JANINE HARRISON

Author Archives: Janine Harrison

• Numb and Sun: Time for Re-connection

  Posted at 4:04 pm by Janine Harrison, on January 12, 2020

  

  Last year, for the first time in a few years, I went MIA on my blog posts for months at a time. I had difficulty thinking of simple topics upon which to write 300-500 words. This is a bad sign for a writer.

  For a long time, I’d hear from college students, “I’m not feelin’ it.” Nowadays, some say, “Ya feel me?” I think many of you will understand when I admit that while I may feel what’s going on in the lives of others and across the globe (Iran, Australia, Puerto Rico, just to list recent events), in this overwhelming world, it’s sometimes difficult for me to feel what’s going on with myself. I go through life numb because there’s too much input and not enough time and energy for processing and output. For the artists reading along, you’ll understand, too, that this isn’t good for creating — to feel as though you’re somehow cut off from, well, your “soul.” I haven’t written a new poem in months!

  Shortly after Trump rose to power, I saw warnings about “activism burnout” posted on social media. More recently, I’ve read posts about empathetic people needing to “set boundaries.” And, goodness knows, we’ve been tossing around the term “self-care” for a while. Earlier this month, I actually turned a Pinterest pin about “Types of Self-Care” into a small poster and hung it on my office wall.

  Also, it doesn’t help me, personally, that it’s winter, albeit a mild one due to climate change (ugh!). I experience SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), usually in January and February, the most. My symptoms come in the form of trouble concentrating, sluggishness, agitation, and sleep issues. When it’s really bad, I feel like I roll through days in an anxiety-riddled fog. I am, without a doubt, a creature of summer. If you know me, you know that. If you’re in my inner-circle, you’ve probably bought me a blanket, a sweater, or winter weather accessories somewhere along the line. (Thanks again, by the way!)

  BUT, this year, I’m re-starting work to reconnect my brain, emotions, spirit, and body. So, you can expect monthly blog posts from me again (whether you want them or not!).

  I wish you all a 2020 of deep breaths, long sighs, time for reflection and connection, and much sunlight!

  Excuse me now while I go sit under my sun lamp and journal, followed by playing 2020 Just Dance with the kid.

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• The “You are Special Today” Plate

  Posted at 6:43 pm by Janine Harrison, on September 25, 2019

  

  Last night, my husband and daughter, along with our friend, Greg, met me after work at Tania’s restaurant in East Chicago, Indiana. They brought the bright red “You are Special Today” plate for me, which is a dinner plate given to the family by my mother-in-law, Wanda, who owned such a plate while my husband and his siblings were growing up. I chose the restaurant (delicious Puerto Rican food, by the way!), and after we sat down, Mike presented me with a card made out to the “Bold Poet” and a gift. It was a copy of Haitian-American writer Edwidge Danticat’s book, Create Dangerously, which worked both literally and symbolically, because it was reading her story collection, Krik? Krak!, that led to the reason why I was special yesterday in the first place!

  You see, yesterday my first full-length poetry collection, Weight of Silence (Wordpool Press) was released, and I was (am, actually) very excited! Recently, my poet-friend, Quraysh Ali Lansana, referred to the work as an “important labor of love,” which seemed apt.

  Cliff’s Notes version? Danticat’s writing put Haiti on my radar as more than a blip in the Caribbean and has subsequently led to two trips to the island thus far, considerable learning, the forming of friendships and even an unofficial new family member, and 111-pages of poetry on women’s issues, the tragic history, current sociopolitical situation, and natural disasters experienced by Haiti’s resilient people.

  The words found traction at Wordpool Press, a small press run out of Bloomington, Indiana, by editor Colleen Wells, who adopted her daughter, Gaelle, from Haiti, shortly after the horrific January 2010 earthquake in capital city, Port-au-Prince. Due to her empathy, 100 percent of not only poet profits but also Press profits made from Weight of Silence sales, will be donated to Haitian Connection! This invaluable not-for-profit organization helps to shelter, educate, care for the psychological and physical wellbeing, and feed Haitians, with a special emphasis on women and children. Naturally, I am thrilled by the perfect fit of work and publisher!

