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Showing posts with label Digital Divide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Digital Divide. Show all posts
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Access denied | Center for Democracy & Technology >> How Ironic!
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Defensive Technology | EFF Surveillance Self-Defense Project
If you are looking for basic technical information on how to protect the privacy of your data — whether it's on your own computer, on the wire, or in the hands of a third party — you've come to the right place. Although we hope you'll have the time to review all of the information in the SSD guide, if you're in a hurry to get to the technical details, this is where you can read articles that will explain:
- the basics of the relevant technologies, such as the Internet Basics and Encryption Basics articles
- how to improve the security of different communication applications, such as your web browsers, email systems and IM clients
- how to protect your privacy by using defensive technologies such as secure deletion software, file and disk encryption software, and virtual private networks
- the overarching security threat posed by malware, how to evaluate that threat, and how to reduce it
Just remember: technology changes quickly. We'll be doing our best to keep these articles updated to reflect current developments, but in the meantime, you should take the time to review information from multiple sources before making any serious security decisions.
via ssd.eff.org
Posted via email from pwned
EU plan to spend billions on boosting broadband speeds
EU plan to spend billions on boosting broadband speeds
The European Commission hopes fast broadband will boost the economy just as high speed rail does.
The European Commission is set to propose investing almost €9.2bn (£8bn) in a massive rollout of super-fast broadband infrastructure and services across the European Union.
The plan is partly aimed at stimulating further investment in rural broadband.
It is hoped the initiative will also help to create a single market for digital public services.
The Commission has already set targets for improving the speed of home internet connections across the region.
It aims to get all European households on at least 30 megabits per second (Mbps) by 2020, with half the population enjoying more than 100Mbps, so as to make the continent more competitive and productive.
Economic needThe BBC understands that the EU's executive body will propose the funding, which would be invested between 2014 and 2020, on Wednesday.
The plan would have to be approved by the European Parliament and the EU's Council of Ministers if it were to become reality.
"Europe needs these fast broadband networks to allow its economy to become more competitive in the future, and so create more jobs and prosperity," EU sources said.
"This money would stimulate much greater investment of private and other public money. Each euro [invested by the Commission] would give rise to a further six to 15 euros more."
At least €7bn of the investment would go to building high-speed broadband networks, with the funding mostly in the form of debt instruments and equity.
The hope is that giving infrastructure projects credibility in this way would encourage the private sector, as well as local and national governments, to invest at least a further €50bn in the rollout.
The remainder of the Commission's funding would be parcelled out in grants for projects that could help create a single European market for broadband-based services such as e-health, cybersecurity and intelligent energy networks.
The money would come from a new fund called the Connecting Europe Facility (CEF). This proposed fund would also be used for new transport and energy projects, with the Commission and the European Investment Bank absorbing risk and boosting the projects' credit ratings.
Part of the plan is for the CEF to pressure established telecommunications companies into investing more in their own networks, as they would not be the only ones able to bid for funding.
New players such as water, sewage and electricity utility companies would also be encouraged to enter the broadband game with CEF backing, as would construction firms, cooperatives and public authorities.
Rural boostA particular objective is to get more money invested in rural broadband. Left to their own devices, telecoms companies often invest less in such areas because they are not as profitable as more densely-populated towns and cities.
While the Commission's digital agenda is largely about getting citizens on fast connections, it also contains plans to make electronic public services available equally across the continent.
Under the proposals to be unveiled on Wednesday, grants could go to cross-border e-health and electronic procurement services, smart energy networks and coordinated efforts to take down online child pornography.
Other examples of projects that would meet the Commission's criteria include pan-EU electronic identity schemes, systems that would encourage access to European culture, and multilingual public information services.
The Commission also hopes its plan would immediately create hundreds of thousands of jobs in the construction and telecoms equipment industries, as efforts to install fibre optic cable networks increase with the additional backing.
