Carlos Andrés Gómez – Manning up to defend women’s rights

May 17, 2004

First day marriage of same-sex couples is legal in Massachusetts, the first state to allow it in the United States.

Judge Margaret Marshall said in the ruling in 2003:

"Civil marriage is at once a deeply personal commitment to another human being and a highly public celebration of the ideals of mutuality, companionship, intimacy, fidelity, and family. “It is an association that promotes a way of life, not causes; a harmony in living, not political faiths; a bilateral loyalty, not commercial or social projects.” Because it fulfills yearnings for security, safe haven, and connection that express our common humanity, civil marriage is an esteemed institution, and the decision whether and whom to marry is among life’s momentous acts of self-definition.

It is undoubtedly for these concrete reasons, as well as for its intimately personal significance, that civil marriage has long been termed a “civil right.”

Without the right to marry – or more properly, the right to choose to marry – one is excluded from the full range of human experience and denied full protection of the laws for one’s “avowed commitment to an intimate and lasting human relationship.” Because civil marriage is central to the lives of individuals and the welfare of the community, our laws assiduously protect the individual’s right to marry against undue government incursion.

That same-sex couples are willing to embrace marriage’s solemn obligations of exclusivity, mutual support, and commitment to one another is a testament to the enduring place of marriage in our laws and in the human spirit."

May 16, 2014

60TH ANNIVERSARY OF BROWN V. BOARD OF EDUCATION

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BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

A PROCLAMATION

May 17, 1954, marked a turning point in America's journey toward a more perfect Union. On that day, the Supreme Court handed down a unanimous decision in Brown v. Board of Education, outlawing racial segregation in our Nation's schools. Brown overturned the doctrine of "separate but equal," which the Court had established in the 1896 case of Plessy v. Ferguson. For more than half a century, Plessy gave constitutional backing to discrimination, and civil rights organizations like the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People faced an uphill battle as they sought equality, opportunity, and justice under the law.

Brown v. Board of Education shifted the legal and moral compass of our Nation. It declared that education "must be made available to all on equal terms" and demanded that America's promise exclude no one. Yet the Supreme Court alone could not destroy segregation. Brown had unlocked the schoolhouse doors, but even years later, African-American children braved mobs as they walked to school, while U.S. Marshals kept the peace. From lunch counters and city streets to buses and ballot boxes, American citizens struggled to realize their basic rights. A decade after the Court's ruling, Brown's moral guidance was translated into the enforcement measures of the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act.

Thanks to the men and women who fought for equality in the courtroom, the legislature, and the hearts and minds of the American people, we have confined legalized segregation to the dustbin of history. Yet today, the hope and promise of Brown remains unfulfilled. In the years to come, we must continue striving toward equal opportunities for all our children, from access to advanced classes to participation in the same extracurricular activities. Because when children learn and play together, they grow, build, and thrive together.

On the 60th Anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education, let us heed the words of Justice Thurgood Marshall, who so ably argued the case against segregation, "None of us got where we are solely by pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. We got here because somebody...bent down and helped us pick up our boots." Let us march together, meet our obligations to one another, and remember that progress has never come easily -- but even in the face of impossible odds, those who love their country can change it.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim May 17, 2014, as the 60th Anniversary of Brown v. Board of Education. I call upon all Americans to observe this day with programs, ceremonies, and activities that celebrate this landmark decision and advance the causes of equality and opportunity for all.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this fifteenth day of May, in the year of our Lord two thousand fourteen, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirty-eighth.

BARACK OBAMA

September 11, 1973

On September 11, 1973 is the date of the U.S. backed coup and murder of democratically elected Salvador Allende and the subsequent torture and murder of thousands under Augusto Pinochet in Chile.

