Black Woman Blogging's Gun Control Proposal
Thanks to a relative who sent me death threats, I became a gun owner. Reluctantly. What can I say. You don't choose your family.
That said, I'm for gun control.
As far as I'm concerned, America lost its moral compass when we didn't do squat after Sandy Hook. If you can allow a madman to murder children and not be moved to do nothing, you have no moral compass. Period.
Now that we've broken an unfortunate record for the number of people killed in a mass shooting, perhaps we as a country are ready to get our minds right about gun control. Perhaps. So in that spirit, I offer my gun control proposal.
First, we need to agree on some real (not alternative) facts and principles:
1. There is no such thing as an unlimited right. Yes, people, there are no unlimited rights protected under the Constitution. Your right to free speech? Well, not all speech is protected under the First Amendment and even protected speech can be limited by time, place and manner. Your right to own property? Well, eminent domain limits that. So any idea that you have a Second Amendment right to own as many guns as you want and as many kinds as you want? Fuggedaboutit.
2. More guns are not the answer. I listened to some fool from Gun Owners of American argue that if Las Vegas had not been a gun free zone, the victims of the Las Vegas shooting would have been able to defend themselves. Really, fool? Like they could have been able to return fire accurately from their distance? No, more guns are not the answer. And this line of B.S. that we need more "good guys" with guns to protect us from the "bad guys"? Simplistic B.S. What we need is to make it so that fewer people have guns to begin with. Fewer guns, lower risk.
3. Nobody should have better weapons than law enforcement. Nobody should be able to mow down law enforcement folks. So, to my mind, no one but law enforcement should have semiautomatic weapons and no one needs automatic weapons. If you need a semiautomatic or automatic weapon to hunt, maybe you need to get with some bow hunters who get the job done without any ammo 'cause you're not ready for gun ownership.
4. We need to learn from other countries that don't have as much gun violence as we do. I don't know what it is about America, but we act like no matter what we do, we do it better than any other country. Not so. If we want the greater peace and safety of countries that have less gun violence, we need to do what they do and learn from them.
With that in mind, here's my gun control proposal:
1. You get no more than two guns per person: One for protection, one for hunting. That's it. Even if you're ambidextrous, you can only shoot two guns at a time. The more guns you have, the more of a danger you are to the rest of us.
2. No semiautomatic or automatic weapons. Because no one should have better guns than law enforcement. And no grandfathering in, so you will have to give up your semiautomatic or automatic guns.
3. If you have ever been convicted of a felony or adjudged to have been mentally ill, you don't get to own a gun. Ever. Sorry, not sorry. Again, there is no such thing as an unlimited right.
4. Every gun owner gets an annual federal background check, mental health screening, and gun safety class in order to get and keep a gun license. You don't get these done annually, a warrant is issued for your arrest, your guns confiscated, and you're done with gun ownership.
5. No alterations of weapons to make them semiautomatic or automatic. If you alter your weapons, you lose them and your right to own guns. Bump stock and other alterations will be outlawed.
6. Bullets will be taxed to pay for gun control.
That's it. Simple. Clear.
Now let's see what our elected leaders do about it.
What White House Journalists Can Learn From the Chauncey Bailey Project: How to Journalistically Crowdsource the Trump/Russia Investigation
With President Trump's firing of FBI Director James Comey, one thing has become apparent: A truly independent investigation of any ties between the Russian government and the Trump presidential campaign will only be accomplished by the free press, for however long it remains free.
There is precedent for journalists coming together across a variety of platforms to conduct an investigation together and report on it: The Chauncey Bailey Project.
Those of you who know me personally know of my brief interactions with the late Chauncey Bailey, a respected Oakland journalist who was killed investigating criminal activities of the Your Muslim Bakery in Oakland. Journalists from television, print, radio, the Robert C. Maynard Institute for Journalism Education, the Center for Investigative Journalism, and the U.C. Berkeley Graduate School of Journalism came together to pick up where Chauncey Bailey was stopped in his investigation by murder and to investigate his murder themselves. They agreed on ground rules about sharing what they found and publishing across platforms. Their work ultimately led to arrest and prosecution of Bailey's murderer. In short, these journalists journalistically crowdsourced the investigation into the Your Muslim Bakery and Bailey's murder.
