Pastor rebecca's rants
20 February 2021 The Daily Rant
Rebecca Schroeder
Compare and contrast
A friend sent me a message about a book she’d read (which I am now reading) about a college English prof who hopped on her bike for her usual ride but wound up breaking her neck, instantly turning her life upside down. (No cars were involved.) With much intensive rehab, she regained some use of arms and hands. With the help of software, she dictated the entire book. (A Body, Undone by Christina Crosby)
There are huge differences between CC and me. She lost her body all at once, unexpectedly. I am losing mine slowly, over years, and although the course of MS differs for everyone, the course is always progressive; so far, it’s taken my legs and a good portion of my independence. In common, we share a life dominated by mind rather than body.
Both CC and I made great use of our bodies while they worked. I’ve played softball and volleyball and basketball. I rode my bike all over Milwaukee county. My sister, Lisa, shared her love of all things outdoors with me: camping, hiking, backpacking, sailing, skiing, and road trips. I swam laps for years as both exercise and meditation. As an undergrad, I think I minored in walking as transport. I’ve turned over my odometer several times.
This morning (on CNN), I saw a new documentary advertised: 7 Yards by Christopher Norton. Mr. Norton broke his neck playing college football. Seven Yards tells the story of his incredible struggle and fight to be one of the 3% who regains the ability to walk after this injury. This very driven 18 year old put in four hours a day at physical therapy and haltingly walked, leaning heavily on his fiancé, about ten feet across the stage at his graduation.
I was diagnosed with MS in 2000. I didn’t really see any progressive changes in my body for about seven years. It began with a slight limp at the end of a mile walk with the dogs. I tried not to pay attention and kept walking and swimming for another five years. I did arm exercises, too. If you don’t use it, you lose it. I fought tooth and nail to be as independent as I could for as long as I could and probably longer than I should have.
I spent time in rehab hospitals several times. I managed, with lots of help, to still live alone in an apartment. (Okay, not alone. Norma was there, but because she is both deaf and lacking opposable thumbs, she wasn’t much help with chores.) Activities of daily living took longer and longer, consuming more and more time and energy. The last time I wound up at the nursing facility, I realized that I couldn’t live alone any longer.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to wind up like this overnight. I’ve had ten years of increasing disability to try reconcile this new normal with the picture of who I am in my head. I spent five of those years with a really great therapist (mental not physical) who helped me a lot. I’m so grateful to have had a body that took me hiking and biking and swimming. I’m also grateful that my life is now neatly contained above my shoulders.
I fought against this for so many years. Mostly, I’m at peace. There are times when I wake up and forget. Hell, there are times when I’m awake and I think I can just get up and walk, easy-peasy. I remember before I find myself on the floor again.
Do you ever have dreams where you fly? Sometimes, in my dreams, I walk.
Rebecca Schroeder
Compare and contrast
A friend sent me a message about a book she’d read (which I am now reading) about a college English prof who hopped on her bike for her usual ride but wound up breaking her neck, instantly turning her life upside down. (No cars were involved.) With much intensive rehab, she regained some use of arms and hands. With the help of software, she dictated the entire book. (A Body, Undone by Christina Crosby)
There are huge differences between CC and me. She lost her body all at once, unexpectedly. I am losing mine slowly, over years, and although the course of MS differs for everyone, the course is always progressive; so far, it’s taken my legs and a good portion of my independence. In common, we share a life dominated by mind rather than body.
Both CC and I made great use of our bodies while they worked. I’ve played softball and volleyball and basketball. I rode my bike all over Milwaukee county. My sister, Lisa, shared her love of all things outdoors with me: camping, hiking, backpacking, sailing, skiing, and road trips. I swam laps for years as both exercise and meditation. As an undergrad, I think I minored in walking as transport. I’ve turned over my odometer several times.
This morning (on CNN), I saw a new documentary advertised: 7 Yards by Christopher Norton. Mr. Norton broke his neck playing college football. Seven Yards tells the story of his incredible struggle and fight to be one of the 3% who regains the ability to walk after this injury. This very driven 18 year old put in four hours a day at physical therapy and haltingly walked, leaning heavily on his fiancé, about ten feet across the stage at his graduation.
I was diagnosed with MS in 2000. I didn’t really see any progressive changes in my body for about seven years. It began with a slight limp at the end of a mile walk with the dogs. I tried not to pay attention and kept walking and swimming for another five years. I did arm exercises, too. If you don’t use it, you lose it. I fought tooth and nail to be as independent as I could for as long as I could and probably longer than I should have.
