Of Superpredators and a Poem

Hola mi Gente,

Note, I am not a Bernie Sanders supporter, but I will not be voting for him or Hillary. Hillary’s record as an active FLOTUS who pushed for policies that helped her husband lock up more (mostly black and brown) people than any other president in history, and her record as a senator continuing those punitive policies, disqualifies her from my vote.

Her response to activist, Ashley Williams, who confronted Clinton about her comments 20 years ago calling young black children “superpredators” was dismissive, belligerent, and quite telling. However, my biggest problem with the discussion of the myth of the superpredator is the denial that it had racist overtones. No one, not even the snake oil salesmen who pushed the myth deny it had a racial component. One of the purveyors of this shameless poison, James Fox, warned of a “bloodbath” of teen violence and in a report to the U.S. Attorney general, said, “Our nation faces a future juvenile violence problem that may make today’s epidemic pale in comparison” He called attention in particular to the projected growth in the black teenage population (ages 14-17), which he predicted would increase 26% by 2005.

Any questions?

Today it’s all about art. This is one of mine written a long time ago…

* * *

Wendy Whitelaw, Park Avenue, July 1981

Wendy Whitelaw, Park Avenue, July 1981

Yesterdays [no. 3]

A case of Bacardi for the crazy ladies
in the corner of my past,
the hectic, horny days
of yesterday!

They beckon me back
to my forgotten madnesses,
the chest-pounding blackouts
that have grown into story-time delights.

Sure, they often left before dawn
to test my memory
with a perfumed and pummeled pillow.

And they sprayed me with
ashtrays,
broken bottles,
cans of habichuelas,
and all their sadnesses
to leave me forever bruised and bleeding.

But they cared,
these crazy ladies,
at least as much as they could…

So let’s hear it for the courageous ones
who gave these hilarious crimes to me
as evidence that I once lived.

They are the only souls I still know
who can tell me what I used to be
and why.

* * *

            My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization…

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