  Even though I lamented that the collection wasn’t ready for release when Hurricane Matthew devastated the southwest portion of Haiti in October 2016, I am thrilled that it was launched yesterday. Since the disaster, the country has experienced double-digit inflation, an oil crisis, and increased political unrest, to the extent that people living in the poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere are in the worst straits that they have experienced in over two decades.

  If you are in the Chicagoland area, I hope to see you at one of my upcoming launch parties or readings! (See Upcoming Events.) If not, I hope that you will consider purchasing a copy from Amazon. While it would be counterproductive for me to actually send purchasers “You are Special Today” plates, please know that I would certain feel the sentiment!

  Thanks for reading!

   

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• CITA and More: Ways to Help Southern Border Immigrants

  Posted at 3:04 am by Janine Harrison, on July 29, 2019

  

  For some of us, armchair activism against the Trump administration’s assault against immigrants who are seeking asylum in the United States from across the Southern border isn’t enough. Yet, it is difficult to know how to help, especially for those of us who live in the Midwest.

  This summer, I started working with CITA (no, not the Chicago Indoor Tennis Association), the Chicago Immigrant Transportation Assistance via the ICIRR (Illinois Coalition for Immigrant and Refugee Rights). Volunteers take shifts at the main Greyhound station, so that we may assist those immigrants who have been released from ICE and are en route to relatives’ homes.

  What I have learned thus far is as follows:

  • ICE releases individuals and families without cash. Instead, they are given pre-paid credit cards or (get this!) — checks — in lieu of any money they possessed when entering a detention center.
  • Immigrants arrive hungry. Many immigrants have been traveling on buses for hours or days (see above image), often starting from Texas or Louisiana. One wonderful volunteer assisted a family of three; the father had not eaten for over 48 hours and the mother and child, not for  24+ hours. CITA, which is actually comprised of several organizations, has a nearby Red Cross storage unit. From it, we are able to provide water, snacks, and meals. Often, we pass out lunches that we have on hand and then walk to storage to retrieve additional supplies. When we return, usually within ten minutes, the food has already been devoured.
  • Immigrants arrive sick. We keep medicine and personal products on hand for adults and children because by the time they reach us, they have headaches, sore throats, fevers, or coughs; women need menstrual provisions; and more.
  • Immigrants arrive without weather-appropriate clothing and shoes. For starters, ICE takes shoelaces during processing and doesn’t return them. We keep a supply of laces for this reason. Also, individuals who have lived in warm climates leave cold detention centers for trips on cold buses, heading north, without the benefit of long sleeves, pants, socks, or close-toed shoes. This was especially problematic in the winter and spring, I was told, with children arriving without coats and wearing sandals. We hand out clothing and shoes to accommodate such needs.
  • Immigrants need directions or use of a telephone. Most immigrants do not speak English. They sometimes need assistance to get on the correct bus or they need to speak to someone at their destination location to arrange pick up. We help them to navigate the bus station, so that they are ready to board their next bus. Sometimes, we loan an individual a cell phone to make a call. If an immigrant is lost, out of money, and needs another bus ticket, CITA will help in that capacity as well.

   

  If you wish to volunteer with CITA or cannot volunteer in-person but would still like to take part in this effort by making a donation of money or supplies, please contact
  info@citachicago.org or visit Cita Chicago

  Other ways to help our influx of immigrants from Central America and Mexico include:

  • If you are able, please consider paying the bond of an immigrant in need who is currently being held in a detention center or fostering or sponsoring a child awaiting immigration proceedings
  • Volunteer for migrant service agencies in your area that help refugees to transition to the United States
  • If you live near the border, bear witness.
  • And, of course, VOTE!

  Thank you for reading!

   

   

   

   

   

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• Eco-friendly Lessons We Can All Learn from My Great Depression-Era Parents

  Posted at 7:40 pm by Janine Harrison, on April 28, 2019

  Recently while reading an article on reducing plastic consumption, I realized that the intent was to sell environmentally-conscious products. While I’ll likely invest in bamboo toothbrushes for the family, since they are biodegradable, the remainder of the products seemed unnecessary.