European funding has already found its way to several fast broadband projects in the UK. Last year the European Regional Development Fund provided £53.5m to aid BT's next-generation broadband scheme in Cornwall, while £18.5m went to the development of Northern Ireland's broadband infrastructure, also in collaboration with BT.
via bbc.co.uk
Posted via email from pwned
Monday, July 18, 2011
UR Definitive Moment.... Daily Dose on the flip side July 18, 2011
via youtube.com
"UR"
burn the books they've got too many names and psychosis
all this incriminating evidence would surely haunt me
if someone broke into my house
suits in the living room
do you realize guys I was born in 1974
we've got someone here to explain your publishing
we know how much you love to be in front of audiences
hopeful you are
schoolbound you are
naive you are
driven you are
take a trip to new york with your guardian
and your fake identification
when they said "is there something anything
you'd like to know young lady?"
you said "yes I'd like to know what kind of people
i'll be dealing with"
precocious you are
headstrong you are
terrified you are
ahead of your time you are
don't mind our staring but
we're surprised you're not in a far-gone asylum
we're surprised you didn't crack up
lord knows that we would've
we would've liked to have been there
but you keep pushing us away
resilient you are
big time you are
ruthless you are
precious you are
ALANIS MORISSETTE LYRICS http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/alanismorissette/ur.html
FRENCHSHUICAFE.COM: Does everybody die? Pépé's Story, a parable for the soul for humans like you and me.
Does everybody die? Pépé's Story, a parable for the soul for humans like you and me.
Bonjour!
A few of you already saw the trailer of Pépé’s Story I posted onYoutube at the end of November 2009...
Pépé's Story: YouTube trailer nov 2009
Then life happened... Again!We all know "those days" where all hell break loose. Even moi, your uplifting French Accent! That day was last Thursday... After so much effort from so many people to help me put my home-made DVd for sale on line on my blog, I just understood that it was not technically going to work. And because of a lot of other "stuff" are happening in my life now, I felt miserable, devastated, wishing upon a meteorite to just hit me and paf! Journey over!
I was so sad for my friend Mike Carriere who worked so hard on editing the beta project, for Pépé, my grandfather who inspired me and pushed me to publish this video, even if he passed "away" a while back, for me... All the incredible artists who contributed like the fantastic Karma Moffett whose music carries the voice over. I was hearing all my friends who watched the Beta version and wanted me to get it out... Alfredo, Maria, Elisabeth, even Ori in Atlanta who I never met "in real life" and who advised me through Twitter on Thanksgiving day...
Then I meditated more and Laura Iriarte called, and Elisabeth, and Matthieu, then Ron brought me chicken soup and served me a taste of my own medicine, in the "never give up" category!
I remembered what Perrie Burton, my Feng Shui colleague and Australian sister, had told me a while back: "Dec 5th will be your lucky day!"...
So today, December 5th, I re-attacked the problem, helped by another great being and awesome photographer, Jon Rendell. I spent hours torturing every single options of my blog host. And voilà!!! It is up and running on my brand new e-boutique!
This video that I sell today for a very smal $9.91 by download only to avoid any carbon footprint, is ready for you, ready for anybody you know who is sad because a loved one is journeying through a path we cannot apprehend from this side only. Because death is a passage, a part of life, but it is also, from our human perspective, a rupture in the flow as we know it. And we need to find other approaches to embrace it and alos to help our people going through.
You have no idea what it represents for me to finally give this short story to the world. Closure. The end of a cycle, the beginning of a new venture! I just wish it will give you the same comforting and soothing healing it gave already to many around me, no matter what they believe in or not.
Pépé’s Story: thoughts & gratitudeI made it! WE made it! MERCI.
Now please BUY or GIVE Pépé's Story download.
For you it is not even $10 to get a different perspective on death, mourning, guardian angels and reincarnation: maybe a chance to heal an open wound not a bad deal in a holiday time when we miss so much the ones who left...
Pépé’s Story: thoughts on dying of sickness, not losing a fight and seeing beyond our eyesight.For us, on a practical stand point, 1% will be given to the Make a Wish Greater Bay Area Fundation that is run like a love war machine by the fabulous and fun Patricia Wilson. The rest could help me pay some bills in this very cold winter, and buy a bottle of good champagne for Mike and Jon, who worked for free, as everybody else did.
Here is the link with La boutique, that you can also find on the left column of that page. Paypal. Safe. Fast. Easy.
And if somebody knows Oprah, Deepak Choprah or Louise Hay, please let them know about Pépé's Story . Or let me know. I would love to spread the love further.
We are One. Human. Immortal. Fragile and magical.
Let's be good and never behave. And watch for the crows around us, they bring news from beyond...
Namaste,
and merci again. You have no idea...Catherine
Hi Catherine. Yes. Everybody dies. And this reminds me of my own dear sweet Pepe who left me after seventeen years of unconditional love.
I am quite certain he is looking upon us both now and comforting your dear sweet Pepe and that that your Pepe is in the very best company.