I spent time in rehab hospitals several times. I managed, with lots of help, to still live alone in an apartment. (Okay, not alone. Norma was there, but because she is both deaf and lacking opposable thumbs, she wasn’t much help with chores.) Activities of daily living took longer and longer, consuming more and more time and energy. The last time I wound up at the nursing facility, I realized that I couldn’t live alone any longer.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to wind up like this overnight. I’ve had ten years of increasing disability to try reconcile this new normal with the picture of who I am in my head. I spent five of those years with a really great therapist (mental not physical) who helped me a lot. I’m so grateful to have had a body that took me hiking and biking and swimming. I’m also grateful that my life is now neatly contained above my shoulders.
I fought against this for so many years. Mostly, I’m at peace. There are times when I wake up and forget. Hell, there are times when I’m awake and I think I can just get up and walk, easy-peasy. I remember before I find myself on the floor again.
Do you ever have dreams where you fly? Sometimes, in my dreams, I walk.
Rebecca Schroeder
8 August 2020 The Daily Rant
So much from which to choose
Woke up this morning, as usual, thinking about ranting. Something had pissed me off yesterday, and badly, too. Yesterday’s rant wound up going in a different direction, though. While 45 seems to be able to piss me off ad infinitum, this one was bad. How in the wide world of sports could I forget? Then I checked for messages on FB and one of my friends had posted the exact quote. (Thanks, Paula!)
"He's following the radical left agenda. Take away your guns. Destroy your Second Amendment. No religion! No anything! Hurt the Bible! Hurt God! He's against God! He's against guns!"
(Rolling Stone called 45’s nonsensical, maniacal ravings a rant. I beg to differ. I call this a rant, but I try to have a line of thinking that most people can follow and a point.)
If you’ve been following me for a while, you know I struggle with how to view 45, me being a person of faith. I can’t see inside his heart. Besides, aren’t we supposed to refrain from judgment, give the benefit of the doubt, put the best construction on everything? Wouldn’t I want these same courtesies extended to me?
We are also told that you can assess a tree by its fruit. We can form an opinion by observing someone’s actions, by witnessing their words. I’ve stopped struggling.
I’ve watched Mr. Biden. I’ve seen him under pressure. I’ve seen how he treats people, both singly and as groups. He treats them with compassion and dignity. He himself has experienced terrible losses and shows empathy. Yeah, he has his share of gaffes (and several other people’s shares as well). He has had reasons to apologize, but he always does, and sooner rather than later. Remember that time 45 apologized? Neither do I.
45 lashes out. This is merely the latest example. While I usually shake my head and curse softly (or loudly), this latest fruit of 45’s tree crossed the line. How dare he?
How dare 45 impugn anyone’s faith? How dare he claim to know what is in any else’s heart? (Not to mention how he conflated guns and God.) Remember just a few weeks ago how he had peaceful protesters gassed and driven out so that he could have a photo-op in front of a church he doesn’t attend while holding up a bible (backwards) that he clearly doesn’t read?
It’s not clear to me whether 45 knows anything about faith in anything other than himself. He definitely has faith that he can get away with pret near anything and escape unscathed, whether that’s shooting someone of 5th Avenue or grabbing women by their privates and otherwise sexually assaulting them.
I’m done. I’m done struggling. While I do believe that 45 is a precious child of God, as am I, I am done extending faithful charity to someone who knows neither faith nor charity. He has proven over and over again that he does not respect life, creation, or the giver of both. I am done giving him the benefit of the doubt because he has removed all doubts from within me.
I would list his hit parade of assaults on common decency, but I want to post this before Monday. I’m going to list only a few; please feel free to add to the list.
• Racism, misogyny, antisemitism, homophobia, bigotry of every kind
• Sexual assaults – plural
• Xenophobic and anti-immigration policies
• Children in cages
• Families split apart
• Tax cuts to billionaires while putting the hurt on working folks
• Putin-pandering
• Lying
• Trying to undermine elections
• General nastiness
I’d better stop. My stomach is getting more upset as I continue. I still pray for him things that I want for myself, like peace, wisdom, and joy. I’ve also added prayers that we as a country find our way through these trying, chaotic times, that the leaders of our country and their actions be blessed.
I’m all in for Mr. Biden.
