We've looked at the disproportionate fatal shootings of Black people by U.S. police, and we've examined the victimization and crime rates by the numbers from all angles between white and Black communities. In this essay, I'd like to take the time to analyze why crime rates are disproportionately high in Black communities, and - even more importantly - what can be done to alleviate this problem. There is an undeniable link between poverty and crime. According to the United States Bureau of Justice Statistics, from 2008-2012, "persons in poor households at or below the Federal Poverty Level (FPL) (39.8 per 1,000) had more than double the rate of violent victimization as persons in high-income households (16.9 per 1,000)" (Harrell, 2014). Interestingly, Black people living in poverty had a violent victimization rate similar to but actually lower than white people living in poverty, at 51.3 per 1,000 to 56.4 to 1,000. Per the graph below provided by the U.S. Census, the poverty rate for Black communities was much higher than white communities from 2007-2011. Poverty and crime are correlated. Whether or not this implies direct causation is still a matter of debate, but the connection is there. But the plague of poverty affecting Black communities doesn't end there; indeed, the afflictions are a generational curse stemming all the way from the dawn of segregation. According to the Economic Policy Institute: "In 1988, black students typically attended schools in which 43 percent of their fellow students were low-income; by 2006 it had risen to 59 percent (Orfield, 2009). In cities with the most struggling students, the isolation is even more extreme. The most recent data show, for example, that in Detroit, the typical black student attends a school where 3 percent of students are white, and 84 percent are low income (Detroit Public Schools, 2009, Enrollment Demographics as of 11/19/2009)" (Rothstein, 2014). The analysis continues: "Rutgers University Professor Paul Jargowsky has found that in 2011, 7 percent of poor whites lived in high poverty neighborhoods, where more than 40 percent of the residents are poor, up from 4 percent in 2000; 15 percent of poor Hispanics lived in such high poverty neighborhoods in 2011, up from 14 percent in 2000; and a breathtaking 23 percent of poor blacks lived in high poverty neighborhoods in 2011, up from 19 percent in 2000."
Rothstein then mentions that "it is inconceivable that significant gains can be made in the achievement of black children who are so severely isolated". The curse of segregation breeds poverty, and the curse of poverty breeds crime. But it seems as though the curse of being Black is an inescapable one, landing more Black individuals behind bars than any other race or ethnicity. Part III to follow. Sources https://www.bjs.gov/index.cfm?ty=pbdetail&iid=5137 https://www.census.gov/library/publications/2013/acs/acsbr11-17.html https://www.epi.org/publication/the-racial-achievement-gap-segregated-schools-and-segregated-neighborhoods-a-constitutional-insult/
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I'm just leveling with y'all. Over the past few... Decades... We have seen a disproportionate number of Black people gunned down by police in the United States. I am so sorry to say to all those who are living under a rock - something that has been an exceedingly common theme in my blog posts - but the statistics simply do not lie. According to the German website Statista, which is rated "Least Biased" and "'High' for factual reporting" by Media Bias/Fact Check, up until September 2020, 287 white people and 142 Black people have been fatally shot by police officers. At first glance, one might assert that since the disparity between white and Black people is more than 100 points, then white people are obviously being killed more frequently! Except, they're not. Statista reports that, per every million people in a certain ethnic demographic, 32 Black people were killed between 2015 and September 2020; 24 Hispanic people; and 13 white people. This means in simple terms that if these specific ethnic groups were each comprised of a million people, Black and Hispanic individuals are far likelier to be killed by U.S. cops than white individuals. So, please, don't commit the error of mistaking pure numerical data for proportionate data. "But!" I hear you exclaim. "This must mean that Black communities merely commit more crime, right?"
Well, in 2019, the percentage of Black people who say they experienced a violent crime was 1.1%, only slightly higher than white people at 1.07%, again per Statista, so it's not as if Black people are running rampant through the streets as some would have you picture. Now, admittedly, the homicide rate on average within the Black demographic is higher than that of the white demographic, at 52.8% to 45.3% in 2008 (Worrall, 2014). However, while 90% of Black murder victims were indeed killed by other Black people, only 14.8% of white victims were killed by Black people; this leaves approximately 85% of white victims having been murdered by other white people (Lynn, 2020). Now, we must examine the deeper levels of this issue and why it is not as black-and-white as it seems, no pun intended. Part II to follow. Sources https://www.statista.com/statistics/585152/people-shot-to-death-by-us-police-by-race/ https://www.statista.com/statistics/1123070/police-shootings-rate-ethnicity-us/ https://abcnews.go.com/US/black-black-crime-loaded-controversial-phrase-heard- amid/story?id=72051613 https://www.channel4.com/news/factcheck/factcheck-black-americans-commit-crime Yeah. You. Stop being an absolute moron.
