Code Pink Journals CodePINK Journals

Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! This is my often neglected blog mostly about my travels across country in my mobile billboard truck as I attempt to engage in dialogue with people in hopes to wake us up and inspire action to change our country and communities and selves. And it is froth with my opinions, insights, analyses toward that end of holding all life sacred, dismantling the empire and eliminating violence while creating the society and life we want

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

2nd amendment fucked up shit

 A white womon and her child halt and shoot stunned but hostile looks at my truck and then focused in my direction. I smile and bid them good morning as I climb the steps to the organic coffee shop – Black gay-owned organic coffee shop in rural Maine!

Later, they come in and the mother sits with her back to me so her t-shirt glares a pro-2nd amendment slogan directly at me and I sigh deeply. If I stereotyped – or maybe generalized – her, I’d say she’s one of the many white womyn who are 100 times more likely to be murdered by some man who claims he loves her – with her 2nd amendment right gun in her home.

The figures flash thru my brain, the 96 people in this country who will kill themselves or someone else today, how most will be either accident or suicide, and the great majority of those left will be womyn killed by their fuckin partners.

The tRump and the boys (and some girls) who will be funneled over to Afghanistan – maybe not the 2nd poorest – but vying for the poorest – nation in the world anymore since we’ve been attacking Somalia, Syria, Yemen et al.

Kill kill kill kill – the mantra of our nation, not soft, historic echoes but loud present clanging of life in this country.

Monday, August 21, 2017

We the People RESIST Threats to our Democracy!

I'm walking around Bar Harbor trying to avoid listening to tRump's announcement ratcheting up war against Afghanistan, trying to get the feel of this busy ritzy predominantly white tourist town built on the island where white colonizers first 'encountered' the original people on this land and began their planned intentional mass genocide.

I have learned there are three reservations in the area and a museum named after one of the genociders Abbe that stock artifacts of the ancient and present peoples of this land. I ask if they're considering changing the name of the museum and the white workers there admit it's under consideration - controversial consideration.

Tomorrow there is "decolonizing the museum" meeting that I'm inspired to go to.
As I walk around, I see this sign in the window of a little house just down from the museum, off the Village Green in Bar Harbor!

Times they are a-changin...

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Acadia National Park drizzle over?

I’m so excited – after two days of constant drizzle (of course I loved the feel on my body and sound of rain on my roof) and fog (the east coast kind that covers everything from ground to sky) the sun is peeking through the clouds and I’ve my fingers crossed my batteries will charge up. I’ve been conserving energy, turning down my fridge, using water out a jug instead of my tap and light from flashlights instead of my solar. I wanna make popcorn! I HOPE today’s the day!

Saturday, August 19, 2017

My anti-war hair statement

My haircut still gives me an opportunity to talk about anti-war in northern New York, New Hampshire, Vermont and Maine! Womyn – and girls – have been commenting mostly in admiration so I’ve been able to tell them I’m not making a fashion statement, especially as the fashion is not yet here, but an anti-war statement.

In case you missed that blog,  here is my rationale: I used to shave my head, let my hair grow out, and then shave it again, and so on.

But in 2004, when Bush stole the 2nd election and we the people did nothing about it, I decided not to shave half of my head so when people comment on my hair style, I can point to the unshaved part and explain this is "we're bombing people every day" and then the shaved part and add "and life goes on as usual in this country".

So my shaved part is "life as usual" and the part that's growing long and uncut is my "we're bombing people every day" part.

Thursday, August 17, 2017

I meet a KKKer today

An unhooded KKKer that is....

I've just entered Maine when I spot an O'Reilly's Auto Parts Store and I wheel into the parking lot. I buy my veggie oil filters there & I want to be well supplied before heading off to Acadia National Park and Bar Harbor where such conveniences might be rare.

Other than the man driving the tractor trailer that was abundantly enthusiastic with his horn and fist and big smile, it's been hours and a couple hundred miles since I've seen a Black person, let alone a person of color. I do see a couple of Mexican food restaurants and even more Chinese food, but everyone else I see is white.

So I'm forewarned.

Heading through the busy parking lot into the store, I see only white men. I do not get an immediate hostile stare, as in the previous store, but a very large, as in obese, young white man lumbers into the back to get my filter that they have in stock! Yeah!!!

