, and 2) because the topic is about dark skin, black women bleaching their skin to be lighter. Every time I have the slightest inclination that black people are making some sort of progress as a people, something always shoves that notion 5,000 yards back. When I sit and think about it, I cannot help but blame two things for how black people continue to degrade one another: society and black people, themselves.
The first time color was made an issue of high vs. lower grade "blackness" was during the times of slavery. Masters on plantations would use more fairer skinned blacks to work jobs in the house (one outside of the role of mammy), and use the darker blacks for field work. This practice is where the name "house nigger" came from. Urbandictionary.com defines "house nigger" as the one who would get to work inside the house as opposed to picking cotton in the sun. It also defines "house nigger" as a person that does their best to please white people even if it means disowning their own racial identity. (The latter definition works best with the concept that fairer-skinned blacks receive criticism for being white, but I will save that spiel for another blog). This notion of being closer to the master and his family simply because of skin color carried on into the lives of black people well after slaves became free.
Today, even with the knowledge of how these distinctions developed, black people continue to fight this battle, allowing white people to sit back and watch the show. There are times I hear black women say, "Man, I sure am glad I ain't black as night because don't no man want a sistah who's dark like that.", or even black men say, "I need me a red-boned sistah. I can't do nothing with a dark skinned girl." I get frustrated with black people because we live in SUCH ignorance and we are COMFORTABLE with it: that is the killer. Black people KNOW the history of this distinction, how degrading it is, YET we CONTINUE to let the horrid treatment of whites hundreds of years ago outline how we treat not only one another, but ourselves. This concept is utterly frustrating, sickening, and disheartening. At times I do not feel we as black people will ever rise to the heights I would love for us to be at. At times I wish Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X were still alive just to see where we as black people would be today. It seems as though our people dropped the ball, and the generations of black children seem to keep coming out worse than the one preceding them. When will this all end? If you want my honest opinion, I don't think it ever will.
The media always highlights and uplifts fairer skinned blacks, like Beyonce and Halle Berry, while at times looking over the darker skinned women, such as Angela Bassett, Kimberly Elise, Gabrielle Union, Kelly Rowland, Alfre Woodard, or Naomi Campbell (if you do not know who these people are, this proves my point even more). Yet, even if these people are known to you, the media never displays them because of their beauty. Most are usually highlighted due to a movie role, new CD release, or some major modeling thing in another country. You do not see these people blown up on poster for horny teenage boys (perhaps even horny, grown men) to fantasize about once they go to sleep, do you?!?! And why? My mama always told me, "The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice." I just fear that black people are going to segregate within their own race. If that happens, how can we possibly stand together to make things better for us? Please, black people: let's get it together.
The first time color was made an issue of high vs. lower grade "blackness" was during the times of slavery. Masters on plantations would use more fairer skinned blacks to work jobs in the house (one outside of the role of mammy), and use the darker blacks for field work. This practice is where the name "house nigger" came from. Urbandictionary.com defines "house nigger" as the one who would get to work inside the house as opposed to picking cotton in the sun. It also defines "house nigger" as a person that does their best to please white people even if it means disowning their own racial identity. (The latter definition works best with the concept that fairer-skinned blacks receive criticism for being white, but I will save that spiel for another blog). This notion of being closer to the master and his family simply because of skin color carried on into the lives of black people well after slaves became free.
Today, even with the knowledge of how these distinctions developed, black people continue to fight this battle, allowing white people to sit back and watch the show. There are times I hear black women say, "Man, I sure am glad I ain't black as night because don't no man want a sistah who's dark like that.", or even black men say, "I need me a red-boned sistah. I can't do nothing with a dark skinned girl." I get frustrated with black people because we live in SUCH ignorance and we are COMFORTABLE with it: that is the killer. Black people KNOW the history of this distinction, how degrading it is, YET we CONTINUE to let the horrid treatment of whites hundreds of years ago outline how we treat not only one another, but ourselves. This concept is utterly frustrating, sickening, and disheartening. At times I do not feel we as black people will ever rise to the heights I would love for us to be at. At times I wish Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X were still alive just to see where we as black people would be today. It seems as though our people dropped the ball, and the generations of black children seem to keep coming out worse than the one preceding them. When will this all end? If you want my honest opinion, I don't think it ever will.
