What is a criminal? Why do people steal? Have you ever read Les Miserables? If not, you should, and then you should read it again. After that, read A Christmas Carol. Those two novels say so much more about poverty, humanity and inhumanity.
That brings me to today's post. What is a criminal? What makes people steal? Is it a defect of character? Is it desperation? I think it depends. I have to tell you, if you look at Les Miserables, there really is no doubt who was the criminal, and who suffered from a character defect.
I think it's sad that we're so quick to judge. Most of the people I know who meet the technical definition of a criminal certainly have no character defects, but are most definitely desperate. I think that many times, that is what makes a so-called criminal. Like Jean Valjean, one steals to feed one's family. It's really that simple.
I'm not going to take the time now to talk about the people I consider to be the real criminals. I'll talk about the character defects if white-collar greed and criminality another time.
For now, I submit this video and article for your consideration: https://www.yahoo.com/parenting/cops-surprising-reaction-to-mom-daughter-123747691597.html
As you view it, I ask you to think about one more thing: Is there a difference between crime as committed by a white person, and crime as committed by a black person, even when the circumstance is exactly the same, i.e., it's all about feeding one's children. Is there a difference to the media? Is there a difference to law enforcement? Is there a difference to you?
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Heritage or HATE?
My brother called me today to reminisce about South Carolina. I knew IMMEDIATELY what he wanted to talk about. We are FROM North Carolina on my mother's side, and have no ties to South Carolina at all, but we often drove through. So I asked, "SC or
So on a drive from Alabama to perhaps New York, or maybe Pennsylvania (neither of us recalls which), we see a truck with a Confederate flag bumper sticker. My father, never one to mince words, promptly spit out, "asshole!" He never hid his hatred, yes, HATRED, of that symbol of hatred and oppression, nor his contempt for those who "flew" those colors.
At any rate, as we sped along - Daddy was going over the speed limit - a SC state trooper flashed his lights to pull us over. My father, some reason, attempted to evade the officer by pulling off at the very next exit. I say for some reason because I don't know, and my brother wasn't sure, either, if it was my father's hubris, or if it was his fear. What we both remember vividly is how angry and fearful our mother was. By the time the trooper pulled up behind us, my mother was well on her way to a full-blown panic attack. She was yelling at my father, telling him that he was going to get us killed, or the cop would take him away from us and put him in a Southern jail, where he would be killed, and we would all disappear. By the time the cop was out of his car, I was on the verge of tears and vomiting. But, we all held it together. We all managed to breathe and let my father convince that cop that my mother was giving him directions, he turned too soon, they were arguing, we were lost, and a whole litany of things that seemed to make sense. I'm not sure if it was my father's story, or if it was the fact that the cop couldn't make an Army officer and his entire family disappear, but he let us go. I was so relieved, I don't even recall if he issued a ticket; he probably did.
So, "heritage or hate"? The next time you wonder, please remember the hatred my father felt toward that symbol of so-called heritage. Remember the fear, deep and abject, that it casts in the heart of many who see it. Remember all the families torn apart, separated, beaten, lynched, murdered, stolen, oppressed, denied - remember all that HATRED, and then you will have your answer.
So on a drive from Alabama to perhaps New York, or maybe Pennsylvania (neither of us recalls which), we see a truck with a Confederate flag bumper sticker. My father, never one to mince words, promptly spit out, "asshole!" He never hid his hatred, yes, HATRED, of that symbol of hatred and oppression, nor his contempt for those who "flew" those colors.
At any rate, as we sped along - Daddy was going over the speed limit - a SC state trooper flashed his lights to pull us over. My father, some reason, attempted to evade the officer by pulling off at the very next exit. I say for some reason because I don't know, and my brother wasn't sure, either, if it was my father's hubris, or if it was his fear. What we both remember vividly is how angry and fearful our mother was. By the time the trooper pulled up behind us, my mother was well on her way to a full-blown panic attack. She was yelling at my father, telling him that he was going to get us killed, or the cop would take him away from us and put him in a Southern jail, where he would be killed, and we would all disappear. By the time the cop was out of his car, I was on the verge of tears and vomiting. But, we all held it together. We all managed to breathe and let my father convince that cop that my mother was giving him directions, he turned too soon, they were arguing, we were lost, and a whole litany of things that seemed to make sense. I'm not sure if it was my father's story, or if it was the fact that the cop couldn't make an Army officer and his entire family disappear, but he let us go. I was so relieved, I don't even recall if he issued a ticket; he probably did.
So, "heritage or hate"? The next time you wonder, please remember the hatred my father felt toward that symbol of so-called heritage. Remember the fear, deep and abject, that it casts in the heart of many who see it. Remember all the families torn apart, separated, beaten, lynched, murdered, stolen, oppressed, denied - remember all that HATRED, and then you will have your answer.
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Blogging By Popular Demand!
Just a brief "I'm still here" moment for Jo Marley. Read what I've posted over the years, in long, drawn-out spaces. Like what you see? I'll try to post more! I guess I'll have to put myself on a schedule, eh?
There's a lot going on in the world, friends, so watch this spot (maybe...)!
Kat
There's a lot going on in the world, friends, so watch this spot (maybe...)!
Kat
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