  As I read and thought about our energy consumption, recycling issues, and plastic pollution, I could imagine my Great Depression-era parents shaking their heads at American excessiveness.

  Here is what we may learn from them:

  1. Whenever you leave a room, turn off the light. (An oldy but a goody!)

   

  2. If it isn’t broken, don’t replace it! Do we really need a newer model? A new bell, new whistle? Something that matches a new décor or a different season?

   

  3. If it is broken, can it be fixed? I realize that we live in a disposable society and that sometimes it is more costly to fix an item than it is to replace it; however, sometimes a little effort, ingenuity, and perhaps the addition of an instructional youtube video can go a long way (and save a few precious pennies in the process)!

   

  4. If something cloth is no longer wearable or presentable in the kitchen or bathroom, can it be added to a rag bag for future dusting, polishing, wall washing, dog drying, etc.? Do we really need to buy dust cloths or disposable cleaning wipes or synthetic sponges?

   

  5. Reuse bags. Paper bags can be filled with paper and cardboard products destined for the recycling bin. Plastic bags can line garbage cans and wastepaper baskets. Why buy them? Similarly, (and this post-dates my parents!) pretty, sustainable bags for the grocery store are a waste of money and material, if we have already amassed a quantity of free recyclable bags. Instead, use them and/or canvas bags until they’re thread bare. In fact, use everything until it’s thread bare!

   

  6. Most American homes already contain a cajillion plastic containers in the kitchen. Why waste plastic wrap and tin foil if we can stick leftovers into bowls and cover them with lids? Why not use the plastic until it’s unusable and not replace it? Then, better options can be explored.

   

  7. Remember glass? Maybe you’re too young. Why buy individually bottled beverages when water can be poured into a glass pitcher and flavors added or it can be turned into lemonade or iced tea? Glass and other non-plastic reusable water bottle options abound today.

   

  8. My parents were the type who stuck the last sliver of a soap bar to the new soap bar. (They scraped every bowl clean. They got every last drop out of a shampoo or ketchup bottle by turning it upside down and letting the liquid flow down into the cap.) While many of us today now use liquid soap and shower gel, we can reduce plastic use even via use of large refillable containers. And do we really need to buy new bottles of window and counter cleaners or can we make our own and re-use the last purchased plastic bottle?

   

  9. As for plastic utensils, why can’t we start washing real forks, spoons, and knives again, even when we are on the go? If afraid of throwing away the ones that belong to our matching kitchen sets, perhaps we could pick up some odd ones from a local thrift store or flea market? Regarding disposable plastic, we can also ask ourselves – unless they are a medical necessity, do we really need straws at all?

   

  10. Donate, sell, or give away anything and everything that is still usable.

   

  I realize that most of us are “whores to convenience,” myself included, and that in relation to some of the above-mentioned suggestions, I’m being hypocritical (e.g. 16 oz. Diet Coke bottle), but I am increasingly striving to do better, and I hope that we all will because, after all, what is a little inconvenience as compared to further risking the future of our planet? And let’s admit it, Americans – when it comes to energy consumption and pollution of all types, we’re disproportionately high contributors! So, let’s do better, and better still!

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• Flying Over: A Visit to Ciudad de Mexico

  Posted at 4:00 pm by Janine Harrison, on March 31, 2019

  

  Earlier this month, I had a reprieve from the heaviness of U.S. political chaos via a short vacation to Mexico City with one of my two besties, Jackie Larson. We stayed with a wonderful couple, Minerva and Leo, who were born and raised in Mexico, and it proved both a lovely diversion and a great learning experience!

  It was my first time in a non-touristy area of Mexico, and it felt like I was visiting the “real” country for the first time. I did what I always do when traveling internationally and enrolled in STEP (Smart Traveler Enrollment Program) through The U.S. Department of State – Bureau of Consular Affairs. While on the site, I reviewed travel warnings. Ciudad de Mexico was only at a two on a scale of four and included such usual warnings as petty crimes like purse snatching and pickpocketing.

