Wednesday, December 24, 2014

An Interruption to the Story of Our Journey--Our day Here, Now

Today our home in West Brunswick was gifted by a flow of lovely young men: Arpan from Bhutan, 23, and "Will" from Beijing, 25, students here and Felix, 14, the brother of Ruby, who lives across the street. Arpan and Will and I have decided to form an English conversation class in our back yard while Felix came with a jar of honey made in the backyard of one of his friends. Speaking with these lads, as it is said here, was touching in a way, a part of the future, understanding the sacrifices so many are making to forge a life out of shifting boundaries. Loneliness and courage--all of us finding new words to welcome each other. La Professoressa and I held each other in the specialness of this day. To be of use.

Cello in all his aging glory

This is the time of year when our backyards produce their own gifts and are shared. Here yellow beans, homemade bread, and Italian fried sweet bread from Anna and Vincenzo, fresh eggs and apricot jam from Colin and Jenny, our rhubarb and apricots.

The glory of poster paints as I make our wrapping paper. A whole other way of life I have found here.
I wish you all the kindness of each to each.

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Journey: Part 4--SEEK Pride Day,Cadences of Liberation, October 20, 1014, Queens College

Going over my notes with Dr June Bobb, my colleague for so many years, another impossible farewell
Poem for June
It was you who first islanded me,
who showed me how to step from
bony spine to bony spine.
Waters of history and endless time
lapping at volcanic determination.
You freed for me all the lyric possibilities
of island memory.
Of how to eat a mango, the poet, your friend, 
Of how to find the beaten flesh and hunker down
in caves deep in mountains' sides
Until the tyrants drowned in those
blue seas ringed by flaming trees.

For twenty years we scoured texts,
flesh and seed to feed
our students' quest.
Now I am 73
and live upon an island continent
Far from where I started.
but I have my island legs,
and more, your voices
deep within me.

From   1965 to 1995 I taught writing in the Queens College SEEK Program. Here I found worlds of literature and friendships as profound as my work with the Lesbian Herstory Archives. When Mark Levy, another old SEEK colleague and veteran of the Freedom Schools who now works on creating the Queens College Civil Rights Archives, told the program I would be in New York one more time, Dr. Norka Blackman-Richards, Assistant Director of SEEK, worked out a day's schedule for me so I could address the students, visit classes and take in dear faces. These are matter- of- fact words for such a day.

Schedule: 10:05--11:00 Dr Rodway's English 110 Class
                11:10-12:00 Meeting with Assistant Provost Dr June Bobb
                12:15-1:30 SEEK Pride Day: Generation 18
                1:40-2:40 Dr. Rodway's English 110 Class
                3:00-4:30 Small reception with SEEK Faculty and Staff

Our SEEK student guides for the day, Janet Williams and Gatrie Samaroo and how they stuck with us through all the tumult of the day. How such students grace Queens College and how welcoming they were to us both.

Ciceley, more formally known as Dr Rodway, a poet, an old friend, for years we had laughed and struggled with the challenges of our SEEK lives, a program always fighting for its life, a student body fighting for its life, Dr Rodway still marching as she did last weekend in Washington, D.C. in honor of the lives of black men, including her two sons. One more time, she gave me the chance to greet students, to listen to their journeys with the task of writing, to look another generation in the face, kind enough to let me make contact for such a short time, one more time I had a piece of chalk in my hand, and there on the board took shape again that sentence that contains, as I said for years, the most powerful use of the semicolon in the English language. From The Narrative of Frederick Douglass (19845): "You have seen how a man was made a slave; now you will see how a slave is made a man." The journey of a life time in that semicolon turn, of a  nation still caught in the juncture. The sheer joy of the time I had with these students, with their questions, with their brave explorations, with Dr Rodway making all possible, with La Professoressa sitting there, seeing Joan, the teacher, a joy so deep, feeling again all that SEEK had given me, the poetry of hope and of struggle, of meaning. How grateful I am. For all.

The hall filled with another generation of SEEK students

In a small reception room, in the SEEK Building, Lloyd Delaney Hall, such stories lie behind these simple words, I met once again comrades. The SEEK motto: "Learn to Struggle, Struggle to Learn."

Alem. dear Alem, still teaching social sciences

Looking at pictures of the old days with Frank S. Franklin, the director of the Program for many years now. I knew us all before we went gray.

