#PSOTU2019 Story Portal

Welcome to the #PSOTU2019 Story Portal. The People's State of the Union is an annual civic ritual and participatory art project. At Story Circles across the country, people are responding to any of the following prompts: 1) Share a story about an experience that gave you insight into the state of our union; 2) Share a story about a time you felt a sense of belonging—or the opposite—to this nation or your community; 3) Share a story of an experience that inspired you to take action in the past year. Stories will inspire collaboratively composed Poetic Addresses to the Nation from communities across the country. To submit your story, click on the menu bar and select "Share Your Story."

[psotu19]

A Free-for-All State of Mind

     In 2019 is it safe to say the United States government has failed in providing us citizens with overall adequate healthcare?  Bc it sure feels that way at times and me pains me to witness our country in such distress and pharmaceutical debt.  To see people who are suffering, along with their loved ones (if they’re fortunate to even have family and friends), not knowing what to do, or where to turn.

     Throughout the years I’ve had several encounters with the Los Angeles health care system.  I’ve experienced the system as a private insurance member and with county-funded Medi-Cal.  I’ve been to fancy UCLA high-rise towers, and I’ve waited outside the Hudson in a snake-like line that coiled around the block as early as 5am in the core of downtown.  At the prior there were good facilities yet unorganized bureaucracy, loss of medical files (samples even), and patient privacy issues.  At the latter were dire conditions surrounded by those in desperate need- homeless, minorities, families and children- with defeated expressions, entering a facility with limited funds and capabilities that could only help them so much.  I’ve been on the pharmacy floor of the USC hospital (East LA) awaiting my name to be displayed on a giant, digitally-lit panel- resembling those you approach for airline info to your final destination. I’d wait forever for my name to flash and once it did…it was for everyone else there to see. On a particularly embarrassing day they’d even call out my meds…for everyone else there to hear.

     I’ve been through a lot, not only in the California system, but in other US places I’ve lived- Alabama, Florida, and Washington D.C. I’ve seen loved ones and acquaintances navigate it- some, although few, successfully, and others, unfortunately more so, unsuccessfully. And it sadly seems we have an ill system that’s cancer-riddled with darkness and greediness. Doctors who enter the profession with good intentions but shamefully resort to checking their watches more often than their patients’ vitals. Pharmaceutical reps who are unremorsefully seen before patients (this happened to me in Turkey but still- they learn it from us).  Pharmaceutical royalty and lobbyists eventually dying from the same poisons they helped generate and disseminate. I only have observations to offer at this point. But I do encourage all of us to research how healthcare operates in other countries- yes, European countries are much smaller than the US but there’s a lot we can learn from them- there’s a lot we can learn from our own bordering neighbors as well.  You’re anti-universal healthcare? Great, I’m anti- any US citizen spending $2,500 a month on meds to survive.  Perhaps we can meet in the middle. Because how many State of the Unions must we have until we get it right.

[psotu19]

The Westland's Shasta Dam Raise will flood the Winnemem Wintu and drown their way of life

I'm Misa Joo.

 Wil and I moved here just in October. We don't know very many people here outside of the Winnemem Tribe.  We're happy to be here.

My story begins by saying I'm a Japanese American, third generation. My grandparents are immigrants. They came to Idaho. We are farm workers, and we worked the land for as long as I lived in Idaho.  I am following the Winnemem Wintu way, and that's a long story which I won't go into it tonight. I feel a lot like my immigrant grandma and grandpa must've felt.  I say to the Chief that I'm an immigrant from the United States to Winnemem.  At least, I got to choose.   As people who feel about the land as others in this circle do, we feel at home with the people who take care of it, and the tribe inspires me to choose this way of life. That's why we're here, because the work is here. I'll tell you a little bit about what the work is.

The McCloud River is the river of this area where we all live. I got to know the McCloud through the Winnemem.  This river helped me so many times - our ceremonies are there. There's a pool where women who have gone through abuse get some healing. There is medicine which grow here that can help those who are sick. And so I got to know this river that is in all of our backyards deeply that way. The McCloud helps me, and the Winnemem help me. However, at this time, this river is - and the tribe - are in danger with Westland's Shasta Dam Raise.  I think it's very timely that we moved here. We want to sink our energy into stopping the destructive Shasta Dam raise, which I call the Westland’s Shasta Dam Raise because it does not really benefit this area for sure, nor any people south of here but a very small group of Westland’s shareholders and priorities.

