"Even the most stubborn, unquestioning Jew thinks and rethinks certain things each year at the Passover seder." Image via Splat Worldwide on flickr.

Passover is coming! This is the one Jewish holiday I get truly giddy about. And I am especially excited to experience it with my new family this year, as sadly I will not make it home in time for the two seders. Pesach is so steeped in tradition for me, so I am curious how this year is going to go. It will be different, but it will probably be amazing.

Passover brings up so many things for so many people. One of the reasons I enjoy it is because of the spirit that surrounds it from so many Jews across the board- that of thoughtfulness. Even the most stubborn, unquestioning Jew thinks and rethinks certain things each year at the Passover seder. We are forced to take a good hard look at things both physical and spiritual, through cleaning every nook and cranny of the house, through reading through the same story and analyzing it and bringing a new outlook to it before getting to eat during the seder, through depriving ourselves of all the bread-related products we consume on a regular basis and being forced to find and try new foods. More Jews observe the strict rituals of Passover than any other holiday, and the rituals and restrictions are compasses for reflection and renewal.

One passage we meditate on not only every Passover, but throughout the year, is “we [Jews] were once slaves in the land of Egypt.” Each Haggadah states its mission: “B’khol dor va-dor hayav adam lirot et atzmo k’ilu hu yatzah mi-Mitzrayim“–”All people, in every generation, should see themselves as having experienced the Exodus from Egypt.”

So, in the words of Rabbi Uri’s brother, we should simultaneously remember that that time has passed, and celebrate and appreciate all the ways in which we are not in Egypt, but also put ourselves in the shoes of our ancestors and truly empathize with the turmoil of our ancestors and those around us.

As a part of AVODAH, we encounter many groups of people who are still encapsulated in a figurative Egypt, in figurative slavery. Like the Jews, many of these groups have made much progress in coming out of their Egypts, but are still enslaved in one way or another. This year, I think in addition to contemplating what still enslaves me, like the inability to resist hunger urges and the inhibitions that continue to keep me from getting to know every amazing person I meet, I will step out of the Jew-centric thinking for a second and contemplate where the rest of the world might be. We still have a long way to go.

I especially will think about IPNO clients I have met who were recently or still are very much slaves, wrongfully incarcerated (or even just incarcerated) doing hard work for slave wages. I will think about a black exoneree who for 27 years was forced to pick cotton before being found innocent and released. I will think about the men I have met still inside who are working and making 25 cents a day.

We were once slaves in the land of Egypt. Many still are. We remember our experience, the pain of it and the joy of release, what better way to do so than put ourselves in the shoes of those currently slaves, in addition to the tattered sandals of our ancestors?

"Learning about histories of red-lining, segregation, white flight, gentrification...these terms are far too real to me now."

What has been particularly interesting for me to learn is how intricately the history of the Urban Planner and the development of our cities is tied into oppression of people of color. Learning about histories of red-lining, segregation, white flight, gentrification…these terms are far too real to me now. What is sad, is that these terms aren’t just historical footnotes: they are living and breathing.

Unfortunately, some don’t know the history. Take for example this recent article in the Time’s Picayune from March 6, 2010 called “Treasure in Terrytown.” Here is just one gem from this article:

“From a subdivision of 6,000 homes Terrytown grew to more than 25,000 residents today. By the late 1990s, some urban ills began to creep into certain neighborhoods. Several pockets of rental housing, like those in the troubled Monterey Court area, began to become dilapidated and crime-ridden as demographics changed and absentee landlords took over.”

In other words, everyone is fine until those “urban ills” began showing up, with no mention of how Terrytown was explicitly created and zoned exclusively for white people. It was even paid for by the Federal Government under the G.I. Bill.

St. Bernard Parish, LA was founded on the idea of exclusion. While white New Orleanians had been gobbling up swamp land in the name of achieving the American Dream, moving eastward and westward away from the urban poor since the 1950’s, White Flight really kicked in post 1965 with the integration of public schools. Since its founding St. Bernard Parish has done everything in its power to exclude low income people of color, and it has redoubled its efforts post Katrina.

Those who live in ‘Da Parish,’ might disagree with me, saying, “We aren’t racist, we are just protecting our home values,” or maybe even, “So? Big Deal. What’s wrong with people sticking to their own?” Good question.