8 August 2020 The Daily Rant
So much from which to choose
Woke up this morning, as usual, thinking about ranting. Something had pissed me off yesterday, and badly, too. Yesterday’s rant wound up going in a different direction, though. While 45 seems to be able to piss me off ad infinitum, this one was bad. How in the wide world of sports could I forget? Then I checked for messages on FB and one of my friends had posted the exact quote. (Thanks, Paula!)
"He's following the radical left agenda. Take away your guns. Destroy your Second Amendment. No religion! No anything! Hurt the Bible! Hurt God! He's against God! He's against guns!"
(Rolling Stone called 45’s nonsensical, maniacal ravings a rant. I beg to differ. I call this a rant, but I try to have a line of thinking that most people can follow and a point.)
If you’ve been following me for a while, you know I struggle with how to view 45, me being a person of faith. I can’t see inside his heart. Besides, aren’t we supposed to refrain from judgment, give the benefit of the doubt, put the best construction on everything? Wouldn’t I want these same courtesies extended to me?
We are also told that you can assess a tree by its fruit. We can form an opinion by observing someone’s actions, by witnessing their words. I’ve stopped struggling.
I’ve watched Mr. Biden. I’ve seen him under pressure. I’ve seen how he treats people, both singly and as groups. He treats them with compassion and dignity. He himself has experienced terrible losses and shows empathy. Yeah, he has his share of gaffes (and several other people’s shares as well). He has had reasons to apologize, but he always does, and sooner rather than later. Remember that time 45 apologized? Neither do I.
45 lashes out. This is merely the latest example. While I usually shake my head and curse softly (or loudly), this latest fruit of 45’s tree crossed the line. How dare he?
How dare 45 impugn anyone’s faith? How dare he claim to know what is in any else’s heart? (Not to mention how he conflated guns and God.) Remember just a few weeks ago how he had peaceful protesters gassed and driven out so that he could have a photo-op in front of a church he doesn’t attend while holding up a bible (backwards) that he clearly doesn’t read?
It’s not clear to me whether 45 knows anything about faith in anything other than himself. He definitely has faith that he can get away with pret near anything and escape unscathed, whether that’s shooting someone of 5th Avenue or grabbing women by their privates and otherwise sexually assaulting them.
I’m done. I’m done struggling. While I do believe that 45 is a precious child of God, as am I, I am done extending faithful charity to someone who knows neither faith nor charity. He has proven over and over again that he does not respect life, creation, or the giver of both. I am done giving him the benefit of the doubt because he has removed all doubts from within me.
I would list his hit parade of assaults on common decency, but I want to post this before Monday. I’m going to list only a few; please feel free to add to the list.
• Racism, misogyny, antisemitism, homophobia, bigotry of every kind
• Sexual assaults – plural
• Xenophobic and anti-immigration policies
• Children in cages
• Families split apart
• Tax cuts to billionaires while putting the hurt on working folks
• Putin-pandering
• Lying
• Trying to undermine elections
• General nastiness
I’d better stop. My stomach is getting more upset as I continue. I still pray for him things that I want for myself, like peace, wisdom, and joy. I’ve also added prayers that we as a country find our way through these trying, chaotic times, that the leaders of our country and their actions be blessed.
I’m all in for Mr. Biden.
Rebecca Schroeder
18 July 2020 The Daily Rant
Mental Health
Mary Trump’s book came out this week. Chris Cuomo had an extended interview last night with this PhD psychologist and niece of 45. She has a unique perspective, having known 45 her whole life in that particularly unvarnished family way. (She also has a BA and MA in English lit and actually knows how to write. Yes, Amazon let me look inside.)
Needless to say, the subject of mental health came up. No surprises. Dr. Trump didn’t contend with any of the myriad diagnoses that have been springing up for the past few years. She did add a long-term view. (I’ll paraphrase: he’s always been an as- er, jerk.) Oddly, she said he wasn’t the smart one but the favored one.
As Chris Cuomo’s show was ending, he and Don Lemon did their usual hand-off schtick. This time, though, it included a serious bit about mental health. Seems part of Chris’ post-covid problems has been depression. They went on to talk about the importance of mental health care, wondered why it isn’t simply called health care, and spoke about the importance of therapy in their lives. They hoped that by speaking openly about it that they could help to normalize it.