Unless you've been living under a rock, you are well aware that the COVID-19 pandemic has reached Texas, all the while wreaking havoc on the rest of the country and the world. I don't even want to look at the counter of confirmed cases and deaths, but there's quite the handy one over on Johns Hopkins' website. But right now, we can flatten the curve - it's all up to you. Stay inside! Don't go out! Even your drive-thru McDonald's can wait a few months. I know, I know, "the economy needs saving". Well, yes, I agree, but not right now. The economy can recover. Your dead family members and friends cannot. I'm sorry to have to actually say that, but maybe that's the kind of blunt talk that people need right now. Sure, you may not fall seriously ill, but even if you're an asymptomatic carrier, you can still pass the virus on to others. This disease is statistically 40x deadlier than the flu. If we don't want bodies overflowing out of hospital morgues and mass graves having to be dug as during the last great pandemic just over a hundred years ago, the time to act is now. So, please, wash your hands. Stay inside. Do it for the strained medical workers, for the old and immunocompromised, and yourself. Do it for the economy. There won't be as much circulation if 2.2 million Americans are dead. Wow, it has been a minute and a half since I've posted on this blog. My viewer count has gone so far downhill, it's in the Edwards Aquifer. But, no matter! I'm back and I'm ready to write, and offer my commentary on more issues that I'm seeing in Texas that - for lack of better terminology - really chap my hide.
First of all, I want you to know that my political views have shifted drastically. I am a proud advocate for social justice, no matter what race or ethnicity or religion or gender or orientation you are. Also, the protection of the environment is at the top of my list of priorities. Now that we have that out of the way, I would kindly direct any and all triggered MAGA dudes and dudettes to the little X in the top right corner of the screen (or left, if you're on a Mac). However, if you can handle civil posts that disagree with your point of view without raving like a rabid dog, then you are more than welcome to stay and broaden your perspective. I did just that, and look what happened. Change is not easy, but it is good, to paraphrase a quote from one of my favorite Disney movies (bonus points if you get the reference). Okay, on to the primary topic of this particular post. I want to say it loud and clear for everyone in the back - the United States has no official language on the federal level, nor has it ever. Granted, many states do mark it so as English, but in terms of the entire country, there is no official language. Having said that, it bothers the hell out of me every time I hear someone - usually white and usually conservative - going off on some poor woman or man just going about their daily business only because they *gasp* heard them speaking another language! Oh, the horror! What could they possibly be conspiring? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And if you learned a new language or two, you would know this. It sickens me when I see this, especially in my own Latina family! There are members of my family whom I shall not specify that rail against people speaking Spanish in public, despite the fact that they are Hispanic themselves. One particular relative was forced to act white, speak English, and even scrub their skin free of the "dirt" (i.e. their dark skin), so in a sense, I can understand where they are coming from, but it does not give them an excuse to vilify those who did not endure that unfortunate upbringing. On another note, I am furious when Mexicans and other Central and South Americans are singled out and hated because they speak Spanish, but when an actual Spaniard or even a Uruguayan or Argentinian speaks it, it's "exotic" and "beautiful". Can you take a gander as to why? I'll give you a hint - it rhymes with "right", which is what many view this particular characteristic as and what many who possess this characteristic identify themselves as on the political spectrum. And I don't just see this with Spanish-speaking people, albeit that is what I am most familiar with growing up in South Texas. When a Chinese or a Vietnamese person speaks their language, the response of many is to wonder, "What are they hiding? Why can't they just speak English? Why don't they want anyone else to understand what they're saying?" But if they hear a language such as Korean or Japanese, it's usually a callback to the Uruguayan and Argentinian examples I presented earlier. I'm going to pose you a serious question. Obviously, if you relocated to a foreign country, you would make an effort to learn the endemic language, but it would be almost insurmountably difficult for many adults, especially if the language in question differs vastly from English. Would you not rejoice and feel more comfortable if you found someone else who spoke your native tongue, and converse in the like, despite others not understanding what you are saying? I doubt you would even care, mostly because of your opinions on English as the "lingua franca" (which it is soon poised not to be as China begins to greatly expand its economy), but also because it is not that big of a deal. Nobody would give two shits what language you're speaking, just as you shouldn't when you hear a foreign language in the United States. It doesn't matter if it's Spanish, Chinese, Russian, Arabic, whatever. Until you have seen enough of that particular person to decidedly make a sound judgment on their character, you should not even blink in the presence of their language. If anything, you should relish hearing it and all it's beautiful notes and melodic aspects so different from English. We were all taught growing up that the United States is a melting pot. Whether it's a soup or a tossed salad is up for debate, but everyone touts this philosophy of God-blessed America. It's time for you to follow it. We are a nation founded on immigration, and there is no reason to cease it now. I. Am. DYING.