The Westland's Shasta Dam Raise will flood the Winnemem Wintu and drown their way of life with finality. The Puberty Rock will be under the river and never come up again for the young women going through their  Coming of Age Ceremony. That healing pool where I received help will be underwater all the time. The place that the men go to bless their hands to do good work and be good men will be drowned. The place where the chief becomes chief will be drowned. The medicines, where we gather them, will be drowned. I'm not being political; this flooding is personal. It feels very much like a genocide. And Westlands Water District, Governor Jerry Brown and the people who build the dam, the Bureau of Reclamation - they have heard our story. They have admitted there is no way they can mitigate this destruction to a way of life.  This grave loss will be  carried completely by the Winnemem - with no support and no honoring of the Central Valley Project agreements.

And so I'm ready to work. And I thank you for my being able to share that with you because it means so much to me.  I mean it's like you're my best friends now. [laughs] Crying, but thank you.

[psotu19]

Acknowledging the Grief and Rage

The rains put out the Camp Fire in California - deadliest and most destructive wildfire in California history to date - that started November 8, 2018, killing 86 people, and destroying nearly 14,000 homes. Only months before, my community lived through the Carr Fire in Redding, the 7th largest and 7th most destructive fire in California history. Both of these fires have impacted me and many people in my life. I think these two fires are the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. I could rally, keep my head down, and feel like I was making some progress with community work or taking care of my family. But the stark physical reminders of those fires bring persistently remind me that our world isn’t balanced. Those fires are a manifestation of the condition of the human state of affairs. And it’s not looking so good right now. I am struggling not to disengage and distract myself. I know I’ve done too much online window shopping, too much unnecessary eating. I am trying to take care of myself, but I am struggling. I want to make an announcement that isn’t what society says we should do. We should look on the bright side, right?   I think it’s important for us to sing songs, create, dance, be together, and to heal. But I want to stop for a minute and acknowledge that a lot of what’s happening in the world is wrong. Many of us know this, but I want to acknowledge hurts. There have been devastating blows to our planet, our environment, to women, to healthcare, reproductive rights, people of color, Indigenous people, working class people, education - so many have taken a hit with the current U.S. administration. And I want to acknowledge the rage and grief I feel in response to these things. When I started following the post-Trump stories of families being separated at the border wall, I cried for a week for those children and families at the border who are suffering - on display for the world to see and comment. I could not help but think how I would feel under the same circumstances. I cry every time I put myself in their shoes and think about being separated from my children and maybe never being reunited. Every day we witness some people empowered to demonize those at the border in more publicly grotesque and perverse ways, polluting the landscape in our minds.  I want to acknowledge what human civilization is doing to our planet and to each other. I see the Carr and Camp Fires as the earth’s rage. If we humans don’t correct our current trajectory, we will be looking at more cataclysmic responses from the earth and more conflict between humans.

[psotu19]

States of Mental Health

A year ago, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Again.

It hadn’t been the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last; in fact, I had a therapist trainee try to diagnose me with bipolar several years prior.

After consulting with a doctor (and not an MFT trainee) it turned out that my “bipolar disorder” was actually a form of ADHD that is so creative and impulsive that it is often confused with it. After the testing he said to me, “I hope you fired your therapist.”

The second time the doctor diagnosed me as bipolar after half an hour of talking to me. Without asking what I was allergic to, he gave me Lamictal — which I immediately started developing a deadly rash from. For six months afterwards the office tried to collect the $40 co-pay for that visit.

It took about a year to get a proper diagnosis and medical treatment, eventually settling into an anti-depressant I used to take. This was with quality insurance that covered psychiatric medicine and the medication I was prescribed. Before that, I was on Medi-Cal and hoping for the best.

For a good chunk of my life, I was told I was crazy. It wasn’t them, it was me. I was crazy. Most of my teenage years were spent in a psychiatrist’s office, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me.