  To be honest, my main concern was whether or not I should have a custom t-shirt made to wear in public that, in Spanish, read, “I hate Trump, too!” But I didn’t. Still, I braced myself for at least some animosity. If I had thought about it more carefully, I would have realized that in one of the largest cities in the world, not all white/non-Hispanic travelers would originate from the United States, and it was not as though I wore an American flag on my person so as to be easily identifiable. While I could chalk my attitude up to the U.S. tendency to think we are the sun and all other countries revolve around us, in all honesty, I think that being ashamed of living in a society that is currently led by an administration whose belief system is rooted in hatred and fear has simply made me extra self-conscious in relation to those people being targeted, Mexicans especially.

  I am pleased to report that not one Mexican was less than polite to either Jackie or me. For an enormous city, I found the residents to be warm and lovely!

  While there, I learned from our fantastic hosts a couple of fun facts worth sharing:

  1. “Huevos a la Mexicana” is so-named because the tomatoes, onions, and jalapeños are the color of Mexico’s flag.
  2. I confirmed what I had once heard, which was that Mexicans answer the phone, “¿Bueno?” instead of “¡Hola!” The origin is likely that when telephones were first installed, the lines often weren’t clear and users answered, asking, “Good?” as in “Is the line good? Can you hear me?” The greeting simply outlived its need.

  Although I do not consider myself to be a “foodie,” I do appreciate food and could go on and on about the meals that I ate (particularly the fresh seafood and a sandwich called a Pambazo!). However, due to length expectations for blogs I’ll spare you the savory details and just strongly suggest that you use your imagination and allow your mouth to water now!

  

  My favorite place was without a doubt the Blue House (Museo Frida Kahlo). Even though I was saddened as I grew to appreciate Frida Kahlo as a disabled artist, as evidenced by a wheelchair at an easel and numerous rigid corset-like back braces in her wardrobe collection, I was also surrounded by beauty in each room, in the light that shone into the interior, and while sitting in the courtyard, filled with Aztec-design statues, fountains, and ponds and much flora and fauna. The residence had such creative energy, and I felt such at peace. I was ready to move in right then and there to live and write!

  

  While at Museo del Templo Mayor, a museum connected to a large archeological dig site in which approximately two city blocks of the Aztec capital city of Tenochtitlan was unearthed, I remembered the first time that I traveled to NYC and realized that Chicago was young. Then, later, when I was sitting on a fallen column dating back to the Roman Empire, I finally understood, emotionally, that my country was still a baby. This led to two additional thoughts. The first was an appreciation for ancient civilizations, and how much they were able to discover and do with almost no technology or modern-day understanding of the world. The second was that maybe once the United States is able to extricate itself from the whines and tantrums of the orange-haired infant currently shaking the White House, maybe we’ll be able to right the furniture and begin to toddle as a nation. Here’s to hoping!

  #travel #Mexico City #Ciudad de Mexico #Donald Trump

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• Not Belonging, the Green New Deal, and Milk

  Posted at 5:13 pm by Janine Harrison, on February 25, 2019

  

  I just read the Green New Deal. It has been characterized by some politicians as “the toughest opening bid in history.” Yet, political cartoons exist in which it is criticized as unrealistic and something that would drain the United States monetarily.

  Just before I turned 30, I got into a jet skiing accident going full throttle, and it shook me up. I would soon need seven stitches on my chin and turn into a walking bruise. A guy that my friend and I were jet skiing with gave me a very strong drink to settle me down. Unfortunately, it did anything but that because I was already in a bad place emotionally – horrible break up with a dysfunctional man who had betrayed my trust in myriad ways, unemployed as a consequence of moving home to my mother’s house, turning 30 while living with my mother, and more. On the way and once home, I cried hysterically and repeatedly screamed, “I don’t belong in this world!” I thought it too cruel.

  Sometimes, like right now, I still feel this way.

  Call me an idealist (because I am), but I don’t see the Justice Democrat’s Green New Deal as anything but what the United States should not only want to do, but as something that as a world leader, we should have begun implementing quite some time ago.

  What has happened to us as a people? As a country?

  An argument could be made that dating back to our founding fathers, who were protective of landowners and wanted to keep the non-landowners down, we have been greedy bastards. However, that greed has escalated.

