Showing posts with label homeless women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homeless women. Show all posts

Friday, December 10, 2010

Some People Who Changed Human Rights History

Human Rights Day is December 10th, 2010

HUMAN RIGHTS DEFENDERS ~Statement from Navi Pillay, United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights

Since the United Nations was established over 60 years ago, there have been dramatic advances in crafting and implementing a system of universal human rights – rights which are, under international law, applicable to each and every one of us: old and young, male and female, rich and poor, whoever we are and wherever we are from.

We know the names of some of those who changed human rights history: those who were in the vanguard of the struggle to abolish slavery, such as William Wilberforce; those who engineered major advances in women’s rights, such as Gloria Steinem, Huda Shaarawi and Simone de Beauvoir. We also know about those who tackled the injustice of colonialism such as Mahatma Gandhi, and those – like Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela and Rigoberta Menchu – who campaigned to end institutionalized racism and discrimination against minorities and indigenous peoples.

But these inspirational figures could not have done what they did without the help of many others whose names we don’t know. Efforts to end slavery spanned 1,000 years, and still continue with adults and children being trafficked for sex and indentured labour. After a mammoth struggle that lasted more than 150 years, women have won the right to vote almost everywhere, but still lack many other fundamental rights.

We owe the progress we have made to the enormous efforts of hundreds of thousands of largely unsung heroes, known collectively as human rights defenders.

Human rights defenders come from all walks of life, ranging from princesses and politicians, to professionals such as journalists, teachers and doctors, to people with little or no formal education. There are no special qualifications. All it takes is commitment, and courage.

We can all be human rights defenders, and – given how much we owe to others for the rights many of us now take for granted – we all should be human rights defenders. At the very least, we should do our utmost to support those who do defend human rights. Every year, thousands of human rights defenders are harassed, abused, unjustly jailed and murdered. That is why Human Rights Day 2010 is dedicated to Human Rights Defenders and their courageous battle to stop discrimination of all sorts. We need to stand up for their rights as much as they stand up for ours.

Some of those who are unjustly detained become the subject of international efforts to win their freedom. This spotlight can provide them with a significant measure of physical protection, even if it does not always win them a speedy release. But most of those detained by repressive authorities languish largely unnoticed in jails, under house arrest, in ‘re-education centres.’ Often their families are targeted as well.

Some of those killed – like Russian journalist Anna Politkovskaya, murdered outside her apartment in 2006, and Floribert Chebeya Bahizire, the Congolese human rights defender found dead in his car earlier this year – are remembered and revered. But many of those less well-known defenders who are murdered for their belief in human rights remain unknown to the wider world.

The work of human rights defenders is as vital today as it has ever been, because hundreds of millions of individuals still suffer directly or indirectly from some form of discrimination every day.

There are an estimated 370 million indigenous people in the world, a great many of whom face discrimination. Even in the developed world, the life expectancy of some groups of indigenous children born today is up to 20 years less than that of non-indigenous children.

Minorities suffer similar disparities. In Latin America, for example, the some 150 million people of African descent tend to be trapped in poverty to a much greater degree than other sectors of the population. Similarly, of the estimated 650 million people with disabilities, more than two thirds (426 million) are living below the poverty line in developing countries.

Women – half the world’s population – still face rampant discrimination in some societies, and more subtle versions in others. One of the most alarming of many depressing statistics on this issue, is that 70 percent of the 70-100 million children who are not attending school are girls.

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"...of the estimated 650 million people with disabilities, more than two thirds (426 million) are living below the poverty line in developing countries."

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Around 100 million people are forced into poverty each year because they have to pay for health care. In many countries, children from poor backgrounds are 10 times less likely to be vaccinated than those whose parents are better off, and poor women are up to 20 times less likely than the richest 20 percent of women to give birth in the presence of a skilled health worker capable of saving their lives.

The more than 200 million migrants worldwide, and especially the irregular and undocumented migrants among them , face racism, xenophobia and other chronic forms of discrimination, in both developed and developing countries.