The media always highlights and uplifts fairer skinned blacks, like Beyonce and Halle Berry, while at times looking over the darker skinned women, such as Angela Bassett, Kimberly Elise, Gabrielle Union, Kelly Rowland, Alfre Woodard, or Naomi Campbell (if you do not know who these people are, this proves my point even more). Yet, even if these people are known to you, the media never displays them because of their beauty. Most are usually highlighted due to a movie role, new CD release, or some major modeling thing in another country. You do not see these people blown up on poster for horny teenage boys (perhaps even horny, grown men) to fantasize about once they go to sleep, do you?!?! And why? My mama always told me, "The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice." I just fear that black people are going to segregate within their own race. If that happens, how can we possibly stand together to make things better for us? Please, black people: let's get it together.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
My heroes live in North Philadelphia
Today I had the privilege of attending an exhibit at Drexel University focused on the effects of poverty. Since reading the book The Myth of the Welfare Queen, I have been disgusted and passioned by the concept of poverty in America. This book was actually what inspired me to come to Philadelphia to receive my Master's degree. Everything happens for a reason: I know my God makes no mistakes.
The project involved giving cameras to 40 women living in North Philadelphia, who documented their daily lives through pictures. I was so moved by the moments these women captured, I am still having difficulty getting my thoughts together to make this entry. I could honestly sit and talk about poverty for hours, if not days: how in the world can something like this happen in a country perceived to be so rich and prosperous; how can people witness poverty and not be moved to make change; HOW can people willingly choose to be oblivious to things going on right down the street from them?!?!?!?
The photos included in this presentation changed my world. It also opened my eyes to the purpose God has for my life. Homelessness and poverty in my hometown compared to what I see here are relentlessly different. Although homelessness and poverty anywhere is utterly disgusting, I have never seen it in the measures I have here. And the mind boggling thing is that it is literally blocks away from my on-campus apartment. I bolded that to say, a school as rich as this one is not reaching out to neighborhoods blocks away from it, but will gather a team of students to help people in other states and even countries. I am not against going to help people. I am a social worker after all and want to see every one's lives better than they were before. But my mind has a hard time piecing together the logic in offering help miles and worlds away, but hesitating and neglecting to help people you ride the bus and subway with. I experience this same frustration at my undergrad: we lived right in a poverty-stricken area yet never extended a hand to them, except to take the neighborhood's only recreation area to make a new field for the University (I will save that frustration for another blog). Then deans and other teachers sit up and wonder why in the hell these people don't like them?!?!?!?! Are you friggin serious?!?!?
I don't know what to think anymore. As I continue to get older and learn more about certain things the more America seems so dreary and superficial to me. I get frustrated because I know people will walk into that exhibit, be upset about what they see, but will go back to their homes and completely disassociate themselves from what these people are experiencing. I do not expect everyone in the world to care as much as I do. I know I am an extremely compassionate person and I am not ashamed to be. But as a human, as a child of God, one should have the desire to advocate and work towards making a change in the lives of all oppressed people. As disgusting as this thought sounds to me, I sometimes feel the only way more fortunate people will do anything about something like this is when they are affected: when they have no home; when they have to make a choice about fresh food or diapers; rent or medication; heat or water. NO PERSON should EVER have to make a decision like that, and shame on American government for forcing individuals to do so.
The project involved giving cameras to 40 women living in North Philadelphia, who documented their daily lives through pictures. I was so moved by the moments these women captured, I am still having difficulty getting my thoughts together to make this entry. I could honestly sit and talk about poverty for hours, if not days: how in the world can something like this happen in a country perceived to be so rich and prosperous; how can people witness poverty and not be moved to make change; HOW can people willingly choose to be oblivious to things going on right down the street from them?!?!?!?
The photos included in this presentation changed my world. It also opened my eyes to the purpose God has for my life. Homelessness and poverty in my hometown compared to what I see here are relentlessly different. Although homelessness and poverty anywhere is utterly disgusting, I have never seen it in the measures I have here. And the mind boggling thing is that it is literally blocks away from my on-campus apartment. I bolded that to say, a school as rich as this one is not reaching out to neighborhoods blocks away from it, but will gather a team of students to help people in other states and even countries. I am not against going to help people. I am a social worker after all and want to see every one's lives better than they were before. But my mind has a hard time piecing together the logic in offering help miles and worlds away, but hesitating and neglecting to help people you ride the bus and subway with. I experience this same frustration at my undergrad: we lived right in a poverty-stricken area yet never extended a hand to them, except to take the neighborhood's only recreation area to make a new field for the University (I will save that frustration for another blog). Then deans and other teachers sit up and wonder why in the hell these people don't like them?!?!?!?! Are you friggin serious?!?!?
