Sorry I've been gone so long.....

To all of my readers ( as if I ever really had any):

Life was calling. Now I am no longer unemployed and I am finished with library school. Although my blog hasn't seen much activity from me or readers lately. This is about to change. Expect lots more posts and poems. And posts about poems.

Feel free to email me and let me know what you think of what you read here at my blog. Also drop me a line if there is a cause you would like for me to know about. You never know it just might end up in one my poems.

More to come soon,
Deborah

A Diamond in the Rough: Cleaning up New Orleans Public Library's Nora Navra branch

As the bus took us from the downtown Sheraton hotel into the more gritter parts of the city, I watched through the window as the landscape gradually changed from opulent bistros and busy skyscrapers to empty package (read liquor) stores, abandoned mom and pop groceries, and desolate small businessess like Liberty Bank (no pun intended) which is directly across the street from the Nora Navra branch.

Although this is my fourth time in New Orleans (twice I visited for Mardi Gras and once I visited Xavier Univerisity), I have never seen the New Orleans that looks like this. I can't imagine how the residents of the 7th ward must feel when they look out on this bleak landscape. Every house tagged with a spraypainted eyesore--a jumble of letters and numbers--whose decoding is now familiar to all who watched on CNN as each house was searched by relief workers during the height of Katrina's flooding. The "X" contained valuable information aiding the relief workers in keeping up with the dewellings that had already been searched. Inside the "X" could be found the name of the organization that searched the dewelling and what was found inside the dewelling (the "DB" denoting a person's final resting place).


I have never been to Saraejevo, Baghdad, or Darfur. But for the first time in my life, I began to comprehend the phrase "war zone". The abandoned streets, the inncously deserted homes, the empty elementary schools, the vacant street corners, the absence of a city bus all spoke to the horrific events that had transpired here.

Once we arrived at the Nora Navra Branch, we were instructed by Hands on New Orleans' volunteer crew "to be careful", "use common sense," and "work in pairs." Finally the volunteer crew explained how to use the equipment--respirators, goggles, work gloves, and disposable contamination suits. As we stood on the outside of the Nora Navra Branch we couldn't imagine the damage we would find inside. Ten months of mold had rendered every piece of physical equipment useless in that building. From the books to the shelving, from the furniture to the computers, from the walls to the carpets. Everything had to go. Until the Nora Navra would only be a shell of its former self.

The Director of this branch couldn't bare the sight of the devastation-- declining to be present while we were there. Another director of a different New Orleans branch library was there and during water breaks began to reminisince about the library's rich history as it was "one of the first public library branches to admit people of color". He recounted how popular storytime was so much so that the activity overflowed the library space dedicated to it. The very lawn were were standing on drinking our bottled water was once filled to the brim with wide-eyed children hanging on to the story-teller's every word. It was hard to imagine now.

As sweat poured from my forehead, I discarded books by the handfuls, the cartfuls, and even the trash canfuls. The titles sometimes leaped at me. Other times they slid past my glazed over eyes. But some of the author's names stuck with me. Terri MacMillian. I remember distinctly discarded the shelf that held her books. The same with Alice Walker. As titles fell into the trash pile against the curb, I noticed the ones I had read at one point in my life. The pile of books grew and had to be contained alongside the curb but not on the sidewalk. One industrial-sized dumpster was already filled with books.

We were serious workers. Little time for chitchat. Even during breaks no useless words passed between us. For me, it was a reminder of what human beings can accomplish when we are willing to sacrifice a little time and a few amenities like air condition and running water. Remarkably only a few of us in the group of fourty people had met each other before.

In less than 6 hours we accomplished what it would have taken a workcrew at least a week if not more to accomplish. I have never been more proud of my profession than in this moment. I hope this inspires others to contribute their time and money to the New Orleans clean up effort. They certainly need our help. The hardest part--rebuilding--is yet to come. The American Library Association and librarians from all over the country began the effort. We need your help to finish it.

2006 ARL Leadership Symposium

Recently I had the honor of being chosen as a ARL Intiative to Recruit a Diverse Workforce Participant. One of the perks is getting an all expenses paid trip to the ARL Leadership Symposium where academic librarians across the country come to present to future librarians like myself. The cool thing about this Symposium was that it was preparing minority librarians to compete in a career dominated by the majority culture. The workshops included--Writing a Resume, Publishing in Academe, Networking, LibQual in Your Library, and much more!

This is a wonderful time to be a minority librarian! Particularly if you are working in an academic library. Because the funds are virtually unlimited to pursue library and information science education. And the jobs are unlimited to--provided you can relocate--as diversity fellowships and library residiences abound to give minority librarians cutting edge expertise in the field of academic librarianship.

