The Legacy of Lynching


The Legacy of Lynching

Seeing the exhibits and watching the videos nearly brought me to tears.  Also knowing inside that not very much has changed in this country for Black Americans yet we persevere.

Tarabu Betserai Kirkland at home in Los Angeles with his mother, Mamie Lang Kirkland, 109, who fled Mississippi at age seven. 2017. (Photo: Kris Graves for the Equal Justice Initiative)


My Grandfather William Junius Palmer with some of his children at Mt. Morris Park aka Marcus Garvey Park in Harlem. Photo taken in the 1920s. My Grandfather left Virginia as a young man. He was part of what is known as The Great Migration. Lynchings were the major catalyst to caused Black Americans to be refugees in their own country. My Dad told me that my Grandfather never discussed his youth or his past.

My Grandfather’s Silence speaks volumes to me over the years.


Dindga McCannon (American, born 1947). Revolutionary Sister, 1971. Mixed media construction on wood



The Real and True Trinity
The Real and True Trinity ~~ Madonna and Children


Throwback Thursday ~~ Vintage Family Photos

Traces of the Past


Throwback Thursday ~~ Vintage Family Photos

A Pictorial Ode to Happier Times

Once Upon a Time When Innocence and Joy Reigned in Our Lives



Dads 1st car
Dad’s 1st car early 1950s. DeBorah Ann Palmer


Those I hope to see again in Heaven


Happier Times of Long Ago when Life was simpler and filled with Joy

Childhood when I was Happy, Healthy and the World was my Oyster






Balancing the Budget on the Backs of Our Most Vulnerable Populations


This is an expanded post based statements I made on yesterday’s Share Your World.

Budget cuts for Our Most Vulnerable Populations

I Love and Enjoy attending Stephen’s meeting and seeing him. The news about all the layoffs and cutbacks due to lack of funding was depressing. Less and less services and programs for Stephen and the other residents.
The art program has been completely cut. Stephen enjoys art and making drawings, ceramics, etc…. He is no longer going out to as many work-sites because New York State has not provided funding to pay staff to take him to his job sites. Stephen used to attend a special camp for Adults with Autism but that got cut also. So you see my 3 days off was not relaxing in the least bit.
Developmentally Disabled citizens are being kicked to the curb because our American government no longer cares. Many professionals and family members are worried that this is a return to the warehousing of developmentally disabled people that was the norm in the 50s, 60s & 70s. Those of you old enough will remember Willowbrook and the scandal that reporter Geraldo Rivero exposed at that house of horrors.
When Geraldo Rivero went inside the Willowbrook facility he found resident rocking back and forth let in their own waste, feces, & urine. Residents were beaten by their often overworked, untrained supposed care-givers. So for those of you who criticise the Media TV Reporters think again. If it were not for investigative reporters hundreds if not thousands of Autism/Special Needs/Developmentally Disabled people would be crying out in pain. Crying into a void because nobody listens. So give your support to the Good and Reliable Media/TV Reporters. Often they are God’s Angels in disguise.
Keep in mind that staff who are overworked and underpaid often make mistakes. However these mistakes put disabled people at risk.
When our parents died I took up the mantle. Even before their deaths I was very much involved in caring for my brother Stephen. I still do my best but it is difficult for me to keep up with what is going on at his Residence and Training School. Especially since I work full-time. Plus I’m getting older. My body has aches, pains and disabilities now that I did not have 15 or 20 years ago. Even going up and down the subway stairs is a challenge. I get tired more easily and I’m starting to slow down.
My desire is to do more for Stephen but I don’t know how. I do call and email my elected officials because I cannot be with Stephen 24/7/365. Still I feel that guilt. Always asking God How can I be a better Sister to Stephen. Many days I’m at my wits end.
I wish I was rich and wealthy so I could donate money to hire more staff and return the arts, camps, work-site/work readiness programs that make the lives those with developmental disabilities fulfilling.
Not only will I be once again writing, calling and texting our elected officials I’m thinking of getting in touch with Caroline Kennedy, President John Kennedy’s daughter.  Those of you born and raised in the U.S.A. already know that President Kennedy’s Sister Rosemary Kennedy was born with developmental and intellectual disabilities probably due to a lack of oxygen to the brain during birth.  Most Americans are familiar with the Special Olympics begun by Ethel Kennedy.
Here is an old post of mine to give you more information regarding Rosemary Kennedy.
Stephen is a kind, compassion, loving, giving human being  who is always concerned for his fellow human beings. Sadly New York has a huge homeless populations.  At night homeless people sleep in cardboard boxes on the streets in all types of weather. Many live inside the subway stations that includes the platforms as well as inside the subway cars.
I remember one time while we were riding the subway a disabled homeless man began to cry. Stephen was about to get up out of his seat because he wanted so much to help this poor man.  If Stephen sees a blind or wheelchair person in distress he will go over to them. Stephen cannot stand to see other people suffer. His attitude is always, “I can help. Please let me help you.”  Stephen helps me tremendously when I’m feeling down and does so without judgment because being judgmental or critical of hurting people is a foreign concept to him. If an Autism Guy can give of himself to help others why can’t the American government do the same?  How can City, State and Federal elected officials continue to enact polices that put ALL Disabled populations at risk?