As an American, the date September 11th is significant because, in my senior year of high school, that is when the Taliban flew airplanes into the Twin Towers, the Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania. However, in my three years of high school prior to that day in 2001, I was never taught that September 11th was significant to the people of Chile. I wasn't taught that in our quest to bring democracy to the world, we murdered a democratically-elected president because we weren't fans of Socialism. It wasn't until years later, when reading the poetry collection Fire in the Soul, that I came upon the following poem:

Rich Woman, Poor Woman

I am a woman
I am a woman

I am a woman born of a woman, whose man owned a factory.
I am a woman born of a woman, whose man labored in a factory.

I am a woman whose man wore silk suits, who constantly watched his weight.
I am a woman whose man wore tattered clothing, whose heart was constantly strangled by hunger.

I am a woman who watched two babies grow into beautiful children.
I am a woman who watched two babies die because there was no milk.

I am a woman who watched twins grow into popular college students with summers abroad.
I am a woman who watched three children grow, but with bellies stretched from no food.

But then there was a man:
But then there was a man:

And he talked about the peasants getting richer by my family getting poorer.
And he told me of days that would be better, and he made the days better.

We had to eat rice.
We had rice.

We had to eat beans!
We had beans.

My children were no longer given summer visas to Europe.
My children no longer cried themselves to sleep.

And I felt like a peasant.
And I felt like a woman.

A peasant with a dull, hard, unexciting life.

Like a woman with a life that sometimes allowed a song.

And I saw a man.
And I saw a man.

And together we began to plot with the hope of the return to freedom--
I saw his heart begin to beat with hope of freedom, at least …

Someday, the return to freedom.
Someday freedom.

And then,

But then,

One day,
One day,

There were planes overhead and guns firing close by.
There were planes overhead, and guns firing in the distance.

I gathered my children and went home.
I gathered my children and ran.

And the guns moved farther and farther away.
But the guns moved closer and closer.

And then, they announced that freedom had been restored!
And then, they came, young boys really …

They came into my home along with my man.
They came and found my man.

Those men whose money was almost gone--
They found all of the men whose lives were almost their own.

And we all had drinks to celebrate.
And they shot them all.

The most wonderful martinis.
They shot my man.

And then they asked us to dance.
And then they came for us.

Me.
For me, the woman.

And my sisters.
For my sisters.

And then they took us.
Then they took us.

They took us to dinner at a small, private club.
They stripped from us the dignity we had gained.

And they treated us to beef.
And then they raped us.

It was one course after another.
One after the other they came at us.

We nearly burst we were so full.
Lunging, Plunging … sisters bleeding, sisters dying …

It was magnificent to be free again!
It was hardly a relief to have survived.

And then we gathered the children together.
And then, they took our children --

And he gave them some good wine

And they took their scissors --

And then we gave them a party.
And then they took the hands of our children …

The beans have almost disappeared now.
The beans have disappeared.

The rice: I’ve replaced it with chicken or steak.
The rice, I cannot find it.

And the parties continue, night after night to make up for all the time wasted.
And my silent tears are joined once more by the midnight cries of my children.

And I feel like a woman again.
They say, I am a woman.

This poem was written by a working-class Chilean woman in 1973 after the murder of Chile's socialist president, Salvador Allende. It was translated by a US Missionary who brought it back to America when she was forced to leave Chile. The author is unknown.

September 12, 1958

"On Sept. 12, 1958, Governor Orval Faubus closed all Little Rock, Ark. public high schools for one year rather than allow integration to continue. Learn more by watching the film "The Lost Year" and from the Encyclopedia of Arkansas." (source: Zinn Education Project)

Photo: An empty hallway at Central High School in Little Rock during the Lost Year (1958–59). Photo by Thomas J. O'Halloran, Library of Congress.

"In the summer of 1958, as the school year was drawing to a close, Faubus decided to petition the decision by the Federal District Court in order to postpone the desegregation of public high schools in Little Rock, Arkansas. In the Cooper v. Aaron case, the Little Rock School District, under the leadership of Faubus, was fighting for a two and a half year delay on de-segregation, meaning that black students would only be permitted into public high schools in January 1961. Faubus argued that if the schools remained integrated there would be an increase in violence. However, in August 1958, the Federal Courts ruled against the delay for de-segregation, which consequently incited Faubus to call together an Extraordinary Session of the State Legislature on August 26 in order to enact his segregation bills.

