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Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! I am on my mobile version of the door-to-door, going town-to-town holding readings/gatherings/discussions of my book "But What Can I Do?" This is my often neglected blog mostly about my travels since 9/11 as I engage in dialogue and actions. 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 we want all to thrive in

Thursday, April 01, 2004

The right to decide...


I’ve  made it to Madison just a little later than I agreed. As I approach the house I’m delivering a load to, I see their huge american flag waving proudly out front. Then I notice the anti-abortion, anti-choice bumper sticker on one of the brothers’ cars. I was pre-warned by my customer that her family is not too liberal. Of course, my signs are much bigger than theirs. We unload Maggie’s things without any trouble. One of the brothers, the one who lived in California, asks me about my trip. I talk about the march for womxxn’s lives in D.C. that I’m heading to. I express my deep concerns over the attack on womxxn and our lives in this country.
The anti-abortion brother is silent but this brother nods and agrees with me when I say “Do you believe there are people in this country who want to tell ME whether I should have a child or not?” I look at the anti-abortion brother and ask him, “Do you think you have the right to decide for me whether I should have this baby inside of me, in my body, for me to take care of – you want the right to make that decision for me?”
“Well,” he looks down at his feet, “When you put it that way, no, of course not but…”
And I interrupt and say, “That is the only way to put it – it is my decision, no one else’s. In fact, I think if you did demand I give birth to the fetus inside me you are punished me for having sex with a man.”
The other brothers are silent and look a extremely uncomfortable. I’ve already collected my money so I have no worries. I stare brightly at them, wave cheerfully, and pull off.
Driving thru the rest of little bit of Wisconsin that’s left though, I’m surprised and pleased to count 11 to one, the yeahs vs. the fuck you’s!!!
Chicago is my last stop for tonite – a friend of mine has invited me to visit and stay, plus I have another delivery to make as well. As I park my truck out front of her apartment building, an inter-racial straight couple run excitedly to tell me “We are soooooo proud you are parked in our neighborhood!” Smiles! Hugs! And flyers distributed all around!

Democracy too hard for you to handle?


At yet another rest stop, this time bordering the mighty Mississippi, a tall, skinny white male truck driver, probably in his 40’s, with an ugly scowling face, approached my truck as I sat in the driver’s seat reviewing a map – yes a real paper map.
“I happen to like bush” he declared in a loud and hostile voice from the back driver’s side of my truck. I swung my door open, peeked my head around the corner to see him and exclaimed “Wow, I haven’t met anyone yet on this trip who has told me that!”  in what I hoped was an incredulous but friendly tone!
“There’s a lot of us here who like bush,” he growled, halting his approach.
“Oh?” I responded, “Well I have met a lot of folks who told me they voted for bush in the last election but certainly were not voting for him in this election!”
He blinks rapidly as I continue. “So, I’m curious, what exactly do you like about bush?”
He backs up a few steps, ignores my question entirely and begins to gesture wildly at the back of my truck – “You, you, you can’t say these things. You need to go back there to that, that, that faggot land of your friend faggots,” he begins. “We don’t want you fags here,” he continues, struggling to even put his name-calling into words.
Now I jump down from my truck thinking: why is faggot the worse name these white boys can think of to call me? Do they not even know the word dyke? “You can’t tell me why you like bush, you can just call me names?’ I enquire, still trying to engage in a conversation.
He’s really backing up swiftly now and silent, making his exit as he said what he needed to say. But I haven’t.
“What, is democracy too hard for you to handle?” I ask, my voice rising so he (and everyone else standing around pretending they’re not watching) can hear me. He continues to ignore me but the other folks are now staring hard, so I trail him across the parking lot yelling now.
“You want to live in a dictatorship, eh? And you want to be the dictator, call me names, and tell me what I can and cannot say?”
He’s ignoring me and high-tailing it back to his tractor-trailer. I yell one last time for everyone to hear: “What, democracy too hard for you to handle?”
I like that and decide I’m going to use it as often as I can on this trip, or as often as I have to! as I continue to head to Illinois. I get 5 yeahs and no other nays or f.u.’s!!!

Interracial Lesbian Couple Woo



  Stopping at a rest stop, an interracial lesbian couple pulls into the parking space next to me saying they just had to stop to meet. They both give me a hug! They were recent implants to Wisconsin and on their way to Madison also, formerly from New Mexico. They told me their community in Wisconsin was mostly very welcoming, with other lesbians and gays, but folks of color not so much. Still they felt comfortable being out and active and thought the conservatives were diminishing in size and volume, although we all did agreed the handful that are vocal tend to be scary and violent. They thought their proximity to Canada contributed greatly to the liberalness of the general population.