  I remember going to New Zealand when I was in my thirties and staying on a sheep farm for a few days. The house was functional. It was not up to date fashion-wise, and the pots and pans and dishes did not match. It made me think about seasonal throw pillows and holiday-related hand towels and dish towels, and costumes for pets, and a gazillion other unnecessary material objects that U.S. citizens possess while people in other areas of the world are dying of starvation and many of our own residents, including children, experience “food insecurity” (a euphemism for “are going hungry on a regular basis”).

   

  While portion sizes today are ridiculous in general, I once went to a fancy restaurant in Chicago, and my family of three returned to our hotel room with something like 12 “to go” boxes. And when desserts passed our table, each plate contained seemingly one-quarter of a three-layer cake. It was insane! I will never eat there again.

  Maybe it is because I grew up with Great Depression-era parents. I’ve told this story before, but it bears repeating. My mom said that when she was a girl in rural Minnesota, even if a family was low on milk, if a baby on a farm nearby had no milk, the family that was low gave the rest of their milk to the baby in need. It’s called being decent human beings.

  When there is undeniable evidence that the United States disproportionately contributes to a problem that affects the global community at such a magnitude that fatalities continue and the doom of future generations is a likely outcome, then who are we to call ourselves a “world leader” if we use money as an excuse not to do everydamnedthing in our power as expediently as possible to not only correct our behavior but also set an example for other countries? In other words, be decent human beings.

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• Jury Duty: The Rape Trial

  Posted at 4:36 pm by Janine Harrison, on January 27, 2019

  

  I’ve been summoned for jury duty. When I let a male boss know, he recounted how he’d been a foreman at a rape trial and found it “interesting and educational.” In response, I let him know that I’d also been the foreman at a rape trial, which I proceeded to describe as “memorable.” “Traumatic” would have been a more honest descriptor.

  I was 19 years old. It was in Chicago, 1987, and the first trial for the Pill Hill rapist, who was convicted in seven rapes, all together.

  During jury duty selection, the male judge learned that I was a student at University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana, his alma mater, and that somehow bonded us, at least in his mind.

  During the trial, which lasted several days, the judge commented on the fact that we were the only jury he had ever had in which the jurors took different seats in the jury box each time that we entered the courtroom.

  The trial was ugly. The accused was a poor, undereducated black man from the south side of the city. His confession read as though it had been written by a third grader. He would wait for women to get off of a CTA bus and then drag them into a nearby alley to rape them, using a box cutter knife as his weapon. Photos showed much of this particular victim’s blood soaked into the surface of the unpaved alley.

  As luck would have it, toward the end of the trial, we entered the room, and I sat down in the front row on the side closest to the attorney’s tables. The accused had a scar leading to his penis that was identified by the victim and prosecution wanted us to see it, since it was evidence. They made the defendant bare it. I was the one sitting closest to where he stood with his lawyer when he unzipped his pants and pulled down his underwear. I was a still relatively innocent 19-year-old woman and on one hand, I was embarrassed to have to look at the evidence, and on the other hand, felt it was my responsibility to force myself to do so because it was crucial to the case. The defense attorney could not have made the situation any worse when, staring straight at me, he asked, “Need a closer look?”

  I must have turned a shade of red I’d never been before.

  To this day, decades later, I question the remark. What did that attorney gain from such sarcasm directed toward a young woman in an awkward situation?

  When we deliberated to review the case, I was, as mentioned, foreman (now “foreperson”), and we were thorough. We went over the confession and every aspect of the case and shred of evidence available to us to determine this young man’s innocence or guilt. After all, his life hung in the balance.

  After doing so, we returned to the courtroom and gave our “guilty” verdict.

  Just after court was adjourned, the judge’s final comment was: “What took you so long?”

  I’m really hoping for a traffic case this time.

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• A Book for Our Times: Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver

  Posted at 2:00 pm by Janine Harrison, on December 30, 2018

  

  Although I haven’t found the time to satisfy my voracious reading appetite (cue retirement while in my 70’s), I have read more literature this year than in previous recent years. (Yay, me!) Of the novels I’ve devoured, my top pick is Barbara Kingsolver’s Unsheltered (Harper, 2018).