After I pay, I ask for the bathroom and I'm directed down a long hallway that meanders through the storage area into another room with a shared loading dock backing onto a tire company.

When I'm in the bathroom, I check the internet and read that the KKK is recruiting in several cities in Maine. I'm sick yet now I know where I'm heading after Acadia for there's a large anti-racism group organizing in at least one of the targeted Maine towns. Plus I'm thinking I should ask these white men I'm running into about the KKK.

I get the opportunity almost immediately when I leave the bathroom, for three white men have gathered around the loading dock desk and all turn to look at me as I'm shutting the door. The oldest man, probably pushing 50-something smiles and asks me how I'm doing.

I'm tempted to smile back and say fine but instead I say I just read something horrible, that the KKK has come to Maine (not that it ever left...) and is recruiting.

He startles but before he can fill his open mouth with words, one of the 2 younger men - the one with the black hair and pasty cheeks, nods vigorously and says yes, he read they were in Augusta and some other place I've never heard of but must have been close, given the look of disbelief the older man gives him.

The third man, youngish 30's maybe, the one with the reddish blond short hair, cropped on the sides and stiff square bob on top almost like bangs, leans towards me menacingly and declares he's been recruited, he's joined the KKK.

I've faced many angry white men before, I've known hatred and bigotry, I've been spit on intentionally and mere spittle flying from slobbering screaming tight-lipped red mouths; I've confronted police, military, and asshole bikers with knives that have slit cords on my megaphone and banners I've held; I've been threatened with pickup trucks gunning motors and driving up on curbs, I've even had 2 riffles and a hand gun drawn on me at different times; sometimes truckers try to run me off the road and often large pickup trucks cut me off, belch black smoke, toss things out the window at me, or even moon or expose their penises to me.

But I don't remember ever standing two feet away from an angry white male outing himself as a KKK member.

I think his co-workers are equally shocked, at least they are silent and I hope it is shock and not camaraderie that has taken away their words.

I search his face to see if maybe maybe maybe he was doing some kind of sick joke – but his face is suddenly so full of anger and hate.

I ask the young man why and he snarls at me because it's amerikkkan. I say it's hate, you are keeping hate alive. He retorts that he doesn't judge me so I shouldn't judge him.

Fury has taken over my entire body and mind as I call him a liar and tell him oh yes, you DO judge me. I turn to the other two men and point the finger at their co-worker and make them look at who they are working with.

The KKKer repeats he doesn't judge me and I retort in my most sarcastic fierce authoritative voice oh yes you fuckin do as I storm out to the front of the business shouting again that he is keeping hate alive.

No one is behind the front counter when I emerge but a tall, blond young white womon rapidly approaches me smiling and asks if she can help me. I ask her if she's the manager and she says no, he's out this week and can she help. I get his business card and then inform her that she is working with a KKKer.

Her blue eyes widen and her smile disappears as she glances apprehensively towards the storage room and asks me "who?" I describe him to her and she nods, not shocked, but apologizes for his behavior and promises me she will take care of it.

I leave the store, still shaking but the rage has left me & I feel sick. The hatred, no the evilness on this man's face was so ugly and terrifying I can't imagine how Black people were and are able to persist in this fucked up racist country.

Miss me yet?

I'm quite enjoying driving two lane roads through the beautiful countryside of Vermont and New Hampshire - most of the road paralleling lovely rivers or skirting large lakes. Lots of water here in the Atlantic Northeast! And lots of greenery.

I wish I could have stopped to take a picture when I rounded yet another curve and spotted a large photo and sign hanging off the pretty dark brown siding of what appeared to be a deserted but sturdy barn.

It read "Miss me yet?" underneath a large photo of doofy-looking Bush (not to be redundant).

So far, so positive!

I set off for Maine last night, leaving the wonderful womyn's land I've been resting and repainting on for almost 3 days to head upstate New York and begin my journey over Vermont and New Hampshire into Maine. It's been years since I've driven this way.

The Adirondacks are beautiful, soft and curved, misty and very very green. I'm on the thruway for several miles and lots of white people passing me are so positive, honking, waving, thumbs up, and I love you's!