I’d like to add my voice to theirs. Six years ago, I walked into a therapist’s office. I’d done therapy before, usually in short stints, usually at turning points in my life such as getting sober or being diagnosed with MS. I thought I was going in for a six month tune-up but stuff kept happening. My six month tune-up turned into five years.
Initially, I went in because I was keen to attend my niece’s wedding down in Half Moon Bay several months later. I was coming off eight months of MS nausea and you could say I had some food issues. I was also coming up on my 50th birthday as well as experiencing greater physical challenges but still unable to see myself as disabled. (Still working on that but with a new therapist.) I had the first real session with my therapist, then she had a planned week away. I still feel sorry for her; that first week was spent largely trying to walk her through the timeline of my rather unconventional life and at our second session, I opened with the fact that I had just quit my job.
As eventfully as our therapeutic relationship began, it just kept going. If I had thoughts of winding down therapy, something else would happen. Early the next year, I had a fall that put me in rehab for two weeks. This made me take a hard look at myself and how my life seemed far beyond my control. That initial fall was followed by several more falls and hospitalizations, eventually leading to my present address in the SNF. I’m still trying to reconcile the picture of me in my brain – the 20 year old construction worker, 30 year old student, 40 year old hospital tech – with the current truth about my drastically diminished physical abilities. Apparently, I am bad at this.
These past five years or so have been kinda tough. I’ve had challenges my entire life. We all do. I’m ever so grateful that I’ve had these fabulous, trained people to walk with me, to keep me honest and call me on my stinking thinking. As we say in AA: my mind is a dangerous neighborhood and I should never go there alone.
As a pastor, I have some minimal training in pastoral care. I hope that I can actively listen and be a non-anxious presence. Honestly, though, my best pastoral counseling line is this: Wow! Sounds like you’re going through a lot right now. Have you considered getting professional help?
Today’s link can help anyone in the US find that professional help. It starts out geographically and lets you sort from there – gender, Medicare or other insurance, type of therapist, specialty, languages, you name it.
If you or someone you know could benefit from that help, I hope you/they can find it. You don’t need to shoulder the burden alone. Life doesn’t have to be quite that hard. Finding someone to walk with makes a huge difference and can help to ease the journey. I’ll see you on the road.
https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/therapists
139,260
PSYCHOLOGYTODAY.COM
Find a Therapist, Psychologist, Counselor - Psychology Today
Rebecca Schroeder
18 July 2020 The Daily Rant
Mental Health
Mary Trump’s book came out this week. Chris Cuomo had an extended interview last night with this PhD psychologist and niece of 45. She has a unique perspective, having known 45 her whole life in that particularly unvarnished family way. (She also has a BA and MA in English lit and actually knows how to write. Yes, Amazon let me look inside.)
Needless to say, the subject of mental health came up. No surprises. Dr. Trump didn’t contend with any of the myriad diagnoses that have been springing up for the past few years. She did add a long-term view. (I’ll paraphrase: he’s always been an as- er, jerk.) Oddly, she said he wasn’t the smart one but the favored one.
As Chris Cuomo’s show was ending, he and Don Lemon did their usual hand-off schtick. This time, though, it included a serious bit about mental health. Seems part of Chris’ post-covid problems has been depression. They went on to talk about the importance of mental health care, wondered why it isn’t simply called health care, and spoke about the importance of therapy in their lives. They hoped that by speaking openly about it that they could help to normalize it.
I’d like to add my voice to theirs. Six years ago, I walked into a therapist’s office. I’d done therapy before, usually in short stints, usually at turning points in my life such as getting sober or being diagnosed with MS. I thought I was going in for a six month tune-up but stuff kept happening. My six month tune-up turned into five years.
Initially, I went in because I was keen to attend my niece’s wedding down in Half Moon Bay several months later. I was coming off eight months of MS nausea and you could say I had some food issues. I was also coming up on my 50th birthday as well as experiencing greater physical challenges but still unable to see myself as disabled. (Still working on that but with a new therapist.) I had the first real session with my therapist, then she had a planned week away. I still feel sorry for her; that first week was spent largely trying to walk her through the timeline of my rather unconventional life and at our second session, I opened with the fact that I had just quit my job.
As eventfully as our therapeutic relationship began, it just kept going. If I had thoughts of winding down therapy, something else would happen. Early the next year, I had a fall that put me in rehab for two weeks. This made me take a hard look at myself and how my life seemed far beyond my control. That initial fall was followed by several more falls and hospitalizations, eventually leading to my present address in the SNF. I’m still trying to reconcile the picture of me in my brain – the 20 year old construction worker, 30 year old student, 40 year old hospital tech – with the current truth about my drastically diminished physical abilities. Apparently, I am bad at this.