Big props out to my mentors: Carla Hayden, Sybil Moses, Dr. E. J. Josey, Jerome Offord Jr. and last but not least Sylverna Ford--I wonder why I never hear your names mentioned in library school alongside Melville Dewey. Photos of this event soon to follow.

On Seeing Myself for the First Time

Sonia Sanchez and Toni Morrison in Winston-Salem, NC '94

It was like seeing myself for the first time
realizing it was me staring back at me.
Wondering how I got there when
I'm standing here.
More fascinating than seeing my
reflection in crazy house mirrors--
all my perfections magnified a thousand times

"Sister-girl, hey, its me looking right back at you."

We grip shoulders.
We stand nose to nose
in awe of each other.


I wrote this poem after seeing a photography exhibit by the great Eugene Redmond--part photographer, reporter, poet, and historical chronicler--who took pictures of the various writers who attended the conferences with him over the years. The pictures are a veritable cornucopia of black literary history. I only wish there was a book that I can purchase cause the exhibit left me wanting more--more of his photos coupled with various poet's work on the writers themselves. If you haven't read any classic Black or African-American literature, then do so quickly. Whether its Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man or Gwendolyn Brooks' A Street in Bronzeville or Sonia Sanchez's We a BaaaDDDD people. Embrace yourself today.

On Rosa Parks and Hurricane Katrina

I have been away for awhile. Not literally but electronically. But for those who have been enjoying my posts. Don't fret. So much has been going on in the so-called free world that I don't know where to begin.

I'll begin with the two things that have touched me the most in the past few months--Hurricane Katrina and Rosa Park's death. I won't get into how the poorest victims of Katrina are still being ignored or how the fight for Civil Rights is far from over. Just ask Mumia anyone else unjustly accussed, wrongfully convicted, and left to be slaughtered. Like many I feel we have a long way to go but we've come so far as well.

Since I recently moved to Tuscaloosa, AL I had the opportunity to see some of Hurricane Katrina's victims firsthand while they lived in the Recreation Center at The University of Alabama for several weeks. I am embarassed to say I only volunteered one evening throughout their entire stay. The gym was packed. The basketball floor covered with blanketed cots. The hallways peopled with the elderly--some in wheelchairs, the young--trying to figure out where they fit in, and finally the volunteers--who sometimes appeared more shell-shocked than the victims themselves.

I couldn't possibly imagine what it must be like to realize that everything you ever owned was gone and there was not a home to return to. As I helped pack up the truck of donated goodies--there was an overflow not enough room to store it all--I tried not to think about how the people inside the rec must feel. The desperation and confusion was palpable. And yes most of those staying in the Recreation Center were black and poor. And I am sure more came each day as their megar financial resources depleted and they could no longer afford the nightly hotel rates. While I was there a woman drove up who had been staying in the hotel for a few days but could no longer afford to and asked if there was room for her and her family. While the outpouring of help was great at the beginning, I am left wondering how the Hurricane victims are doing now.

Now that Hurricane Katrina no longer has the #1 spot in the nightly news are they still getting the help they need. While many glamorize New Orleans, there are still a few truth tellers out there who remark about the inhumane way many of the police treated the poorer citizens of Post Hurrican Katrina-New Orleans. There is no need for me to rehash the classism/racism arguments, the misspoken statments of well-known political figures, the heated statement of one musician/rapper on national television, or the countless first hand account blogs. It is obvious to anyone with eyes that there was mistreatment of many during the evacuation debacle. It is sad to see that a country that can help so many outside its borders failed to help its own in their time of need.

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Rosa Parks death touched me in a special way as I began to consider how much she accomplished with one courageous decision. While her actions weren't planned, they set a plan into action which historically became known as the Montgomery Bus Boycott. I hope my life can have some lasting impact. Her death reminded me of all the unsung heroes before her who refused to give up their seats but little is written about them. She is a reminder to us all how the single protest of one can turn into the voice of many demanding a change.

As for me I have taken my game to the next level and am currently working on my Masters in Library Science and Information Studies. Yes there is a science to libraries. So from time to time I will pass on interesting tid bits about this or that for all those info lovers out there who share my similiar interest. Normally I try to post something literary to the site, but since I started school I haven't had much time to focus on my creative writing. As a result, the nature of the posts will vary. Some will be creative when the spirit hits. Some will be observations I have made while living in the Deep South.

As always feel free to comment, to ask questions, to vent, or just to share.
Until next time,
Deborah

Public School Librarians: The Last Line of Defense

I know the title strikes you as absurd. How could a little old white-haired lady with wire-framed glasses perched on the tip of her nose and a perpetual sour look on her face be our last line of defense? Defense against what you might ask. All those who dare to speak above an audible whisper in a public place filled to the brim with dusty tomes. But the truth is even stranger than that.

