Human Rights in Our Own Backyard

I often rave about the great stuff going on at Eckerd College. But last weekend after all my years here (seven to be exact), I finally found my way to the University of Tampa. 

I caught the tale end of Human Rights Day, which featured UT instructors Chioke I'anson (also a Free Skooler, fellow WMNF'er & friend), and Drs. Bruce Friesen & Marcus Arvan.

Dr. Friesen covered the Kony 2012 video drama, highlighting its major problems. He ultimately, however, gave credit to the process, saying “as long as we get students exposed," he could get behind the work. 

Dr. Arvan disagreed. "We’re making our judgements from afar. It’s the people on the ground that know the needs.” 

Citing a lack of accountability and white savior complex of the organization behind the Kony video, Adjunct Prof I'anson, who has spent several summers in Uganda, argued that “Everything about Invisible Children is bad,”  

Last month he sat on an NYU panel with the IC and said they avoided answering all of his questions. He added, "Their videos do not transcend race but plays up racist predisposition." 

One solution I'anson offered was alternative narratives, that is, letting the Ugandans speak for themselves. 

UT senior Jasmine Eggestein, majoring in criminology, specifically human trafficking & cyber security, and junior Shelly Santos, a criminology major focusing on child protection attended the day's events. 

Giselle Rodriguez of the Florida Coalition Against Human Trafficking spoke earlier in the day about child exploitation. 

During Friesen's Kony 2012 discussion, she said “A lot of what they talked about has happened here in the US," in terms of gang initiations and other forms of violence and exploitation. 

Friesen added that human rights definitely starts at home. 

Hard Work, Fair Pay

It's easy to get overwhelmed by all the stuff there is to care about, in the world & locally. So why the heck should I give a hoot about something as small as a tomato?!


Because according to the Coalition of Immokalee Workers (CIW),  slavery in America didn't really end with the advent of Juneteenth and the 13th Amendment. They have been fighting a battle for fair wages with Publix, our fancy Florida supermarket chain, for years with no avail.


The CIW has had some other major successes though, with fast food chains and most recently Trader Joe's. 


While there has been some great reporting done locally and on the national level, there's nothing better than learning about an issue first hand. 


You can do that tomorrow when the Tampa Free Skool hosts a guest speaker from the CIW. From the Free Skool folks: 

This workshop shall cover the basics of the CIW's work with emphasis on the actions they have done and where the Campaign for Fair Food is now, specifically focusing on Publix. This workshop offers the opportunity for the community to get involved with a group making real concrete change for hard-working folks!

The workshop will be held at the Jimmie B Keel Regional Library on Saturday 3/3 from 1 p.m. - 2 p.m.

The Other Side of the Ocean

I've had a busy week doing the usual do-goodery, work and dodging tornadoes. I've also been entertaining a couple of friends from Ireland who are visiting the U.S. for the first time.

George & Manda 

Ronny met Manda and George several years ago when he played the Belladrum Festival in Scotland. The working class couple (social worker and union organizer) had won a pair of tickets to the festival, and when Ronny later toured Ireland he stayed with them at their home in Coleraine. 

The like-minded couple told me this week about Ireland's (great) ban on plastic bags, (sad) intolerance of pit bulls and their Wal-Mart-owned Asda chains stores.

I shared with them books by Native American author Sherman Alexie, pancakes with maple syrup and walking tours of Davis Islands and Ybor City.

We laughed (and cried) about corrupt humans/politicians in both our countries and around the world.  

As a high school U2 fangirl, I became obsessed with Irish culture. I read (okay, watched) In the Name of the Father and My Left Foot. My obsession gave way to my eventual obsessions with other war-torn cultures like Viet Nam, Kosovo, Sudan and Iraq. 




Manda told great stories about living their lives in Northern Ireland despite "the troubles." She had gone on a bus trip to Southern Ireland and as often happened on long trips, she got motion sickness. When the bus was stopped by British soldiers, Manda ran to the front of the bus and opened a window in just enough time to stick her head out before she threw up. It splattered at the feet of one young soldier. Her friend yelled from the back of the bus: "That's no way to show your politics, Manda!"


Another time there was a wedding in Belfast. Because of barricades around town, Manda was late bringing the flowers. The bride's 8-and-a-half month pregnant sister went into labor. When the wedding was over, the happy couple had to plow through a field in their small car to get to the airport on time for their honeymoon flight, but once they were back on the road the car broke down, so George walked to the next town for a cab. They just barely made their flight. 


Meeting Manda and George has reminded me that we humans certainly have more in common than not. With our love of food, humanity, and Ronny Elliott, I particularly have a lot in common with Manda and George. 


After meeting them, Ronny wrote the song "When the Showbands Played Coleraine." 

Mandy's got her hair up and her best Eartha Kitt look and she's okay 'til two a.m. George has got what's left of a paycheck in his billfold and a wink that says, "I don't give a damn!" We may as well stay for a few more songs. We've already missed the half past train. Mandy and George were dancing on clouds when the showbands played Coleraine.

WWNKD? (or Blame It on My Bleeding Heart)

I remember not liking to eat alone in my 20's, but taking myself out to lunch on a work day has become one of my favorite things about being alive (and employed).

I like the feeling of being a regular, counting the servers & owners among my friends. I also cherish the break from work that I spend noshing, scribbling, or just plain being.

After months of my weekly joyful lunching, Saturday was the first time I completely broke down upon returning to work to see a man who obviously was going without the basic necessities on a regular basis.

This was not a completely unanticipated event. I frequently walk around downtown and pass by plenty of people who panhandle; on every corner of every major (and minor) thoroughfare in this town, there stands a sad-eyed soul in a neon vest asking for help or money.

At the library, my coworkers and I know the names of many of these folks, we know their taste in movies, books, and music. We know which shelters they stay at, we know their names and faces when we see them out on the streets after the sun goes down and the library closes, when we get to go home.

During lunch on that particular Saturday, I had been thinking about a book I'm reading, Not on Our Watch. Lots of the photos in the book were taken by Nick Kristof, who writes about poverty, globalization and human rights for the NYT. I wondered how really hard core do-gooders can see this stuff (and much worse) day after day and still get through their days/lives without drugs/drink/breaking down.

Also fueling my tear ducts was an earlier conversation with co-worker/friend Emi, about how much we want to use our skills and ambition and energy to do good, but just can't seem to come up with exactly how or what we should do.

I don't think it's naive to care about others, but I'm getting increasingly frustrated because this is a case where action, not thoughts, counts most.