These are some of the daunting challenges facing today’s and tomorrow’s human rights defenders. I wish to salute their selfless determination. They work tirelessly in on all the issues singled out above, and many more besides – for example sexual orientation and the rights of stateless people, older people and those living with HIV.

One important set of statistics is missing: we have no idea how many human rights defenders there are, or how many of them are intimidated, harassed, beaten up, jailed or killed each year. We have also failed to develop ways to measure their successes, which are often credited not to them but to the politicians or governments that finally listen to them or give in to their pressure. We need to do a much better job of defending our defenders.

The 21st century is witnessing the emergence of new economic and political forces, which, like others before them, will face the responsibility of promoting development at home and abroad while at the same time being held accountable for their actions. Human rights defenders will play a crucial role in this process, by pointing out flaws and benefits in current and future policies and actions. Yet, despite the benefits they bring to society, in some parts of the world they are facing increased harassment, persecution and restrictions on their activities, especially freedom of speech.

On this Human Rights Day, I call on Governments to acknowledge that criticism is not a crime, and to release all those people who have been detained for peacefully exercising their fundamental freedoms to defend democratic principles and human rights.


Linda's Hearth note: I like this essay because it lists names of a handful of the people we need to REMEMBER, who have sacraficed having a life of their own in order for the rest of us to have more freedom and autonomy.

I follow the releases of HREA in order to expand my worldview toward a more global awareness. -LEL

HREA - www.hrea.org


Human Rights Education Associates (HREA) is an international non-governmental organisation that supports human rights learning; the training of activists and professionals; the development of educational materials and programming; and community-building through on-line technologies.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Homeless Women in Santa Cruz
a poem tribute



Click this picture bigger to see a very interesting cloud formation.
Pacific Sunset, Feb. 2007
photo by Linda Lemaster
©The Home Office





FOR PATCHES Who Died Too Young


I drift through this town around twilight
on my broomstick
made from pain

Folks whisper to their kids, "We remember her,"
then tell me they've forgot my name

Clean water, second-hand bagels
and smelly, putrid plumbing
-- on a good day --
leaves me feeling blessed

On cold days my fingers
and my knees
light up like Rudolph's nose
Other times I'm transparent 'cept my smile
If I have one left

Will it help me pass this gauntlet one more time on my
walk from bus to blanket stash?
Will my bedroll still be there?

Dignified eyes staring down then away
right through me


Curious children hail me with their
innocence and warmth
'til Mommy's Auntie's Granny's haughty frozen glares
arrest their smiles their fingers and
eventually
the children's hearts, too, freeze.


The buckaroo boys, all jazz and hip
and shadowboxing on the street

they see me yes then say, "Hey Lady,
got a light?" or "Got a toke?"
But hurry off
like natural dudes when I reply,
"Got four bits
'cause I wanna phone my kids?"

Alone
wondering
just me and the pavement
Was that really
me
begging
just now?
Or was it just a joke I played on me?

Whatever . . . it was something just last year
I said I'd never ever want to do.


Guess I'm just a-chillin' now, and dreaming by myself
Trying to remember dreams

Got time for dreaming NOW

No more wishing babies would sleep in
on just ONE Saturday sunrise for a change
No more wishing for "white noise" when alarm clocks
ring at seven
No more staying up late just to fold the laundry or
finish work or bills while wishing rather for
t i m e
for sleep and dreaming
No more daydreams on the bus to class inspired by
my night before's school homework

No more hot flashes in my own clean sheets
No more counting coupons on those rare night
I can't sleep
No more waking up because the neighbor's cat's in heat
or the raccoon's dumping trashcans all along the street
No more peeking at my miracle children growing
ever taller as I watch them lay asleep

No more satisfying tangles on
"my" floor
with blankets, pillows, secrets, poems, empty
wine glasses, and You
No more quiet glowing happily alone
Looking at the stars and thinking, "Where's we
buy that wine?"
and "What's it mean?"
and feeling how
You always made it feel like we were both
brandnew

Once I was made of those fresh cotton sheets and
smells of you
Was that the real me -- always wishing
to recover just a little
shred of dreamtime
the JOY of life, just sleeping IN someday?