Uh, no, not that kind of dying. But I am suffering! Why? I'll tell you: Every year around this time, January/February-ish, I get a sudden longing for the sea that I just can't shake off. When fall rolls around, I'm so excited to jump into that foxy, spooky mood that I love so much, and I manage to maintain that through to the end of the year. BUT. BUT BUT BUT. Once the New Year hits and I realize I'm in the second semester of the school year, I suddenly have the desire to become a mermaid again. Seriously, I start daydreaming about body-boarding and soaking up the sun and spending a day carried away by the waves and... Ugh, help me out here. Just 4 weeks and 6 days until Spring Break, guys, we can make it. I'm on the verge of breaking into a "Moana" musical number every second. Y'all know which one I'm talking about. Okay, guys, here's the deal: I am currently writing this post while I have a thousand other things sitting on the back-burner. Should I be doing my homework? Yes. Am I taking a much-deserved break? Well, maybe not much-deserved, but I am a firm believer in taking time out for yourself to recuperate and recharge. So, in the spirit of procrastination/self-care, I have decided to compile a short list of the things I do to relax. And, hey, maybe y'all have other suggestions! Comment below to let me know!
Your Guide to Maintaining Your Well-Being:
Alright! I hope I've given y'all some great ideas to take the edge off. Have fun with whatever you do, but remember, don't stress about stress! It's the body's natural alarm system, letting you know what you should do and when you should do it. All you have to do is learn how to manage it so it doesn't take control of your life. My family was never the most... Traditional. Remember my Dia de los Muertos article? Yeah, the one where I admitted I had to figure out how to celebrate on my own? Well, there ya' go. Sure, we've always made tamales for New Year's and had barbacoa breakfasts on Saturday mornings. I will always remember my grandmother's home awash with color because of all her talavera (don't worry, she's alive!). Tejano music has always filled the living room when its time to clean or bumped out of the car stereo on a road trip. And of course, we can never pass up a good agua fresca from Chicho Boys on a hot summer day.
Even still, despite all of that, a part of me has always been insecure. I never had the guts to try barbacoa or a tamale until just this last year, and I grew up blissfully unaware of the powerhouse that was Selena. I didn't have a quinceañera when I turned quince. Heck, I grew up hearing Spanish, but the only time I actively learned it was in high school. In short, I'm what they call a pocha -- a third- or fourth-generation Mexican-American whose family gradually deviated more and more from their roots. What is this to say? To most Americans, I pass totally and completely for white, even so far as to give false security to a classmate in middle school who felt the need to claim superiority over Mexicans. But as I now attend a predominantly Hispanic university, I have discovered myself assimilating more and more into the loud and proud Latino culture. I feel so good exploring my roots extensively for the first time, to be able to have an enclave to fall into and belong. At least, that's what I thought. For the past couple of years, I've been watching a couple of YouTube channels by the names of Pero Like and Flama. I have found that I do in fact relate to much of what is portrayed in their videos; if not personally, than by stories related to me by my mom or my grandma, not the least of which being -- who is Latino? This is when I discovered how close-minded so many of my brothers and sisters could be. Just because I am fourth-generation Chicana, I am suddenly "not Latina enough". Never mind the fact that my great-grandmother was raised in Mexico for all of her formative years, or that my grandmother has traveled extensively between here and Ocotlán and spoke Spanish as her first language. On that note, who came up with the rule that you can only consider yourself Latino/a if you speak Spanish or were born in a Latin American country? This is exactly the kind of stubbornness that convinced me I wasn't Latina enough for so much of my life. So, to conclude this epic rant, here is my definition of "Latino": if you have Latin blood in your genes, that is the ONLY qualifier! Who gives a rat's cola if you or your parents were born or raised in another country? You didn't have to be immersed in that particular culture from the second you were born. If you want to explore your identity just as I have, then go for it! As for me, I will continue to sip my Abuelita's and eat my conchas in peace, confident in the fact that I am just as Latina as anyone else on this planet, while at the same time embracing the other side of my heritage -- you know, the part that gave me my vampiric complexion and average height. Necesitamos quedarnos en unidad, no en diferencias. Todos nosotros somos Latinos. ICalling all loyal Texans! November 6th is right around the corner, and y'all know what that means! Beto O'Rourke and Ted Cruz are going head to head in what very well may be one of the closest and craziest Senate elections in recent memory -- not just for the state, but the entire nation.