It was the way people came after me, particularly my ex-husband. That was, until I threatened to leave him and he threatened to kill himself and hurt me. When he was committed, I began to see the mental health system from a different side. It was not only treatment, but also my protection.

The other night, while sitting at a friend’s kitchen table, there was a different tale.

Her sister was unemployed after spending 20 years working for the government because she started developing a mental illness — bipolar disorder. And with no money coming in, she had to be committed to a mental institution at the state level, and by a court order.

My friend sat nursing her tea as she shook her head. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I feel helpless.”

Mental illness in this country isn’t the stereotype of angry white men shooting up offices and schools. It can be the homeless on the street who are unable to hold jobs or pay bills. It can be those addicted to drugs or alcohol, trying to self-medicate for a system that doesn’t serve them. And sometimes it’s the voiceless, as so many end up killing themselves, trying to ease the pain.

There were so many people who I could name who fell to the system of mental illness in this country. My friend JT died of a prescription drug overdose in April 2002, seven years before the death of Heath Ledger highlighted the issue. A guy I dated post-divorce committed suicide three years ago, and a year before that was Alvin, a comedian friend of mine whose memorial I attended. And last year, my friends were broken at the death of Ben, whose suicide came out of nowhere.

In the middle, between so-called normalcy and the extreme cases, sat people like me who had depression and ADHD but didn’t know what to do. Sat people like my dad who had anxiety but was scared about his medicine’s complications. Sat people like my friend who had their own problems, but were facing their family’s issues and might not know where to turn.

We sat together and finished dinner, sharing stories of our doctors forcing pills onto us at all ages. I told the story of my teenage doctor who gave me all sorts of drug cocktails, eventually allowing Risperdal into my system. It was a powerful anti-schizophrenic drug I had no business taking.

There were stories of electro-shock, of pill after pill, of being subjected to medical studies to try to figure out what the hell was wrong with my brain. My whole life felt reduced to that: What was wrong with my brain?

It felt strange to say. A part of me wondered if it was because of the place I grew up — a conservative town — or because I was a woman who was outspoken and loud, that led to this question constantly. From therapist to doctor and everyone in between, it was that statement: What was wrong with my brain?

How about what was right with it? And if there was something wrong with it, why couldn’t I be the authority to say what it was that I was feeling?

Mental illness is a gray area that no one can give exact answers for. We can’t give a blood test to the brain to tell us exactly what might be wrong, or know which drug is going to act a certain way in order to help the problem without a trial and error. It’s shooting in the dark oftentimes, and because there are no tried and true answers, perhaps it’s why we are so frightened of the subject.

But the truth is we can’t be frightened of this; mental illness and difficulties coping with it are killing thousands of people, whether through suicide, addiction or homelessness. The answer is more funding for research, more money for facilities, more support systems for those who need it. We need improvements, or more lives could be lost.

[psotu19]

conNECKtedTOO, Charleston, SC 

[psotu19]

Kids need to know what they are talking about matters

My name is Catherine Low. I’m in Redding, California. My story is about our kids that are growing up with everything that’s going on.

My son is in 2nd grade and I get to help in his classroom. They do centers. And so I was helping them with origami, and this group of kids that I was working with. One by one told me which relative had been deported. I just keep thinking, these kids want to talk to people. They want people to know what’s happening. And our schools aren’t prepared to handle that. I know they talked about the Carr Fire. The teachers are trained on how to talk to the kids about what happened, but I don’t hear any training about how to talk to kids about their relatives being deported.

I go to the school board meetings. There’s no discussion. There’s not a lot of input from parents, in general. There’s no translation services during the board meetings, and I keep thinking “who are we serving with these public schools?”. Are they just “regulation”… and I work in a regulated industry, but it has to have a driver, and the parents and the families have to be driving it. And there’s a protocol and there’s supposed to be a place for our voices. But if we don’t use it, it just moves forward without our voices and without our kids’ voices. And I just wonder how, how do we unify, because it can’t be just one parent, it can’t be just one family that speaks up because you won’t be heard. So how do we unify and how do we talk to each other?

