Karen Buley's Blog, page 3

Please Join a July 27-29 Facebook Boycott

My friend Carol emailed to ask if I would boycott Facebook for its refusal to adequately eliminate hate speech.

Her question sparked a childhood memory. We met in Catholic school when I was the “new girl” in third grade. The following year, she and I sprawled on the shag carpet in my family’s dining room. Carol told me one of our classmates made fun of her during recess.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I’m colored.”

I don’t remember my reply. Honestly, I am not even sure I did reply. I didn’t know words like empathy or racism. But I remember feeling a wave of emotions for her and a flash of anger toward the boy who hurled the hurtful words. Carol’s parents were born in the Philippines. Until that day, though, I never noticed she and I were different colors.

Fifty-five years later, people are still being harassed—and murdered—because of the color of their skin. In the wake of the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Elijah McClain, Rashad Brooks, and many others, sorrow and rage have swept the country. Cries for equity and justice abound.

Carol’s email arrived the day hundreds of companies began a Stop Hate for Profit advertising boycott. Businesses united “to force Mark Zuckerberg to address the effect that Facebook has had on our society.”

I wrote I had never paid for advertising nor made any purchases via Facebook. “I hope more companies pull their ads and join the boycott, though.” I added, “I like posts about marches and activism opportunities, links to articles, and connections with family and friends.”

“Couldn’t FB members do a 3-day boycott?” she replied.

Her suggestion felt huge. And my Facebook reach felt small. In addition, I often used Facebook numerous times each day between my personal page and two public pages.

In previous weeks though, heartbreaking images and accounts of racism and police brutality—on television and online and in print—spurred me to commit to antiracism. I had attended Black Lives Matter protests and made additional donations to organizations fighting for equity and justice. Carol asked for more.

And we had a bond that began in 1964 when my family relocated to my parents’ hometown of Butte, Montana.

The day after her query, I replied I would promote a boycott. A pair of New York Times articles days later strengthened my resolve.

“very disappointing”

Civil rights groups called a July 7 meeting with Facebook’s top executives, Mark Zuckerberg and Sheryl Sandberg, “very disappointing.” Derrick Johnson, President and CEO of the N.A.A.C.P., said, “They lack this cultural sensitivity to understand that their platform is actually being used to cause harm, or they understand the harm that the platform is causing and they have chosen to take the profit as opposed to protecting the people.”

On July 8, Facebook released the findings of a two-year audit examining its policies. According to its handpicked auditors Laura W. Murphy and Megan Cacace, lawyers and civil rights experts, “Facebook has made policy and enforcement choices that leave our election exposed to interference by the president and others who seek to use misinformation to sow confusion and suppress voting.”

The July 8 article quoted Vanita Gupta, President and CEO of the Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights: “As long as the platform is being weaponized to spread hate and violence, harm vulnerable communities, and undermine our democracy, we will continue to hold the platform accountable.”

Together

As individuals, we too can join in efforts to hold Facebook accountable. Please sign the #StopHateforProfit petition. And add your name to a letter thanking businesses for putting principles above profits.

On July 27, please join a 3-day #NoHateorDisinformation Facebook boycott. That day, Mark Zuckerberg and CEOs of Amazon, Apple, and Alphabet’s Google will testify before Congress in an antitrust hearing.

Using the above graphic for your profile picture—either as a temporary or ongoing photo—will add power to our collective action. Give yourself a three-day pause from Facebook and perhaps all social media.

Go for a walkReadListen to music or a podcastDanceSpend time with family or friends—four-legged or two-leggedGardenDraw or write or color or paintConnect with others virtually or via phone, email, or lettersMeditateCreate found object art or a word collageBake or prepare a special mealBe still. And listen.

We are not born with prejudice or hate in our hearts, and we are all human. Some of us even share the same soul.

Thank you for joining the July 27-29 boycott to urge Facebook to ban hate speech and disinformation. Together, may our efforts make the world a safer and more humane place.