These past five years or so have been kinda tough. I’ve had challenges my entire life. We all do. I’m ever so grateful that I’ve had these fabulous, trained people to walk with me, to keep me honest and call me on my stinking thinking. As we say in AA: my mind is a dangerous neighborhood and I should never go there alone.
As a pastor, I have some minimal training in pastoral care. I hope that I can actively listen and be a non-anxious presence. Honestly, though, my best pastoral counseling line is this: Wow! Sounds like you’re going through a lot right now. Have you considered getting professional help?
Today’s link can help anyone in the US find that professional help. It starts out geographically and lets you sort from there – gender, Medicare or other insurance, type of therapist, specialty, languages, you name it.
If you or someone you know could benefit from that help, I hope you/they can find it. You don’t need to shoulder the burden alone. Life doesn’t have to be quite that hard. Finding someone to walk with makes a huge difference and can help to ease the journey. I’ll see you on the road.
https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/therapists
139,260
PSYCHOLOGYTODAY.COM
Find a Therapist, Psychologist, Counselor - Psychology Today
Rebecca Schroeder
7 June 2020
Jerimiah 6:14 –
They dress the wound of my people
as though it were not serious.
‘Peace, peace,’ they say,
when there is no peace.
It’s been quite a week. So many images are swirling in my head. Yesterday’s protest marches had an almost triumphal feel to them. In Atlanta, folks were dancing. In Milwaukee, my hometown and one of the most segregated cities in America, about a half-dozen Bucks joined the march, including the reigning NBA MVP. In DC, people peacefully congregated all day in the newly named Black Lives Matter Plaza – down the block from a fortified White House – on bright, yellow letters freshly painted on the street proclaiming that Black Lives Matter, letters so large as to be visible from space. Here in the Bay, protesters effectively took over the Golden Gate Bridge.
There are so many feelings swirling around my heart. I’ve felt this main feeling before, usually at the death of a relationship or loved one: my heart is still breaking. I have images of George Floyd being murdered, viciously, violently, slowly, intentionally, brazenly by those “officers of the law.” I’m seeing the 22 year old man in Vallejo, shot while kneeling with his arms raised because the officer thought his hammer was a gun. I’m seeing that young couple in Atlanta being tazed and dragged out of their car. I’m seeing an elderly protester in Buffalo shoved to the pavement by “peace officers” and bleeding from his ear. I’m seeing military blocking anyone from the Lincoln Memorial – where Marion Anderson and the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King both sang.
While all this is going on, 45 sits in his fort and tweets about law and order. He, apparently, likes the pictures of peaceful protesters choking on tear gas so that he can have a photo op in front of a church he doesn’t attend holding a bible he quite clearly doesn’t read.
Generally speaking, it was quite a week, too. Gen. Mattis turned on him first. His current (so far) Secretary of Defense spoke out next, trying to distance himself from his glorious leader. This morning, Gen. Colin Powell was on CNN, condemning 45 in no uncertain terms. It seems the military, which 45 keeps trying to pitch against American citizens on American soil, might not be whole-heartedly in 45’s corner.
I’m heartbroken and cautiously optimistic. There is reason to hope. The nation seems to be taking an honest look at police brutality against African Americans. As we have seen this week, sometimes police are just brutal. I know this is only a small portion of officers and the situation is exacerbated by them now feeling under attack. We’ve also had some very positive images this week of officers kneeling and even marching with protesters.
While we are seeing some changes happening in police departments, it’s just the tip of the iceberg. We need to confront fully the systemic racism in our society. As a gay, disabled woman, I fall into several discriminatory categories and can give you examples of each. However, I have received so much blanket protection and unearned credit in my life due only to the color of my skin that it blows my mind. I’ve never been turned down for a loan or a place to live because I’m white. I have peacefully protested without arrest or injury. When my bad driving has gotten me legitimately pulled over, the only thing I got was a ticket; I have never feared for my life.
African Americans live in the negative column on the great spreadsheet of life. The Brookings Institute puts the net worth of white Americans ($171,000) as nearly 10 times greater than black Americans ($17,150). According to the non-partisan Economic Policy Institute, the median black family earns 61% of the median white family. The Prison Policy Initiative reports that for every one white person in prison, there are five black, yet African Americans make up only about 13% of the population.