Remember that All Human Beings Have Value and worth. Everyone Deserves a Fulfilling, Happy and Joyful Life no matter their disability.  An opportunity to fulfill their passions and purpose. A chance to express their creativity. We must speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.

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Think before you speak

Ms. Charlene Bullard writes a blog called Faith to Raise Nate. We have been discussing inappropriate comments made by people in regards to our family members with special needs. Charlene’s son Nate is deaf/blind with Autism and of course most of you have met my brother Stephen. The catalyst for her posts was my comment to her about people asking me if my brother Stephen is like the character in the Rain Man movie.  Please go to the above links for more information. The objective of Charlene’s posts is to educate people to not make assumptions about folks with special needs.

Disabled does not mean that person is living a half-life or needs or wants your pity. 


Below is my comment to Charlene regarding Part Two of the Topic with some edits I made for this post.

This post is on point!! Excellent words of wisdom. As I read your advice I thought of Helen Keller who was deaf/blind and went on to live an extraordinary life.

In my experience I can understand when children ask questions because they are truly curious and want to understand. As for adults they are just plain rude and choose to be that way.

I recall an incident years ago in the museum galleries when a dwarf lady was viewing a painting and a little girl saw her. The little girl knew that the dwarf woman was not a child but obviously she was puzzled as to why and how an adult could be that short. So naturally she went over to the dwarf lady and just stared at her. You know when eyes are on you. So the dwarf woman turned around and at that point the little girl ran off. The Dwarf woman just smiled. She probably goes through this every day.

Seeing that reminded me of when I was 11 and my Dad and Aunt took us on a family vacation on Montreal, Canada back in 1970. During our vacation we met a dwarf woman who was giving tours of her parents house. Her parents were both dwarfs and the house was built to scale meaning everything was lowered to their level. Having never seen or met a dwarf before I desperately wanted to ask her why she was so short however my Dad gave me that look. The look that silently said “You’d better not say anything to embarrass me or be rude. I held my tongue. Just like back in those days dwarfs were called midgets which is a derogatory term. Later on as an adult I learned that most dwarfs or Little People have a condition called Hypochondroplasia a form of short-limbed dwarfism.

On the tour I did learn that the dwarf lady was married to a normal sized man. As for their children I never found out that information but I was taught as a child not to make fun of people and not to ask rude questions that are none of your business in the first place.  After all growing up I did not like it when the other kids in the neighborhood made fun of my brother Stephen.

Several years ago the Little People of America had a convention in New York City. Museums were on their itinerary and I saw many Little People enjoying the artwork at my museum workplace.

Below is a photo taken by my Dad after our tour. You can see me, Stephen, our Aunt Helen and our gracious host.




Pause Down Memory Lane


Snapshots are pauses in times. Happier times.  Better times. When I was younger, healthier and with less worries.  The present is composed mostly of tears, stress and wishes to return to better times. Maybe the fluctuation in emotions is due to that other Pause in Women’s Lives MenoPause or it is the frustrations and struggles of daily life.  The increase in responsibilities as you get older with the burden I’m carrying growing heavier with each year while my body grows weaker with age and disease.

Photos take you back down Memory Lane.



Memory Lane – Minnie Riperton

Silver Screen: What is that Sir? I can’t Make it out!




Silver Screen

Take a quote from your favorite movie — there’s the title of your post. Now, write!


My Dad’s All Time Favorite movie: Run Silent. Run Deep.

What is that Sir? I can’t Make it out!

Run Silent Run Deep Poster

Run Silent Run Deep (1958)

Unending Grief of the vacant space left by my Dad’s death in May 1995

That’s my heart breaking.

That’s my soul aching.

That’s another soul flitting across the universe awaiting a new storage container for the old one is broken.

A soul crying in the dark for another dying friend and all those who passed before.

A good life wrapped up in beautifully ribbon colored crepe paper.

What is that Sir? I can’t make it out?

One wearing dark glasses obscuring their orbs.   An enigma of its demons. What sins were they running from perhaps we shall never know.

A Wayward Wanderer

The Prodigal Daughter returns.

Why young one, That’s strength, courage, tenacity and the ability to speak Truth to Power.