The importance of the Chauncey Bailey Project is that journalists didn't wait for the government to investigate Bailey's death. It may have been the idea of a journalist being gunned down in America for doing his job that galvanized journalists from competing platforms and organizations to make sure justice was done and the truth was told.
I don't mean to trivialize Chauncey Bailey's murder, but the stakes with the investigation into the Russian connections to the Trump presidential campaign are at least as high as the stakes in the investigation into Chauncey's murder because of the potential for upending American democracy as we know it. Trump's attacks on the media, the intelligence community, and pretty much anyone capable of getting to the truth of the matter are highly disturbing. The firing of FBI Director Comey while the FBI was in the midst of investigating this very matter smacks of Watergate. The Congress, unlike the Watergate Congress, is hopelessly compromised by the Republicans' intoxication with their own power. The late Senator Howard Baker, a Republican from Tennessee who played a pivotal role in the Watergate hearings and was known as the "Great Conciliator,' would not claim these Republicans. Or, he would woodshed them.
So instead of being mad about Sean Spicer hiding "among" the bushes of the White House or Trump's threat to end press briefings, White House journalists need to come together a la the Chauncey Bailey Project and do their own investigation of Russia's involvement in the Trump campaign and the 2016 American election. The freedoms that still exist that allow them to do their work demand no less.
There is precedent for journalists coming together across a variety of platforms to conduct an investigation together and report on it: The Chauncey Bailey Project.
Those of you who know me personally know of my brief interactions with the late Chauncey Bailey, a respected Oakland journalist who was killed investigating criminal activities of the Your Muslim Bakery in Oakland. Journalists from television, print, radio, the Robert C. Maynard Institute for Journalism Education, the Center for Investigative Journalism, and the U.C. Berkeley Graduate School of Journalism came together to pick up where Chauncey Bailey was stopped in his investigation by murder and to investigate his murder themselves. They agreed on ground rules about sharing what they found and publishing across platforms. Their work ultimately led to arrest and prosecution of Bailey's murderer. In short, these journalists journalistically crowdsourced the investigation into the Your Muslim Bakery and Bailey's murder.
The importance of the Chauncey Bailey Project is that journalists didn't wait for the government to investigate Bailey's death. It may have been the idea of a journalist being gunned down in America for doing his job that galvanized journalists from competing platforms and organizations to make sure justice was done and the truth was told.
I don't mean to trivialize Chauncey Bailey's murder, but the stakes with the investigation into the Russian connections to the Trump presidential campaign are at least as high as the stakes in the investigation into Chauncey's murder because of the potential for upending American democracy as we know it. Trump's attacks on the media, the intelligence community, and pretty much anyone capable of getting to the truth of the matter are highly disturbing. The firing of FBI Director Comey while the FBI was in the midst of investigating this very matter smacks of Watergate. The Congress, unlike the Watergate Congress, is hopelessly compromised by the Republicans' intoxication with their own power. The late Senator Howard Baker, a Republican from Tennessee who played a pivotal role in the Watergate hearings and was known as the "Great Conciliator,' would not claim these Republicans. Or, he would woodshed them.
So instead of being mad about Sean Spicer hiding "among" the bushes of the White House or Trump's threat to end press briefings, White House journalists need to come together a la the Chauncey Bailey Project and do their own investigation of Russia's involvement in the Trump campaign and the 2016 American election. The freedoms that still exist that allow them to do their work demand no less.
Retired Man Walking: Too Young to Retire, Too Old to Take Shit
A while back I ran into a friend and fellow professional employed by the State of California, and he offered me his perspective on State employment as a tail-end Baby Boomer like myself -- someone who can't retire because he lacks the requisite age or years of service, but, unlike myself, is tired of taking shit from superiors who don't know what to do with you.
Although my friend gave his permission for me to use his name in this blog entry, I decline to do so because what he does is so specialized that it would not be hard for anyone to identify him as one of the few African American men, if not the only African-American man, in California state civil service who does what he does. For purposes of this blog entry, I will refer to him as he now refers to himself: Retired Man Walking.
