Summer is in full swing and the Smart Women want to talk about what each of their summers looks like.
I’ve already had a full summer’s worth of life crammed into my summer so far, but why not live in the fast lane?
I just got back from Barbados, where I presented on the Caribbean holdings of the Slave Societies Digital Archive at the Association of Caribbean Historians’ annual meeting. Let me tell you, this group of scholars is amazing. About half come from institutions in the Caribbean itself, and the rest from everywhere else. They do simultaneous translation so that people who don’t speak English, Spanish, and French can hear the latest scholarship of the full region and ask questions of people a language barrier would prevent them from asking. And they are the only scholarly organization that I know of, that has a end-of-conference fete written directly into the constitution. Our right to party is constitutional! And what a fete. You haven’t lived until you’ve been part of a group of scholars who can both bachata and whine. Continue reading “The Smart Women’s Summer, Part 1”
I have a million things I have to write, but I can’t stop thinking about a photo from Houston I saw on social media over the weekend. It was the sitting room of a nursing home for the elderly, with water that was waist-deep. The dark water was filthy, with what looked like cigarette butts floating in it. Everything sat in the water: a popcorn machine, lamps, recliners, wheelchairs, articles of clothing. Also sitting in the water: people.
Old people. Frail people. People who need wheelchairs, walkers, and crutches to get around. People not sure-footed enough to be able to wade through water, with eyesight too poor to see obstacles in the water even if it were clear. People whose papery skin had been sitting in contact with that water for hours, making it more easily tear-able. People with bandages hiding wounds that shouldn’t be in contact with the filthy water. People whose sweaters and blankets are soaked.
Time Magazine reported that someone in the home texted this photo to a resident’s family, who posted it to social media asking for help. After it received thousands of shaming retweets, the city of Houston redirected some strained resources to airlift the seniors out of their center to shelter.
I’m grateful that this part of Hurricane Harvey’s story has a happy ending. I’m glad no one was hurt during evacuation.
But I’m so incredibly angry, still.
Continue reading “We Create the Disasters, Not Nature”