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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 steaming 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

Friday, September 10, 2004

She Calls Me Sistah!

I take my truck to the hardware store: I’m out of black and red paint. The clerk at the store props the door open and makes all the employees and any customer within earshot listen to her as she enthusiastically reads the back and sides of my truck. They all burst into clapping in unison several times during her recital – especially with the “imprison bush.... and imprison asscroft.....” sides.
Later, I go to the locksmith: I need another truck key for Rae. As I pull into the parking lot, a Rasta womon my age approaches me and questions me about my truck, my purpose, why I’m here and where I’m from. She calls me sistah and embraces me, saying she's got my back wherever I go!
And I believe she does. She thinks I have great courage to drive around the country, especially in Georgia outside of Atlanta. I tell her if she has the courage to live here, so I can step up. I say it is because I know her and wimmin like her and have received her support and their support, I am given the courage to do this work.
Another younger womon joins us. She is not registered to vote, but does so while we're talking. She has never voted in her short life but intends to in this election. Both of these Rasta wimmin are interested in CodePINK and registering voters so I hand over all the information I can.
They both want shirts like mine, “pink slip bush” that I dig out the back of my truck. Both wimmin have lost their jobs over two years ago and cannot find new work. Neither have their own homes or health care, both of them have children.
The locksmith joins us in the parking lot, loudly declaring "It is white people who have elected bush and it is white people again that will elect him this time". He glares at me as if anticipating my disagreement, but he only gets my hearty agreement.
He admonishes “You should be talking with white people.” I agree again.
Later he apologizes for his temper but I tell him “No way, no apology is necessary. You have only spoken the truth. You are right, it is white people, mostly white men but too many white wimmin, who have and do vote for bush.”
“There is no hope for us or for poor people," he exclaims further.
Here I do have to disagree with him loudly and firmly – and maybe naively. “I’m returning from the RNC unwelcoming. There were almost a million people who took to the streets! It was the largest demonstration ever at any convention: even larger than the 1968 one!”
I continue tell him about the glorious days of protests and rallies and actions. He told me in the past thirty years he has been in this country, he's never missed an election and he doesn't intend to miss this one!