It’s wrong because segregation, forced or no, is detrimental to democracy and a healthy society.

Again, these terms aren’t just historical footnotes. Since the 1980’s, when the culture of selfishness regained its stranglehold on the American conscience, America has undergone re-segragation at alarming rates. This may sound strange to those living in New Orleans, where it at times seems like cultures are constantly coming together, but nation wide their are some scary trends.

Rich Benjamin, in his amazing book entitled, “Searching for Whitopia,” journeys across America to investigate what he calls ‘Whitopias.’ What is a Whitopia?

“A Whitopia (pronounced why - toe -pee -uh) is whiter than the nation, its respective region, and its state. It has posted at least 6 percent growth (often upward of 90 percent) from white migrants. And a Whitopia has a je ne sais quoi- an ineffable social charisma, a pleasant look and feel.”

Towns such as Forsyth, Georgia, St. George, Utah, Bend, Oregon and Livingston Parish, Louisiana are all Whitopias. The growth of these “Exurbs” has taken place mostly during the 1990’s! These towns are also not to be confused with those of the housing boom and bust, as most Whitopia’s have weathered the economic storm better than other cities of thier size. During the 1990’s the suburbs of greater Los Angeles lost 381,000 whites, and other California suburbs such as Oakland and Riverside-San Bernadino, and also Bergen-Passaic suburbs in New Jersey, lost more than 70,000 whites each, according to Bill Frey, a Senior Fellow at the Brookings Institute. White Flight continues to this day.

While many living in these new exurbs based on pristine landscapes, luxurious homes and lavish golf courses would claim they aren’t racist, the reasons for moving there tell other wise. One lady in “Searching for Whitopia,” puts it this way:

“What’s happening in LA is the native-born population is being driven out, in effect - 669,000 left last year but they were replaced by that many out of country immigrants.”

Let’s forget the blatant disregard for the facts in this quote, and that she is talking about white native-born peoples, not real native-born peoples. What is interesting to me is how clear it is that unfounded fears of being over-run by immigrants and impending gang wars fuel our continued White Flight. The media reinforces these themes too. Not just the themes about immigration and gangs, but things like the Top Ten lists of the Best Places to live in America . On Forbe’s list in 2009, out of the top ten cities, 9 were Whitopias.

But again, back to this question of “What is the big deal? Where is the harm in planning our communities this way?” “What is the harm in wanting to live with people of your own race?” Benjamin answers this perfectly:

“There is a harm in that it is leading Americans to accept in a de-facto way ethnic and class Balkanization as a semipermanent feature of American life. Whiteopia imperils a collective committment to the common good. That’s the harm, an impoverishment of our understanding of one another and even our personal exposure to the arguments and lives and predicaments of our fellow Americans.”

The harm isn’t just in interpersonal relations either. As wealthy white Americans continue to search for bucolic settings free from urban woes, they gain a disproportionate share of public infrastructure dollars and they increase America’s ecological footprint by continuing to stretch our resources and gobble up more land. All this while blaming Immigrants for climate change.

We canno’t allow the New Orleans Master Plan to perpetuate structural racism.

We must design our cities and our public spaces to bring people together, not keep us gated and apart from one another.

While the Master Plan was supposed to be about what the people wanted, this clearly hasn’t happened. So my charge is, that in conjunction with the New Orleans Master Plan, we need a second plan.

This second plan won’t just be the x’s and o’s of zoning. It will be a plan truly created by the people. A plan about citizen action that demands government action. It will be about answering what kind of city, what kind of America do we want to be? One that chooses segregation? One that openly bucks what the Constitution says about seperate but equal being unequal? Progressives must stand on their principles of smart growth, urban renewal, public education and racial integration. While we must be mindful of how we re-enter urban centers when moving back (see Gentrification), we must not stop telling the truth, which is that when some Americans suffer in poverty, all of America is worse off because of it.

Now if someone could please write a follow up on how to get the government to enact citizen driven plans that would be most helpful!

Jordan Aiken and Rachie Lewis have had very different experiences with Judiasm. Living together has given them the opportunity to learn from each other, and to learn more about themselves.

The following is excerpted from Lisa Koenig’s interview with Jordan Aiken, who works at the New Orleans Women’s Shelter, and Rachie Lewis, working at the Orleans Public Defenders office.

