Code Pink Journals CodePINK Journals

Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! For now, I’ve returned from my Joiyssey to participate in the "revolution":I’ve been at many Occupy sites across the country:1st in D.C. Freedom Plaza I faced & challenged racism/white supremacy, sexism/patriarchy, classism, heterosexism & eventually was kicked off the island; then I offered workshops as I drove to CA:“Anti-Racism Geared for White Occupiers”; “NO DRONES” "Successes and Pitfalls of OWS"

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

u.s.ofa. soldiers killing u.s.ofa. police...

Interesting it is soldiers, trained by the u.s. military how 2 kill & torture 'other' people, are killing police officers, who are also trained & certainly armed by the u.s. military 2 kill & torture our own people.

And both these young soldiers were "recruited" directly out of high school - and more likely FROM high school, entered the military when they were 18 years old, most likely not reading the small print that proclaimed them bound to the military for EIGHT years, when they thought they were signing up for TWO years. They were both sent to either Iraq or Afghanistan and both after their 2 year stint was up.

This is what we're training our youth to do and become. 

Saturday, July 09, 2016

We MUST prevent our youth from ever 'joining up'.


What I am trying to question is the myth – no, the propaganda – of the war mongers that allows us to believe it is possible to be ‘re-introduced’ after engaging in this modern present-day ‘wars’, where men are taught, trained, and ordered to do things that permanently damage if not destroy their humanity.

It is hard for me to believe that a human being can engage in such acts of violence as are demanded by our military – especially the youth who are idealistic and believe they are doing something brave and good for our country when they learn they are merely tools of oppression, racism, misogyny, genocide and violence – and then return expected to function ‘properly’ in the ‘real world’. What I’ve read, especially from pre-conquistador, pre-colonization, pre-enslavement accounts, and have come to believe is that once a human being has taken another human being’s life – whether by accident or on purpose – that human is no longer fit or trusted to live amongst other human beings. In those olden dayz, such individuals were exiled or committed suicide. And furthermore, some peoples believed it took 4 generations (of hard, conscious work) to remove the stigma from that person’s family and peoples.

Micah Johnson was probably barely 18 when he enlisted in the army and most likely did not read the small print that indentured him to ‘service’ for 8 years: he probably thought after he did his 2 year stint from 2009-11 which he signed up for and was apparently was not then sent into combat, he was super lucky and free. Instead he was put into the reserve and then called up for ‘duty’ and sent to Afghanistan, where he probably committed and/or witnessed acts of such atrociousness he couldn’t recover. For we are using reservists and national guard folks for over 45 per cent of our combat troops, the first time in our history, as there is a huge shortage of young people swallowing the recruiters’ lies and ‘volunteering’ for active duty.

I believe the only way to “re-introduce” anyone is to make sure they NEVER ‘serve’ in this military; to smash the myths that they will somehow be better off, or that this is an ‘escape’ for them, or even that they will be educated. The harsh truths of our military are many, and the immense propaganda machine almost undefeatable. Youth who join the military, whether for a brief time or for a life-long career, do consistently worse in life, are less ‘successful’ than their peers – by race, class, sex – who do not join the military; men who join the military are 2 to 3 times more likely to murder their girlfriends, wives, or ex-es than their peers; only 17 per cent of men who are entitled to educational ‘benefits’ are in any shape after ‘serving’ to use those benefits.

But probably most telling of all is the number of Afghan, Iraq, and all recent combat veterans (of the over 7 countries that we know about that we are engaged in killing their people) who are committing suicide: even during and shortly after the Viet Nam era, many more soldiers committed suicide than were actually killed in combat. And today the numbers are even greater, as the heinous crimes men are engaged in are even greater. I can’t remember the exact statistic but something like 6000 soldiers have died in combat and over 100,000 soldiers have committed suicide in the past 15 years.


That this moment...



I wail for the mother earth, for those human beings on this earth who have no idea how to create a nuclear weapon let alone pay taxes to manufacture them, how to hold an aka1 whatever rifle, how to intentionally administer extreme pain on another human being; I weep for those humans who have no idea how to live using 12,837 plastic bags a second or 1,500 plastic water bottles a second, or know how to turn on a computer let alone skype.