Good-bye, my dear friends,

Notes for my talk on the anniversary of SEEK (1964--): The Poetry of SEEK

In Memory of Mordine Mallory, the first SEEK librarian, George Priestley, social science teacher, Daniel Chiremba, social science teacher, Sam Floyd, English teacher, Ruth Siegel, English teacher

Poets who have had a connection to SEEK as teachers, as students: Nikki Giovanni, Adrienne Rich, Audre Lorde, Alex DeVaugh

What does it mean to be born in liberationist times--when national scripts were being refused, when the usual insults  to race, class, genders and sexuality were answered with grassroots communal assertions of full human dignity. There is a cadence to such years as gave SEEK life, that live on with you, the cadence of asking questions of assumed power and privilege, of seeking connections between peoples in their struggle to create new histories. My life shines with the voices that live in my head and heart, that I first heard in my SEEK years, 1965-1995--the voices of my colleagues and the writers we found to teach us what was needed to be understood. To be educated to ask questions of power, outside of ourselves and sometimes even of our own, to master the  skills that allow the decipherment of texts and to produce ow own complex analysis--to find a way to look towards the future with a better vision while understanding the tensions and pretensions of the past, all concerns that connect SEEK to its liberationist past and to your futures in the 21st century. Forgive--when you are 74, you sometimes speak funny, in sweeping waves of the heart. 
Shirley Chisholm, 1960s

History notes: SEEK created, as a five year experiment, to quench the determination of young black and Puerto Rican women and men to get a higher education--the street rebellions of the 60s--Watts, Detroit, New York--social change movements of the 60s--people believing that history could be changed and made again by the force of their determination to say no more. In the streets and in the halls of politics. Shirley Chisholm (1924-2005) one of these social activist and progressive politicians who co-authored the legislation that brought SEEK into being--daughter of West Indian immigrants, the first black woman elected to congress, the first woman to run for President of the United States, a grassroots organizer who who in the 60s hired only women to be on her staff, who said in 1965,"Women in this country must be revolutionaries, we must refuse to accept the old traditional roles and stereotypes," who said "I want history to remember me not just as the first black woman elected to congress or to make a bid for the presidency of the US but as a black woman who lived in the 20st century and dared to be herself." Her political vision--wrote and worked for a bill that secured unemployment insurance for domestic workers and daycare providers, obtained federal funding for daycare facilities and campaigned for a higher minimum wage. Her campaign motto, "Unbought and Unbossed." all in the early 60s.

Poetry is the language of dreams and deep endeavors, of faces turned to the sun while in the shadows of failed human visions. Poetry lives on the human body as much as it lives on the page; it lives in the landscapes of a people's yearning to be free, complex and happy, it lives in the language of resistance and commemoration, poetry speaks every time we honor each others' fullness of dignity. Poetry is the enrichment of our senses to all the possibilities of life. This was SEEK to me. I might have left SEEK in 1995 but SEEK has never left me. The cadences of our life together-- students,colleagues, administrators, and in the texts I first had to learn so I could bring their poetries into the classroom-- have never left me. I can still trace the curves of Karintha in my mind, the creation of Harlem Renaissance poet, Jean Toomer, find her as my class did in the undulating rhythms of her name that so held a woman's tragedy, My spirit still jumps for the moon, still shining with the force of Zora Neale Hurston's power of story telling, I still tell myself, :things do not fall apart," hearing both words of Chinua Achebe and Lucille Clifton, things do not fall apart but are held in lines, in the heart. Bessie Head's "Collector of Treasures" still trembles with the fierce tenderness of her life, both of her characters and her own. The works we studied together, with their anger and determination, "do you really know me," asks Nicolas Guillen, all of me, not just the Spanish part of me but my African grandfather lost in the seas of the middle passage. James Baldwin looking at his father, telling us that history must be confronted, all the old countries where so much was taken, but which keeps parts of us alive. Langston Hughes, his soul deep as ancient rivers, walks with me, his tenderness and dedication. and always, the cadences of Frederick Douglass, telling us in 1880, that the discussion about character and not color must go on, that "where justice is denied, where poverty is enforced, where ignorance prevails and where any one class is made to feel that society is an organized conspiracy to oppress, rob and degrade them, neither persons nor property will be safe. This discussion will go on." Douglass' cadences of refusal and of higher visions, of political insights and historical understandings, his poetry of what was taken and what must never be given up,  stay with his readers for a lifetime. You too will find, write, create your own cadences of  insight, of indignation and of hope.

SEEK is the living will of a generation of students who were determined to learn all the poetics they could--critical social thinking under the tutelage of George Priestley, Daniel Chiremba, of mathematics, of languages, of international texts singing of complex geographies and shifting borders.
I stand her today with deep gratitude for being a small part of the wonder we call the SEEK Program, that meeting place of beginnings and the refusal of deprivations, of big dreamings and hard hard work, where voices leaped off pages into our hearts, where thinkers, teachers and students alike, broke new ground while valuing the gifts of their own cultural richnesses. We made and make a world here a community of respected differences and complex solidarities, struggling always to learn both the text and how best to use them in this 21st century. It seems that all that stands at the center of SEEK is needed now more then ever in this country, in this world. Thank you for the privilege of speaking with you.

