It's the day before official publication date of my memoir, "Nowhere Else I Want to Be."
Here's an interivew POZ Magazine released today. I've also copied it, below: Stories of Courage From Homeless Women With AIDS Carol D. Marsh ran a residence for homeless women with AIDS. Then she wrote a memoir about it, titled Nowhere Else I Want to Be. January 9, 2017 • By Trenton Straube From 1996 to 2010, Carol D. Marsh was the founding executive director of Miriam’s House, a Washington, DC, residence for homeless women with AIDS. She and her husband also lived at the house, which served as home to over 150 women and nearly 30 of their children during her tenure (it remains in operation). We spoke with Marsh about Nowhere Else I Want to Be, her memoir about Miriam’s House. What compelled you to write the memoir? The world needed to hear from these women, to know their voices and stories. When I left because of chronic migraines, I started writing as part of my grieving process. I didn’t want to forget these women—they made such an impact on me. I hope to give a flavor of what the community was like and what personalities there were. The book reads like a collection of vivid profiles and scenes of communal life, like cooking meals, decorating for the holidays, watching movies. In fact, AIDS doesn’t seem like the main focus. So many of the women had so many issues—like abuse, neglect, poverty, prejudice, addiction—it was almost like AIDS was just one more thing to deal with. What would you describe as the main misperceptions the public has about the population you served? Speaking from my own experience, before [Miriam’s House], I just assumed they were less intelligent and lacking in higher moral acuity. I assumed they were mentally ill. It was easier to judge them from a distance and find them lacking and therefore say it’s their fault. I decry [that viewpoint] now, but I was that person at one point, partly because it was just too painful to contemplate that people had to live like that. I would imagine that people in general assume homeless women have nothing to say or teach the rest of us. What characteristic do you think helps these women meet their challenges? I remember saying, usually to staff, “I don’t think I’d be able to put a foot out of bed in the morning if I were facing the difficulties our residents are.” And if courage is defined as strength and persistence in the face of the grief and stress of life, then these women embody courage—and it’s humbling when you’re near it. I want to make sure not to romanticize it and pretend we walked around admiring each other. It was hard. But I’m grateful for my life at Miriam’s House and the women who were there. 4 Tips for Embracing DifferencesThe 2016 election seems to have divided us more than ever. But Carol D. Marsh knows firsthand it’s possible to overcome our fears of people who are different. Here, she offers insightful words that’ll help open our own hearts and minds.
0 Comments
For a while after election 2016, I worried about Democrats ignoring and/or not caring about white working class people. That's what I was hearing in the analysis, as Dems wrung their hands and began early and passionate debate about what went wrong.
Then, as Hillary's popular vote climbed into the 2 million+ range, I started to wonder. I still think Dems have missed a message and ought to re-group around the plight of people who feel forgotten and ignored by the Unites States government. But it's unfair (to put it mildly) that Hillary, with a life-time of advocacy for and work on behalf of women and children, is told she doesn't get this demographic, while the substance-free man with the viscious sound bites and rouse-the-crowd rhetoric gets more Electoral College votes. Shouldn't Democrats pay more attention to the 2016 popular vote result with its broad demographic range and decide to keep to the message of inclusivity? We don't have to discard or question the message to people of color, immigrants, LGBTQs, disabled persons, and women because the Electoral College is skewed to areas of the country that now vote mostly Republican. (Which also leads to the idea of Electoral College reform.) So here's an article that addresses my concerns, and that I thought others may want to read: It's from Steve Phillips, on Medium: HERE. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Elie Wiesel
I know we're supposed to think, well, the voters have spoken, the country will pull through this, just put your head down, do your best, wait and see, give it time. I just can't. Because the voters haven't spoken - the Electoral College has spoken, and has elected the candidate who lost the popular vote by 2.2 million and counting. I can't because I have dear friends, good and loving people, who are now scared, who have sat on my couch and cried or met me on the street with frightened eyes. These people are immigrants or lesbians or persons of color, and, for God sake, women. I can't because we have elected a man who brags about grabbing pussy. i can't wait it out because I can't even believe I typed that previous sentence and it's true. But there's more: we have elected a man who mockingly imitates a disabled person, who impugns and derides entire nations and religions, who has never done anything but line his own coffers and pimp his own brand. We have elected him while setting aside the woman who has been serving the public for decades, turning her cheek to smears and insults and attacks so that she can keep on serving. The one who did it all right, the way men have been doing it themselves: the best schools, the highest grades, working up the ladder, intense commitment. She did it the way men have been doing it and becoming President for a couple of centuries, only she is a woman and so it wasn't good enough. Thirty years fighting for families, women and children wasn't good enough because "I don't like her" is, crazily, reason enough to disregard her. An 8-year Senate record of collaboration across the aisle, collegial relationships and maximuum preparedness for meetings and hearings wasn't good enough because "she doesn't give off a warm feeling." Competence, experience and intelligence at the state, national and international levels weren't good enough because all the hounding and hearings and accusations since the mid-90's were, though they never proved anything, good enough for many people to cast doubt on her entire life and who she is at her core. And so it's good enough to elect instead a misogynist, racist, bigoted man. And my friends are scared. I'm taking their side. I'm scared. I'm angry. I'm won't be neutral. It's probably no coincidence that I watched the film, Gravity, last night. But the thought didn't occur to me until later during the sleepless night and I began thinking about the election and how it has made me feel.