At the rest stop, two different white men approach me, one in his 40's maybe, one over 75. They don't directly comment on my truck but the oldest one asks me what kind of reactions I get on the road.

I share my most recent interactions on the thruway and he seems dissatisfied, as he shuffles from one foot to the other. He has said he has to leave several times as the other man talks to me about how I must not have voted for tRump....duh!

The old man with the sweep of a gnarled veined hand, makes a broad, untrue statement about free speech in amerikkka so I move quickly to grab his attention as I tell him speech is free in the u.s. as long as it's the speech of those racist sexist old white males in power. My truck has been spray painted with penises, my tires slashed, my windshield smashed several times - and when my truck was painted mostly in spanish, I came out one morning camping at Yellowstone to see "GO HOME" written across the side.

He wishes me luck and I respond with good luck to all of us, yeah?!

The younger man wants to engage with me about global warming, claiming it's cloud cover, moisture raising temperatures. I'm like, no shit, we're melting the glaciers, burning fossil fuels - at which point I get to inform him that the military the number 1 consumer of fossil fuels in the entire planet, and our country is the number 2 consumer - but he's not convinced that we have to stop burning fossil fuels nor that we are causing the increased cloud cover. But he's trying to convince me we can find a way to melt the clouds without decreasing our consumption of fossil fuels of course.

I urge him not to wait for technology but to cut down right now his use of fossil fuels at least until his technology can catch up.


But this morning when I wake and head into the welcome center, the white womon working there rushing over to me, a huge smile on her face, asking me about my truck. She wants to take pictures, she gushes, as she tells me coming to work this morning, my truck made her whole day.

She tells me she doesn't often get to meet people as awake as I am at this center or in her community. I acknowledge she's the one who's trying to wake people up around here. The sadness that replaces her wide grin is palpable as she recounts stories of trying to wake up her neighbors. And she tells me, what we all know - most people do not want to be woken up, we value our sleep even here in these beautiful mountains!

Wednesday, August 16, 2017


I'm on a little two lane road with no shoulder, twisting up and down mountain (for these parts) roads through woods so thick no houses are apparent, only a dirt road leaving the pavement every couple miles maybe.

The kind of place where white people typically dominate. So I'm thrilled when, after stopping at a T intersection and being directed towards a small village, I round a corner and there bold as can be stands a gold and black "Black Lives Matter" sign with a black raised fist!

Although no people are present, I honk my horn gaily & hope they know I'm connecting with them. The motorcycle behind me roars out across the double yellow line to pass me and become a flicker in the darkening night.

Awesome - virgin trip!

My first trip with the Death to Racism back finished, a womon has left a note written on the back of a chipotle receipt on my truck parked in the farmer's market lot:

"This is amazing" with 3 hearts!

Welcome to upstate New York!!!

Finafuckinly - repainted the back!

I've finished - finafuckinly - tried to finish last nite but between the mosquitoes and the darkness... but here it is! & I'm ready to explore New England!

Sunday, August 13, 2017

DEATH to racism

Today (and everyday past but especially today & everyday future) as I travel thru NYC and north and around this fuckin racist country, I want to acknowledge that I know and say something out loud to every Black and brown person I meet, I want to apologize, I want to weep, I want to shout their lives are important, I want to make it clear I am NOT that ugly hateful white person, not even that 'ignorant' colorblind white person but most of all I want to stand big & strong in between people of color and white bigots and white racists and the oppressive white system while I throw my entire self into dismantling and smashing this white hatred, violence and injustice named the u.s.ofamerikkka.

And as we meet, I linger and make the 'small' talk with the toll taker, the fellow traveler, the sistah behind the desk, while trying to come up with the words that will express my deep shame and utter sadness and volcanic rage, that will be me extending healing and taking care of her hurt and fear and rage and not end up with her once again having to console this white womon weeping as words fail and I am overwhelmed by that deep deep deep often suppressed desire to throw myself at the foot of every Black and brown person begging forgiveness before I stand and turn to fight.

And before words take shape, something seems to pass between us, as we look deep into each other's eyes and then we slip into a silent strong hug or reach for a tentative grasp of hands.

And I know what I will paint on the back of my truck:

DEATH to Racism
White People:
Grab your privilege like a bat
End the white war against
Black, Brown, Native, Muslim, Asian People