I'm not going to sit here typing and tell you who to vote for. This isn't a sponsored campaign, nor is it a self-righteous tirade against the other candidate. I am simply going to encourage all of you 18-or-older citizens to get out there and VOTE. As Americans, voting should be considered your civil duty, not something that you occasionally partake in and grumble those election years when you don't. Sure, this may not be the Super Tuesday, nor is it necessarily a complete reworking of the inner goings-on of Congress... Although, I suppose the whole country shall see by the time it's over. It is, however, something that concerns all of Texas. We're determining who will represent our state in Washington for the next six years. You'd think that would warrant at least some passion. Whether you're rooting for Beto or Ted, don't just lie back on your couch and watch the counter go up and down, cheering when your candidate is in favor or pouting when he's not. It may be cliché, but be the change you wish to see in the world. Personally, I want to be the first person in line at City Hall on the 6th, and I hope that all of you do the same. I look forward to seeing these stickers on everyone's shirt when I walk down the street. P.S. I took a rather lengthy hiatus because I had to get myself ready for college (#FangsOut!), but I am back and pumped to be blogging again! Okay, so maybe I wasn't banned. And fine, so maybe I'm not necessarily a real mermaid, but I have a tail and everything! (This is not sponsored in any way, but LuBella's carries Sun Tail mermaid tails in great colors for great prices. Go check 'em out!) Nevertheless, for us in the mermaid community, indoor pools should be our refuge. We have to wait all year for the weather to warm up, and even then, going to the beach isn't exactly an everyday thing for those of us more than 100 miles inland, and we can't exactly barge into our friend's personal backyard pools whenever we darn well feel like it. Lakes and rivers would be ideal, except for the fact that urban freshwater systems are so polluted with chemicals and bacteria that we run the risk of contracting some brain-eating amoeba in the summertime. So, what better way to enjoy the water year-round than at a place like the Natatorium? Unfortunately, because they deem it a "safety hazard", mermaid tails are not allowed. I mean, I guess I can understand that... If you're 12 and under! Not an adept swimmer that can easily swim below and on the surface in at least 10 feet of water and come up for air with a quick flick of the tail. It's not like mine is a 30-pound silicone one (although, I would looove to own that one day, preferably in Coral/Orange from Mernation). All that comprises mine is a simple monofin with swimsuit fabric pulled over my legs. Who's to say I don't swim better with my legs stuck together? I do, by the way... Always have, ever since I was little. Maybe I was always meant to be a mermaid~ ;)
Honestly, this whole thing has put me in a mood. I am so calling discrimination against finfolk. Just because we have fins and they don't? Really. Seriously, I'm thinking of writing a petition to let mermaids and mermen over a certain reasonable age use their tails at the Natatorium. I've already signed one for the YMCA. Get the word out, my Texas pod! First of all, props to Adam Krueger on Spectrum News! A couple of weeks ago when a fairly widespread and unusually long-lasting hailstorm hit, this poor man was holding down the weather forecast at one in the morning, trying to get that darn iPad to work. I'm up out of bed with my mom whilst an EF-0 tornado is passing behind my house -- for the second time, mind you -- cracking up at this whole situation. Maybe it was to relieve some of the stress of the hail pounding my windows and the wind roaring outside? I don't know, but quite frankly, I have mad respect for Adam Krueger, probably the chilliest meteorologist I've ever seen on TV.
Back to the tornado! Just like last February when six of those weather demons touched down in San Antonio, a very weak one decided to take a stroll down memory lane... And by memory lane, I mean the neighborhood directly behind my flimsy duplex. I knew something was up as soon as I noticed the sudden shift in the direction of the wind, and my suspicions were confirmed when the siding on at least five of the other duplexes on my street was stripped off. No derecho or straight-line winds can do that. That was the work of suction power. Terrifying suction power. Now, don't get me wrong, I looove weather! Give me an electrical storm or a rainbow any day and I will be equally as happy. However, when it comes to severe weather, I prefer to observe from a distance... Usually from the safety of my couch watching Jim Cantore losing it over thundersnow. But put me in the middle of a major hailstorm with a chance of a twister or two? I will freak out like a psychotic cat. So, even though I acknowledge that having a minor tornado that close to my house without doing any damage is exhilarating beyond belief, I'd rather it not happen again, because who knows what the next storm will bring? |
AuthorMy name is Dani Slaughter. I am a university student from San Antonio, musing about what I see and how I see it. Archives
October 2020
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