FOLEY, Alabama — Many of the 223 Hispanic students at Foley Elementary came to school Thursday crying and afraid, said Principal Bill Lawrence.
Nineteen of them withdrew, and another 39 were absent, Lawrence said, the day after a federal judge upheld much of Alabama’s strict new immigration law, which authorizes law enforcement to detain people suspected of not being U.S. citizens and requires schools to ask new enrollees for a copy of their birth certificate.
Even more of the students — who are U.S. citizens by birth, but their parents may not be — were expected to leave the state over the weekend, Lawrence said.
“It’s been a challenging day, an emotional day. My children have been in tears today. They’re afraid,” he said. “We have been in crisis-management mode, trying to help our children get over this.”
Foley Elementary has the area’s largest percentage of Hispanic students, about 20 percent of its student body.
I think people who have abortions relating to gender/disability are not wrong. I don’t think its reasonable to argue that it’s akin to a holocaust/genocide/etc because there is a difference between the act of abortion and whatever ridiculous logic that might inform that act. So a woman aborting…
The front part of my hair naturally curls upward when it starts getting long enough to reach my eyebrows. I thought this only happened in the front, but apparently the hair at the back of my head does also!
Lately, People have Talked About Me a Lot in School
And not in a bad way! I just find it odd to have so much… attention I guess? I’m not entirely used to it yet! I go down the hallway and people are telling me good job on winning the Hispanic Merit thing and I have to say thanks for it. And other times people know about essays I’ve written and the grades I get on some things without me ever having told them. Some know my SAT score without any prior mention of it.
Notably, pretty much all of the attention has come from my writing in some way. Once I set up the book wall and start updating that regularly, I’m thinking that this pattern of behavior will continue, as long as I don’t dwindle in my attempts anyway.
I wonder what other things I’ll end up doing will get me noticed without trying? It’s cool to think about!
But it found something else: that whites and blacks also differ in their willingness to even consider arguments about the death penalty’s validity. For example, African Americans who originally supported the death penalty responded both to racial arguments (for example, “the death penalty is unfair because most of the people who are executed are black”) and non-racial arguments (“too many innocent people are being executed”) in opposition.
But whites presented with the same arguments were “highly resistant to persuasion” — in fact, were actually more likely to support the death penalty after learning it discriminated against African Americans.
If anybody has an essay that they are not confident about, you may send them to me and I will be free to look over them and provide critiques or specific help or what-have-you is needed to make you more sure of it.
I am an extremely good writer and editor. Certainly not the best, but I think the help would be useful to many people.
In 1991, two young women went missing after visiting the abandoned Chain of Rocks Bridge in St. Louis Missouri — a popular hang-out with local teens — with their cousin. The cousin told the police an impossible tale: that the girls had been pushed from the bridge, but he was ordered to jump by an unknown assailant and survived the nearly 80-foot fall into strong currents with no injuries and dry hair. The police were naturally skeptical of his account and, within hours, he confessed to killing the girls.
Yet this man, who is white, has never spent a day in jail. Instead, the police arrested four local youths who were also on the bridge that night. Three of the young men, all African-American, received the death sentence. The fourth young man, who is white, received a 30-year sentence and will be eligible for parole soon.
Reggie Clemons is one of the youths that received the death sentence, even though prosecutors conceded that Reggie neither pushed the women nor planned their deaths. The prosecutor simply theorized that Reggie was an “accomplice” even though there is no physical evidence linking Reggie to the crime for which he received the death penalty: no fingerprints, no DNA, no hair or fiber samples.
Many of Reggie’s claims have never been heard in a court of law because of procedural rules that have barred the presentation of important evidence. After reviewing the evidence, two federal judges voted to overturn his death sentence and found that Reggie was denied a fair trial. But Reggie’s sentence of death remains.
So many people were up in arms yesterday…now that Troy Davis is gone, will you continue to fight or were you just hype for the moment?
Click the link to head to amnesty.org and learn more about Reggie’s case, sign the petition—do something. We have lots more time to act.
I have concrete views on political topics based on the most logical premises that can be ascertained from an understanding of a mostly-objective moral framework that I live my life by. Animals should have rights, abortions should be legal, gay marriage should be allowed, global warming exists.