Monday, December 15, 2014

Part 3: The Lesbian Activists-Artists of Ljubljana: Thank You, Tatjana, Urska, Natasa, Petra,Nina, Beti and All, September 26--September 28, 2014

Our First Walk along the Ljubljanica River

The letter that make it all possible, March 5, 2014:

Dear Joan Nestle,
I'm writing on behalf of Lesbian section SKUC-LL from Ljubljana, Slovenia. We run a small non-profit publishing house--book edition Vizibilja, dealing with lesbian prose, poetry and theory. So far we have published 33 titles. For 2014 we were planning to publish 3 titles (one book of prose, one book of fiction by Slovenian lesbian authors)-one of which will be your work, "A Restricted Country." Actually we have already started the process of translation as a collective of three translators: Natasa Velikonja, Urska Sterle and Tatjana Grief...and there is something else I'd like to ask. We would like to invite you to visit us in Slovenia and to take part  in literary readings for our cultural project dedicated to LGBT history. Please let us know if you can visit us between September and December. Looking forward to your reply, Tatjana Grief, editor of Vizbilija

Thinking of the generosity, the dedication, the creativity, the determination, the imaginative strength of the women we met in our short but intense visit to Ljubljana gives us visions of what is possible. Tonight, the day after the actions of a violent ill man in a Sydney cafe, in a time of endless wars and no responsibility for the history that creates the rage we call terrorism, I look at the faces of our friends, the lesbian women of Ljubljana, who with little material support, keep demanding, keep producing inclusive lesbian, feminist, queer culture.

Just Published, 25 Years of Lesbian History in Slovenia, 197-2012. Compiled and Written by Natasa Velikonja and Tatjana Grief. A copy is now at the Lesbian Herstory Archives in Brooklyn, NY and one is with us in Melbourne, where turning the pages puts us once again in the presence of this visionary community.

Urska, Tatjana and I in the cafe before the public conversation in the old art gallery

Nina, the poet, in the archives--publishing space of the Lesbian Project--on the site of the old army barracks, Metelkova, now liberated space for activists--artists.

La Professoressa and Urska in the squatted and transformed counter culture precinct of Metelkova

Stacks of Slovenian and translated lesbian works. Audre Lorde lives in this Slovenian lesbian cultural project.

Nina and Petra join us for the morning with Nora, the dog, who is part of everything.

Urska and Di looking over book covers and journals

Urska asking me hard important questions during our public conversation. I still feel the honor, the wonder of looking out at the gathered, some of the women making the journey from Belgrade, of being asked to be part of such a moment. On the arm of La Professoressa, I have come to the city of Three Bridges, to the home of another history with the Alps looming over the narrow alleys, to sit in the night with our new friends, before the cafe that welcomes us. I remember that other late night cafe gathering, on our last night in Belgrade. The young not wanting us to go, we so moved by those faces, those yearnings for a chance at a fuller life, new friends become so deeply old. Never will we forget the moments we have shared in these streets, the faces that embraced us.

An early issue of the Slovenian lesbian journal, Lesbo

Nina, Urska, Petra--in their territory. On such bodies such courage.

I have written of the habitats of farewell that so marked this journey, but at times, new moments of welcome gave endless hope and deep pleasure.

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Journey, part 2: Habitats of Farewell

Deborah by the river

Each leave taking in its own setting, its own geography of impossible moment. Here, Deborah is having lunch with me in the small cafe that sits before the Hudson River promenade on 70th street, the concrete tongue built by Trump that pours out into the river.We have known and worked with each other since 1973. There is no way to say good-bye. We just perch on this corruptedly- built spit of river way to be in each other's company one more time.

 In the old Catholic cemetery in the Bronx, an ancient habitat of farewells, Deb and Teddy take us to visit the grave of Mabel Hampton, but Ms Hampton soars into life in the air around us. How impossible it is to contain our human story in stone, our human lesbian story made of spirits too huge for such solidity. We tell stories as we stand of the Hampton years; all around is impermanence--this I knew as every day on this journey, I tried to take hold of time and those I loved in it and now I sit in our study in Melbourne, a late hour, La Professoressa walking the streets of Oslo where snow and cold touch her Australian cheek, Cello sleeping at my feet, his breathing a little more labored now, and I return to these images to keep them in life, to keep me in life.

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

The Journey of My Lifetime, August 27th to November 4, 2014

Our first encounter: Excavations at the La Brea tar pits where woolly mammoths fell into endless history. Under the glitz and struggles of Los Angeles, the end of a time bubbles up into a tar memory. My brother, Elliot, had told me of this place. For him, who never broke free from the grip of his own sorrows.