The post Please Join a July 27-29 Facebook Boycott appeared first on Karen Buley.

Wildflowers, Birdsong, and Missing My Mom

Montana is three weeks into Phase One reopening amidst COVID-19. During our previous shelter-in-place order, outdoor exercise was acceptable while we adhered to social distancing guidelines and limited groups to ten or less.  In our state dubbed “Big Sky Country,” access to public lands abounds.

Yesterday, inspired by a friend’s Facebook photo posted days earlier, I drove ten miles from home to Mount Jumbo. A plethora of vehicles filled the small parking area and lined both sides of Lincoln Hills Drive. I eased into an empty spot, then crossed to the trailhead. Arrowleaf balsamroot blanketed the hillside, and birdsong filled the air.

The North Loop Trail, new to me, extended right and left. I turned right. Then, at a T-intersection, I left the wide, logging-road grade for a narrower, steeper path—the Woods Gulch – Sheep Mountain Trail. Considering the number of cars and trucks parked below, I encountered far fewer people during my eighty-minute meandering than I expected.

A lone hiker and dog bypassed me as I stopped to take photos. Along the way, I met two more solitary hikers, three groups of mountain bikers, three parties of hikers, and three more dogs. An abundance of wildflowers and spring growth peppered the mountain. I’m grateful for the family of four and later, a group of friends, that schooled me on arnica, shooting stars, larkspur, a ballhead waterleaf, and prairie stars.

Shooting stars



Arnica



Ballhead waterleaf

I stood more than six feet away and secured my mask while we chatted. A blue surgical mask, it was one I’d worn to a cesarean birth years ago. Occasionally, I’d bring my used masks and disposable, bouffant caps home and add them to the dress-up clothes. I had no idea those old masks would be reused as personal protective equipment—PPE—years later.

On the fortieth anniversary of Mount St. Helens eruption, I’m reminded of quarantine and masks.  As a practicing RN, I was deemed an essential worker, though I don’t recall if that was the term used to give me permission to leave my home and traverse our ash-covered city. The restrictions were short-lived in 1980, unlike the path we’re navigating today.

Our trajectory through the COVID-19 pandemic is fluid as new data unfolds. My mom, a resident of a senior living community one hundred twenty miles away, has been quarantined since March 14th. I applaud the care to keep her and her cohorts safe, but I miss her. Until our state reaches Phase Three of the reopening plan though, quarantine for such communities will continue. So I savor daily phone calls with Mom and look forward to the day we can be together again.

Mom and I at 2020 Montana Women’s March

In the meantime, I’ll practice social distancing, wear a mask in public, and relish the beauty and birdsong around me.

The post Wildflowers, Birdsong, and Missing My Mom appeared first on .

Navigating Uncharted Territory

The COVID-19 pandemic has thrust us into uncharted territory. Last week, nearly 3.3 million Americans filed for unemployment benefits. Three days ago, we learned the U.S. leads the world in the number of confirmed COVID-19 cases. Closer to home, Montana reported its first COVID-19 death minutes after Gov. Steve Bullock ordered us to shelter-in-place beginning yesterday at 12:01 a.m.

The CDC advises us to take breaks from reading, watching, or listening to stories about the pandemic. But as we’re hunkered in, often with smart phones or remotes at our fingertips, heeding that advice can be a challenge. Anxiety and fear run deep.

I’m mindful of the privileges I have that so many others do not: a stable income, housing, food security, friends and family, books, and good health. I take none of them for granted. In response to a friend’s Facebook post this week about embracing gratitude for a warm house, little worries, a fridge full of food, and other comforts, a man replied, “Good points, but I’m still praying for employment security during this time. It’s a lot of stress.”