Much love to you Catherine, for being a person of action and a voice for those less fortunate than yourself. I see you still have me on your bloggroll after all this time. That gives me such a warm feeling to know that you haven't forgotten about me through the years.
And I have never forgotten about the beautiful tribute you wrote about me that hot August day when I sat outside the library searching desperately for an apartment on my BlackBerry.
I will never forget that you remembered me at Thanksgiving when I had no food because my assets had been frozen. I will never forget that you gave anonymously because you did it for all the write reasons.
And I am still here, and though I never struck it rich, I am doing 1000 times better than I was that hot August Day.
I just renewed my lease so that Spotty and I have a cool place to chill during the hot summer nights and a warm place to sleep during the dark nights in the winter chill.
We are both here, and we never forget a kindness or a slight. Thank you Catherine, for giving me exactly what I needed today. Inspiration to keep writing through dark.
With love,
Just me,
e
@ElyssaD
Pepe's Final Gift, The Gift of Goodbye http://bit.ly/bDS0sN
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Reality Bytes: Elyssa Lies || ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Elyssa Lies
I am so glad that there are at least a few people out there who remember me from when I was a kid people, and a few people who can identify my body without three DNA blood tests to determine what medical facility would accept me as a transfer. Ever heard of EMTALA people? Ever heard of HIPPA? Ever heard of Patient Dumping? Ask Jim Blumstein, Professor of Law at Vanderbilt Law School or take his course Law 734: Health Law & Policy.Yes, I ASKED to be committed. I called for help. I said it every single way I knew how, without asking people who were most able to give it.
I never forget a slight, and I am extremely grateful to people who didn't ask questions or doubt my intentions. I will hold them in my thoughts, and can safely promise that I will never again call upon you for help.There is something to be said for paying it forward. So to people who actually took the time to physically see if I was okay, and to two very special ladies who brought me clothing after everything I had in my possession was taken away from me... and to the photographer who actually observed my injuries, thank you. I can honestly say that I took one for the team. For the tweeters and twackers who let me know I was alone in my journey... you're right I wasn't. You can tweet for peeps without being certifiably nuts. That's not to say I am not certifiably nuts, but I thinks it rather pretentious for y'all to think that you know my mind better than I do after 36 years. I want to believe that this feel connected to a world filled with hatred, bigotry and violence.... I made it through. And I already paid it forward.
It is pretty clear what I need, and I so tired of people asking why I can't find one. Have you seen the news? What I need is hot water. What I need is a safe place to go. What I need is the idiot who fucked up my computer to fix the damn thing. I wouldn't mind having a safe place for Spotty, and a little bit of acceptance. So out of respect for people that I once held in high regard, I chose to take the proper channels. I fed them information without claiming ownership... I sold a news story for $1.00. Kool... I made a dollar last year. That will pay the bills.
There were people I respected and admired, and now see as shallow and insincere. People who are afraid to be associated with someone "like" me? What exactly does that mean anyway? Aren't you impressed that I'm a Harvard Legacy? Am I not one of the "Chosen People?"
Do you think I am living on a total income of $615.00/month because it is fun?
If you can do better, pleeeeeze let me know...If I can see somebody else doing it, then maybe I could figure out how to do it myself. I am willing to learn from anyone. Just think of all the valuable lessons Hitler taught us??? Yes, people are sheep.
I learned even your mistakes, so is there nothing of value that I can bring to this community???
Would you like to try going on welfare for three months or so? I think you would enjoy the application process. After all there is nothing quite like it in the world.
So, I was "ordered" not to volunteer, not to call the police if I hear gun shots, because only crazy people call 911 several times in one day. Only thing is, "crazy" people exaggerate the situation, so clearly if I have lived for three years, then I can certainly wait another few months. Really?
I am only allowed to use than 100 words or less in my written correspondence. Thank God for Twitter, it is good training.
BTW (by the way ;-) The Gettysburg Address was only 267 words. Less than two tweets. Granted, I am no Lincoln, but every once in a while, I do say something important.
There is something to be said for brevity, but there is also something to be said about honesty, isolation, and the value of technology for people with disabilities. So let this be my project for "Save The Internet" because Legal Aid thought it was kinda funny when I told them that my Internet was scheduled to be disconnected.
Who needs the internet anyway? Who needs information, access, a forum, a voice??? And even if some tweets make me laugh, is that so bad?? Maybe even a small diversion from reality? Am I not worthy?I foolishly believed that by volunteering in the community, I would come across a real job with real wages and real benefits. Yeah, that was a great idea.
