Showing posts with label America. Show all posts
Showing posts with label America. Show all posts

Thursday, July 21, 2016

Here's Where You Can Help


If you believe in America and you believe in justice, diversity and love for humanity, here's where you can put your words into action.

Work to make sure our president on Nov. 8th is one that is for everyone. Our country cannot take on any more bigotry and divisiveness.

I'mWithHer campaign volunteer signup

And, of course, vote, vote. Vote.

Peace.

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Friday, June 3, 2016

Donald Trump is More Than Politics



These are the words from my older sister, Leonor Rosas, who has asked me to run her story on my blog. She has given me my family's life story, because "This country is more broken than I have ever witnessed it. We have to say something of the reason why immigrants are here and why we come to America. It is not because we do not want to work or be given things for free. We come because of what America is to us." 
 
***
 
My immediate family came to the United States in shifts. First my aunts came when they joined the convent in the early '50’s, followed by my uncle and I when we came in 1958. My mother, grandmother, my brother and sister came in 1960. My father arrived two years later.


The immigration process was lengthy and costly. We had medical requirements to meet. My parents had to document that they had the skills necessary to not be a burden to this country…. something that we have never been.

 
This is a country to be proud of, a place where a person can advance and contribute, worship in the way you feel most at peace, and raise healthy productive children.

We came here because that was not the case in Colombia, South America. When we left our country, there was a Dictator:

Generalisimo Gustavo Rojas Pinilla. He mounted a successful coup against the incumbent President, Laureano Gómez Castro. Pinilla imposed martial law and established a dictatorship style government in Colombia. I remember a reign of terror. I was 7 years old then and I saw Colombia being under martial law. At six 6PM every night, everyone had to be home. Sirens would wail and my Abuela(grandmother) paced the floor waiting for my mother to come through the door. At 5:30PM, my grandmother would get her rosary and begin praying that the bus from Bogota to Fontibon would not be late so that mama would arrive safely before the sirens.

I would hear my mother and my abuela talking about coming to America where we would not have to fear going out at night or gatherings with our neighbors to talk about the fear of our government.
 
Rojas Pinilla promised peace, unification, a bright future: but he began his own violence. He ordered the army and police against all opposition in Colombia. If you disagreed with him, you were jailed. Many disappeared. By the end of the Rojas regime, over 300,000 Colombians were dead, and Rojas, the self-anointed "peace-bringer" became known as someone else:  "a sadist … one of the most savage and venal and altogether incompetent administrators in the history of the nation." 
 
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My family sought safety in America. Life was difficult at first for all of us when we arrived here. But the adults found work right away and the children went to school. My grandmother was learning how to shop without speaking English and my father and aunts and uncles went to night school to learn English. We worked, studied, grew. My mother and father had three more children in America.

We went to school, married, became productive citizens. Yes, we became citizens and took our civic responsibilities very seriously. My uncle served in the army and most of us became active in our communities. We loved this country and the freedom to work toward our dream of being part of America and contributing to this country.


It is my love for America that has pushed me to write to you today. I am in anguish over the possibility of Trump becoming President.

Trump has made statements about “rapists, criminals” about Mexicans. Trump's views on women, and plans for Muslims in the U.S are about banning a group based on religion. Some compare Trump to Hitler. I can compare him to a dictatorship.

When I was 12 years old, my Aunt Lilia took me dress shopping. We were walking along Milwaukee's streets and there was a group of young white men marching down the street in a demonstration. The signs they carried stated that the Holocaust never existed.

One second my aunt was holding my hand and the next minute her tiny 95 pounds 5’2’’ body was up against this tall white man in Nazi uniform! She shouted at him:” You don’t know, you were not alive when thousands of people were executed by Hitler, you don’t know how the whole world cried for the victims, you don’t know how we worried that the world would fall to this evil tyrant! We were scared!” I had never seen her speak up for anything before.

Because I was 12, I was mortified. How could she embarrass herself in that way? When she came back to my side and once again took my hand she was in tears. Her small body shook, and she wiped her mouth from the tears. She told me all she had seen as a child. Of what she remembered, of the news she had witnessed. The atrocities she had heard about from the newspapers and radio in Colombia during those terrible times, and she told me how the whole world was in panic that the monster and his criminal ideology would reach North and South America, Europe and Asia. “He wanted the world!” she said. I will never forget her strength as she looked up into the face of a male, two feet taller.