We have parents who are very vocal in the public schools, but they worry about what’s affecting their kids. And then it gets kind of mentioned… “oh, I think there’s an English learning group or I think there’s something to do with this, and it has to be the parents that have to care about what’s happening with the other parents. It matters, because the kids need to know what they’re talking about matters.

They’re going to figure it out. They talk to each other. They take care of each other. They support each other, to a point, but then they grow up. Then what do they do with that? So, I don’t know what to do, but I know something needs to be done. I know there are people working on it. I just don’t know how to unify around it.

[psotu19]

The Carr Fire Ignited what it means to be a community.

I am Kristin Miller and we are in Redding CA and we are in the story circle. My story started long before this, but the igniter of my story was the Carr Fire. The Carr Fire brought me fully into this community as a resource person. I am a trauma therapist. I am a psychologist. I am on many international trauma healing committees. It was the Carr fire that helped me to share these resources with my local community.

The Carr Fire came over the hill. It had no prejudices.  It was indiscriminate. It took everything. And everybody needed resources. Everybody needed to be connected. Everybody needed someone to look them in the eye. Everybody needed a hug. Everybody needed to pray together. Everybody needed an experience of connection. And we did that. We came together. We started to look people in the eye. We started to know people. We started to know people in this community. My own heart opened up to ALL of the people in our community.

 And because I am a trauma therapist, I got to go be in the shelters with the Red Cross. I got to go out with PG&E and service their employees and the death they had in their camp. I got to go out to the Rotary Clubs. I was able to give emotional support groups to process the emotional impact of the fire. I have prayed with many.  I’ve been in the prayer circles with the Native community. I also got to go and be with the Camp Fire community after they had their devastating fire. It has been a brilliant connection.

 And so to conclude my story, it is the fire that ignited that what it means to be a community. We have to come together on the grassroots of our community, if we are going to expect our Nation to accept ALL people and to come together with hearts wide open to embrace everyone.

[psotu19]

Women, First Unitarian Universalist Society of Marietta, OHIO

“I am much encouraged by the shift in feminine mindset, spirit and paradigm I’m seeing.  I grew up as the oldest of three girls with five brothers, so our household was dominated by the male paradigm.  What we learned at home very much blended with the social and cultural teachings of Irish Catholic systems in place at the schools and college I attended.  The belief that women would never be quite enough, always be somewhat less than, not as good as, was always reinforced.  As the women’s movement began to take hold and grow, however, I realized that - at least politically - women were making progress and I felt empowered.  With Hillary as a presidential candidate came great hope that the long awaited moment was about to arrive.  Though it didn’t ultimately happen, the fact is that she did win the popular vote, and I believe the box has been opened.  The pussy grabbers are being addressed by society; and women - who weren’t even considered when the Constitution was adopted, are beginning to be legitimized.  We owe much to Nancy Pelosi. She is my new heroine.”

[psotu19]

White Privilege, First Unitarian Universalist Society of Marietta, OHIO

I am reminded today of an incident which occurred last St. Patrick’s Day.  My husband and I had gone to Athens, Ohio, for an early movie and dinner.  It was still light out when we returned.  We were pulled over by a local policeman after getting back into town, who said he’d seen my husband cross the center line on Pike Street twice.  He asked for our registration; it wasn’t in the car.  He asked for proof of insurance; that wasn’t in the car, either.  He asked whether my husband had been drinking, to which he replied that he’d had a margarita approximately an hour before.  The policeman then  waved us on our way with a caution to be careful.  At that moment, I realized we’d just had a classic white privilege experience

[psotu19]

State of Our Community, First Unitarian Universalist Society of Marietta, OHIO

“In the current climate of great divide in this country, we need to understand the concept and value of conflict resolution as a means of healing the division.  In an effort to address and open up discussion on this issue, a colleague and I developed and taught a course called “Healing the Divide” at Marietta College in Marietta, Ohio.  During that process, we found much useful information in a book entitled “Pick-up or Prius?”, by M. Hetherington and J. Weiler.  The book explores some of the vast disparities between the clashing cultures which have come so much to the forefront  over the past couple of years, including everything from food choices and vehicles to political mindset.  We found it very helpful in leading discussions about meaningful dialogue with those who hold extremely different points of view.  We plan to continue our efforts in the coming months.”