Don't worry... I learned my lesson. I will volunteer no more. After all, why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free?Let it be known I'm a pretty quick study. I am cursed with an exceptionally vivid memory. My cortisol levels have been running low since '95. You figure it out. (Robert Sapolsky: Why Zebra's Don't Get Ulcers)
I am truly offended by the events that led people to call my family half way around the world and the country, when all they really needed to do was ask me. Not all "kids" are lost... some don't want to be found.
Yes, I am reckless, I am loud, I am always right, and I am "out of my mind fucking nuts" also known as "OTWFN: Off The Wall Fucking Nuts" and that is the presumption. Don't forget, I am very much father's daughter, and am very much my mother's alibi. So thanks. Points!
All the better for them because the crazier I am, the less embarrassed they feel. How about some extra credit for their excellent parenting skills.
Crazy? Loud? Different?
Guilty, as charged. I am sooo embarrassed... how dare I post crazy shit like this online? Don't I know how bazaar that seems? Don't you? Because let's face it... there are two possibilities:
(1) I'm telling the truth, and it's serious,
~or~
(2) I'm NOT telling the truth, and it's serious.
So for everyone who told me to go home... did you actually think my parents would rush in to rescue me? Sorry, but no. Not my family. Now I'm stuck here, and you are stuck with me.
And for the record, even suggesting that there is "home" to go to... well than YOU haven't been paying attention.
Don't you realize I am home?
I find it so hard to believe that after all this time people find it easier to speak around me and actually think that is in my best interests? Sorry, but no.
And, you need not worry-- I don't need to be told twice where I'm not welcome.
I am less than 20 miles from several people who called Philadelphia, only to find that they don't want me either. Why would they possibly want to have me in their pristine, well-decorated homes when you paint such a lovely picture?
Guess what-- I' have never even seen my father's home... nor do I expect an invitation to Thanksgiving or Christmas.
So to all the people who "phoned home" to complain about e.d., job well done, you're stuck with me now.
And since I can't get a get a job, and I can't really afford the gas to go anywhere, I don’t think you need to call in a crisis team. I am perfectly happy sitting here by myself listening to my favorite YouTube videos and thinking about everyone else tucked safe and snug in their Ethan Allen beds. Good night to you all... you don't need to read this, and of course, you can ALWAYS hit delete.
That makes me sick. I never was really was a child, and it is really odd that people would start treating like one now. That is such bullshit, because child support was terminated on August 15, 1988. No other provisions were made, and I earned more money at 14 than I did in the last 10 years out together.
I miss the Barge. I think it is ridiculous that people would complain that I am "embarrassing myself.” At least I'm willing to take ownership of that one... was it less embarrassing to find out my mother contacted my professors and withdrew from classes because I was "too ill" to go to school.
Is any less embarrassing then being left at the airport on Thanksgiving Day? Or told that you do not deserve to go the dentist; that you can't sleep in the guest room if you have nightmares because you I might ruin the furniture think I actually give a shit about embarrassing myself? Do you think for a second they are counting on it? Did you think for one moment that there might, just, may be a reason I do not want to go home.
Is it less embarrassing than having your mother finds you "housing" at a long-term state psychiatric hospital, or being told that you might not have a fill on your soda because it cost $1.00? Is it any less embarrassing than finding out you have a new two months after he was born?
Yeah, I am embarrassed. Send me to Canada PLEEEZE!!!
Yes, I can act crazy. Yes, I may be crazy, and I sure a shit wish I was because there might be a possibility that created all of this "in my head.” It is not normal to have 43 addresses on file. It is not normal to care more about a cat than any single human alive. So, no, I am not normal, but does that make me bad? Does it make me dangerous? Does it want being told to "leave town" or take my own my own life so that society is not burdened by caring for me financially? Well, guess what-- I do not really care anymore, and there been many times in my life where I would rather not be alive, I refuse to let "them" Not like that.
So for so many people who have silenced me before, keep in mind I am NOT psychotic. And I am definitely mot "normal"
I am done. I so "over it" by now that if your embarrassed by my actions then you are giving me way too much power. I can own my behavior, and I can accept my feelings. And I think you need to do the same.
But I will not live in fear for the rest the of my life. And if I do get evicted tomorrow, so be it. It won't be the first time. And if you’re really lucky, there will some great new books donated to the public library. Yes, I AM ANGRY. Anger is a very strong emotion that is key to motivational theory. So yes, I am angry AND I am motivated.