However, I do not have any actual vested interest in what happens to any of the people (or animals) impacted by these issues, a statement that strikes many as odd. How can a person be so vested about the rights, happiness, and duties of complete strangers without caring for them? The natural assumption is that I attain personal fulfillment from benefiting and making sure that perfectly deserving people get treated in a just manner. That seeing people suffer makes me bitterly saturated with rage; absolutely feverish about ensuring that draconian punishment is swiftly and rightfully delivered to the offenders. To make those who act selfishly suffer for their immoral usage of people’s lives, to suffer for treating them as expendable commodities undeserving of any kind of respect, and that for these things they should have nothing. Irritation. Indignation. Infuriation.
None of these things are true. I have no care for the lives of other people on an emotional level. Should these same people who I say deserve rights and respect do not get them, I do not feel angry. I do not get sad. If I feel sad, it is out of some sense of personal failure on my part for being unable to feel sad for them, which in turn makes me feel sad that I am feeling sad out of self-pity rather than for them, which results more recursive sadness from a sense of personal failure on my part. I wish it were possible for me to care. I want to care. It’s not my fault that I can’t.
It is an unfortunate side effect of being autistic; Asperger’s syndrome to be exact. I talk fairly often about it to people, of trying to understand the effects it has on me and how it shapes my view of the world. Being autistic has greatly stunted my emotional reciprocity. Most people figure out which actions are right or wrong based on their emotional guidance system: they feel good about doing good (regardless of whether such good is “actually” good) and feel bad about doing bad (with the same clause as the former). This ability exists in much smaller quantities for me, to the point that I cannot figure out any ideas without using objective calculations through a complex Rule System that has been crafted over the last 4 years. I hate, absolutely hate, that it has done this. The Rule System itself, I hate. I despise it to the core, and yet I use it purely out of necessity and nothing more.
To live by the System means to live without exceptions to the rules that are crafted. It means that making mistakes, that breaking the rules, that not being able to figure out these “rules” results in the dreaded autistic breakdowns. Terrible shaking and terrible pain and terrible fear that inhibit most cognition during its duration. The results were so terrible, so dreaded, and so difficult to overcome my junior year that it resulted in five failed classes, and even stunted the beginning of my senior year.
But what are these “rules”? They are objective guidelines, truths, that guide the fundamental framework of action that I must constantly abide by. Do not lie, except when a life is in undeniable danger. It is permissible to guilt others into action so long as the end result is selfless. Friends are only friends because they pose some use for each other. All of these things required long periods of time to figure out, one by one. For each one I could not solve, there was a breakdown. For every rule of these that I broke or attempted to act (or even so much think) against, there was a breakdown. Breakdown breakdown breakdown is what has characterized most of my high school life and yet, I cannot stop with the System.
A great character I relate to about this is the Tinman from the Wizard of Oz. He takes great care not to cause harm to any creature, but one day while walking along the road crushes a little beetle. He begins to cry and so rusts up, and after unrusting with Dorothy’s help states that because he has no heart, he must take great care to not harm any living thing, and that others are lucky to have this heart to guide their action. He then remains ever vigilant to avoid stepping on another bug. Tinman is a lot like me. He has a very strict rule, a rule against killing anything. Upon this rule being broken, he reacts terribly and loses his ability to function for quite a time, and upon being free is not actually free for the rule demands more obedience and mental vigilance.
The Tinman, however, is fictional. He can perform very impressive feats throughout the story and certainly has no worries about ever growing weary of abiding by his rules. He could have 100, 1,000, 10,000 rules and never grow tired, for that is the beautiful life of the unexisting. I do exist, however, and by existing I do get tired. I get frustrated, worried, sad, fearful, crazy even with trying to maintain this system all the time. When the System was in its infancy, it took about a minute of mental review just to check if sitting down next to people was in line with the System’s requirements and demands, and this mental exhaustion left me exhausted and lonely.