I howl for the violence certain ones of us indolently embrace as a daily reality let alone an unquestioned yet cleaved to mode to live life – the violence of racism, misogyny, capitalism; I sob for the willingness to imprison human beings and to hoard so much more than we need to ‘survive’ as we distantly witness infants murdered by starvation, children by poverty, adults and youth by police and soldiers.

I weep for that moment in time where surely womyn could have stood up and taken control, that moment when men directed us down a path of such hatred and violence; a moment when if only womyn could have seen exactly where that path was leading us, could have intervened when the intervention seems simple and yet so crucial, like the invention of guns – if only womyn could have stood up then and forbid the continuing use and making of such weapons of destruction and violence.

What would life be like on this planet if womyn would have said NO guns, NO weapons of unmitigated violence whose only purpose is to inflict harm on any creature unarmed or lesser armed. What was so wrong with hunting for food with snares and spears, so unacceptable with fighting the wars certain men seem to desire more than anything – except maybe dominance over womyn, children and the mother earth – with sticks and swords and fists. 

That moment, like the moment the womyn of Greece and Rome (was it?) who decided together they were not going to allow their men sex if they continued to kill. That moment, when was it, when the first weapon of mass destruction was produced and used, the first rifle fashioned, the first canon created – if that moment could have roused womyn to see the future, as we know it today, surely they would have acted to direct life away from violence and down the path of harmony, peace, love.

And today, what is our moment when we womyn can act now to ensure the future is plunged toward honoring the sacredness of all life on this planet and the planet herself; what is that moment where the action we can take together will destroy the path of white male dominance and smolder the minds and hearts of those willing to wander that path, laying bare the earth and erasing the dominant powers so that human beings and the mother earth can begin to live again.

This has to be that moment when womyn – and any of our allies – must rise up and take action, for we know as surely as we know how to create, protect and sustain life that our moment is now. We know as surely as we know the flow of our bloods, that if we do not act now, if we choose to move along in the white male capitalist flow or at best be silent, we know what the future holds: all life destroyed, and destroyed by the handful of humans who own the worst weapons and the willingness to use them.

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Real Men billboard



I’m getting a better look at this “real men” billboard now as I head toward the western part of Nebraska and fewer and fewer folks.

I’m thinking these are anti-womyn’s rights billboards, even tho the message is almost right-on.

This real man billboard sweetly states: “Real men love babies”!

A blond white guy w/a 2 day beard growth (maybe indicating he’s been there for 2 days of labor??? Or maybe it’s the style), hunches over his cupped hands holding, inches from his smiling blue eyes, a tiny perfect white newborn infant baby girl – that we know is being assigned a female gender as she has a a bright pink bow strapped around her hairless head. Her eyes are looking away from him and towards the highway.

But underneath all that heart-wrenching cheap emotional fantasy is the large words: “The heartbeat begins at 18 days” – as if this means something.

Monday, June 27, 2016

An angel appears with the sunrise!

My solar died during the night and when I got up this morning, I tried to figure out what in the world happened. I noticed a little, occasional drip around my battery bank and so I opened the back, checked out my water tank and veggie oil tanks and couldn't find a leak.

I went back to the batteries and felt the drip - it was thin like water. As I went to taste the liquid to see what the hell it was, a womon rushed over and told me not to do that. Jessie had been drawn to my truck in the middle of the night and was waiting for me to arise so she could introduce herself.

She's a recent transplant to Nebraska and is trying to start a mobile road service and did I want help with my blow out. She offered to take my tire off & put my spare on. Weeellll I don't have a spaare. Then she offered to take my tire off, run it into town, get me a new one, and return & put it on. She peers at the lug nuts and realizes she doesn't have a socket big enough.

Neither do I. I tell her, no worries, I'll drive to town myself but ask her to tell me what she thinks is dripping underneath my batteries. She crawls under and comes swiftly back out. The steel belt from the tire has  flipped up and punctured each battery - that's battery acid I was about to taste...grrrrr

She immediately offers to remove the batteries so I won't be a road hazard. As I hesitate, she insists, saying if I drive like this, it will probably burst into flame. In fact, she's stunned that it didn't catch on fire immediately when the tire blew - but it was raining pretty heavy when it happened, so maybe that saved me.

She unattached the batteries and then picked each one up and hauled them off to her truck. Then she had me follow her the 6 miles to the nearest 'town' where there was a firestone dealer with my tire.

My angel Jessie!