  I’ve been a Kingsolver fan since Professor Jane Campbell at Purdue University Northwest (then Calumet) assigned her work, The Bean Trees, to a class that I was enrolled in as an English grad student. I can still feel the magic of the young female protagonist daring to strike off on her own to discover who she is and finding both family and greater purpose along the journey. It made me, a 20-something, think about life’s purpose in new ways. Since then, I’ve read most of Kingsolver’s fiction. I find the author to be as powerful as Toni Morrison, yet her words leave me inspired instead of haunted. (Please keep in mind that I’m a HUGE Morrison fan as well and value a good mental haunting!)

  Although I appreciated reading Kingsolver’s Flight Behavior (Harper Perennial, 2012), in which global warming is addressed through the migration pattern of Monarch butterflies, I did not feel that it was her best writing. It lacked the level of complexity that I had come to expect and enjoy. Unsheltered, on the other hand, exemplifies her finest, as it is both timely and thought provoking.

  In Unsheltered, Kingsolver offers a braided narrative set in two time periods, the late 1800’s and modern day, in which the respective protagonists, Thatcher and Willa, are connected by address – they live on the same plot of land, in homes structurally unsound, physically and metaphorically.

  Thatcher is a science teacher who has improved his station in life and married a woman from an affluent background. They, along with her mother and sister, have returned to her childhood home in Vineland, New Jersey, a supposed alcohol-free Utopian society based upon agriculture and progressive thinking. Soon, Thatcher learns that he is living next door to Mary Treat (a real historical figure!), a naturalist who corresponds with Charles Darwin, whom he gets to know. Set shortly after the publication of On the Origin of Species, the plot vacillates between the response to evolution by Christians and an examination of women’s roles during the Victorian era. I invested in the characters and appreciated this braid, especially how Kingsolver portrayed Treat. However, it was the contemporary braid that “wowed” me.

  Willa (yes, after Cather) Knox is an unemployed freelance journalist whose family is in crisis. She and her recently underemployed husband are sandwich generation, between her husband’s dying father, a die-hard Republican, and their adult children, a businessman and a progressive, returned to the roost and in crisis. In this story, everything from their dialogue, including use of rather surprising Greek idioms by the father and grandfather, to their struggles, to Willa’s thoughts, make the reader feel as if between the walls of the Knox’s collapsing abode, instead of pages in a book. The saga is relatable in that it addresses issues faced by families every day and does so within the context of our current national and global political, economic, and ecological climates.

  Without giving away too much more of this strand, I’ll say that it made me consider the answers to the following questions:

  1. What does it mean to be family?
  2. What does it mean to live in a global economy that has an unsustainable model?
  3. How can we deal with the widening divide between liberals and conservatives?
  4. What does it mean to us to live on a planet with finite resources?
  5. What does it mean to live on a planet that is experiencing global warming?
  6. In what ways should we let go of thinking, traditions, and material weight that proves and paves our existences?
  7. How do we need to change our thinking in relation to the above-mentioned questions?
  8. When should established members of society let members who see the world through new and perhaps more focused eyes begin to lead?
  9. What does it mean to be “unsheltered”?
  10. In what ways can we view being without shelter?

  Unsheltered is a New York Times Best Seller, an NPR selection for Best Books of 2018, and one of Newsweek‘s Best Books of the year.

  If you feel overwhelmed by our world gone mad, give Unsheltered a go. Kingsolver’s words will remind you to breathe deeply and refocus on what’s crucial.

  #unsheltered  #barbarakingsolver #bestnovelsof2018

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• Politics — From: Take Me Away! to Take Aways!

  Posted at 12:27 am by Janine Harrison, on November 5, 2018

  “We’re in trouble – BIG trouble. And we’re heading in the wrong direction,” my bestie, Lynne, said to me last Thursday while we were standing in a B&N signing line to have Barbara Kingsolver autograph copies of her new novel, Unsheltered, for us. The author’s reading and fact that she plans her books around themes – issues – had led us to political discussion. With the upcoming midterm elections, I’ve been pondering politics a lot lately.

  

  (Let me tell you a secret. I HATE politics!)