I don't know what to think anymore. As I continue to get older and learn more about certain things the more America seems so dreary and superficial to me. I get frustrated because I know people will walk into that exhibit, be upset about what they see, but will go back to their homes and completely disassociate themselves from what these people are experiencing. I do not expect everyone in the world to care as much as I do. I know I am an extremely compassionate person and I am not ashamed to be. But as a human, as a child of God, one should have the desire to advocate and work towards making a change in the lives of all oppressed people. As disgusting as this thought sounds to me, I sometimes feel the only way more fortunate people will do anything about something like this is when they are affected: when they have no home; when they have to make a choice about fresh food or diapers; rent or medication; heat or water. NO PERSON should EVER have to make a decision like that, and shame on American government for forcing individuals to do so.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Proud to be . . . ?
Lately I have been feeling like I have no culture whatsoever. Today I was watching local programming of a Japenese group who displayed years upon years of tradiational dancing and art, and I immeditely wanted to be a part of their world-or any world who has such a rich and deep appreciation for and connection to the history of its people. How wonderful it must be to have participation in something so meaningful and so lively. I long for that feeling. As an African American I know the history of my people, and by my people I mean the Americanized version. I am not quite so educated on the true African portion of who I am, which I know is something I may have to take upon myself to do. But other cultures learn about that portion of themselves in the home and by being involved in things that instill that piece of their cultural composition. At this point I feel like many African Americans are so diluted from the actual history of Africa, that I feel I have no culture whatsoever. We celebrate Black History month, but it is still Americanized. Before I go any further, let me make one thing clear. I am in no way stating that I am ashamed to be black or African American. I love who I am and I love the history of my people. But when I see countries like Japan express their history through dance, or I see Hispanic nations celebrate their history through festivals, I feel a big hole within myself that longs to feel a connection to years and years of history. I mean, America does not have one history like other countries do. This land was stolen from Native Americans (a rich and beautiful history, by the way) and established as this great place (which I feel it is not). But the history those people brought over here already belonged to a country with years if not centuries of its own history. So, I guess what I am trying to say is...I feel as though America does not have its own culture. We cannot look back and say this or that is American culture because it was never American culture to begin with: it came from somewhere else. Had we adapted the ways of the Native American people, perhaps then we would have something to look back on and be proud of. But for what it is worth, this blogger is ashamed and disgusted at what America has become, and although I am very blessed to live in this country (thank you Lord), I most definitely am not proud to be an American.
Not at all...
Not at all...
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Classifying Homelessness
Working here in Philadelphia with the homeless population has really opened my eyes to a lot of things. For an empathetic person such as myself, seeing this illness stretch out across hundreds if not thousands of people can take a toll on one's emotional well-being. This city has certain regulations and stipulations as to who they house in the city shelters. On one degree it makes sense. Philadelphia is extremely close to the border of Pennsylvania. It takes literally several minutes to get to New Jersey and Delaware from Center City (downtown area). With that said, this city has a large influx of people from those states who come here looking for better opportunities but don't find them, rendering them homeless in Philly. The city rule is that one must be a resident of Philadelphia in order to be housed in a city-shelter. Residency is permitted to those who have lived in Philadelphia more than 30 days, but within that one has to be able to verify their residency through proper documentation. The city has made this mandate in order to make sure they are serving the needs of their citizens first before aiding people from other states. I mean, that's cool. I can respect that. But also keep in mind, these shelters are no 5 star hotels. I know homeless shelters are not designed to be that way, but still. I guess what is so astounding to me is the "application process" the homeless have to go through here. In my hometown of Nashville, TN, I spent several hours working in a women's shelter and there were no questions asked about residency, whethere one receives benefits, etc. If a person needed somewhere to sleep for the night, he or she simply asked about spaced: that's it.
My job has its ups and downs. Having a say over whether or not someone receives shelter or any other assistance sickens me. I do not feel we as humans have any say in that whatsoever. And I look at it like who am I to say go and sleep out on the streets tonight? I have no right: none whatsoever. And anyone else in government or politics who think they have a say in it also is completely wrong. Why do we as humans think we have the proper authority to make decisions on behalf of others without even knowing the situation or asking for their input? How can you make decisions FOR the homeless without knowing anything ABOUT homelessness?
This truly frustrates and sickens me...
My job has its ups and downs. Having a say over whether or not someone receives shelter or any other assistance sickens me. I do not feel we as humans have any say in that whatsoever. And I look at it like who am I to say go and sleep out on the streets tonight? I have no right: none whatsoever. And anyone else in government or politics who think they have a say in it also is completely wrong. Why do we as humans think we have the proper authority to make decisions on behalf of others without even knowing the situation or asking for their input? How can you make decisions FOR the homeless without knowing anything ABOUT homelessness?
This truly frustrates and sickens me...
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