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Blowout









The sunset is incredible this evening, as you can almost see.

There’s a big boomerang-shaped black cloud off to the north side of the dazzling layers of reds and oranges and suddenly lightning abounds, flashing all around the edges of the horizon, originating from and illuminating the black cloud, flashing so frequently and bouncing around over every inch of sky, it seems like each bright stroke is vying for a bigger and longer explosion than the last one.

I’ve been in many lightning storms, and the ones in the Midwest have been the most brilliant but this one is greater than all the others combined. Soon the sporadic lights are accompanied by high winds and skies so dark, for the seconds between bursts, it seems I been submerged in a deep cave under the earth.


The rain starts, completing the storm’s wild symphony. Few trucks and even fewer cars have remained on the road. It takes all my focus to keep my truck in the proper lane and plunging forward. I slow down, sit forward, grip the wheel, and let the storm fill me with awe and wonder.

Suddenly, there’s a loud bang bang bang & I wonder if the engine has fallen out. The truck keeps her forward momentum, the temperature needle stays the steady course, and then I wonder if I’ve lost a solar panel or a part of my camper.

My last dread is perhaps I’ve hit something. It is impossible to see much of the road and even more impossible – and dangerous – to stop. The truck seems to be running as usual so I continue, hoping that I’m not exasperating any damage by continuing. I do the math and think I’m about 10 miles from the next rest stop, where I had intended to stop anyway.

I do make it to the rest stop, hop out and quickly check my tires first. The lightning has mostly – but not totally – subsided & I have no intention of becoming toast! The back outside tire on the right has blown to bits. Nothing I can do about it now – or nothing that will not cost me a fortune being Sunday night and in the middle of nowhere, I do not have – so I’ll just wait until the morning.








Saturday, June 25, 2016

I've found a treasure in Nebraska! to be continued



I need to find a campground where I can plug in, blog, and post (if there’s internet). Nebraska is not a scary as the south but the negative responses to my truck have been increasing, now far outnumbering the positive ones.

Surly motorcycle drivers and riders raise their black leather vested  and tattooed arms, extending middle fingers in unison, making me concerned the bike might tip over. Suited-up business-looking men lean over the console to make sure I see their disapproving scowls as they extend their middle finger. Truck drivers make loud airbrake noises as they crawl up to my front door.

It’s almost like the beginning of the war against Iraq – but no one has tried to run me off the road, or exposed their private parts.

So I’m going to be extra cautious choosing a campground. I might wait until I get to Wyoming but the camp grounds there most likely do not have either electricity nor wifi. My solar is not working up to par, worrying me something major is wrong, as the sun cannot be hotter or more intense.

I spot a state park exit sign and quickly check the list of amenities on the Nebraska map I picked up at the last rest stop. YES! This park has both swimming, camping, and electricity, is right off the freeway, and is on my beaten path home.

I off the highway and follow the signs less than 3 blocks (or should I say gmo corn fields) down the country road and there it is. As I turn in, I see the gate is open and no one is staffing the little entry booth. It is very flat, very green, and very tree-less, not affording any privacy between campers.

And it is loaded with huge rv’s and u.s.ofa. flags flapping lazily in the slight breeze. As I drive around, I spot only white people, gaping at me as they follow the progress of my truck. I discretely glance behind me and see that the old pickup truck that has turned in behind me is still there. I make sure I’m going 5 miles an hour and pretend I’m searching for an empty camping spot. I’m hoping this is the ranger watching to make sure I don’t take a reserved spot by mistake.

The road curves and I see a small beach in front of a body of water that could be a lake or river – I can’t tell from my vantage point – but several folks are swimming and playing on the beach. If Jasi was with me, I’m sure he’d insist on getting out. I’m glad he’s not here because I’m surely not getting a friendly vibe.

I decide to leave and continue down 80 until I find something else. As I leave the camping area and stop at the road, I try not to notice the old, beat up truck has continued to follow me. Shit. I can only tell it’s a u.s.of a. truck, maybe chevy, and I see a blur of white in the front seat.

Before I can cross onto the country highway, I hear several loud horn honks. Bracing myself to deal with white male mid-western rage, I’m so happy to see a womon jump out and wildly wave her arms, running toward my truck shouting at me to stop, she wants to talk with me!

YEAH!!!! I’ve found a treasure in Nebraska! Or a treasure has found me!