[psotu19]

Acknowledging Native Lands, First Unitarian Universalist Society of Marietta OHIO

“I am very interested in the history of Native Americans.  My husband’s Father was Yaqui his mother Spanish decent. Our daughter has very much embraced the Native American part of her heritage.  However, her request for more information from the family has been ignored because of divisions in the family over this very issue. In Marietta, very little beyond interest in the earthworks has been done to recognize the history of Native Americans in this area.   We have been mainly focused on the history of the pioneers and settlers who came here and laid claim to what eventually became Marietta and Washington Country, forcing the Native Americans out.  I am encouraged that a great awakening of awareness seems to be taking place through out the world and the United States as indicated by the Indigenous People’s March that took place in Washington D. C. and the issue of immigrants and immigration that are so much at the forefront of America’s concerns today.  In Marietta the situation is very complex and sensitive as it is in all of Ohio which has no recognized Native American tribes. Despite the fact that we see the marks of their social and cultural presence in the very names of places and rivers on the land, and in written accounts by settlers and government officials. The Ohio Country and Northwest Territory were home to most of the Eastern tribes and Nations who migrated and lived west of the Alleghenies due to the colonization of the east coast by Europeans who then moved into the Northwest Territory and took over native land and systematically removed those native communities, tribes and nations and relegated them to Indian country further west. These events have implications today on how we might acknowledge native lands and identifying whose lands we live on and why.”

[psotu19]

Immigration, First Unitarian Universalist Society of Marietta, Ohio

My account, this year, is a positive one based on my travels over the holiday season. I flew from Akron to Florida for Christmas with my daughter and her family and then, to attend a gathering for my cousin’s 50th wedding anniversary, I flew from Florida to California. The airports and planes were crowded, but in all the hustle and bustle, I never heard an irritated or unkind word. People of all varieties were patient and friendly, and conversations were civil. Asked why they were traveling, my seatmates answered “to visit an elderly mother for the holidays” and “to join friends for a ski outing.” On the flights back, my fellow travelers were returning to military duty and finishing up a college term before transferring to a different nursing program. All of us were in movement, in migration you might say. And it struck me how natural and constant migration is – the birds each fall and spring, the herds of animals following rain to find food and water, our human history of migration out of Africa to Asia and Europe. My personal experience of migration this winter was in direct contrast to the mass media portrayal of migration at the Mexican border and the current administration’s reaction of alarm and resistance. The issue of migration is a real, natural, and enduring one. But my personal experience gave me hope that we can collaborate to create an effective, compassionate, and comprehensive way to manage migration if we acknowledge each other’s humanity. For, in the end, aren’t we all migrants on the journey through life?

[psotu19]

State of Our Community, First Unitarian Universalist Society of Marietta, Ohio

“We have lost our humanity.  All has become “this side” or “that side”.  As a result, and in an effort to move beyond that thinking, I recently mended a fence with an old friend.  I pay attention to the news, and find myself thinking, most of the time, that we need to be talking abut how we can come together.  I was raised to believe we need to care for others, which is what the humane do.”

[psotu19]

State of Our Community, First Unitarian Universalist Society of Marietta, Ohio

“After my first year of college, I was asked to go to inner city Cleveland for the summer and act as a social worker with underprivileged kids.    All of us who participated were white, all with whom we worked were black.  I believed it was a wonderful summer, even though the city was on high alert because of race riots taking place during that particular time.  I thought everything had gone well.  But later, after we’d left and gone back to our own lives, I wondered whether we’d been truly helpful or simply made the situation worse.  We’d made no attempt to actually teach these kids the skills they could use to help others in their communities themselves.  What I concluded was that we should make every effort in such opportunities to be teachers, not rescuers.”

