Tag: Huffington Post

New in HuffPo: What It Means to Survive a Hurricane

Hurricane Irma photo
JOSE JIMENEZ/GETTY IMAGES

It’s never a good feeling to lock the door to your home, and not know when, if ever, you can really return.

At present, my husband, my 81 year old father and I are hunkered down in a hotel in central Florida. Our home in Miami is in the path for a direct hit from Hurricane Irma; the storm may follow us to where we are, causing us to consider running again. We are luckier than most in that we are able to leave town, and not head to a shelter. Hurricane shelters, contrary to how one sheriff in particular portrays them, are not centers of crime and assault. It is literally a a building (often a school) in a safer area that allows you to lay a blanket on the floor until the danger is over. A shelter is safe but not at all comfortable.

Many of my friends have chosen to stay put in their homes. There are many reasons why folks do not leave. Some can’t afford the crazy airline prices out of town; others worry that it is too late to leave, and don’t want to get caught in the storm due to traffic jams on the major highways.

Recently, it has come to light that some in the media show great disparities in how they report the aftermath of hurricane, based on race. Many of us reflect back to Hurricane Katrina, where there were pictures of residents doing whatever they need to do to survive. Unfortunately, when white folks were depicted taking food or items from stores, they were portrayed as survivors. When people of color did the same, they were portrayed as looters.

Read the rest here.

New In HuffPo: My New Normal Post Philando Castile

police car

Yesterday, I was pulled over.

The reason given was that my license plate cover was too dark. I never thought it was, nor had I been warned for this previously.

In the past, I had my prosecutor’s badge to protect me — not anymore.

I’m the number two in the state for the most powerful civil liberties organization – the ACLU.

And I felt fear.

 

I placed my hands over the steering wheel, in full view of the officer. When he asked for my registration, I made sure to move slowly, with my hands continuously in full view.

 

He commented on my sports car, and my President Obama pin hanging from my rear view mirror. He also commented on my novelty license plate. My plate can be construed in several ways — commonly it is thought to support Black Lives Matter. In truth, the plate is a combination of mine and my husband’s initials. I don’t correct people, because I support intelligent policing. I always liked the double entendre.

 

Read the rest in the Huffington Post here.