Retired Man Walking, or RMW, has an interesting philosophy he applies to working for the State as a professional who isn't old enough to retire but has been around long enough to know the score. Like many state workers of his age, race, and qualifications, he encounters roadblocks to advancement because the State of California doesn't reward intelligence, achievement, innovation or efficiency among its rank and file employees; oh no, the only thing the State of California rewards is seniority. You could die waiting for the few spots above you in the hierarchy to open up when someone retires or, well, dies, no matter how stellar you might be.
Like many other African-American professionals in state civil service, he encounters "intelligence racism": The cognitive dissonance experienced by whites and sometimes people of other races when they simply cannot believe the intelligent words and ideas coming from your African-American mouth are, well, coming from your African-American mouth. Because they cannot reconcile your race with your intelligence, which is oftentimes superior to theirs, they endeavor to disprove your intelligence or undermine you in some other way as undeserving of what little stature you have.
At the other end of the spectrum, RMW, like many other African-American professionals in state civil service, also experiences being a financially pimped out professional by the State enjoying the benefit of his college and graduate education without paying you enough to cover the burden of the student loans necessary to pay for that college and graduate education. Too Short ain't got nothin' on the State of California when it comes to pimpin' professionals.
However, RMW has adopted a philosophy I found so intriguing that I felt compelled to share it with you. He's adopted a policy of not allowing himself to be stressed out by the intelligence racism, lack of upward mobility and the like, and here's why:
He wants to live long after he retires.
RMW noted how many people retire only to die shortly after, oftentimes from diseases that are stress-related, like heart disease, stroke, cancer and the like. As he puts it, "How you live the 25 years before you retire will determine whether and how you live the 25 years after you retire." RMW is determined to not let workplace stress cause him to develop diseases that will cheat him out of a long and healthy retirement.
As a result, he has declared himself to be "Retired Man Walking." He simply does not care anymore. As he put it, "I have two speeds at work -- slow and stop." He's not trying to prove anything, impress anyone, or race to get things done. He takes full advantage of alternate work schedules, vacation days, and breaks during the day. It's just not worth it to him to get stressed out in the last years before retirement. He has "retired in place."
As for upward mobility and the lack thereof, he likens them to the ephemeral traffic jam on I-80 west going from Sacramento toward San Francisco. "Notice how the traffic always backs up around Berkeley and Emeryville? Did you ever notice how there's no traffic over there by the Berkeley Marina, and if you get off near the marina and go around, you can get back on 80 and beat the traffic? Upward mobility in the State is like that -- sometimes you have to get off and go around to move up."
Very wise, indeed.
Here's to a long and healthy retirement, RMW.
Although my friend gave his permission for me to use his name in this blog entry, I decline to do so because what he does is so specialized that it would not be hard for anyone to identify him as one of the few African American men, if not the only African-American man, in California state civil service who does what he does. For purposes of this blog entry, I will refer to him as he now refers to himself: Retired Man Walking.
Retired Man Walking, or RMW, has an interesting philosophy he applies to working for the State as a professional who isn't old enough to retire but has been around long enough to know the score. Like many state workers of his age, race, and qualifications, he encounters roadblocks to advancement because the State of California doesn't reward intelligence, achievement, innovation or efficiency among its rank and file employees; oh no, the only thing the State of California rewards is seniority. You could die waiting for the few spots above you in the hierarchy to open up when someone retires or, well, dies, no matter how stellar you might be.
Like many other African-American professionals in state civil service, he encounters "intelligence racism": The cognitive dissonance experienced by whites and sometimes people of other races when they simply cannot believe the intelligent words and ideas coming from your African-American mouth are, well, coming from your African-American mouth. Because they cannot reconcile your race with your intelligence, which is oftentimes superior to theirs, they endeavor to disprove your intelligence or undermine you in some other way as undeserving of what little stature you have.
At the other end of the spectrum, RMW, like many other African-American professionals in state civil service, also experiences being a financially pimped out professional by the State enjoying the benefit of his college and graduate education without paying you enough to cover the burden of the student loans necessary to pay for that college and graduate education. Too Short ain't got nothin' on the State of California when it comes to pimpin' professionals.