Stress beyond my imagination, truthfully. Rich and I volunteered twice this week at Missoula Food Bank & Community Center. We stayed past our scheduled 11-1 shifts both days because there was nobody to take over for us. Sue, the volunteer that replaced Chandler Friday on our assembly line of three, was scheduled to receive a foster dog from the Humane Society of Western Montana that evening. On the cusp of Montana’s shelter-in-place directive, the animal shelter geared up to operate without volunteers.

After we left the food bank Friday afternoon, staff made the difficult decision to suspend volunteer activity inside its building. However, drivers will still be utilized for the senior home delivery program.

As we hunker
in, I offer these thoughts. If you are able, please:

donate to an organization that mitigates food insecurity or provides financial assistance to those in needapply to your local animal shelter to foster an animal if a need arises (As of yesterday, Missoula’s Humane Society had enough foster families, though they were accepting applications to fill future needs if necessary)donate blood support a local business that offers curbside pickup, takeout, or deliveryshop for someone unable to access a grocery storecall and check in with family members and friendsexplore websites like COVID-19: Missoula City-County Joint Information Center to learn additional ways to help

Along with limiting our time immersed in news stories and social media, the CDC recommends we exercise, eat well, meditate, share our concerns with others, get plenty of sleep, and more. Some people, due to a myriad of circumstances, might find these guidelines difficult or even impossible. So please, do what you can to help those in need.

And to the health care workers, first responders, pharmacists, grocery store employees, sanitation workers, and all who are doing essential work to feed, care for, and keep us safe, thank you. This video is for you.

Feature Photo by USGS I Unsplash

Tags:  CDC, COVID-19, Gov. Steve Bullock, gratitude, Humane Society of Western Montana, Missoula Food Bank & Community Center, Montana, pandemic, Rich, shelter-in-place, stress, USA, volunteerism




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 Race to Nowhere  Butte America: Back to My Roots  Goodreads Giveaway  Update Your ProgressCopyright © Karen Buley [Navigating Uncharted Territory], All Right Reserved. 2020.

Buried Treasures

Last month, I unearthed a large, cardboard box marked
“Christmas Extra” from beneath the stairs. Untouched for years, the box housed
a collection of kids’ art from 1989 on, plus nutcrackers, candles, wreaths, a
fabric reindeer, and assorted other decorations.

The pair of handmade books sparked a smile.

I had neglected to add the year to Eric’s book—certain, I suppose, I would never forget when he gifted us with Christmas Rhymes and Riddles. 1997? His cursive signature made that guess a good bet. Colin’s book, A Very Buley Christmas, was memorialized with a 2001 copyright date.

When our family of four gathered for the holidays, we shared
a laugh over Colin’s tongue-in-cheek dedication. But none of us could pinpoint
the date of Eric’s book. “Didn’t you write another one?” I asked.

“Yeah—I wrote a book about leprechauns,” Eric replied.

I found Little Green Men yesterday, cocooned in a storage cube.

Eric, like Colin, penned his book in sixth grade. Beginning with preschool cookbooks, though, the boys had seen their names in print throughout the years. The prolific writer, Ursula K. Le Guin, wrote, “To have written a book is a very cool thing, when you are six or eight or ten years old. It leads to other cool things, such as fearless reading. Why would anybody who’s written a book be afraid of reading one?”

Much has been written about the importance of reading, not just for our youth, but for all of us. Thank you to educators that promote reading and writing. And special thanks to adults like Curtis Jenkins, who, after gifting a Dallas student with a shirt depicting one of her illustrations, said, “I’m hoping this T-shirt inspires her to keep on writing books.”

[image error]

I’m hoping that young girl keeps writing books, too.

Tags:  books, Christmas, Colin, Curtis Jenkins, education, Eric, reading, teachers, Ursula K. Le Guin, writing




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 World Cup 2014  Missoula's Martin Luther King Jr. Day Celebration  Missoula : Much to Celebrate.  Powwows Throughout the Years  2014 Big Sky Documentary Film FestivalCopyright © Karen Buley [Buried Treasures], All Right Reserved. 2019.