The sad events of the world flood me; American racism so persistent, so murderous, the people of Gaza stumbling over the ruins of their homes, hatred on the unjust streets, and the terrorism of the Israeli state that kills Palestinian selfhood every day is never called out for what it is. A German-Turkish woman beaten to death for coming to the aid of two young women who were being harassed by men just because they could. Unquestioned masculinities as dangerous as unquestioned nationalisms.

Oh, here she goes again. Yes. All of this never goes away, not in my lifetime. But because of La Professoressa, roads lead also to hope. My lesbian life has saved my life in so many ways, so different from the judgment of the 1950s world I came out into, where all was seen as pathology from cultural to biological. I have not been able to find the words to tell you of our journey of two months, from the end of August to the beginning of November, from Los Angeles to New York to London to Ljubljana to London to the Welsh Hills to New York to Santa Monica and finally home to Melbourne, ten planes and 16 beds later.

In Manhattan, saying goodbye to Naomi and Eva, la Professoressa wearing her iconic Australian flowers

(I must write  this telling in small passages, slowly, reliving the goodbyes that will stand for the rest of my life. To those who looked for my words over these months, or those who read my older words for the first time, thank you for looking for me, for finding me.)

The unplanned sharing of lives for only hours. Naomi and Eva invite us to share with them their Sunday morning meditation service in the Goodard-Riverside Community Center, a place I remember for its caring for the needs of people just getting by over the years. Still there on Amsterdam Avenue. I sit next to Naomi, her eyes closed, her thigh touching mine as she relaxes into the wanted stillness. I feel the weightlessness of her presence, the privilege of knowing my friend of so many year, is sharing her preparations with me. My friend, her small apartment on 75th street with a poem so centred on the little wooden desk, month after month, reaching into the years. My friend who walked with me in Central Park over the years and spoke poetry as we breathed, "My dear, my dear, it is not so terrible here," my friend who brought me her old watercolor set when I was wheel chair bound, my friend who spoke to me over cups of chamomile tea in fine cups with morsels of Haliva on our shared plate, my friend who would steal away with me to Happy Hamburger, now long gone, to sit with truck drivers and take big bites, my friend who said in my ear in so many ways, "Courage, Joan, courage,"my friend who sat with me in chemo rooms, my friend who now has lived for 97 years with her laughter and her literary battles, my friend who lives in love, my friend. You always make me better.

Our arrivals back into Manhattan always tease me with remembered connections while reminding me I no longer have a home there. A dark night when we see our Roomarama on the corner of 75th and Riverside Drive, our home for the next two weeks. A sitting room as the British would say. We have entered the twilight zone of renting rooms in NY. Nothing works properly and we discover all the mailboxes have the same last name on them. A shadowy business this, and as we discover in our last stay in New York, one with tragic consequences for the elderly, the fixed income survivors who are just dead wood for the corporate interests. Real estate is New York's oil, a friend will later tell us, and like the other tar pit we       gazed upon, whole lives slip easily into displacement and loss. I no longer know this city, but I do reach for my friends.

Paula Grant finds us in our bedsit. We have known each other since the 70s and now is the time for our deepest visit. We will sit on benches in the upper reaches of Central Park, we will walk along the Hudson, we will share the coming of a storm along this mighty river, we will talk and talk, the years of shared connections falling about our shoulders, like a favorite shawl.
Sharing a meal and then a place of refuge in the Marina restaurant on 79th street, the wind howling across the river, blowing the patrons out of their seats. Workers and diners try to fasten the plastic strips to no avail.

New friends are made in aftermath, shelter offered and taken.

As we walk back to our bedsit, the river roils with its disturbed currents and I think as I always do of my beloved Whitman tenderly walking along its banks, ever open to a promising glance. Once back in Melbourne, however, thinking of the time spent in the company of the Hudson, this time from the Jersey side, with Deb and Teddy, high on the Palisades, I think of T.S. Eliot's line, "until human voices wake us and we drown" and for the first time, I understand. The river unrentable, unowned in its depths, profound in its just being, ancient in its just being, there I see a complex possibility, but on the streets of Manhattan, the noise of frantic exclusion, the conversation of who deserves to have a place to live, of who is really of value, roars in one's ears, and the old  city falls apart.  

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Ruby among the Blooms of Life

In a few days time, La Professoressa and I will leave this island continent far behind. Our dear Cello, gray and blind, will take comfort in Spottswood with his other family. Always this is a time of looking over my shoulder at what has become my home here, the once unfamiliar gifts of garden and at times, endless blue skies, the parrots, red, green and blue, squawking for my feeding hand, but most of all, it is our friends here, that I see, those who took on the risk of an old new friend, and of these new folk in my life, there is our Ruby. Now 16, she stands at our gate, straight and true, dressed in her home-made costume for a fantasy convention in the city, holding tightly to her side the suit case we loaned her for her week at the University. Dear dear Ruby, who lets me pour out my love for the easy complexities of  "The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock" while I listen to her read the first cantos of The Divine Comedy in Italian. For almost 8 years we have shared the challenges of her writing and literature classes; soon she will go through the gate, a bigger gate, and not need my offered brillances and oh how I wish for her a world so different from this one, a world were the softness of the unarmored human body can flourish in all its differences. Oh how we have enhanced our killing machines, but the gentle longings for beauty of our human selves shiver in the world of cascading steel. La Professoressa and I, childless, teachers, stand in homage to Ruby, the color of life.