I've gained and lost vast heavens and hells
both mine and some I'd borrowed
yet finding now my dreams come back like
homing pigeons and uncompleted Yesterdays
still seeking their Tomorrows


California Dreamin'
and hoofing all the way
to the Mission's Styrofoam Soup


Got time to dream in the daytime now
and time to dream all night
Yet now no place to lay my head
no respite from hard streets and their
cruel, unblinking lights
*

© Linda Ellen Lemaster

This poem was first published in Street Spirit,
Publication of American Friends Service Committee
January 2007



some back-story and my opinion


The poem above, best read aloud, came to me when I learned a new friend had died of pneumonia after having to live on the streets. And then being pushed and busted around for trying to earn her way by washing car windshields, a fast-moving, often quite cold job. Her pulverized looking hands. She was always friendly while trying to earn a little cash -- never pushy and entirely polite.

I never even learned her "real" name; Patches is her street moniker, a safety nickname. I was immediately struck by how much we once had in common: an ordinary American mom's life. Yet me -- with an old Volvo for wheels and even a rented home -- it felt like we were worlds apart as we met; and me having to say "no" to her squeegie despite a dirty windshield. I was "too broke" yet we became friends that day anyhow!

I have numerous long-term homeless and once-homeless friends, in part because I treat them like human beings and they appreciate that. I learned this from Mitch Snyder long ago. Our first meeting -- Patches and mine -- was at Front Street and Soquel Avenue, downtown. It seemed then a minor instance for us.

Simultaneously, in my city, housed people were making it illegal for homeless people to wash car windows for shoppers, in one parking lot and then the next. I saw this shifting 'social engineering' take place over a matter of months, as both civic garages and "private property" lots outside pharmacies, bookstores and the supermarket pushed her out of her meager yet honorable existence.

I can imagine, but not prove, the pneumonia that killed Patches by age 50 was abetted by the raining and cold "bad days" during which she nonetheless continued working -- to earn her own way instead of begging or dumpster diving or getting institutionalized due to hard luck.

Patches was literally pushed out of surviving because somebodies didn't want to have to say "no" when she offered her service, or else because someone gets jealous as she made friends, and earned maybe an average of $3.50 an hour on a "good day." I feel those petty sorts of "reasons" moved that city to yet another layer of privatization and discrimination against indigent and homeless folks.

It's no longer 'legal' to offer to wash automobile windshield for parked shoppers who wish it. So then life goes on round about, as if nobody's the worse for it. Nobody has to see that they're literally causing suffering because "it's the law". When we sleep peacefully at night, it's at the expense of those who can't.

Maybe there were other extenuating factors adding to Patches early death? I don't know. I know only what I saw happening.

I believe Patches' struggling so valiantly to survive, and her dying while street-homeless, reflects on some deficiency amongst all of us who are housed. Some critical degree of humanity is lacking for us? Or else maybe it's simply class-based bigotry? Whatever the reason, we're making it even harder -- intentionally -- for people to stay alive when they're down. Our shared 'bad attitude' leads to pain, great harm and needless loss of life. In some hard-to-define way, I believe, these mean and obsolete social values lessen any meaning in our own lives, too.

Let's give up a mite of our collective "comfort zone" in order to soften the hell of people daily at risk. Is this unreasonable? Can we not restore the MARGINS of society, as educator and anti-homelessness advocate Peter Marin writes about, so those who can't deal with the whole tapestry of tasks and responsibilities needed to mainstream all at once do not have to get destroyed, including killed, by these social mores and cultural memes and our community-wide lack of compassion?

I hope to write more in the future about these social patterns and policies and about what else we can do to change our mean behaviors.

Linda's Hearth postscript
*for metaphor-unfamiliar readers, This poem was inspired (maybe even largely 'channeled' - poetry can be like that) by Patches' death, which shocked me, about four months after I'd met her. However it is not "about" her in particular. It is about women who are abandoned by society, perhaps? It is about being homeless in the town where I raised my children, for sure. I hope it is about the correlation between "not seeing" and social violence?