A few weeks ago my daughter got a bee in her bonnet about wanting to help homeless people. Like many of her peers she has begun to notice the world outside of herself and has run into panhandlers on the street, outside the Co-op, at highway exit ramps.
She had no interest in giving to shelters, or buying toys for toy drives. It had to be directly to the very people she saw on the street. Continue reading
Grief lasts a lot longer than anger. Anger burns itself out, but grief comes in steady waves.
When I look around at the tremendous outpouring of #BlackLivesMatter activism of these past weeks, of I Can’t Breathe marches, of schoolchildren and congressional aides walking out and dying in, athletes speaking up, and beautiful acts of bravery and solidarity, I see a movement fueled by grief first. The anger is there too, of course, as it damn well should be, and it is powerful and articulate. But I see the staying power of this as being driven by a deep well of grief, and I think that’s likely part of its power. Continue reading
The story was very different, depending who told it.
To the organizers of the two affordable housing conferences I attended a few weeks ago, news that the Seattle Olive 8 hotel was under boycott by the hotel workers union for refusing to allow workers the choice to unionize came out of the blue. Continue reading