Into senior year, I no longer even require a second to figure out such things. Liberal usage has made this process mechanical. If a thing is right, the System now can quickly deliver an answer and from there I can reason through it an answer to all things, including all the political issues mentioned earlier. And yet, this process still can become taxing. I do not always have enough energy to handle the System. I become cold and bitter and indifferent towards others because I do not see them as important. I have no emotional basis to value them by, and yet I must treat them all with this “unconditional caring.” They cannot help me. They never really seem to be able to. And in the same way my apathy is not my fault, their uselessness is not theirs. How does one, who has lived their entire life with a privileged emotional system, help one who lacks? And over a hundred failed people later, my hope in them has died… mostly. If I could get rid of the hope entirely, it would be great, because it would mean never having to be disappointed when people can provide no answers or comfort.
Yet, I continue to use the System. I remind myself that by using it, I have achieved a higher state of existing than most others. I have no emotional interest in whether people are okay, but neither do I have any in making arbitrary differences. Who cares for appearance? Who cares for race? For gender or orientation or beliefs or looks or voice or relation or anything but the content of who they are? Despite statements to the contrary, most humans do. They judge and care and spite and act irrationally on societal prejudices that they’ve suckled upon from birth, whining and crying and hissing when critical thoughts penetrate their mental snuggeries. I can safely, and honestly, say I am not like this. And with this realization, this badge of accomplishment, I feel… nothing. No pride. No triumph in it. And that is perfectly fine. I am not a robot, but at least I am better than human.
I wrote this in about 40 minutes. The assignment was to write a college admission essay based on a prompt. Mine was “Write about a significant issue, either political or personal.” Although this is probably too long to be used for a college essay (or maybe not!), and I doubt whether I will actually use this one (had I spent more than just about an hour on it, I’m sure I could write something even better), I think it’s one of my finer pieces of works, and is good practice for when I actually start writing the book I’ll be working on.
The only thing I “regret” is that because I wanted to fit this to three pages double-spaced, I didn’t include much about when I actually do emotionally care about people or things. I figure the essay gets the primary issue across without having to resort to that however.
I have stopped caring about what happens to other's emotions.
I’m supposed to be altruistic and care for everyone even though I don’t really have an emotional investment in what ultimately happens to them.
But It is hard. It becomes tiring. And after the whole hellish week of my autism acting up, I think I became even more tired toward other people. and so I don’t care anymore if I directly tell them that they are of no value to me, will probably not be in my life for a long period of time, and that I do not trust anything they say involving friendship with me.
I don’t like it very much. I’m supposed to be this caring person but I’ve started to become more sadistic about other people and it is scary. I worry about what may happen if I continue on this mindset. Sure, telling people that they’re useless to me and that I don’t care about their existence might not be the most terrible thing to do, but if this mentality keeps up, I worry about what else I will be able to justify.
When I walk in the hallways, I’m always on alert every time I see a person or if I I turn a corner myself, and then I get relieved after I see it’s no big deal.
I hope I get used to this nervousness. It is quite annoying.
In related news, I finally got all 64 messages out for the book. I’ll have to send it out to Tones and Kolk as well. Should start in about a week or two, probably two so I have a chance to force-rush in Gov now that my week of hell finished.
Bring it, bitches. You’re not going to win against a kid on no sleep who has done nothing but watch 9/11 specials this week. Not to mention the things from World Affairs these last two days. LEGIT DEPRESSED every day in lunch.
Simple explanations: I am PROUD to be an…
this is an open invitation to come at me bro
I might only be 17, but that invitation comes from me as well.
What a fun way for them to learn about just how terribly painful the whole ordeal is. I guess that is what happens when one of the only places I have to run to is Ms. Tones office.
Still, at least their interest in the whole autism thing has finally been piqued. I’m glad that now they finally have this understanding of just what it means. They are asking questions about what it’s like, which is a good start I suppose.
She says the whole stress thing is actually quite ordinary. People often do not realize when they are becoming stressed about situations, even when they’re as “petty” as the ones I’m dealing with, and she says people who feel an academic overload are just easily susceptible to stress (so she agrees with me on pretty much all of this.)
She has thus sympathized with why I completely underestimated how much time it would take in order to create these plans in order to handle everything because she knows this is one of the first times I’ve had to figure out how this whole “stress” emotion works. What an awkward emotion it is! One of the more invisible ones. I must look it up on Wikipedia.