Hope for the Future

When I was eight years old, learning to maneuver and pin a cloth diaper around my baby brother felt monumental. I didn’t like rinsing soiled diapers in the toilet before adding them to the nearby pail, but I never lacked warm water to wash my hands afterward. A sink, plus a tub/shower combination, were steps away. Our family of eight—and later ten—shared that single bathroom, mostly without complaint. My best friend, Re-Re, lived one block away in a home with two bathrooms. She had twelve in her family though, so a second lavatory seemed well deserved.

I was reminded of my idyllic childhood while reading about Xóchitl Guadalupe Cruz, a third grader in Chiapas, Mexico. Families in her community relied upon trees as a source of fuel to heat water for bathing. A seasoned science fair competitor, Xóchitl created a solar-powered apparatus that, in addition to heating water for her family and others, conserved trees. The Nuclear Sciences Institute at Mexico’s Autonomous University recognized her for her invention which could positively impact lives worldwide.

Cheers to Xóchitl Guadalupe Cruz. As O. Delgado wrote: “If this is what Xóchitl is doing at eight, we can only imagine what the future holds.” Her story and others, like that of Sweden’s Greta Thunberg who is crossing the Atlantic Ocean by sailboat to speak at the UN Climate Action Summit in September, bring me hope for the preservation of our Mother Earth. (View Greta’s sailing updates here.)

Tags:  activists, climate change, education, Greta Thunberg, leaders, Mexico, science, students, Sweden, Xóchitl Guadalupe Cruz




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 Missoula's Martin Luther King Jr. Day Celebration  2013 Montana Festival of the Book  Mirror, Morph, and Make-Believe: Crafting Fiction from Real Life  Our Introduction to the Big Sky Documentary Film Festival  InspirationCopyright © Karen Buley [Hope for the Future], All Right Reserved. 2019.

A New Anthology

Women’s voices matter. We have witnessed this truth again and again in 2017, and it is with pride that I announce the inclusion of “Childbirth 1977” in Inside and Out: Women’s Truths, Women’s Stories.

Seventy-six voices, garnered from 2009 to 2016, weave a rich collection of witnessing, connecting, remembering, waking, recognizing, acting, nurturing, and growing. “These true tales, our sisters’ voices, link us and can lead us forward,” writes Susan F. Schoch, editor.

Susan Witting Albert adds, “But while these stories are grounded in the daily realities of individual lives, they tell us a communal story. . . . At SCN [Story Circle Network], we say that every woman has a hundred stories to tell, and they are all true.”

I am about to witness my first birth. I am twenty; my patient and her husband are eighteen.                 “Childbirth 1977”

Humbled and honored to be part of the tapestry of SCN’s latest book.

Tags:  authors, birth, books, nursing, stories, Story Circle Network, students, women, writing




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 Race to Nowhere  A New Job!  2013 Montana Festival of the Book  Detours  An Evening at ROOTS Young Adult ShelterCopyright © Karen Buley [A New Anthology], All Right Reserved. 2018.

Update Your Progress

I made my poetry slam debut last week. Sponsored by one of our high school seniors, I smiled “maybe” when she invited me to slam.  Though intrigued, I had written little poetry to date.

Two days before the event, I resurrected a stream-of-consciousness piece from my cell phone. I revised. Rehearsed. Then spoke from my heart.

Update Your Progress: February 8, 2017 at 6:24 AM

Goodreads reminder:

you started reading

The Memory Book

41 days ago

update your progress

My dad died 34 days ago

is that what you're asking?

dictate words into cell phone

read "time flies" on WaPo

Update your progress

Calls and emails unanswered

Members of Congress ignored

voter suppression et al

he became president

Update your progress

We marched in Helena

10,000 strong

The woman beside me said,

"isn't it nice to be around thinkers?"