Claiming that Little Rock had to assert their rights and freedom against the federal decision, in September 1958, Faubus signed acts that enabled him and the Little Rock School District to close all public schools. Thus, with this bill signed, on Monday September 15, Faubus ordered the closure of all four public high schools, preventing both black and white students from attending school. Despite Faubus’s decree, the town’s population had the chance of refuting the bill since the school-closing law necessitated a referendum. The referendum, which would either condone or condemn Faubus’s law, was to take place within thirty days. A week before the referendum, which was scheduled to take place on September 27, Faubus addressed the citizens of Little Rock in an attempt to acquire their votes. Faubus urged the population to vote against integration since he was planning on leasing the public school buildings to private schools, and, in doing so, would educate the white and black students separately. Faubus was successful in his appeal and won the referendum. This year would come to be known as the ‘Lost Year’.

Faubus's victory would lead to a series of consequences that affected the entire population of Little Rock. Faubus’s intention to open private schools was denied the same day the referendum took place, which caused the citizens of Little Rock to turn on the black community. The black community became a target for hate crimes since people blamed them for the closing of the schools. Daisy Bates, head of the NAACP chapter in Little Rock, was a primary victim to these crimes, in addition to the black students enrolled at Little Rock Central High School and their families.

The town's teachers were also placed in a difficult position. They were forced to swear loyalty to Faubus’s bills. Although Faubus’s idea of private schools never played out, the teachers were still expected to attend school every day and prepare for the possibility of their students’ return. The teachers were completely under Faubus’s control and the many months that the school stayed empty only served as a cause for uncertainty in their professional futures.

In May 1959, after the firing of forty-four teachers and administrative staff from the four high schools, three segregationist board members were replaced with three moderate ones. The new board members reinstated the forty-four staff members to their positions. The new board of directors then began an attempt to reopen the schools, much to Faubus’s dismay. In order to avoid any further complications, the public high schools were scheduled to open earlier than usual, on August 12, 1959.

Although the Lost Year had come to a close, the black students who would be returning to the high schools were not welcomed by the other students. Rather, the black students had a difficult time getting past mobs to enter the school, and, once inside, they were often subject to physical and emotional abuse. The students were back at school and everything would eventually resume normal function, but the Lost Year would be a pretext for new hatred towards the black students in the public high school." (source: Little Rock Nine, Wikipedia)

New York Times Article from September 13, 1958: Court Bars Little Rock Delay; President Calls For Supprt; Faubus Orders 4 Schools Shut

September 12, 1977

"On this day in 1977, Stephen Biko (Dec. 18, 1946 - Sept. 12, 1977), the leader of the Black Consciousness Movement, and probably the most influential young black leader in South Africa, died as a direct result of an extended period of torture while being held by "security forces" in Port Elizabeth." (source: Zinn Education Project)

"Steve Biko's death caused outrage in South Africa and almost immediately doubt was cast over the alleged cause of his death."

Newspaper editor Donald Woods, and close friend of Biko's, accused the Minister of Justice and Police James Kruger of being directly responsible for the death.

Two weeks later preliminary results from a post mortem examination revealed Biko had died from severe brain damage.

His funeral was attended by more than 15,000 mourners. Thousands more were barred from going by security forces. Twelve Western countries sent representatives to the service, which was conducted by the Right Reverend Desmond Tutu.

Biko's contribution to the black fight for freedom from apartheid is often placed as second only to that of former President Nelson Mandela.

The inquest into his death in November 1977 cleared the police of any wrong-doing.

But after the election of the ANC Government in 1994, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which was set up under Archbishop Desmond Tutu, denied an amnesty to five policemen who admitted being involved in his death, although they have never been prosecuted.

The Commission found that Biko's death was as a direct result of the injuries he sustained in custody.
His life story was dramatised in the film Cry Freedom." (Source: On This Day: 1950-2005, BBC News)