Don’t let’s put a band-aid on a compound fracture. While police reforms are desperately needed, that’s not where this should end. Education plays a major role. How many people do you know who moved because of the schools? Zip code is a great indicator of public school quality and resources. Do we need affirmative action in higher education? Absolutely! Again, a good start, but there’s no aspect of life in the US in which African Americans are on equal footing with white Americans.
This statistic is chilling as well: nearly 23% of reported covid deaths in our country are African American, although they make up roughly 13% of the population.
Keep up the good work, protesters! I wish I could be with you physically.
Jerimiah 6:14 –
They dress the wound of my people
as though it were not serious.
‘Peace, peace,’ they say,
when there is no peace.
It’s been quite a week. So many images are swirling in my head. Yesterday’s protest marches had an almost triumphal feel to them. In Atlanta, folks were dancing. In Milwaukee, my hometown and one of the most segregated cities in America, about a half-dozen Bucks joined the march, including the reigning NBA MVP. In DC, people peacefully congregated all day in the newly named Black Lives Matter Plaza – down the block from a fortified White House – on bright, yellow letters freshly painted on the street proclaiming that Black Lives Matter, letters so large as to be visible from space. Here in the Bay, protesters effectively took over the Golden Gate Bridge.
There are so many feelings swirling around my heart. I’ve felt this main feeling before, usually at the death of a relationship or loved one: my heart is still breaking. I have images of George Floyd being murdered, viciously, violently, slowly, intentionally, brazenly by those “officers of the law.” I’m seeing the 22 year old man in Vallejo, shot while kneeling with his arms raised because the officer thought his hammer was a gun. I’m seeing that young couple in Atlanta being tazed and dragged out of their car. I’m seeing an elderly protester in Buffalo shoved to the pavement by “peace officers” and bleeding from his ear. I’m seeing military blocking anyone from the Lincoln Memorial – where Marion Anderson and the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King both sang.
While all this is going on, 45 sits in his fort and tweets about law and order. He, apparently, likes the pictures of peaceful protesters choking on tear gas so that he can have a photo op in front of a church he doesn’t attend holding a bible he quite clearly doesn’t read.
Generally speaking, it was quite a week, too. Gen. Mattis turned on him first. His current (so far) Secretary of Defense spoke out next, trying to distance himself from his glorious leader. This morning, Gen. Colin Powell was on CNN, condemning 45 in no uncertain terms. It seems the military, which 45 keeps trying to pitch against American citizens on American soil, might not be whole-heartedly in 45’s corner.
I’m heartbroken and cautiously optimistic. There is reason to hope. The nation seems to be taking an honest look at police brutality against African Americans. As we have seen this week, sometimes police are just brutal. I know this is only a small portion of officers and the situation is exacerbated by them now feeling under attack. We’ve also had some very positive images this week of officers kneeling and even marching with protesters.
While we are seeing some changes happening in police departments, it’s just the tip of the iceberg. We need to confront fully the systemic racism in our society. As a gay, disabled woman, I fall into several discriminatory categories and can give you examples of each. However, I have received so much blanket protection and unearned credit in my life due only to the color of my skin that it blows my mind. I’ve never been turned down for a loan or a place to live because I’m white. I have peacefully protested without arrest or injury. When my bad driving has gotten me legitimately pulled over, the only thing I got was a ticket; I have never feared for my life.
African Americans live in the negative column on the great spreadsheet of life. The Brookings Institute puts the net worth of white Americans ($171,000) as nearly 10 times greater than black Americans ($17,150). According to the non-partisan Economic Policy Institute, the median black family earns 61% of the median white family. The Prison Policy Initiative reports that for every one white person in prison, there are five black, yet African Americans make up only about 13% of the population.
Don’t let’s put a band-aid on a compound fracture. While police reforms are desperately needed, that’s not where this should end. Education plays a major role. How many people do you know who moved because of the schools? Zip code is a great indicator of public school quality and resources. Do we need affirmative action in higher education? Absolutely! Again, a good start, but there’s no aspect of life in the US in which African Americans are on equal footing with white Americans.
This statistic is chilling as well: nearly 23% of reported covid deaths in our country are African American, although they make up roughly 13% of the population.
Keep up the good work, protesters! I wish I could be with you physically.