Avodah Corps members live together over the course of their year of service. What were your first reactions about living with such a religiously diverse group of people?

JA: I was excited about it, but definitely intimidated. I figured that I would be the outsider Jew because I didn’t have a lot of background knowledge. But my housemates, and New Orleans’ larger Jewish community have been super supportive.

RL: Before I got here, I felt like I would have to compromise some Jewish observances to live in this house and play around with standards I’d set over my life. But my mindset has really shifted over the year. I had always let halacha (Jewish law) play the trump card in every situation, but I began to realize that other values and mindsets can also be valid. I’ve gotten so much more out of this experience than I would have if I was on top of every Jewish detail.

I still keep Shabbat pretty strictly, and sometimes spend Shabbat in Metairie (a nearby suburb), where there are conservative and Orthodox shuls. The Avodah house has a pretty diverse range of observances, but Shabbat is on everyone’s radar screen. I like how Jordan talks about a “Shabbat state of mind” – being attuned to it, even if you’re not following the exact laws.

You two have started studying Jewish texts together. How did that come about?

JA: I was interested in exploring what it could mean to have a more permanent Jewish identity, and decided I really wanted a bat mitzvah. I realized this could be the perfect year for it, and asked Rachie if she’d be my teacher.

We started with the Hebrew alphabet and reading through the Torah. At times I felt really frustrated and angry about what we were learning – both because it was unfamiliar, and because I felt there was so much pressure about how I am supposed to react to particular stories. But it’s been fun to work through them with Rachie because she brings an incredible amount of background knowledge, and I bring fresh eyes to the texts. We’ve developed this great, hybridized method of learning the material.

RL: I try to convey to Jordan that I get as much out of the experience as she does. I’ve gone through so much Jewish education that didn’t encourage students to make their own judgments about what they learned. It was this simplistic approach to something that isn’t at all simplistic. Seeing Jordan react to certain stories has helped me realize how deep and sometimes problematic some of the content is. It forces me to step back and think again about the ideas that had been presented to me.

Want to learn more? Read the complete interview here.

As a housing specialist at UNITY New Orleans, Becca Waxman works directly with homeless clients to help them find permanent housing. Photo by Mario Tama, Getty Images, http://www.tulanelink.com/tulanelink/homeless_box.htm

Struggling with this single issue has driven my desire to maintain an active role in the nonprofit sector, a group of institutions reminding the masses that there are people sleeping on those mended streets, living in and furnishing the 65,000 abandoned buildings and overrunning our children’s playgrounds.  My Avodah placement last year, the Greater New Orleans Fair Housing Action Center, asks the public to consider the lives of the disenfranchised: people of color, women, those raising a family and living with a disability.  Then they ask, “Why are people poor?”  I wonder, because of the deteriorating streets, the abandoned homes or the failing schools?  Because society identifies them as an underprivileged minority?  They pose this uncomfortable question and it makes us ponder whether people want to be poor, and to what degree it is their choice.  Our streets and schools are undoubtedly in need of repair, but how does a city where every single citizen at one point in time was displaced from their home ignore its most vulnerable and growing demographic: those who spend their nights in places no human deserves to sleep? These are questions I deal with on a daily basis in my current position with UNITY of Greater New Orleans.

Two years ago I didn’t think about these questions.  I had not yet developed a vocabulary centered around affordable housing, youth organizers, protected citizens, and public defenders.  Two years ago I unknowingly built relationships with others based on similar religious and class backgrounds.  Up until then it was simple.  I made friends by spending time with people who I enjoyed and who enjoyed similar activities.  Today I know the effectiveness of the nonprofit sector, and I am able to spend my days and nights with this most vulnerable population because last year, what stemmed from this evolving analysis of oppression was a group of strong friends.

We were new, to each other and to the city.  We allowed ourselves to experience anger, often as a result of our privilege and the effects our whiteness has on society.  We studied and celebrated the teachings and victories that quickly led us to create a kehillah kedoshah, a holy community.  In a time and place where individualism and self fulfillment prevails over communal strength and vision, we took this despair and flipped it into a mission that drove our community.  Rabbi Dov Gartenberg teaches that “a community becomes holy when it is engaged in the mitzvah of supporting each individual who is part of it during times of need and times of joy.”  Anyone who walked into our home on Jefferson Avenue recognized this spirit of intentionality, and when I realized that a day would soon come when I would no longer share meals with my holy community, I decided that I wasn’t willing to remain engaged in Avodah solely as an alum.