However, RMW has adopted a philosophy I found so intriguing that I felt compelled to share it with you. He's adopted a policy of not allowing himself to be stressed out by the intelligence racism, lack of upward mobility and the like, and here's why:
He wants to live long after he retires.
RMW noted how many people retire only to die shortly after, oftentimes from diseases that are stress-related, like heart disease, stroke, cancer and the like. As he puts it, "How you live the 25 years before you retire will determine whether and how you live the 25 years after you retire." RMW is determined to not let workplace stress cause him to develop diseases that will cheat him out of a long and healthy retirement.
As a result, he has declared himself to be "Retired Man Walking." He simply does not care anymore. As he put it, "I have two speeds at work -- slow and stop." He's not trying to prove anything, impress anyone, or race to get things done. He takes full advantage of alternate work schedules, vacation days, and breaks during the day. It's just not worth it to him to get stressed out in the last years before retirement. He has "retired in place."
As for upward mobility and the lack thereof, he likens them to the ephemeral traffic jam on I-80 west going from Sacramento toward San Francisco. "Notice how the traffic always backs up around Berkeley and Emeryville? Did you ever notice how there's no traffic over there by the Berkeley Marina, and if you get off near the marina and go around, you can get back on 80 and beat the traffic? Upward mobility in the State is like that -- sometimes you have to get off and go around to move up."
Very wise, indeed.
Here's to a long and healthy retirement, RMW.
Poverty of Imagination Is A Sin Against Yourself
Sometimes in life, you have to imagine yourself to where you want to be. You have to create where you want to be in your life in your mind first, see what no one else can see, and speak, create, and work what only you can imagine into existence. You especially have to do this when you don't see around you what you aspire to be, see, or do.
The inability to do this is what I would call "poverty of imagination." I see it all around me.
I even accused a dear friend of mine of suffering from this. She was taken aback, offended. I told her that, in imagining all the possible ways a legal conflict could be settled to the benefit of her client, she failed to imagine other options for no other reason than that they had never been done before.
"That, my friend," I declared, "is poverty of imagination."
I then told her the story of my dad and uncle that epitomized poverty of imagination, as told to me by one of my younger uncles.
When my dad and my uncle, his next oldest brother in age, were young children, they picked cotton alongside my widowed grandmother in the rural South during the 1930's. My uncle said to my dad, "When we grow up, we're going to be rich, so rich that our mama is going to pick cotton in a SILK dress, not burlap!" My dad agreed.
Neither of them could imagine the possibility of being so rich that their mother, my grandmother, would not have to pick cotton at all.
Poverty of imagination. And poverty of imagination is worse than poverty of one's real life situation because the failure to imagine yourself out of your present circumstances will keep you in your present circumstances, no matter what they are. Even if those circumstances are not dire, if they are not what you want, and what you want doesn't exist, you have to imagine your way out. Your imagination is the only way out because everything starts with an idea and an intention.
I've seen this with family members who immediately disqualify themselves from a position they're interviewing for because they can't imagine that the hiring powers that be would hire them. I see this in folks who can't imagine doing anything other than the work they're doing that they hate. I see it when I sit in meetings and hear coworkers say, "We've just never done it that way before."
Poverty. Of. Imagination.
I believe poverty of imagination is a sin against one's self. Why? Who gave you that imagination? GOD! HE put that ideas in YOU. HE gives you the ability to imagine something different than your circumstances. When you don't even try to imagine something different or when you reject something different simply because you've never seen it done before, it's like saying to God, "Nah, I'm good. What You, Father God, have in store for me? Nah, I'll pass."
REALLY? Because what HE has for you is for YOU. And HE isn't always going to make it appear in the physical realm. HE puts it in your mind. It's there for you to imagine, if and only if you are open to it. If, in the words of The Rock, you are smelling what the Creator is cooking.
Are you?
I'm as guilty as the next person of poverty of imagination. Right now, there are so many changes happening at my current workplace that I have been asked by coworkers whether I will be staying to see those changes through, whether I have any other plans that would cause me to jump ship, so to speak. They tell me that the skills and exposure I have gained in my current situation make me extremely marketable as an attorney. They say these things with what looks like a mixture of curiosity and fear in their eyes.