One Word Photo Challenge: Film

One Word Photo Challenge: Film

owpc logo 2

Part III: People, Places & Things

If you want to share a literal image of the actual word, do that. But if you’d rather play with word association, post something that reminds you of the specific word, or something you use the word for, do so. It only has to make sense to you. Have fun and keep on photographing!

owpc 2017

This week’s word is Film! Don’t forget to check out Color your World as well, posting daily January – April.


Daughters of the Dust Full Movie

Written, Directed and Produced by Julie Dash

At the dawn of the 20th century, a family in the Gullah community of coastal South Carolina — former West African slaves who adopted many of their ancestors’ Yoruba traditions — suffers a generational split. Young Haagar (Kaycee Moore) wants to move to the mainland away from tradition-bound matria… More
Release date: December 27, 1991 (USA)


Sorry for the poor quality for better results either rent or buy the movie from an Online source. Perhaps try Netflix or Hulu. You will probably be able to order the film via


My Battle Scars are Talking

Sleep No More 4ever

Raw and Uncut

As some of you may already know I work a brutal work schedule. I work as a nighttime museum security guard therefore I’m awake when most people are asleep. Plus one cannot live on the base salary therefore I must pull double shifts. For example I went to work Wednesday did a double shift came home, got a call that my brother Stephen who has Autism has an eye infection for which he is being treated, naturally I worry. Then off to work for Thursday, get home around 2:00 am which means I did not sleep for 48 hours straight. I crashed around 3 am last this morning and got up at 12 noon.

My work week started out well then by Wednesday I had a confrontation with the museum village idiot which escalated into me demanding that the union rep speak with him otherwise there will be an episode of Snapped inside the museum. This guy is known to disrespect women staff, he has been reprimanded countless times, and also been suspended numerous times yet he continues in his boneheaded behavior. Everyone else is nice, does their job, respects others, cooperates but he remains and reigns as the lone shithead for the late shift.

My current location which I will refer to as the Annex is much better than the Main Building where a few years ago a crazed male co-worker pinned me up against the wall in the galleries all the while threatening me as my co-workers watched as to whether or not he would choke the life out of me. I got him off me. Won’t say what I did but you can see it worked as I’m here writing this blog today.

A Little Background on Me

When I was a kid because I was so skinny I was always getting beat up. The other kids would constantly make fun of me. I’d cry at the drop of a hat. I was namby pamby, a wuss always apologizing and trying to get people to like me. Pretty much all the other kids punching bag.

At least once my Mom who was only 4′ 11′ weighing 95 lbs had to give an older boy who was stealing my lunch when I was walking to the school bus stop an upper cut. Being that my Mom was short he thought she was just another kid until his lights got punched out. Mom hit that boy so hard I’m sure he saw stars. When he said he was gonna get his Mama my mother said go get your mother and I’ll whup her ass too. Needless to say my Mom introduced him to the expression, “Don’t Sleep on the Size.”  My parents taught me to stand up for myself, don’t allow other people to take advantage of you and that I am not a door mat for other folks dirty shoes.

It took a long time for the lessons to sink in. When I was 19 I was raped. I never told anyone nor did I report the sexual assault as I felt it was my fault and in those days nobody knew or discussed date rape. Even after years of therapy, various pills and being hospitalized I refused to speak about what happened to me or the details as talking about it won’t make things go away nor can it change the past. All I will say is that the guy who raped me went on to become a preacher. I know because I met him 20 years later and he actually had the nerve and audacity to suggest that we get together while we were standing in God’s House?!! Go figure.

Before I left high school some kid pushed me down a flight of stairs however by that time I had already enlisted in the military. That four years in the US Army taught me how to defend myself not only in terms of training but like any other school or workplace there are nuts, kooks and morons in there also.

I remember I had a room-mate who was selling drugs out of our room. She was a real roughneck you know the kind, a grown up bully. She used to threaten me and I would wander around the post for hours afraid to return to my room. Finally I had to take action. I slept with a baseball bat beside my bed because if the bitch tried something in the nighttime I would beat her ass bloody. I also reported her and she was probably imprisoned at either Mannheim or sent to Ft. Leavenworth which are both military prisons.

Time passed and sadly both my beloved parents passed away. I was vulnerable and some of the women who worked in the same office felt I needed male companionship. I was lonely and allowed myself to be set-up. Set up for a fall. Little did I know that the man I committed my life to for seven years would signal my downfall physically, emotionally and psychologically.  As the song title says Love is a Battlefield but at that time I was the loser. I won’t go into the ugly details of the relationship but suffice to say that my Exe– was a Sociopath and a Narcissist.  When he finally dumped me Thanksgiving Day 2007 I was physically free but abuse affected my personality in so many ways. For a long time I suffered badly from anxiety and panic attacks. To this day I still have triggers and parts of me that will never be healed and believe me I’ve tried everything out there.