Update your progress

I fell on my driveway

wrist to shoulder swallowed whole

old anti-inflammatories

got me through

Update your progress

I returned to the treadmill

to walk and to read

Muslim ban and Cabinet nominees

sabotaged my mind

Update your progress

Page 264

93 more 

my heart bleeds for our country

my father rests in peace 

 

 

Tags:  books, election, fathers, goodbyes, Helena, poetry, Women's March




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 The Power of Observation  2014 Big Sky Documentary Film Festival  World Book Night  We Need Medical Marijuana  World Book Night 2014Copyright © Karen Buley [Update Your Progress], All Right Reserved. 2017.

A Promise

This Promise from a first and second grade multiage class fills me with hope. Their collective words—penned in a public school classroom two miles from my home—demonstrate a culture of collaboration, creativity, and community.

I hope for equity in our cities, state, country, and world. I hope that our United States will be the welcoming country embodied by the Statue of Liberty. I hope that those tasked with reconciling revenue deficits and funding for essential services will embrace this spirit of collaboration. Most of all, I hope that sharing this Promise from thoughtful, kind, courageous six- to eight-year-old leaders will inspire each of us, particularly elected officials, to model their words.

Tags:  collaboration, education, hope, kindness, leaders, peace, students




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 World Book Night 2013  Children should not fear the President.  I grieve my father. I grieve his beloved country more.  The Kindle Version is HereCopyright © Karen Buley [A Promise], All Right Reserved. 2017.

Father’s Day

I lost my dad in January. In the months that followed, I cocooned myself in his gold and brown sweatshirt, softness and scent comforts on cold winter nights. Colors of Capital High School Bruins, its frayed neck and sleeves evidence of the years Papa spent cheering for his grandchildren.

A special sweatshirt. 2009.

On his eighty-ninth birthday, Dad asked, “Do you think I’ll live to be a hundred?” His question earnest, we vowed to have a ninetieth birthday bash if he made it that long.

He didn’t. He died less than six weeks later, five days after breaking his hip. As we surrounded his hospital bed, I was reminded of a family gathering twelve years prior.

Please keep everyone healthy and safe had been my silent plea, Dad foremost in my mind as extended family bid Eric bon voyage. Not yet seventeen, he was headed to Argentina for a yearlong study abroad. I fought tears when Eric said goodbye to his Papa, wondering if it would be the last time they would see each other.

Ten days ago, Eric received his MPA from UW’s Evans School of Public Policy and Governance. His Gram in attendance, I felt his Papa’s presence, too. And when I saw the photo, I knew.

Affirmation.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

Tags:  affirmation, Argentina, Bruins, Eric, Evans School, fathers, goodbyes, graduation, grandfather, loss, memories, MPA, study abroad, sweatshirt




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 Queer is not a bad word.  Our Introduction to the Big Sky Documentary Film Festival  Nanny on the Run is Launched!  Thank you, YouTube  The Kindle Version is HereCopyright © Karen Buley [Father's Day], All Right Reserved. 2017.

Queer is not a bad word

It was a new word for me. Queer. 1967, age eleven, I sought out my twelve-year-old brother, careful to catch him out of earshot of younger siblings. “What’s a queer?” I asked.

“Ssshhh!” He flicked his head toward the adjacent bedroom where our mother was putting away laundry. “Mom will hear you.”

His stage whisper so loud, I was certain she heard him, not me. I left, question unanswered.

I had a fallback plan: Julie, our thirteen-year-old neighbor. She would tell me. And she did. I don’t remember her words. Straightforward, they didn’t leave a lasting impression. The shushing did.

I didn’t fault my brother, though. Growing up in the 1960’s, the families I knew didn’t talk about “the birds and the bees.” I added “queers” to the list, and moved on.

Twenty years later, I had my first baby. When I changed Eric’s diaper, I practiced saying “this is your penis” and “this is your scrotum,” determined to say those words as easily as “Head of hair. Forehead bare . . .”