I told my coworkers that, no, I have no plans to leave until I finish the projects I started.
And then I broke free from my poverty of imagination and spoke my next phase of life into existence by saying this:
"But this is my last legal job."
The inability to do this is what I would call "poverty of imagination." I see it all around me.
I even accused a dear friend of mine of suffering from this. She was taken aback, offended. I told her that, in imagining all the possible ways a legal conflict could be settled to the benefit of her client, she failed to imagine other options for no other reason than that they had never been done before.
"That, my friend," I declared, "is poverty of imagination."
I then told her the story of my dad and uncle that epitomized poverty of imagination, as told to me by one of my younger uncles.
When my dad and my uncle, his next oldest brother in age, were young children, they picked cotton alongside my widowed grandmother in the rural South during the 1930's. My uncle said to my dad, "When we grow up, we're going to be rich, so rich that our mama is going to pick cotton in a SILK dress, not burlap!" My dad agreed.
Neither of them could imagine the possibility of being so rich that their mother, my grandmother, would not have to pick cotton at all.
Poverty of imagination. And poverty of imagination is worse than poverty of one's real life situation because the failure to imagine yourself out of your present circumstances will keep you in your present circumstances, no matter what they are. Even if those circumstances are not dire, if they are not what you want, and what you want doesn't exist, you have to imagine your way out. Your imagination is the only way out because everything starts with an idea and an intention.
I've seen this with family members who immediately disqualify themselves from a position they're interviewing for because they can't imagine that the hiring powers that be would hire them. I see this in folks who can't imagine doing anything other than the work they're doing that they hate. I see it when I sit in meetings and hear coworkers say, "We've just never done it that way before."
Poverty. Of. Imagination.
I believe poverty of imagination is a sin against one's self. Why? Who gave you that imagination? GOD! HE put that ideas in YOU. HE gives you the ability to imagine something different than your circumstances. When you don't even try to imagine something different or when you reject something different simply because you've never seen it done before, it's like saying to God, "Nah, I'm good. What You, Father God, have in store for me? Nah, I'll pass."
REALLY? Because what HE has for you is for YOU. And HE isn't always going to make it appear in the physical realm. HE puts it in your mind. It's there for you to imagine, if and only if you are open to it. If, in the words of The Rock, you are smelling what the Creator is cooking.
Are you?
I'm as guilty as the next person of poverty of imagination. Right now, there are so many changes happening at my current workplace that I have been asked by coworkers whether I will be staying to see those changes through, whether I have any other plans that would cause me to jump ship, so to speak. They tell me that the skills and exposure I have gained in my current situation make me extremely marketable as an attorney. They say these things with what looks like a mixture of curiosity and fear in their eyes.
I told my coworkers that, no, I have no plans to leave until I finish the projects I started.
And then I broke free from my poverty of imagination and spoke my next phase of life into existence by saying this:
"But this is my last legal job."
Progressives, Liberals, Democrats and Trump: No Quarter Asked Nor Given
Now that Donald J. Trump is the president of the United States, progressives, liberals and Democrats need to wrap their mind around a wartime concept that violates The Hague Convention:
No quarter asked nor given.
What does that mean? According to Wikipedia, in war, a victor gives "no quarter" (or takes no prisoners) when the victor shows no clemency or mercy and refuses to spare the life of a vanquished opponent in return for their unconditional surrender.
No amount of protest or persuasion is going to change the fact that President Trump has no intention of compromising on the more inflammatory ideals he campaigned on -- the wall, repealing Obamacare, not acknowledging climate change, rolling back regulations because they are regulations, a Muslim registry, the deportation of Dreamers.
Republicans are so drunk with their power that they don't care what ideological compromises they made to get it. They backed a sexist, racist, xenophobic, Islamaphobic candidate without remorse. The President's inaugural speech showed no signs of trying to heal wounds and create an inclusive vision of America. Nope, he played to his base. I don't know what the Republican party stands for anymore. Neither do they.