According at my mother, the lovely little creature that she is for blameing for all her her failed marriages, and uses me as an excuse trying to get sympathy from others. She also was evicted from childhood homes in Cherry Hill, Lawrence, Great Neck (North and South) and yes, of course, that was somebody else’s fault too.
Apparently it was all my stepmother's fault. Nice. At least their mother would not allow them to be thrown away with each new boyfriend, tummy tuck, Jaguar or diamond ring.
So aren’t you guys glad you called my parents because now you’re stuck with me, my medical bills, and student debt. Isn't that special? I came here to WORK. I came here to be a part of something. I came here to leave the past behind me. I filled my long nights volunteering at the Family Shelter. I spent my days sleeping in four-hour shifts, and hoping that my oh-so-vivid dreams might actually be pleasant for just one night.
But I've been keeping notes. I'm paying attention to the rules and I'm paying attention to the news. It is not so random, and it not so crazy.
Yes I have filed appeals, but that'd getting old since no one bothers to follow up. What the ~ is wrong with THAT picture?????
All I can say is this, I tried. I tried damn hard. But ya know, crazy is, crazy does.
Aren't you guys lucky to have me? This is my home. This WAS my home. Thanks for making me feel so welcome.
e.d. over and out.
Now take your best hit, assholes!
Friday, March 18, 2011
Urban Education: Planting Seeds of Trauma by Elyssa Durant, Ed.M.
Urban Education: Planting Seeds of Trauma
NY Times: Multicultural Critical Theory. At B-School
Is Equal Opportunity Just a Myth?
America claims to be dedicated to equal opportunity, yet equality is not sufficient in urban communities. These kids need more. We need to think about equity, not equality. It is not enough to hide them away. These are visions we should never forget.Link to full text: View more »
I remember thinking back to my days living in Manhattan, coincidentally around the same time Jonathan Kozol conducted his interviews in the South Bronx regarding the social inequalities that contribute to declining (or extinction) of the middle class in America.
I lived in what is often thought of as “Liberal West Side,” as Harlem was undergoing rapid transformation and gentrification when Mayor Rudolph Giuliani took office.
Once Clinton moved his office to onto West 125th Street, the heart of Harlem. I can now say with near certainty, that the process is complete as America continues to push out the poor through gentrification, homelessness, and institutionalization.
I remember thinking back to my days living in Manhattan, coincidentally around the same time Kozol conducted his interviews in the South Bronx when writing I lived in what Kozol refers to as Manhattan’s “Liberal West Side,” an area that was undergoing rapid transformation and gentrification at the time Mayor Rudolph Giuliani took office.
In Amazing Grace: The lives of children and the conscience of a nation, Jonathan Kozol paints a vivid picture of the conditions in the poorest sections of New York City. During the early to mid 1990’s, Kozol made several visits to Mott Haven in the South Bronx. As he describes in Amazing Grace, the South Bronx is one of the most severely segregated and poorest Congressional Districts in the United States.
The members of this community have been segregated into a hell plagued with sickness, violence and despair. Kozol argues that this strategic placement serves to isolate the rich from the realities they have thrust upon their fellow man. New Yorkers do not stroll through the streets of Mott Haven, and taxicabs take no short cuts through Beekman Avenue. Many taxicabs will not even venture past East 96th Street. Out of sight is out of mind.
There is no excuse for the conditions in which these people must live. No person should be forced into an apartment that has a higher ratio of cockroaches and rats than human beings.
In 1995, the American Sociological Association (ASA) held its annual conference in New York City. Prior to that meeting, they sent out a fact sheet that may be of interest to ASA members. In this sheet, they too described the same social conditions and asked their members to take note of the changes that occur at 96th Street. I can assure you that the conditions Kozol describes in his book were not exaggerated.
These children are desperately in need of the best schools, yet we give them the worst. They have few libraries, few safe havens, few doctors, and few role models. They have every reason to believe that they are throwaway children and we have certainly not shown them anything else. The social services we have provided are a bureaucratic nightmare. People in need are treated as sub-human, and made to feel ashamed of being poor.
These are among the sickest children in the world. Americans claim to be dedicated to the children and fool ourselves into believing that we are doing them a favor by providing them with medical care, public education, and public housing. Yet, the quality of their neighborhoods speaks volumes of our sentiment and intentions.
Shortly after Amazing Grace was published, managed care rapidly moved onto the New York scene. Around the same time, the Mayor announced he would be closing some of the hospitals that served the poorest of the poor because of financial problems associated with payment and large trauma departments.