The movie's visual effects included space trash speeding into and destroying whole space stations, astronauts spinning out of control and untethered into space and frantically grabbing for life-saving handholds in a gravity-free environment. All apt metaphors for how I feel and, it seems, how a plurality of the country's voters feel right now. After several days of allowing grief to have its way (not that it's over, just that I needed to step aside and honor this part of my process), I'm looking around for handholds. Today I have two. The first is intellectual, and something I've been thinking about for a while: electoral reform. Ideas I'm interested in and following are: 1) Remaking the electoral college not by constitutional change, but by statute. So far, ten states and D.C have voted for a change at the state level that makes a lot of sense to me; 2) Eliminate jerrymandering of Congressional districts; 3) Repeal Citizens United (I know, fat chance now that Republicans have most of the legislative, and - soon - judicial, power, but still). My second hand-hold consists of self-care practices I've developed to deal with the pain of chronic migraine disease: 1) Remember to breathe deeply and slowly, soften my hands and belly, smile just a bit. A cup of tea. 2) Step away as needed from noise, chaos, news, and other anxiety-making things around me; 3) Go to the Y for a workout even when I really don't feel like it; 4) Meditation, reflection and prayer. 5) This is the handhold I determined on during those first shocked moments when the election was called for Trump, and the one that remains strong, if hard to follow: I promised myself I would not descend into hatred. That determination includes rejecting the impulse to do as the Republicans have done to Obama and Hillary Clinton - deride every move and word, refuse to see anything positive in the person or the policies, block all cooperation and collaboration out of sheer vindictiveness, and make up and disseminate lies. I must admit, though I'm not proud of it, the impulse to hatefulness is in me. Parts of me feel vengeful, self-righteous and radically unwilling to stick to the high road. Give them a taste of their own medicine! It's their fault we're in this mess! Even typing the previous paragraph makes my blood boil, and yet I know I'll be unhappy with myself, ultimately, if I allow those lower impulses to triumph. I need to stop and take some deep breaths. But first I need to make one thing clear: taking the high road precludes me from what I described above, but it also gives me a place from which to point out misogyny, racism, xeonphobia, white nationalism, and other forms of prejudice (against persons with disabilities, for example) I fear have become normalized by President-Elect Trump. < breathe > < breathe > < breathe > Today is election day, I have my 'nasty woman' tee-shirt ready to wear for result-watching tonight, and though I'm not suspicious, I don't dare not wear it. And also on my mind is what we've been through for the past eighteen months, especially the nastiness, hate and disrespect I've heard mostly from Trump but also once from Hillary ("basket of deplorables").
This country hasn't come off well in this election season, something I suppose you could say about most election seasons. This one, though, is different than any other, most experts I've heard agree. For myself, I do not understand, will never understand, why people think it's OK to speak mockingly and hatefully of people who seem different. Didn't we all learn better than that in kindergarten? Good teachers of young children know that to keep an atmosphere conducive to learning and growth, you establish cooperation and respect in your classroom. You corral the kids' wilder, childish and unguarded impulses into manners that make space for development of personalities and minds into future citizens. You nurture each one as an individual while reining in and retraining behaviors rooted in unreasoning fear of what's different or unexpected. Maybe what this country needs is some good kindergarten teachers scattered throughout the halls of power and election teams. Final word this election day: let's all go vote. |
Ruminations
This blog chronicles my work and thoughts as a writer. - Carol D. Marsh Archives
September 2017
Categories |