One evening we collectively crafted a plan to continue our involvement as “second year” corps members.  Personally, I needed to make sure that I could sustain my membership in my community as a housing and human rights activist while strengthening my identity as a progressive Jew.  This drove me to join what would develop into a year-long conversation analyzing the Avodah experience.

Becca Waxman (right) takes time to reflect on her decision to spend a second year working for social justice in New Orleans.

We saw where we could improve the program, and spelled out exactly how we would fit into the equation of creating a more powerful year for the second group of corps members to come through New Orleans.  Today we are finding ways to formally and casually engage in conversations on gender, spirituality, race and activism by leading programs with the new corps members.  Jews4neworleans.org has become a forum regularly updated by corps members reflecting and further examining their roles in their jobs and the Jewish community, while weaving themselves into the culture and history of the city’s private and public sectors.  We meet and work together on a regular basis because of a true kinship we learned as we came into our own during our Avodah year.  If you can imagine it, we envision an even brighter future for Avodah, and we are eagerly executing our ideas and watching Avodah grow to new heights.  We are not the corps members; rather, we are the supports and visionaries.

As an alum and as a “second year” corps member, I am expanding our holy community of nine into a kehilah kedoshah of more minds and more belief systems conquering the big questions like “Why are people homeless?”  I don’t run on empty and I won’t burn out as I struggle with this fight to end homelessness because of this community that allows me to strengthen my identity and understand where my strength comes from.

For more on OPD, check out this article from The Gambit.

Current Corps Members festooned in Mardi Gras beads.

The party started a little early this year when the New Orleans Saints won their first Super Bowl in 43 years. Unique hints of this city’s beauty emerged in the pure joy every New Orleanian experienced and shared with each other. Rather than burn cars and initiate riots, everyone high-fived anyone in sight, honked their horns in elation and second-lined down the streets. And soon after watching one of the best games of football I have ever seen, on a plane with twenty exuberant natives who came together to cheer on the Saints while suppressing a deep frustration with their lack of foresight (who books a flight during the Super Bowl when your team is undefeated? Thankfully Jet Blue is tech savvy and we were able to watch the game), it was clear that the party was only getting started.

"While the wastefulness of this season is grossly apparent in the countless resources exhausted on crap...this season is not simply about consumption."

As my housemates, some other friends and I stood in the cold for hours at the Saints parade two days later, we were warmed by the presence of 800,000 others (which is pretty impressive since New Orleans proper has around 300,000 residents) who lined the streets of the whole city to celebrate with one another and express a deep gratitude. For hours, ecstatic Saints riding on floats from upcoming Mardi Gras parades shared their joy and accomplishment with all of us, throwing beads at onlookers and dancing to the musics of local brass bands. During the few week long Mardi Gras celebration, the Saints players and the Super Bowl trophy became staples and the scale of their victory started to sink in. While I have become skeptical of how sports impact our culture in recent years, I think that these athletes understood the magnitude of their collective victory and could admit the humility of their role in bringing joy to a city that both desperately needs it and knows exactly how to cultivate it. This win did not signify the successful rebuilding of New Orleans as some have ignorantly suggested, but it did give a forgotten population something to feel proud of and a chance to show the rest of the country how to throw a good party.

And the partying certainly continued. The next two weeks were filled with countless parades that showcased beautiful floats and costumes, fun music, hilarious, offensive satire, and the most ridiculous amount of plastic beads you will ever see. The city transformed to accommodate the celebration. Homes were beautifully adorned with green, purple and gold decorations, every business sign bestowed festive wishes upon passer-bys, for days the streets that served as routes were lined with fold-up chairs and decorated ladders that saved trusting natives’ excellent spots for the festivities, the trees began to shimmer with necklaces that never made it down to the masses and the majority of organizations and offices shut down so everyone could enjoy the party (and because it was simply impossible to get anywhere). All of New Orleans became committed to elevating this two week period into something beautiful, I would even venture to say, something sacred.

