Gentilly Girl- a part of the 99%

This week has been nothing but pain. The house is coming along, but I keep seeing the faces of the boys that died during the Crisis. I’m freakin’ feeling guilty: I still live. Working through the feelings of pain, loss and guilt are nothing but torture. (Last night a friend of ours almost lost it over the death of his good friend last Christmas Eve… I had to come out of my funk in order to try to help.)
Death is no stranger to me: my mom died in my arms when I was 13. That was the start for me: I wound up dealing with the AIDS Crisis a decade later. (do you have any idea what it feels like when everyone but yourself dies in a week from your Billiards team? How about finding out that your clerks are dead?) I remember my friend Adam having to have a lobotomy due to his AIDS dementia: he couldn’t remember my name when I would show to clean his home. I remember bailing a good friend out of jail because of the medications not working well together. I remember taking my coven to the top of Bernal Heights one night to show them the  “void” of light over S.F. General Hospital.
I lived that life, and the now current purging of New Orleans reeks of the same shit. I will not tolerate it.
Decades ago I dedicated my life to service. I knew what the cost was, but I also understood the benefit. (not that I knew that I’d be having nightmares and B/S, not to mention acts of kindness that still haunt me.)
When the Federal Flood happened, I made my decision to fight for New Orleans. Yeppers, my partner Betts tells me to STFU at times, but I continue the fight. The catz sit on my desk whilst I’m going crazy, but they know that Grand Ma is focussed. They understand. Do you understand me?
And ya’s know what? Ya’s don’t want me to go Freya on your asses… I have a ton of catz to unleash. I don’t wish to do that.
Alright, we must fight for Public Housing. We who stand for New Orleans must be there.
We cannot allow outsiders to determine the the future of our city, our home. This place is OURS dammit! New Orleans is our place, and the mother-fucking outsiders should have no say about our future.

At the risk of getting my tail feathers singed, I was the first here in NOLA to bring up Klien’s book “The Shock Doctrine”. Here is an article from ZNet that tells it like it is.

This coming week is the time for those of us who love New Orleans to prove how much we believe in this place… the proof of the pudding when it comes to love of place. Getting our house back means little when thousands of others are denied homes.

WE ARE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER Darlin’s.

I will never be able to have a peaceful sleep in our almost fixed home if I know that there is a Grannie, or an Auntie, Uncle, Grandpa… who cries because they cannot return home, can’t be with their families.

My lament over these last few decades was that I could not die, that the Goddess would not let me die. I’ve always wondered what the reason for that shit. Now I know… the Fourth Battle of New Orleans starts soon. It’s about Humanity over dollars, a Human breath against the ticker tape from the Stock Market. The value of Life and Living…

If you have a heart, and a soul… work with us to stop the destruction of all of these homes. Please, please… don’t let this crime happen. We will pay for this in the Future if it goes down this way.