And now to you, I turn.

The blueness of Port Douglass, far north Queensland, with our friends Leslie and Louise, last month

Monday, August 18, 2014

Coming to New York, London and Ljubljana, September and October, LHA's 40th Celebration and You

From the porch of our home here, looking towards a storm filled sky.

La Professoressa and I will be in New York City the first two weeks in October, then on to London for Di's work with SOAS, a quick visit with the lesbian community of Slovenia and then back to New York for our last three weeks. Two public dates I offer here. On Sunday, October 19th, at the Brooklyn home of LHA--see website--I will be hosting a day of sharing memories of the old home of LHA, a day for story telling, for communal remembering to help with writing the history of the early days of the archives. Hopefully, we will have a way of preserving the discussion. Come to share, to listen even if you never had a chance to walk through the door of 13A, come to say hello,  lay eyes on and hug.

Then on Wednesday, October 22, the 40th anniversary of LHA will be celebrated at the Gay Center; representatives of all generations of LHA women will be speaking for a short time and then all there can add to the tapestry of what LHA has meant to them over these four decades.

Please if you can, help spread the word about these events and if you want to contact me in NY--we will be staying on the Upper West Side, where living would be impossible now--just write me at

My heart is so filled with what all this means--perhaps my last time back in the geographies that gave me so much. My dear dear friends whom I miss every day. I have learned so much about the privilege of free movement, about how the heart has its own streets.

La Professoressa who will guide my steps

The Old One and the Redhead

Friday, August 15, 2014

How They Honor Our History, Their Losses: Over A Hundred Jewish Survivors and Their Descendants Condemn the War on Gaza

How they honor our history, their losses. These letters of resistance are being refused publication in many many places. 