Amidst all of the happiness and unity entwined with Mardi Gras, it is not difficult to simultaneously find glaring problems. For one, it produces an immense amount of garbage (after committing ourselves to the acquisition of as many shiny necklaces and plush animals as we could get our hands on, my housemates and I now have many bags of useless junk, which two weeks ago we may have deemed a chest of valuable treasures). Yet, while the wastefulness of this season is grossly apparent in the countless resources exhausted on crap and in the twinkling, littered streets that take hours, sometimes days, to clean after each parade,  this season is not simply about consumption. Yes, all of the aforementioned concerns are significant and problematic, but there is also something to be learned from the parade participants who spend thousands of dollars each year to buy their throws (technical term for all the Mardi Gras give-a-ways) only to give it all away and offer parade-goers small moments of fulfillment.

Mardi Gras reveals the many extremes of this city. It demonstrates the unity, the beauty and the joy, yet simultaneously the waste, inefficiency and inequality. While everyone is celebrating, every office seems to shut down which yields little productivity over a two week span; while the parades are attended by all kinds of people, they simultaneously reinforce inequalities as most of the krewe members (the groups that make the floats and ride in the parades) and participants are white while many black homeless people are paid to hold torches to bring light and heat to those present; while all attendees leaves with bags of throws, jail inmates, decked out in orange jumpsuits are called upon to clean up the streets for all to uncomfortably witness.

There is a great deal of both beauty and ugliness in this time, a juxtaposition lost in the widespread one-dimensional depiction of Mardi Gras. Yes, this is a time in which normative behavior, functionality and responsibility are suppressed, but it is done with careful intent and significant meaning. It is a time that challenges the status quo of New Orleans that so often seems depressing and stagnant. And since the ugliness sometimes seems too permanent to break, the very presence of beauty makes Mardis Gras so worthwhile. The glaring flaws of this time, of this city should not be discounted; but maybe the bits of light that emerge are the only way to stomach the darkness. Afterall this city makes it quite clear that utopia is just not feasible. Yet, my first Mardi Gras experience has taught me that this holiday is not supposed to offer a pure utopia. Rather, it is a season that acknowledges the tensions it produces and deems it possible to exist within them, deems it acceptable to extract joy amidst the many problems that plague New Orleans. Ultimately, for me, Mardi Gras highlights the importance of isolated moments like this, when we can bury the darkness in the back of our minds, immerse ourselves in beauty and party together until dawn.

"Minutes after the last float rumbles by, a line of men in orange sweatshirts or fluorescent yellow vests advances, armed with shovels and heavy-duty bags."

Turning onto St. Charles Avenue, a different bloom catches my eye; vibrant multicolored beads droop from the branches of the boulevard’s live oaks. One week after Mardi Gras, this alien bloom is all that remains of the city-wide celebration and round-the-clock revelry.

During the two weeks of parades that lead up to Mardi Gras, an estimated $1 million worth of beads are bought and thrown. New Orleans natives will tell you that it’s bad luck to pick up beads that land on the ground. In the wake of each parade, then, as the crowds drift away with their booty around their necks, the streets are piled high with discarded beads and beer cans. This is what remains of the “greatest free party on earth”, in the words of Sgt. Lesley Hill-Peters.[1]

Hill-Peters is spokesperson for the Lafourche Parish Sheriff’s Office. According to her, “someone picking up after you” is all part of the fun; revelers are required to do nothing but have a good time. So who cleans up the city’s messes? Local prisoners, released into the sunshine for a few hours to make thousands of pounds of garbage disappear. Minutes after the last float rumbles by, a line of men in orange sweatshirts or fluorescent yellow vests advances, armed with shovels and heavy-duty bags.

The inmates who clean up the city’s excesses consider it a fair trade. Many, like Steve Angelle, an inmate of Terrebone parish since September 2009, welcome the opportunity to work outside in the sunshine. On Ash Wednesday, Angelle woke at 3 am to eat breakfast, then began an eight-hour shift of shoveling with 44 other inmates. He considers himself fortunate, an opinion echoed by Sgt. Rodney Martin of the local Sheriff’s Office. Martin noted that some inmates “get lucky and find a dollar bill or larger on the ground”. Says Angelle: “It’s a privilege being out here instead of locked up between four walls.”

Mardi Gras parades offer some insight into the appetites and accountability of the City That Care Forgot. Here we determine if something is trash or treasure based on whether it lands in our hands or at our feet. We step on and over whatever we deem worthless. And we’re invited to leave our messes for someone else to take care of.