  I remember being in high school and a friend exclaiming, “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” I hated the concept. When I think politics, I think nepotism, which is still an issue!

  My first job outside of college was as a speech writer for the Republic of China (ROC) on Taiwan. It infuriated me to learn that the ROC was stuck in a no man’s land between the People’s Republic of China and independence. Why does the situation have to be so complicated and unfair? I thought. Mainland China had threatened military action if the ROC declared itself an independent country, yet the Taiwanese couldn’t rejoin the mainland because they didn’t want to struggle under a communist regime. At the same time, many Taiwanese did not want to be separated from their Chinese roots, centuries of ancestry and tradition, either. It was heartbreaking.

  I was also disgusted with my boss, who insult the USA to my face every chance he had, yet intended to live out his life in America, with full diplomatic immunity. It seemed hypocritical.

  Consequently, when I quit that job to start grad school, outside of voting for president, which was the only political action that I ever witnessed my parents (one a Democrat, the other a Republican) take, I shoved politics far out of mind.

  However, there’s no way to be a writer who believes in writing as an agent of social change and not become invested in politics. Working and earning an M.F.A. at an almost all black university made me invest. Attending Split This Rock Poetry Festival made me invest. Teaching at institutions with first-generation college students and high diversity rates made me invest. Becoming a mother only made me invest more. So, in more recent years, I became a protest poet and an activist, mostly armchair but also protests and vigils. I’ll never forget the sad evening of the 2017 Women’s March in Washington D.C., when I heard Sarah Browning, director of Split This Rock, utter the words, “Poetry is not enough.”

  “Poetry is not enough.”

  It was then that I sensed a change from which there would be no turning back. A change for the country, a change for me.

  In May, Highland politician Brandon Dothager, whom I’d met the previous month at a poetry slam, knocked on my door and asked me to become his Democratic vice precinct chairwoman. He was quite persuasive, and I accepted. Since then, I’ve attended Indiana’s Democratic convention, become a member of the not-for-profit, Rise NWI, and of a local chapter of the Progressive Democrats of America (PDA), attended precinct meetings and a rally, and canvassed my and Brandon’s precinct with voter registration forms and a non-partisan petition.

  My main take aways thus far are as follows:

  • Change is a very slow animal in part because a lot of difficult work goes on behind the scenes for local challengers to beat incumbents and for change to rise from local to regional to state to national levels. We need more individuals, people with fresh eyes, who are willing to roll up their sleeves and put in the time and energy to make change happen!
  • There exists a seriously problematic division between moderate and progressive Democrats. However, that should not deter anyone from focusing on the vital work that all Democrats should be able to agree upon and prioritize, such as helping to solve climate change, plastic pollution, mass shooting, and health care issues. We need a future. We need to be able to feel safe in public spaces, especially sacred ones such as schools and places of worship. We need for people to be able to afford life-saving physicians’ visits, surgeries, and medications. Planet and people. It’s that simple.
  • The most important step that we can take is getting out to the polls to vote on Tuesday, November 6^th. Whether the blue wave becomes a small ripple or a tsunami is up to every single one of us age 18 and over and could mean the difference between continuing in the wrong direction by feet or traversing it for miles over the next two years. And we are in trouble – BIG trouble!

  And by the way, if you live in Northwest Indiana and aren’t busy on Sunday, November 11th, from 12-1:30 PM, please join the PDA and Northwest Indiana Green Party for the
  “Unite Against Hate! Time to Make a Change!” rally at Munster Town Hall. Please see: https://www.facebook.com/events/353432682058535/

  (Have I mentioned that I HATE politics?) Hope to see you this coming Sunday!

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• How to Leave Your Abuser in Seven Easy Steps

  Posted at 3:11 pm by Janine Harrison, on October 21, 2018

  

  I dated a drug addict for a decade, and for a long while, I was more scared for his life than I was for my own. (I’d watched men ruin their lives via addiction from childhood forward. I was sick of feeling helpless.) When I became pregnant, unaware that he was again using, however, his infrequent physical abuse escalated in not only rate but severity. I later learned that it is not unusual for abusers to act out more violently when their partners are pregnant.