Kozol makes the point that people could attempt to gain admissions at a better hospital than Bronx-Lebanon; yet, the privatization of Medicaid has now made this completely impossible. Further restrictions on medical care are inevitable as the result of Medicaid managed care. The law is not designed to protect these people, and this was made obvious in a recent conversation I had with a friend who practices medicine in New York.
My friend John works as a board certified trauma physician at a private hospital on the Upper East Side. The last black patient he treated at Beth Israel was famed rock singer Michael Jackson. I asked him if he ever gets any asthma patients in his ER. He knew immediately of whom I was speaking. “You mean the kids from the South Bronx?” he asked. He told me that they know better than to show up at Beth Israel. “But if they do?” I asked, and he replied, “We ship them back.”
This is the reality. The best doctors treat the wealthiest patients rather than the sickest. Schools educate the best students rather than the neediest. It is no wonder that these children perform poorly in school. By every measure, these children are destined for failure. Their home life is less than enchanting, and they do not benefit from enriched environments and educated parents.
Certainly, there are many dedicated parents who care about their children, but is that enough? When I was in school, children frequently asked the teacher, how will this help later in life. In my class, there was an unequivocal reply, but it could be argued that what children in the South Bronx need to learn couldn’t be taught in the classroom.
There is no doubt that the prevalence of violence in urban neighborhoods affects the ability of children to perform well in school. There is a large body of empirical evidence that demonstrates the effects of chronic stress on memory and the learning process. Rather than taking the children out of these communities, we have constructed prison like buildings for them to attend school. They routinely have gunfire drills reminding them that danger is never far behind.
Children cannot learn in this environment. This constant stress triggers “hot-memory.” Hot memory can be thought of as learning with your heart and not your mind. It is no wonder children perform inadequately in this environment.
It is bad enough that children live in such conditions, must we educate in them too? If we want underprivileged children to learn and grow spiritually, we must create an environment that allows their cool memory systems to take over.
It is only under these conditions that children will permit themselves to learn and develop their intellectual strengths. We have failed to create a safe home environment for urban children, but we can give serious thought to creating a school environment outside of the community so they have fewer fear-driven hours each day.
Studies consistently report lower academic achievement in urban neighborhoods like Mott Haven in the South Bronx. Children growing up in urban neighborhoods have a much higher incidence of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Most researchers believe this to be the direct result of living in stressed communities plagued with street crime and violence. The potential impact of chronic stress on academic performance and achievement is not known, but reading scores in neighborhoods like Mott Haven certainly seem to indicate some type of causal relationship. There is virtually no research on looking at the long-term effects of this inflated incidence of PTSD among urban populations. It is important to develop an understanding of the effects of fear on the academic performance of urban adolescents so we can begin to dismantle the myths regarding school performance and minority children.
Under these conditions, it is not surprising to learn that students also report pervasive feelings of fear and do not feel secure despite the added presence of security personnel on school grounds. For these students, school is a mere extension of the violent communities in which they live.
Since urban communities have many different sources of stress, it is important to examine how school policies contribute to the learning environment in public schools. The quick response has been to install weapons detectors and hire school security for urban schools. The presence of school security certainly affects the climate of American public schools by establishing school environments that focus more on student behavior than student achievement. Together, the urban public school and the communities they serve are a constant reminder of the poor living conditions and social reality of urban America.
The secured environment is an indication of the roles students are expected to play later in life. This is a lesson they will not soon forget.
Kozol makes it quite clear that there are several exceptional children in this community. There are probably as many exceptional children here as every other community around the country, yet, so few of them will make it out of the South Bronx. Kozol is careful not to dwell on the exceptional cases of children who successfully navigate their way into the main stream of society. Kozol does this so we do not develop a false sense of hope. If we cling to a few exceptional cases, we may come to believe that what we are giving enough to children like Anthony or Anabelle. Clearly, we can do more. Failure should be the exception—not the rule. Success should be the norm, and until it is, we should not give up hope for these children.
America claims to be dedicated to equal opportunity, yet equality is not sufficient in a community like Mott Haven. These kids need more. We need to think about equity, not equality. It is not enough to hide them away. These are visions we should never forget.
Welcome to America. The Wealthiest Nation in the World. Now leave.
Reference: Amazing Grace: The lives of children and the conscience of a nation. (by Jonathan Kozol)
http://thepowersthatbeat.blogspot.com/2010/01/urban-education-planting-seeds-...