In my work with Resurrection After Exoneration, I deal with discards: men, not beads. I work with men who were kidnapped from their homes, interrogated by the police, and detained in jail or on bond until trial, when they were wrongfully convicted and sentenced to life in prison or death. I deal with innocent men who spent decades dreaming of how they would live life if they were ever freed. I deal with these men once they’re released into free-fall; exonerees, by virtue of their finally-proven innocence, are ineligible for the paltry reentry services covering the 15,000 Louisiana citizens released yearly from state and local prisons.

Exonerees are our justice system’s most obvious failures; their existence reminds us both of human fallibility and human frailty. We are made uncomfortable by exonerees because they are the detritus of our social systems. No one reaches out to catch them when they’re released. They drop to the ground unnoticed. And we sweep them out of sight, embarrassed, and expect that despite their deeply seared traumas, exonerees should be able to become ‘normal’ again.

I work with one exoneree – an innocent man who spent nine years on death row – whose first instinct, whenever he goes out into the public sphere, is to take his young daughters with him. He does this because he believes that one day he’ll be arrested again for another crime he didn’t commit. And when that time comes, he wants his daughters there as alibis. How can we expect normalcy from someone who’s been so personally and so profoundly damaged?

These words I’ve just written – they’re a lesson I’ve learned and taught to others over the past 18 months. And yet sometimes I forget. I want exonerees to be normal, to take responsibility for their actions and make thoughtful, practical life decisions. I want them to take full advantage of their unlikely freedom, and not be hampered by memories of rape, and grief, and watching their friends walk to their deaths. I want to blame their failures on a state that treats some of its citizens like garbage; and yet sometimes, in my frustration, I simply blame these discarded men.

Hubert H. Humphrey said in 1947 that “The moral test of government is how it treats those…who are in the shadows of life”. Whether the purpose of incarceration is rehabilitation, segregation, or punishment, it casts a shadow that remains long after a prisoner’s release. At Mardi Gras, we let some of these shadowed beings like Angelle out to clean up after us; we expose them to the sunlight for a few hours. They are the custodians of our amnesia and our excess. And the garbage, as always, gets swept away.

Corps Members Mallory Falk and Amanda Gross

Although the city of New Orleans has been super busy with the Super Bowl, elections, Mardi Gras, work, visitors, and a variety of other fun events, I have been given the additional opportunity of planning for a group of 16 Northeastern Hillel students to come down for an alternative Spring Break trip February 28th-March 7th. I will be co-leading this trip with another Elon University graduate who works for Northeastern Hillel. He had contacted me a while ago to ask if I would be interested in leading with him because the group wanted to be a part of the rebuilding process and he knew that I worked for Rebuilding Together New Orleans (an organization that rebuilds the houses of low-income homeowners who are either elderly, disabled, single guardians of minor children, or first responders).

I eagerly accepted the offer because it was a combination of so many of the things I love. I was particularly excited to have been offered an opportunity to work with Hillel students interested in service, as someone who specifically has moved down to New Orleans to do community service work in a Jewish context. I jumped at the chance to be able to combine the passion I have for my job with the chance to find ways for individuals to get the most out of a volunteer experience. Additionally, I thought it would be a really great chance to flip my usual role as a participant in alternative spring break trips/service oriented programs and use the knowledge I had acquired during those experiences to create a program for these students.

I hadn’t realized until I began the speaking with the student leader for the group regarding the planning just how much I truly enjoyed this type of work. As the days get closer and closer to when they get here and I realize all the last minute things that need to be done, I get more excited for all that we are going to be able to do. This surprising amount of enthusiasm I’ve felt has had a profound effect on me for two reasons. The first dealt with the realization that maybe this could be something I look into for future employment or just as something to keep in mind in case the opportunity arises again. The second was that it reminded me why I chose to do Avodah in the first place. I knew that I wanted to do service for a year after graduating from college and had looked at a number of different service organizations before deciding on Avodah. Ultimately, I chose what I felt would be the best organization for giving me context for the service work I was doing. I did not want my work to just be a job. I wanted it to be an experience; a job plus an understanding and insight into how that job fits into the context of everything else occurring in the city. I wanted a support system outside of my job that I could find in the community of other volunteers I would be living with.