However I did make a vow to myself that I would never ever allow a man to talk to me like dirt, take advantage of me or use and abuse me in any way. Naturally the Universe heard me and after being unemployed for all of 2007 I got in job in museum security at a workplace that has a track record of abuse, sexual harassment, mistreatment of women for years. At the time I did not know this but believe me I found out quick, fast and in a hurry. Working as a museum security guard not only do you deal with the general public many of whom are abrasive, racist, sexist (since the visiting public is mostly white I’ve been called everything but a child or God including a Nigger Bitch) etc…. but male co-workers who think that they have a right to your body.

I stayed because truthfully once you celebrate that 50th birthday you become invisible to prospective employers. Believe me I tried to leave via sending out resumes, networking and going on job interviews but leaving was not in the Creators plan for my life. I read on the AARP website that the unemployment rate for Americans over 50 is extremely high. Also a fact of life being in your 50s is when most diseases like high blood, pressure and diabetes set in. Since mine is a union job I need those benefits. I won’t be at my workplace too long as next year I’m eligible for retirement.

I can’t totally explain it but something inside me rose up. Like the line from the movie Network, “I’m as mad as hell and I’m not gonna take it anymore.”  By the time I was 50 all the years of abuse, harassment and violence that I experienced brought out that other side that was lurking there all along. I hear a lot about forgiveness and renewing relationships, being nice, acting like a Lady, etc…  Oh you should not be angry. You need to forgive that person even when that person is toxic.  I don’t listen to any of those people. If you step to me I will defend myself even if that means you get hurt physically. You want forgiveness? Why? What for?

We see those people on TV all the time after they’ve ruined countless lives they suddenly have a “Come to Jesus” moment. Look buddy Jesus was not lost but you were and all the fake tears and cries for forgiveness mean nothing. God knows you at your core. Look at what happened to most of those shady phony Televangelists from the 1980s and 1990s. Where are they now? Either dead or defrocked. Some even went to prison for defrauding the flock.

And then there are the so-called Christians who believe they can positive think their way out of life or that everyone should subscribe to there twisted belief systems. I can see that on my comments and there will probably be some fool who will write me a diatribe or manifesto of how they conquered anger…Blah…Blah….Blah  The ones who pull Jesus and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. out of their hats as to why other people usually people of color, Women, the disabled, etc… should continue to endure abuse, humiliation, racism, bigotry and discrimination.

Blah….Blah…Blah… Bullshit

We must embrace our poor demented twisted sisters and brothers as they rape, pillage and destroy our village/town. Let’s Welcome our enemies as they deny us the right to live and prosper. Well while you are kissing the oppressors ring I’ll be there kicking their ass. I’ll be the Warrior. You can be the sucker. Your choice.

Rise up and Fight Back!!

There are some Women Warriors in the Bible. My namesake DeBorah, Judith Beheading Holofernes, as well as Women who throughout history stood up for their people and the right to exist and be Free from tyranny and oppression. 

Nzinga of Ndongo and Matamba


Queen Anna Nzinga, also known as Njinga Mbande or Ana de Sousa Nzinga Mbande, was a 17th-century queen of the Ndongo and Matamba Kingdoms of the Mbundu people in Angola. Wikipedia



Born: 1583, Angola


Died: December 17, 1663, Kingdom of Matamba





Yaa Asantewaa


Yaa Asantewaa was queen mother of Ejisu in the Ashanti Empire – now part of modern-day Ghana, appointed by her brother Nana Akwasi Afrane Okpese, the Ejisuhene, or ruler, of Ejisu.
  • Boudica


Boudica or Boudicca was a queen of the British Celtic Iceni tribe who led an uprising against the occupying forces of the Roman Empire in AD 60 or 61, and died shortly after its failure


You can’t go around being afraid of people. You can’t allow people to intimidate you. I do believe in God, the Bible and prayer but there are times when as a Woman you must defend yourself. Nobody is going to come to your rescue and many times they will desert you. Yes I admit to having a temper and using salty language but that’s all the assholes understand. I’m not trying to forgive them or understand their behavior. I’m trying to live my life peacefully but if you get in my face I will show you my Warrior side and you will regret messing with me.

Other peoples opinions about my language, behavior or personal stances mean nothing to me. Like my Dad used to say, “An opinion is like an asshole. Everybody’s got one.”

I don’t let people should on me. You tell me some fantasy life you have has no impact on how I go about my life.  Many have tried to guilt or shame me into changing and lost the battle. I will listen politely to what they say then go ahead and do what I was gonna do in the first place.

I ain’t got time for bullshit and nonsense. I’m at the age when I don’t give a damn.


My horns are holding up my halo and I remain forever unashamed.