Monday, November 22, 2010
Writing Through Dark Novermber 22, 2010 1:41am WhYoming 11:22
Writing Through Dark
When I first started writing, the internet it became a substitute for human interaction. Aside from Pepe, the computer had become my next best friend. Certainly better than any therapist I have ever seen. Writing through dark helped me to clarify and organize my thoughts.
My computer does not ask me stupid questions or blame me for taking too long to spit just the right words.
It does not mind if I stutter, take a break or tend to more pressing matters. The internet was simply another way to escape from the madness that surrounds me.
Before I knew to how to attach formatted, edited, spell checked versions of documents, I would often begin writing in cyberspace only to find that I addressed it incorrectly, or worse, copied the very last person I would want to know exactly how I feel.
There have been times when I have accidentally hit send a little too soon. When I review some of my past journal entries written online, it is easy to see the raw emotion that pours out of my soul into the physical world. There have been countless times I have found myself so completely caught up in the writing process that I get stuck to the keyboard for hours (sometimes even days) and yet there I am—- asleep at the keyboard— again!
Writing "live" can be dangerous—it is far too easy to come off as a raving lunatic who cannot hold one train of thought long enough to keep the web browser from timing out!
If only I could retrieve some of the messages that hit cyberspace...
Will I ever be able to coexist peacefully? Play well with others? I still work at my own pace— sometimes in my own world, always in my own head... I like to think I might flourish in some other man's world and tell myself I could exist in some other reality—but those who see through me know this is my last defense, and however sad, I must believe that if I am to go on.
However, be warned that I may, someday, somewhere, decide to stick around for a while.
Could you be my neighbor? Would you be my friend?
Could you? Could I? Can I ever stop running and being afraid? What must I do, what I must learn, or who must I become to make you believe that such social grace and honest beauty have always come naturally to me?
When will this act ever subside? I developed an entire persona based on fear alone. How very sad. The cheerleader that never was. The child that never knew safety, peace, or security. A woman who existed in a world of silence— until now, I suppose.
Somehow, I must learn to embrace the fear. The fear of being discovered for the person that I am rather than the person I often pretend to be.
Regardless of the mask we put on when we go out in public, we all feel insecure, lonely, isolated, and afraid at times. Unfortunately, for me, I feel that way more often than not. I live with the kind of self-doubt that most people outgrow in early adolescence. The older I got, the more isolated I felt. Shouldn't I have outgrown this by now?
So now I have to become the person I used to be. The person I was meant to be. The person who existed long before the realities of life set in. Someone with hope, someone with a purpose. Someone who believed woman who existed long before the shadow of fear and failure ruled my every waking moment and took over the sleepless nights.
Yes, I can. Sometimes.
Fear.
Fear of believing that I deserved to be loved and never finding it. A human being entitled freedoms, and a woman who knows how to make choices. I am already stronger than I ever wanted to be.
I was blessed with strength.
Strength! Who the fuck wanted strength? Who wanted fear? Who wanted freedom???? There are people who love me-- they may not know it yet-- or may have forgotten me by now, but I need to stay put and live within my own skin again for a while just to see how feels.
Just stop running.
I have been challenged in ways that most people cannot even begin or understand-- and for me I must accept that there simply is no justice. So as I am, there is nothing that can replace what I have lost, not inside myself. I do not believe in revenge.
How ironic. How bazaar. Tragic. No one else cares. Who gives a shit? Why seek revenge for its own sake? How would that help? Nothing can replace what has been lost, not within myself.
But what if you are right??? What if--IF-- it is possible to let go of my anger? What will become of all that rage and turmoil I carry around with every waking moment? Can I exist peacefully within my own body? And what about the pain? I mean the hard the hard-core physical pain that hits me when I am most vulnerable? Can I live with the pain?
Can you promise me that it will have been worth it in the end? And, what if, after all is said done, I find myself to be an old woman with no friends, no ties, just a worn out memory of myself as I used to be—or who thought I might become. An old woman who lived far too long and too hard to realize that her act was done one-half a century ago.
Can you make it all worthwhile? Can you live with such responsibility?
Can I ever recapture enough of my former self to become a sexual being rather than innuendo? Can that person coexist in the same body that has brought me so much pain? Will anyone ever sift through the grime to find me? Will they ultimately feel it was just a waste of time? Will he hate me for it? Will he hate women as a result?