***

For the first time, I am telling this story. It is time now to talk about tyrants who abuse their power and criminalize those go against them and question their authority. Of what can happen when a person who is in power wants to shut down any dissent, any outcry of injustice.

It is time for all of us citizens of the world to come together regardless of party affiliation or preferred
candidate to form a cohesive effort to repel and stop the darkness that Donald Trump brings with him. He will not unify – he is tearing apart. He will not seek equality for anyone unless they are what he agrees they have to be. He will seek to eliminate, destroy, remove, vilify, and pit Americans against each other.

He wants what we have worked to change – his promise to “Make America Great Again” is different for those who remember the America of the 1950s, '60s, and before. America was great for one type of person: if you are who Donald Trump is.

We can come together and work for the reason so many come to America. With the hope of liberty of different points of view, and of justice for those no matter the country they come from.

***
Some people say they will not vote in this election. Some people have not seen what I've seen: when someone comes into the office with the highest power in the land, and has only one mission in mind: to have everyone think like them and with our past years of progress, vanish. We cannot lose the dream of what America is. We are not bad. Immigrants do not come here to take and destroy.
 
 
Donald Trump is not politics.
 
Donald Trump is not one party over another or a differing political point of view.
 
Donald Trump is a candidate who will use America for his own gain. As I have seen dictators do.
 
***
 
Thank you to my sister, Lee, for her words here. Thank you for sharing what you know and I am proud to do what I can, to have others read the story of immigrants in America. 

Monday, April 4, 2016

The Wisconsin Primary



My children tease me, they call me "Facebook SJW"- Facebook Social Justice Warrior.

I accept this title.

I have decided that though the majority of the people I know are like-hearted in what our social obligations to each other are in this world, I have to keep talking. We have a current political and social climate in America that won't let me not do everything I can to bring perspective to the ones who may not be aware of many things. I'm talking about the attitude toward immigrants, especially with Latinos in America.

The picture here is of me with my family celebrating the day we became United States Citizens. My mother's employer had taken us to lunch in the executive dining room of the bank where my mother worked as a document translator. This was one of three jobs she held. Her days were spent at the bank, and after 4 PM, she walked to the department store five blocks away where she worked until 9 PM. On Friday nights, she started her weekend shift at the nursing home, and then on Sunday afternoon, she would enjoy her only time off for the week. "Enjoy," as in do the grocery shopping, go through mail, catch up with your family until everything began its cycle again Monday morning.

My mother's boss' name was Dario Lopez, and he had come from Cuba. I will always remember his generosity to us. Mr. Lopez knew about the road to United States Citizenship. It's not an easy one. The process for those unfamiliar with it, would leave you bug-eyed.

It took my mother 10 years to be granted the status of United States citizen, and in that time, nothing was guaranteed. This past weekend, in front of me, someone used the term "anchor baby". An unacceptable way to describe half of my mother's six children. The family you see here is the fruit of a marriage.

US Citizenship is a dream to immigrant families. Immigrants stand as the face of what was America's birth: a place for those seeking a home and who come hoping for opportunity, acceptance, and compassion.

Tomorrow, April 5, is our Wisconsin Primary. Our votes have never mattered so much with what is at stake: I ask everyone to VOTE: but not to cast your ballot with fear, hatred, and ignorance of those who are new to our country. 

We are immigrants, and we ask for the same chance as your family who arrived here once received. 

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Thursday, February 18, 2016

Why I'm Voting Keith Richards for President


Needing a birth certificate from the US of A to run for President has become unnecessary. We've seen that. Toss out that picky detail and let's start casting our votes for some real American leadership.

Keith effin' Richards.

Picture this: a 67-year-old-takin'-on-double-pistol packin' crazed (or determined, depends on perspective) dude who’s standing right in front of you, set to kill you, and you commence to beating them, with your cane.

That’s what America is looking for. We had it before, with the scenario above featuring Andrew "Old Hickory" Jackson. And if we vote Keith Richards, we can have it again.