…she also said some… uh… questionable things… about people’s appearances. Glad to know her thoughts on the matter are so… harsh o_o
I suppose this is why I do not like annoying planning.
It stresses me. I think on some level, this is really what stress is like. As confident as I appear, as certain as I am that I am right about all the assumptions I make about these situations and know that I have created foolproof preventative methods…
They still cause me to have dreams. They give me insomnia. They make it hard to eat. I have trouble working on stuff because there is this innate urge to just find more ways to be even more sure that things are more sure than they already are.
Like when I was about to get kicked out, I just could not work on anything. That was my “get ahead in school” week and instead that went down the freakin drain.
And yet I don’t really “feel” the stress. It just kind of builds up, sort of like how they do during breakdowns, except even the stress during breakdowns is far more evident after a little while.
It’s strange. I really must look further into this… really weird reaction.
And understand it enough so it won’t cause me to miss another day of school.
Essentially, all of the economic gains made by people of color since the Civil Rights Movement have been erased in a few years by the Long Recession. Whites experienced a net wealth loss of 16 percent from 2005 to 2009, while blacks lost about half of their wealth (53 percent) and Latinos lost two-thirds of their wealth.
Media outlets reporting on the Pew study point to housing loss as the primary culprit, since the net worth of blacks and Latinos is heavily reliant on home ownership, while whites are more likely to have retirement accounts and stock.
Rampant–and racist–fraud in the home loan industry was a primary contributor to the collapse, with 61 percent of sub-prime loan holders actually qualifying for prime loans that would have been easier to maintain. Blacks and Latinos were especially targeted for sub-prime loans, a practice called “reverse redlining.” Wells Fargo loan officer-turned-whistle blower Elizabeth Jacobson admitted that her company specifically went after African Americans for sub-prime loans through “wealth building” conferences hosted in black churches.
The employment gap between whites and blacks is also a contributor to the wealth gap. While white American are suffering through the Long Recession with 7.9 percent unemployment, blacks are experiencing Great Depression-like figures of 16.1 percent unemployment. This figure jumps to 31.4 percent for blacks ages 16 to 24, and black Americans have consistently had the higher rate of unemployment compared to white Americans since 2007.
Not surprisingly, the employment gap, too, has racist origins. The Center for American Progress analyzed unemployment data from the last three recessions and found that black unemployment starts earlier, rises faster and lingers longer. Explanations include the concentration of black workers in the stumbling manufacturing sector, the cutting of public sector jobs–and racial discrimination. This last finding is no shock given that employers are more likely to call back a white job applicant with a criminal record than a similarly qualified black man without a record.
The role of racism in poverty is important to keep in mind at a time Washington politicians are manufacturing crises that will slash the entitlement programs that 1 in 6 Americans rely on.It’s ironic that we’re cutting safety nets for the poor just as we’re experiencing the highest poverty rate since 1960, with blacks and Latinos three times as likely to live in poverty. Public policy is supposed to knock down racial and other non-meritorious barriers to pursuing life, liberty, and happiness, not jack them higher.
But white privilege doesn’t exist and racism is long gone, right post-racial America?
I’m reblogging this again because I’ve thought about it a little more.
The fact that Michele Bachmann (among other republican, anti-gay candidates) doesn’t want to stand by her previous comments about gay people tells me that she knows what she said was wrong but she isn’t willing to admit that she’s the one who is wrong, here.
Republicans are always on the wrong side of history, it seems, this is no different.
It’s like she doesn’t realize that those cameras focused on her are recording her. She has said some of the most toxic offensive things ever uttered by a elected official (and I’m not just talking about the lies upon lies). And yet here we are in some backwards universe where she is considered a contender.
Ever pretend you’re talking on the phone to avoid interacting with people around you? You’re not alone.
About 13 percent of mobile phone users are guilty of conducting fake conversations to get out of real conversations, according to a new study from the Pew Research Center’s Internet & American Life Project.
Confession: I managed to get the 1st Generation iPod Touch four days before it was supposed to have launched (the Apple Store near me inexplicably sold me one). I would walk around campus pretending to talk on it like an iPhone, which had just come out a few months earlier.