Can I ever learn to accept my physical pain without feeling compromised as a woman? Can I ever learn to accept my emotional mind without feeling compromised as a human being?
Do not tell anyone, but I can remember what it was like to enjoy sex. At what point can I allow myself to long for the sensation of human touch without being too optimistic? I don't want to get addicted. Sex will never be enough for me. I dream of loosing myself in a man's body. I dream about complete and absolute absorption.
I shall find mediocrity! Keep your labels interpretations and judgments to yourself. Control your need to soothe my fragile psyche or your need to "cure" me. I must find mediocrity. There in, I hope, lies the self. The everyday, the lull, the common person: rhythmic sanity and flattened affect. Dulled emotions and satisfaction. Satisfied, dull, boring, everyday. God—please!!! Where do I sign up?
Yes— okay— sometimes, it scares me to be so utterly alone, but what purpose does that serve? Even I know how despicable self-pity is in others and in myself. Especially for someone "like" me-- whatever that means! Great—so not only am I sad, but now I am feeling guilty too. And ashamed. And embarrassed. And Fear. And nothingness
Sometimes I wish others could understand the silent, peaceful, uncomplicated absolution that dawns with acceptance and resignation.
My goals have become so convoluted, yet here I sit, 13 years later, and my computer is still my best friend. My search for mediocrity continues. I am still looking for comfortable safety and a place of solitude before I can fulfill my "destiny"... to become whatever it is I was meant to be. Before I was reduced to nothing more than a shell of a person beaten down the Powers That Beat.
A journey on the road towards (Maslow's) self-actualization. Is it too late to build the strong foundations I lacked as a child? To feel secure enough in my physical surroundings and trust that my most basic needs will be met. Can I successfully transition into a world of unknowns without any understanding of the world as it is?
Maybe others have taken this path before me-- or maybe someday, someone might inadvertently wander into this sanctuary I call home. A place where nothing seems as it but exactly the way it is supposed to be.
Look at us-- who we are, what we do, and how we survive... all the people everywhere... All of us with limitless potential yet none of us know it-- irreverent disregard for what is real and complete disrespect for the rules that have thrust upon us.
This is the easy part-- restating economists and social scientists of days gone by-- so it is here that I can rest my head and my tired fingers. Why do I feel this shit? I actually *feel* this shit. As I sit and write (and eventually hit delete) I am bound to the streams of consciousness-- irate bouts of ranting and raving-- knowing how easy it is for people to silence such carrying-ons.
Upon writing my first piece ever-- a poem about motherhood, childhood, and the woman-child, my mother tried to have me committed. What a reality check! At 22, 1 put side my fear and wrote a simple poem for myself, to myself. It was straightforward, simple and direct, and almost landed me in an insane asylum. Are my words that dangerous? Are my feelings so far beyond the norm that I need to be removed from society altogether?
Yes, with a copy of my journal in hand, my mother's shrink showed up at my door-step to express her "grave concern" about my perception of reality. Not the first time, and it definitely would not be the last. As the years went by, I learned that my words would be used against me as a testimony to my madness. Only after years of therapy have I come to understand that it was not my words that were so dangerous, it was my ability to use them correctly. Perhaps it was not my sanity that should have been called into question...
I called my first piece, "On Not Being Able to Write." So simple, so eloquent, and so honest. After that little encounter, I learned about secrecy, symbolism, and self-censorship. I learned to write in riddles, live in puzzles, and think in circles. It kept others out-- but left me afraid. Afraid to be seen for who I am. Afraid of how my words were being received and how they would be interpreted. And now that things have come full circle, I am making a welcome return to honesty and a much needed reprieve from my riddles.
Let there be boundaries. Let them be impenetrable, secure, and bold. Obvious boundaries-- this is my path-- and you may not come with me. You must learn to find your own!
I think I shall buy a paint-by-numbers kit at the toy store. Simple. Impossible-but only because I can not paint!!!!
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Tuesday, August 17, 2010
The Powers That Beat: Close the Digital Divide: I'm still in the yellow
take your best shot... i guarantee i've had worse.... without apology... video to follow
http://thepowersthatbeat.blogspot.com/2010/08/close-digital-divide-im-still-y...
Saturday, July 31, 2010
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5 comments:
I could be your neighbour, and yes I could call you friend.. I do call you friend, and I am blessed to have crossed paths with you.
You go Angel... this is just the beginning of your journey into reaching even greater heights...
With much love and the deepest respect
D x
Thank you, Elyssa
Mya (@almostvisible)