If  Keith Richards were President, you know he'd be "Old Hickory” all over again. Andrew Jackson was born on the Ides of March, and the 6 foot 2 inches 140 lbs Jackson lived an I don’t give a shit about it life beginning at age 12, when he joined a local militia and quickly became a prisoner of war for the British. When ordered to polish a British General’s boots, he told the requesting officer that he’d shine his boots the day the officer got to know a donkey biblically. The Brit General slashed an X with his sword on the baby Jackson’s face, and Jackson again issued the invitation, in case it wasn't heard the first time, “Go to your beast, sir.”

Go.To.Your.Beast. Zazzle, give me that Tshirt now.

His mother and father were both dead by age 14, and being an orphan meant he was dirt poor–and yet he grew up to be el presidente. He taught himself country lawyerin’ Matlock style, and thus began his political career.

The very first assassination attempt on a U.S. President was against Jackson, when an unemployed painter aimed a pistol at Jackson and misfired. Jackson whipped out his hickory cane and proceeded to beat the poor idiot of a man about the head so severely that members of congress had to pull Jackson off.

No gentrified country leader, Andrew “The Mob” Jackson organized a group of pirates to defend New Orleans. The British attackers totally freaked at finding pirates on dry land and ran yelping away with their tails between their legs. He was in over 103 duels in his life, the most famous one for once shooting a man who looked at his wife, Rachel. Oh, and Rachel? Yah, well, he married her while she was still married to another man.

He held his Presidential ball–which worked out to be a Presidential brawl because he invited the entire nation–on the lawn of the White House; while he went and stayed in a hotel with his wife. The White House was trashed inside and out, and Jackson was nowhere in sight.

Jackson was the only President to leave office with the country in the black and the entire national debt paid off, by strong-arming other countries into paying back every cent they had ever borrowed from the United States.

Like I said, squirt a dollop of white frosty Cool Whip on Keith Richards’ head, and you don’t even have to squint to know what you’ve got.


Old Hickory Richards himself.

There's still time to register and vote. Don't make me send you to your beast now.
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Photo credit: From Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository

Photo credit: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Gorupdebesanez

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Sunday, June 28, 2015

Keep Talking



In the week that my mother passed away, my inbox was flooded with emails of support and friendship. My community texted me, some even called, to tell me they were there for me and that I could count on them for anything I needed. It meant more than I can say to feel the support of people around me who stood by me, even if they had no experience with the pain of my loss.

After that initial week, an occasional question would flit in, asking how I was doing, maybe, but for the most part, life went on for everyone else, as it always does.

And I understand it. We all like easy, status quo, we like to return to things where we left them before we had to look up from our own lives for a moment.

It feels like that time now again, about Charleston.
 
The first time reaction posts of the horror of Charleston have slowed to an ebb. We're now celebrating Marriage Equality in America, which is rightly so a mind-blowing historical and just event. But today is the start of a new week, and we return back to the lives we have.

It's human nature to tire of work. Emotional work feels equal in effort to physical. Writing about Charleston is an emotional landmine—as anything that is about race. Tempers flare, friendships are lost, and the confrontational nature of opposing sides makes some of us feel like running to our homes and locking the doors behind us.

But we can't let the talk of race die down because the impact of racism in America continues. Even if in your heart, you tire of explaining to people—sometimes even in your family—the dialogue needs to remain. Racism hurts us all, every one of every color. How many times in the past have we pretended with other things in our lives, that something isn't there? It doesn't work. Problems don't disappear.
We all need to keep talking about race, and not leave the work from here on out now to people of color. Whistling about how we don't see color, and we're not the ones with the problem, or how we're not racist and have taught our children to not see color, does not make racism in America fall away. It is there. To see it, read the news on any single day. It's not enough to write our one golden post or deliver our one in-person request to not engage in hateful bigoted dialogue. Without a doubt, anyone being vocal is appreciated, you could even say it's our duty. But we can't dust off our hands now with “my work is done here.”

We need to keep on writing and speaking on the injustice and existence of racism in America. Especially when others have stopped. The hostility from some we know may continue, and we will probably be told by others that we don't see the whole picture—That's when our words take on even more importance.

America has finally started talking about race. Voices dying down can bring that same death to this topic.
 
You can keep the talk of racism in America alive, but your voice has to be the breath within it.

Please keep talking:

Series of Nighttime Fires Bring Arson to Six Black Churches
 
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