 Plus de 100 Juifs, survivants et descendants de survivants du génocide nazi, condamnent le massacre de Palestiniens
Plus de 100 Juifs, survivants et descendants de survivants du génocide nazi, ont signé cette lettre condamnant le massacre de Gaza par Israël et appelant à la fin du génocide du peuple palestinien. Dans cette lettre, ils protestent aussi contre l’abus de l’utilisation de leurs histoires pour promouvoir la déshumanisation de Palestiniens mise en avant par Elie Wiesel parmi d’autres dans ses récentes annonces ( his recent ads) placées  dans le New York Times, le Wall Street Journal, le Washington Post et le Guardian. Si vous êtes un survivant du génocide ou un descendant de survivants, please click here et allez jusqu’au bout pour additionner votre nom à la lettre. Veuillez faire un don pour nous aider à placer cette lettre avec ses signataires comme annonce dans le New York Times pour transmettre le message que plus jamais signifie PLUS JAMAIS POUR TOUS !
La lettre :
Des survivants et des descendants de survivants juifs du génocide nazi condamnent sans équivoque le massacre des Palestiniens à Gaza
Comme survivants juifs et descendants de survivants du génocide nazi, nous condamnons sans équivoque le massacre de Palestiniens à Gaza et l’occupation et la colonisation sans fin de la Palestine historique. Nous condamnons de plus les Etats-Unis de fournir à Israël le financement pour effectuer l’attaque et les états occidentaux pour utiliser plus généralement leurs muscles diplomatiques pour protéger Israël de condamnations. Un génocide commence avec le silence du monde. 
Nous sommes alarmés par la déshumanisation extrême, raciste dans la société israélienne, qui a atteint un comble. En Israël, des politiciens et des experts dans The Times of Israël et The Jerusalem Post ont appelé ouvertement au génocide des Palestiniens et des Israéliens de droite adoptent un insigne néo-nazi. 
De plus, nous sommes dégoûtés et indignés de l’utilisation abusive de notre histoire par Elie Wiesel dans ces pages pour promouvoir des mensonges flagrants utilisés pour justifier l’injustifiable : l’effort DE MASSE pour détruire Gaza et le meurtre de près de 2.000 Palestiniens, y compris plusieurs centaines d’enfants. Rien ne peut justifier de bombarder des abris de l’ONU, des maisons, des hôpitaux et des universités. Rien ne peut justifie de priver des gens d’électricité et d’eau. 
Nous devons élever nos voix collectives et user de notre pouvoir collectif pour mettre fin à toutes les formes de racisme, y compris le génocide en cours du peuple palestinien. Nous appelons à la levée immédiate du siège de Gaza. Nous appelons pour un boycott complet économique, culturel et académique d’Israël. « Plus jamais » doit signifier JAMAIS PLUS POUR TOUS!
Signé par :
1. Hajo Meyer, survivor of Auschwitz, The Netherlands. 
2. Henri Wajnblum, survivor and son of victim of Nazi genocide, Belgium. 
3. Renate Bridenthal, child refugee from Hitler, granddaughter of Auschwitz victim, United States
4. Marianka Ehrlich Ross, survivor of Nazi ethnic cleansing in Vienna, Austria. Now lives in United States. 
5. Annette Herskovits, survived in hiding in France and daughter of parents who were murdered in Auschwitz, United States. 
6. Irena Klepfisz, child survivor from the Warsaw Ghetto, Poland. Now lives in United States. 
7. Karen Pomer, granddaughter of member of Dutch resistance and survivor of Bergen Belsen. Now lives in the United States. 
8. Hedy Epstein, her parents & other family members were deported to Camp de Gurs & subsequently all perished in Auschwitz. Now lives in United States. 
9. Lillian Rosengarten, survivor of the Nazi Holocaust, United States. 
10. Suzanne Weiss, survived in hiding in France, and daughter of a mother who was murdered in Auschwitz. Now lives in Canada. 
11. H. Richard Leuchtag, survivor, United States. 
12. Ervin Somogyi, survivor and daughter of survivors, United States. 
13. Ilse Hadda, survivor on Kindertransport to England. Now lives in United States. 
14. Jacques Glaser, survivor, France. 
15. Norbert Hirschhorn, refugee of Nazi genocide and grandson of three grandparents who died in the Shoah, London. 
16. Eva Naylor, surivor, New Zealand
17. Suzanne Ross, child refugee from Nazi occupation in Belgium, two thirds of family perished in the Lodz Ghetto, in Auschwitz, and other Camps, United States. 
18. Bernard Swierszcz, Polish survivor, lost RELATIVES in Majdanek concentration camp. Now lives in the United States. 
19. Joseph Klinkov, hidden child in Poland, still lives in Poland. 
20. Nicole Milner, survivor from Belgium. Now lives in United States. 
21. Hedi Saraf, child survivor and daughter of survivor of Dachau, United States. 
22. Liliana Kaczerginski, daughter of Vilna ghetto resistance fighter and granddaughter of murdered in Ponary woods, Lithuania. Now lives in France. 
23. Jean-Claude Meyer, son of Marcel, shot as a hostage by the Nazis, whose sister and parents died in Auschwitz. Now lives in France. 
24. Chava Finkler, daughter of survivor of Starachovice labour camp, Poland. Now lives in Canada. 
25. Micah Bazant, child of a survivor of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
26. Sylvia Schwartz, daughter and granddaughter of survivors of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
27. Margot Goldstein, daughter and granddaughter of survivors of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
28. Ellen Schwarz Wasfi, daughter of survivors from Vienna, Austria. Now lives in United States. 
29. Lisa Kosowski, daughter of survivor and granddaughter of Auschwitz victims, United States. 
30. Daniel Strum, son of a refugee from Vienna, who, with his parents were forced to flee in 1939, his maternal grand-parents were lost, United States. 
31. Bruce Ballin, son of survivors, some RELATIVES of parents died in camps, one relative beheaded for being in the Baum Resistance Group, United States. 
32. Rachel Duell, daughter of survivors from Germany and Poland, United States. 
33. Tom Mayer, son of survivor and grandson of victims, United States. 
34. Alex Nissen, daughter of survivors who escaped but lost family in the Holocaust, United States. 
35. Mark Aleshnick, son of survivor who lost most of her family in Nazi genocide, United States. 
36. Prof. Haim Bresheeth, son of two survivors of Auschwitz and Bergen Belsen, London. 
37. Todd Michael Edelman, son and grandson of survivors and great-grandson of victims of the Nazi genocide in Hungary, Romania and Slovakia, United States. 
38. Tim Naylor, son of survivor, New Zealand. Victor Nepomnyashchy, son and grandson of survivors and grandson and relative of many victims, United States. 
39. Tanya Ury, daughter of parents who fled Nazi Germany, granddaughter, great granddaugher and niece of survivors and those who died in concentration camps, Germany. 
40. Rachel Giora, daughter of Polish Jews who fled Poland, Israel. 
41. Jane Hirschmann, daughter of survivors, United States. 