  He threatened to kill my best friend, baby, and myself, if I had the police remove him from my house. It was then that I began plotting to leave, which I accomplished in April 2005.

  Was it the drugs that made him an abuser? No. He was next generation in of a cycle of violence. He had severe unaddressed issues. But addiction certainly didn’t help matters.

  In honor of National Domestic Violence Awareness Month, I present the following guide to leaving your abuser. Abuse can happen to anyone. The stereotype of victims of violence is undereducated and dependent upon their abuser. But it isn’t always true. Read Crazy Love by Leslie Morgan Steiner, for instance. I was in my mid-thirties, a feminist who’d encouraged other women to leave such situations, and had a terminal degree and good career; I simply thought that I was strong enough to save someone from substance abuse (a road an alcoholic or drug user must take alone) – in the end, I could only save myself and my daughter.

  The most dangerous time for a person who is being abused is when that individual decides to leave. I had a two-month old baby to consider and left as safely as possible. I want the same for others – to escape before becoming a statistic, a click bait horror story title. Please share this blog post. Thank you.

  I use “he” in this guide because it is what I knew, but women abuse too.

  Guide

  1. Remember when he threatened, “I’ll slice your eyeballs up like onions,” or that time when you were in your last trimester of pregnancy and he yelled, “I’ll punch you in the stomach. I don’t care about that baby!” In other words, remember to hate him — let it permeate you. Choose life—your own. Become obsessed with one thought: freedom—the freedom to never see him again. Hunger for it like your favorite meal. Let it turn your will power into a taut wire.

   

  2. Devote every millisecond that you are away from him toward your goal. Assess your priorities: What material possessions can’t you live without? Whatever they are, chances are he will never notice if those items go missing from your abode because he doesn’t know you, not really, doesn’t value who you are. He’s too wrapped up in himself. The photo albums, heirlooms, family recipes, words even, tucked away, that help to make up you – find a safe place to store them—a friend’s basement perhaps. Sneak them out one box at a time. Electronics, creature comforts, can be replaced. But plan for him to go “postal” when he learns you have escaped him.

   

  3. Call a domestic abuse shelter and make a reservation—a date, time for check in. You don’t want to stay with family or friends. You already know that he will become more dangerous the moment that he discovers you stepped out the door. Don’t let that fear paralyze you, though; it is most dangerous to stay. (It takes on average five times for an abused person to leave the abuser. If you aren’t already on your fifth attempt, cut to the chase and pretend that you are: help reduce that national number. Stop making excuses for him. Love yourself more than you love him!) Don’t expect the Hilton, the Hyatt, at the shelter. Expect covert parking and alarms, Get Smart door-after-door entry, without the funny. Expect dark circle women with fill-in-the-blank futures. But none of that matters because it’s your safest way out. You will find the support you need there.

   

  4. Form a plan, as safe and full proof as possible. A time when your absence will seem normal. Or a time when you know for certain that he will be away. I dropped my abuser off at work 45 minutes away from home and never picked him back up. Make certain that at least one other person you trust knows when you are leaving, just to be safe. (The baby, everything she needed, and I were checked into the shelter before he ever learned that I’d left.)

   

  5. All the while, Yes, sir and How high? him into a lullaby of complacency, so that he will arrogantly assume that he has at long last worn you down. His goal all along. What else could it possibly be—right?

   

  6. Before you go, get a separate phone plan if you share one as a couple. Make it pre-paid, if need be. Hide the phone, hide it well until you leave. Change your mailing address to a P.O. Box. Keep his address the same so there is a place to serve the Order of Protection and, if appropriate, the eviction notice. A free lawyer at the shelter will guide you through the legalities.

   

  7. Lastly, starting in the most remote recesses of your mental attic, working toward the sub-basement, search for the sense of self that you nearly sacrificed seemingly so long ago. You may think it has departed but a particle remains. When you locate it, carry it as you would a newborn, allowing the door to slam, unaided, behind you. Put the car in reverse and drive, feeling the acceleration vibrate from engine to pedal to your being, letting it fill you like adolescent summer yesteryears on a bicycle, like riding on a motorcycle at night, hair blowing in the wind.

   

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