When he was four, I borrowed a kids’ library book to read to him and to one-year-old Colin. It had cartoonish drawings and talked about bodies and making babies, subjects I did not want to be taboo. That same year, Eric traced a panty liner on a piece of paper. He presented his drawing, pride palpable: “I drew a uterus!”

His drawing did look like the knitted uterus I used in my Lamaze classes. I reveled in his artistry, creativity, and in the way the word rolled off his tongue.

Eric and Karen.

Fast forward twenty-five years. I wish I had known to look for LGBTQIA books. That acronym was not in my vocabulary back then, but acceptance, empathy, love, and tolerance were. I have learned that I am an ally. And Eric is queer. He is also a Fulbrighter. A City Year AmeriCorps alum. An Education Pioneer. A TeamChild Board Fellow. And an MPA. A recent graduate of University of Washington, he was nominated to be both a Husky 100 and a Luce Scholar. He is fluent in Spanish; has lived on four continents; and is compassionate, kind, and an inspiration. His sexual orientation does not define him.

On the eve of his seventeenth birthday, Eric left Montana to spend a year in San Miguel de Tucumán, Argentina, as a foreign exchange student. Four days ago, I donned a pair of Argentine earrings he gave me, harnessing his courage as I prepared to embark upon my first solo door-to-door canvassing. His political activism began in high school when he restarted an Amnesty International club for his senior project. My activism, spotty throughout the years, kicked up last summer. In recent weeks, it has been on overdrive.

Montana has a special election coming up May 25. Our lone seat in the House of Representatives was vacated in March. I have been working hard to elect Democrat Rob Quist. He represents Montana values, including equity. His Republican opponent opposed non-discrimination ordinances in Bozeman and Butte. But equity is a Montana value, so both ordinances won easy victories: Bozeman unanimously; Butte 10-2.

At a recent Special Election Action Forum, a speaker shared a conversation she had had with her mother. When she referenced LGBTQ rights, her mom asked, “What does the Q stand for?” then said, “Oh. That’s a word I don’t use.”

Her mom is a Baby Boomer, like me. I didn’t use ‘queer’ growing up, either. I do now.

Last week, while tabling on the University of Montana campus, I talked with another Baby Boomer. He expressed concerns about the candidates. I rattled off Rob Quist’s Montana values: public lands, affordable health care, Medicare and Social Security, public education, Second Amendment Rights. He told me he had been in the healthcare field, so we talked about that.

Then I shared the heart of my story. I told him I had never really campaigned before. I said that Rob Quist believes in equity, and I was fighting for my queer son who cried for two weeks after our November election. The current Republican candidate had fought non-discrimination ordinances, I said. I tried to keep the quiver out of my voice when I added that my fight was to elect a man who believes in equity.

He listened, then said that my son should not have to worry about being treated equitably.  He put his hand on my shoulder, and told me he would vote for Quist “for your son. My wife will, too,” he said.

I thanked him, hoping he realized the depth of my gratitude.

I had another tender conversation when I knocked doors two days later. The man told me he had lost his wife the week before. His words matter of fact, I asked about her. Sixty—my age—she died too young. He told me about her cancer and her medical bills. I told him about my dad, who had passed away three months before, five days after breaking his hip. Eighty-nine, he had a good, long life. We talked about affordable healthcare for all.

I told him I was campaigning because I had a queer son, and because Rob Quist believes in equality.

“Your son is what?” he asked.

“Queer.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s an umbrella term for non-heterosexual,” I said. I told him it was a reclaimed term, not the slur of our youth.

“I did not know that,” he said, words thoughtful and deliberate.

We talked a bit more about his wife’s upcoming celebration of life before saying goodbye.

When I reached the sidewalk, he called, “Tell your son there are people out there who support him.”

“I will,” I replied, voice catching.

Tears threatened as I walked to the next house. His words affirmed what I knew, and gave me resolve. Montana has a single seat in the House of Representatives. I will continue to fight for Montana’s voice to be one of affirmation, safety, and inclusiveness.

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