42. Jenny Heinz, daughter of survivor, United States. 
43. Jaap Hamburger, son of survivors and grandchild of 4 grandparents murdered in Auschwitz, The Netherlands. 
44. Elsa Auerbach, daughter of Jewish refugees from Nazi Germany, United States. 
45. Beth Bruch, grandchild of German Jews who fled to US and great-grandchild of Nazi holocaust survivor, United States. 
46. Julian Clegg, son and grandson of Austrian refugees, relative of Austrian and Hungarian concentration camp victims, Taiwan. 
47. David Mizner, son of a survivor, relative of people who died in the Holocaust, United States. 
48. Jeffrey J. Westcott, son and grandson of Holocaust survivors from Germany, United States. 
49. Susan K. Jacoby, daughter of parents who were refugees from Nazi Germany, granddaughter of survivor of Buchenwald, United States. 
50. Audrey Bomse, daughter of a survivor of Nazi ethnic cleansing in Vienna, lives in United States. 
51. Daniel Gottschalk, son and grandson of refugees from the Holocaust, RELATIVE to various family members who died in the Holocaust, United States. 
52. Ken Schneider, son of refugees from Vienna who lost many family members, United States. 
53. Barbara Grossman, daughter of survivors, granddaughter of Holocaust victims, United States. 
54. Abraham Weizfeld PhD, son of survivors who escaped Warsaw (Jewish Bundist) and Lublin ghettos, Canada. 
55. David Rohrlich, son of refugees from Vienna, grandson of victim, United States. 
56. Walter Ballin, son of holocaust survivors, United States. 
57. Fritzi Ross, daughter of survivor, granddaughter of Dachau survivor Hugo Rosenbaum, great-granddaughter and great-niece of victims, United States. 
58. Raphael Cohen, grandson of Jewish survivors of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
59. Emma Rubin, granddaughter of a survivor of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
60. Alex Safron, grandson of a survivor of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
61. Danielle Feris, grandchild of a Polish grandmother whose whole family died in the Nazi Holocaust, United States. 
62. Jesse Strauss, grandson of Polish survivors of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
63. Anna Baltzer, granddaughter of survivors of Nazi genocide whose family members perished in Auschwitz (also grand-niece of members of the Belgian Resistance), United States. 
64. Abigail Harms, granddaughter of Holocaust survivor from Austria, Now lives in United States. 
65. Tessa Strauss, granddaughter of Polish Jewish survivors of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
66. Caroline Picker, granddaughter of survivors of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
67. Amalle Dublon, grandchild and great-grandchild of survivors of the Nazi holocaust, United States. 
68. Antonie Kaufmann Churg, 3rd cousin of Ann Frank and grand-daughter of survivors, United States. 
69. Aliza Shvarts, granddaughter of survivors, United States. 
70. Linda Mamoun, granddaughter of survivors, United States. 
71. Abby Okrent, granddaughter of survivors of Auschwitz, Stuthoff and the Lodz Ghetto, United States. 
72. Ted Auerbach, grandson of survivor whose whole family died in the Holocaust, United States. 
73. Bob Wilson, grandson of a survivor, United States. 
74. Katharine Wallerstein, granddaughter of survivors and relative of many who perished, United States. 
75. Sylvia Finzi, granddaughter and niece of Holocaust victims murdered in Auschwitz, London and Berlin. 
76. Esteban Schmelz, grandson of KZ-Theresienstadt victim, Mexico City. 
77. Françoise Basch, grand daughter of Victor and Ilona Basch murdered by the Gestapo and the French Milice, France. 
78. Gabriel Alkon, grandson of Holocaust survivors, Untied States. 
79. Nirit Ben-Ari, grandchild of Polish grandparents from both sides whose entire family was killed in the Nazi Holocaust, United States. 
80. Heike Schotten, granddaughter of refugees from Nazi Germany who escaped the genocide, United States. 
81. Ike af Carlstèn, grandson of survivor, Norway. 
82. Elias Lazarus, grandson of Holocaust refugees from Dresden, United States and Australia. 
83. Laura Mandelberg, granddaughter of Holocaust survivors, United States. 
84. Josh Ruebner, grandson of Nazi Holocaust survivors, United States. 
85. Shirley Feldman, granddaughter of survivors, United States. 
86. Nuno Cesar Ferreira, grandson of survivor, Brazil. 
87. Andrea Land, granddaugher of survivors who fled programs in Poland, all European RELATIVES died in German and Polish concentration camps, United States. 
88. Sarah Goldman, granddaughter of survivors of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
89. Baruch Wolski, grandson of survivors, Austria. 
90. Frank Amahran, grandson of survivor, United States. 
91. Eve Spangler, granddaughter of Holocaust NON-survivor, United States. 
92. Gil Medovoy, grandchild of Fela Hornstein who lost her enitre family in Poland during the Nazi genocide, United States. 
93. Michael Hoffman, grandson of survivors, rest of family killed in Poland during Holocaust, live in El Salvador. 
94. Sarah Hogarth, granddaughter of a survivor whose entire family was killed at Auschwitz, United States. 
95. Natalie Rothman, great granddaughter of Holocaust victims in Warsaw. Now lives in Canada. 
96. Yotam Amit, great-grandson of Polish Jew who fled Poland, United States. 
97. Daniel Boyarin, great grandson of victims of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
98. Maria Luban, great-granddaughter of survivors of the Holocaust, United States. 
99. Terri Ginsberg, niece of a survivor of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
100. Nathan Pollack, RELATIVE of Holocaust survivors and victims, United States. 
101. Marcy Winograd and Jackie Hirtz, relatives of victims, United States. 
102. Rabbi Borukh Goldberg, relative of many victims, United States. 
103. Martin Davidson, great-nephew of victims who lived in the Netherlands, Spain. 
104. Miriam Pickens, relative of survivors, United States. 
105. Dorothy Werner, spouse of survivor, United States. 
106. Hyman and Hazel Rochman, relatives of Holocaust victims, United States. 
107. Rich Siegel, cousin of victims who were rounded up and shot in town square of Czestochowa, Poland. Now lives in United States. 
108. Ignacio Israel Cruz-Lara, relative of survivor, Mexico. 
109. Debra Stuckgold, relative of survivors, United States. 
110. Joel Kovel, relatives killed at Babi Yar, United States. 
111.Carol Krauthamer Smith, niece of survivors of the Nazi genocide, United States. 
112.Chandra Ahuva Hauptman, relatives from grandfather’s family died in Lodz ghetto, one survivor cousin and many deceased from Auschwitz, United States. 
113.Shelly Weiss, relative of Holocaust victims, United States. 
114.Carol Sanders, niece and cousin of victims of Holocaust in Poland, United States.
115 Edith Rubinstein, child refugee from Hitler, granddaughter of three grand-parents and many other members of her family, victims of Auschwitz, Belgium 