[psotu19]

STORY CIRCLE POEM RESPONSE

Omari Fox  for The Charleston Rhizome Collective  Charleston, SC  Art touched me Even though the sign said do not touch the objects From the womb to the home Surrounded me Hands up don’t shoot you are surrounded by art From creativity in the womb to the tomb conNECKtedTOO  Take two ‘diasporin'  And call me in the morning  No art while I’m mourning but a new day is dawning A nude day is dawning Stripped to my soul doing dishes with dawn  She’s en vogue What do they call me?  Strange fruit. Peaches son.  My skin is black my manner is tough I’ll kill the first pain I see from the afghanistan poppy field supply  Sim cards connect calls and sim-ones connect souls Pinta santa maria and the nina simone Passing like three ships in the night on the way to the americas Where people that already lived there were discovered Where Canadians and Mexicans are americans but when we say american  we mean the You Ess (U.S.) DisconNECKted Lost tribes graffiti scribes my art is brut on the train Renard is no basquiat No herring, no fisher of fame, no Julian Snob No gallery will contain me And no museum will frame me for my exotic is too message To grandmaster too slave too jungle that still makes me wonder How I keep from going under..ground railroad All aboard, burn the Coals and load up the train (coletrane)  Cause this bad trip is for the bird..land Im no Kaepernick call me kneel diamond inebriated from injustice So I sip my sorrows drunk from knowledge pass the bottle of dreams We set into the sea  Black kids not making c's  Surviving life and robert kellys When will we overcome, its been 50 years since the doctor was assasanated His dream lacerated This battle of the unknown x To be respected as a man and a human being Ask chuck where we entered he said charles town Black townies on the bus in beantown shipped into blank canvases that will be painted with the blood on the floor from Crispus Attucks Orange is the new black Cell black mamas were once soldiers in selma on the pettus Build a wall for those who work the fields so we can eat the fruits of their labor literally  In a country we stole twice from columbus then from the king Taxing taxation no representation The bridge is over Troubled water that Susan Smith drowned her kids in  A black man did it Cause we all have red tails and eat chicken in Tuskeegee The system experiments and makes us sick in tuskegee The penicillin is available like the cure for AIDS But the truth is hidden out in the open and my authentic self you cant see me The morons hate the marron  Yo no quiero taco bell But when I run for the border that mexico paid for It’ll be in el Paso  Poor black and white kids in the 48th rank state in education  Will not pass no  The apple pie Mclean said we’d die for will make one last stand at the alama Get in the carmichael from stokely to Toure Im stoked To protect and serve Eric Garner  Im all chocked up  Waiting to exhale  I am a Dondi Don Dada The DuCHAMP is here And Im waiting to excel  Like a spreadsheet full of registered voters in Lowndes From Bama to Obama May I search your vehicle with hounds Public Enemy is the sound Fight the Power Social just-ice Freeze No just-iz Pause move bust this Die on you feet Shot in the back diggin in the scene and drop the taser Whats this Slayer I wanna be like Mike Slager?  Im from New york I got game but Im bruised from the bumps and knicks Bleeding strawberry Dolly Madison ave It satisfies their hunger to colonize  The chocloate  SNCC 

[psotu19]

I'm here! I happen to be different! See me and hear me!

I went to a Catholic all girls school. I recently received an email about how they want to revamp their alumnae program. I thought about it and I reached out to them about a month later. So I’m going to join the Alumnae Council, knowing very well that there probably won’t be much representation on the council but I want to add my grain of salt. And they’ve had issues in the past on how they have handled issues with LGBTQ students and staff, so I want to go in there, not with the expectation that I’m going to change everything, but with a spirit of: I’m here! I happen to be different! See me and hear me!

[psotu19]

Zoë’s Story (Hope)

Twin Cities Arts Frontier Outpost People’s State of the Union Story Circle, January 26, 2019

Zoë’s Story (Hope)

This past year, these past few years, have been challenging, history in general is fraught and difficult, and I often find that my focus is diffuse. I get very passionate about so many things and I’m so interested in so many things, I want to change so many things, that it can get a little overwhelming. But it finally became clear to me this year that whatever activism I can engage in effectively has to come through this lens of creativity and community. And so concentrating energy, getting to know Claudette and getting involved, now, in this group, getting involved with a group of writers who are trying to develop reparations, and with Poetry Asylum events, all of that, I found that instead of feeling as hopeless as I’d been feeling for a while, and pointlessly responsible for the world, which no one can completely take on, it gave me a lot of hope being a part of these creative settings, making change. So thank you.