With The Patriot Act’s numerous amendments in a post 9-11 world, the presidential re-election of George W. Bush, the over-due stay of American troops in Iraq, and the Christian religious right working over-time to destroy the separation of church and state and abolish the Bill of Rights which guarantees freedom of expression to all of its citizens, the library may be the last place you think needs defending, but nothing could be farther from the truth. The “thought police” are on the prowl at your local public school library and if certain books on the shelves don’t meet their guidelines then they could be permanently discarded from the library’s collection.

Banning books is not a new phenomenon but in the past it has usually been undertaken by overly protective parents one book, one public school at a time as parents see fit depending on their moral and social outlook . In the past some of the titles parents attempted to obliterate were classics such as Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye, J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, and most recently in 2004 “The Chocolate War for sexual content, offensive language, religious viewpoint, being unsuited to age group and violence” (See American Library Association’s Banned Books List 2004).

Now at the dawn of the Technological Age where unlimited amounts of information are at many adolescents’ fingertips with cell phones, I-pods, PDAS, laptops, and the Internet, the entire Alabama public school library system is under siege and not just one book is about to be thrown in the fire but a whole slew of them. In April in the Alabama state legislature, Republican lawmaker Gerald Allen attempted to pass a bill that stated “public school libraries could no longer buy new copies of plays or books by gay authors, or about gay characters” (“Alabama Bill Targets Gay Authors. April 27, 2005. CBS News).

At first the enormity of this concept is easily missed in the wake of a presidential election that was more about moral issues than social or economic ones, but when seen in a larger context this bill is a warning to all those who would take their “inalienable rights” for granted. If books with gay characters should be taken out of public school libraries why not take out books that depict people engaging in other “immoral” activities such as smoking, drinking, or pre-martial sex. Perhaps that sounds good to you.

But what if they also took out books that had black characters in them or books that had Nazi characters in them. Where would the line be drawn and who would draw it? And once drawn what would the citizens who pay taxes like you and who wanted to read those banned books do now? Now just who would the public school library be catering to—its heterosexual students, its Christian students, its Jewish students or its Anglo-Saxon students?

On an even deeper level, what would happen to American literature if only certain topics could be written about? Only those characters with “upstanding” lives be depicted. Only those plots with happy endings be created. Only those stories set in middle class suburbia where there is a Nuclear Family with a house with a white picket fence and a dog named Spot be told.

The library as a public place is a true testament to the democracy of America and its attempt to allow its citizens free access to all kinds of information from technical to educational to everything in between. While you may not agree with all of the viewpoints displayed in the books the library carries, their guaranteed presence in the library allows all citizens regardless of their race, religion, creed, ethnicity, age, education level, or political bent to find the information that they are looking for.

If you aren’t a frequent visitor to your library I suggest you start now. If you aren’t a Friend at your public library I suggest you join now and voice your views about reader rights, censorship, and freedom of speech or very soon there may be a fire truck coming to your house and they won’t be there to put out a fire but to start one—to burn up every last book you own. If you don’t believe me ask Ray Bradbury. Does art imitate life or what?

American Library Association's Library Bill of Rights
http://www.ala.org/ala/oif/statementspols/statementsif/librarybillrights.htm

Breaking the Silence on Sexual Violence

A close friend and I have been on a jogging kick-exercising 2-3 times a week--running approximately 3 miles. In order to celebrate our success (We can finally run 3 miles straight without feeling woozy or dazed), we decided to run a Take Back the Night 5k. The 5k, sponsored by The Memphis Sexual Assault Resource Center, was to raise funds to help victims of sexual assault/rape. Unfortunately we did not get to run this 5k as the race was scheduled for a Friday night and we both were too exhausted to even think about jogging at the end of a 40 hour work week.

Since we didn't get to support the victims I am posting a poem that deals with the issue of abuse in its various forms. As you read it, please commit to speaking out against sexual violence and help those who are struggling to get out of these damaging relationships. Let us not pass judgment, but kindness and compassion. Let us not speak words of condemnation but words of ecouragement. Let us not remain silent in the face of injustice. For silence too closely resembles consent.

There Will Be Silence

The destruction of our mother
at the hands of another is a thing
we whisper about late nights on the phone.
But when my sister comes home from college
there will be silence complete as the grave.

We will say nothing about the bruises:
the bandage on her wrist, the circle near her eye.
We will say nothing because there are no words for this.
Anger is too weak. Hate takes too much energy.
We have none; we have spent ours being silent.