Liens importants

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Always and Over and Over Again, the Death of Black Young Men Who Were on the Verge of Their Lives

The image of mostly white police-soldiers walking down a Missouri Street as if they are advancing on an enemy force is emblematic of the persistent deadly racism that confronts Black Americans daily, is emblematic of the wars America has been fighting and enabling for so many years now, against the black and brown bodies of the so-called "terrorist" peoples that haunt the cultural and political imagination of this nation. The color of your skin, the economic positioning of your community, at times, your gender, determine if you are the "terrorist," the disrupter of power relations as usual, your naked humanity is then targeted in the gun sights of faceless soldiers. Such power to eradicate the unwanted will not stay on the streets of Gaza, or in Iraq or Syria or along our borders with Mexico--we have fallen to the acceptability, the video game like hunting of our own citizens and those who desire to be so. We have embraced the power of the automatic weapons mighty recoil, the lust for erasure. It is our own humanity that is being blown away.
Update #1 · 

Statement of solidarity and action

Earlier this week, a group of LGBT*Q organizations signed on to a letter of solidarity with Michael Brown’s family. While we believe that letter was a good start at giving visibility to the LGBT*Q community’s support for the family and for all Black Americans, we believe that more needs to be said and more needs to be done.
As the folks at Black Girl Dangerous said, it is far too easy to get distracted when Black people are murdered. Too often, we get caught up in the “facts” of a case, and ignore the act. The fact is that a teenager was murdered because of a pervasive racist stereotype. The fact is that Michael Brown’s body was left bleeding in the street for four hours. The fact is that he is dead because our country is governed by laws that are informed by and built upon racism. The fact is that this happens every day, and that Michael Brown is not the only young Black man who has been murdered in the past week.  
We must say these things because they’re true, and we must say these things because the louder we say them, the more power we create among those who seek to fight these stereotypes and unjust laws. If we gloss over the fact that policing, enforcement, and criminalization led to this murder and to the murder of thousands of others, we continue to prop up the unjust and racist structures that continue to kill our friends and family. 
The Black Youth Project’s statement says far more poetically what we could ever hope to say — but that doesn’t mean that we should remain silent. As queer people, we know what it means for the government to systematically devalue our lives and for those around us to only rally to our defense when we fulfill a “model minority” stereotype. Though it is tragic that Michael Brown was gunned down by those sworn to protect our communities just before the start of his college career, we should be lifting up his memory regardless of what his future held. Simply put, there is a war on Black bodies and Black lives in this country, and we must resist any effort to gloss over that reality or excuse it with facts and figures. 
#BlackLivesMatter today and every day. We stand with the Black community in this time of tragedy and commit ourselves to fighting relentlessly for liberation.

How you can help

Show your commitment and inspire your family and friends to take action by starting a personal campaign.