But I do know this: Unlike Chrisette Michele, my dignity is not for sale and not for compromise. "No quarter asked nor given" is, for me, a battle cry. I will ask no quarter from this administration and expect none. I expect that the institutions and ideals that President Obama held dear and fought for will be eliminated, undermined, and under constant attack. I expect that no matter who is hurt, especially with the repeal of the Affordable Care Act -- and, dear broke-ass red state people, that means "Obamacare," since you don't know they are one in the same -- President Trump will try to deliver on his populist promises. And the Republican party, with a majority in both houses of Congress, will piggyback on Trump's agenda by adding in their own policy wet dreams -- defunding Planned Parenthood, drilling off the coasts and in Alaska, you name it.
I intend to do what I said I'd do: Put my family and friends in a position to weather this political storm until 2018 or 2020. I will weather this political storm because I firmly believe in the strength and resilience that was imbued in me by my black parents and in them by their black parents. But I will not attempt to persuade or negotiate with people who share Trump's beliefs for any compromise or, as many have suggested, "get behind the new president." No, this president is unlike any other. I know of no president in my lifetime who came to office by insulting an entire race of people (Mexicans), an entire religion (Islam), a disabled person, women, the free (for now) press, Gold Star parents, even Republican standard bearer John McCain. I don't care how many jobs President Trump promises or delivers, I will not normalize achieving political power by demeaning people based on race, gender, religion -- you know, the same kinds of categories that are protected from discrimination under federal law, at least for now. To do so would be to compromise my dignity, the dignity that my ancestors fought and died for. The dignity that Chrisette Michele sold for $750,000 and won't ever be able to buy back. (Can you tell I'm a disappointed Chrisette Michele fan?)
I will not normalize the administration of Donald J. Trump. I. Will. Not.
No quarter asked nor given.
No quarter asked nor given.
What does that mean? According to Wikipedia, in war, a victor gives "no quarter" (or takes no prisoners) when the victor shows no clemency or mercy and refuses to spare the life of a vanquished opponent in return for their unconditional surrender.
No amount of protest or persuasion is going to change the fact that President Trump has no intention of compromising on the more inflammatory ideals he campaigned on -- the wall, repealing Obamacare, not acknowledging climate change, rolling back regulations because they are regulations, a Muslim registry, the deportation of Dreamers.
Republicans are so drunk with their power that they don't care what ideological compromises they made to get it. They backed a sexist, racist, xenophobic, Islamaphobic candidate without remorse. The President's inaugural speech showed no signs of trying to heal wounds and create an inclusive vision of America. Nope, he played to his base. I don't know what the Republican party stands for anymore. Neither do they.
But I do know this: Unlike Chrisette Michele, my dignity is not for sale and not for compromise. "No quarter asked nor given" is, for me, a battle cry. I will ask no quarter from this administration and expect none. I expect that the institutions and ideals that President Obama held dear and fought for will be eliminated, undermined, and under constant attack. I expect that no matter who is hurt, especially with the repeal of the Affordable Care Act -- and, dear broke-ass red state people, that means "Obamacare," since you don't know they are one in the same -- President Trump will try to deliver on his populist promises. And the Republican party, with a majority in both houses of Congress, will piggyback on Trump's agenda by adding in their own policy wet dreams -- defunding Planned Parenthood, drilling off the coasts and in Alaska, you name it.
I intend to do what I said I'd do: Put my family and friends in a position to weather this political storm until 2018 or 2020. I will weather this political storm because I firmly believe in the strength and resilience that was imbued in me by my black parents and in them by their black parents. But I will not attempt to persuade or negotiate with people who share Trump's beliefs for any compromise or, as many have suggested, "get behind the new president." No, this president is unlike any other. I know of no president in my lifetime who came to office by insulting an entire race of people (Mexicans), an entire religion (Islam), a disabled person, women, the free (for now) press, Gold Star parents, even Republican standard bearer John McCain. I don't care how many jobs President Trump promises or delivers, I will not normalize achieving political power by demeaning people based on race, gender, religion -- you know, the same kinds of categories that are protected from discrimination under federal law, at least for now. To do so would be to compromise my dignity, the dignity that my ancestors fought and died for. The dignity that Chrisette Michele sold for $750,000 and won't ever be able to buy back. (Can you tell I'm a disappointed Chrisette Michele fan?)
I will not normalize the administration of Donald J. Trump. I. Will. Not.
No quarter asked nor given.
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