Avodah has been exactly what I had wanted in this regard. I love seeing how the work I am doing is interconnected with the work of my housemates. However, this was never something I thought about on a daily basis. Sure, I have been incredibly grateful for being a part of Avodah for many reasons, but planning for Northeastern has given my an entirely new appreciation for what a wonderful expereince Avodah has been for me. I have re-discovered how important it is to have that additional context for service work though my time spent making decisions on the speakers/activities/events that would give the Northeastern students the best supplement to their service.

I feel incredibly grateful that I have had the ability to do more than go through the motions of my daily tasks in the office and am thrilled that to have the chance to give these students a similar experience where they can connect with their work on a more meaningful level. Or at least attempt to provide programs that will allow them to do this.

I know that I have a tendency to go off on tangents, but my ultimate point is this: in planning for the trip for the Northeastern students, I have unexpectedly found myself in appreciation of the experience I am currently enjoying in New Orleans and have realized how much I like trying to find a way to incorporate that into a new experience for others to enjoy.

Learn more about the School-to-Prison-Pipeline by playing a game created by the ACLU: http://www.aclu.org/school-prison-pipeline-game

While routinely going down my list of clients, I happened to call a client with the initials R.J.  He didn’t have a review hearing for another four months, but I figured I would check in anyway. I reached his father who informed me that not only was R.J. not currently in school but that the 15 year old had not been enrolled since May of last year. He explained that R.J.’s mother had moved to Texas and had possession of many of R.J.’s documents such as social security card and birth certificate. His father had been fiercely trying to get R.J. enrolled in a school but it seemed that doors were continually being shut in his face.  This was infuriating for many reasons, but one of the most important was that R.J. could be sent to jail for not being in school. The juvenile courts in New Orleans view academic issues as being non-compliant with probation. A catchy phrase for the repercussions of this practice is the “school to prison pipeline”. Kids are pushed out of schools for minor disciplinary infractions, or, as in R.J.’s situation, they are kept out of public schools illegally. These juveniles, living without the structure of school, disproportionately end up the criminal justice system with a recidivism rate that will make your head spin. In New Orleans, juveniles have been sent to jail for repeatedly not passing classes or not attending. So the thought of R.J. going before the judge without even being enrolled in any school was a scary one.

I told him I would do all that I could to help get his son into school, which of course I thought was very little. I was not his mother and if they wouldn’t listen to his father, why would they listen to me? The following day, I went to the Welcome School, the building where administrators hold expulsion hearings and enroll students who are not currently enrolled. After meeting with a social worker for about 30 minutes and presenting her with R.J.’s academic records from his previous school, she brought me in to meet the person who decides where to enroll the students who aren’t currently enrolled in a school.  He told me that there was space at an 8th grade academy and that he would sign a letter stating that they had to enroll R.J. as soon as possible. The following day after that, I drove myself, R.J. and R.J.’s father to this 8th grade academy. They addressed me with all of their questions and 45 minutes later, for the first time since May 15th of the previous year, R.J. was an enrolled student.

While pleasantly surprised at this result and the euphoric feeling I had (one I do not get often working within the juvenile justice system), I could not shake a different feeling that was hanging on me.  Why hadn’t my initial trepidation proved true? Why was I able to help R.J. when his own father could not? This was certainly not the first time being utterly blindsided by my own privilege but it was startling nonetheless.

So where does that collision of my reality and my own privilege leave me? I love my job and the work that I do but I am also deeply troubled by this system that I am attempting to work within.  The conclusions I have reached are somewhat mixed. Yes, it was  because I was white and yes, it was  because I was dressed in my business casual attire that I was able to get R.J. into school and his father could not. But he is in school now…so that is enough?

Of course it isn’t, but for now it simply has to be. This experience has made me realize that grand, sweeping changes are not going to happen in front of my eyes and the successes I do have, however few and far between, need to be celebrated. So, here’s to R.J. And now, onto the next.

Further Reading on the School-to-Prison-Pipeline:

-The Advancement Project has a groundbreaking new study out called Test, Punish, and Push Out: How Zero Tolerance and High-Stakes Testing Funnel Youth into the School to Prison Pipeline.

-The Southern Poverty Law Center works in Louisiana to stop the School to Prison Pipeline by enforcing Special Education Law.

-ACLU Talking Points on the School-to-Prison-Pipeline

-JJPL: The Juvenile Justice Project of Louisiana

The frigid temperatures that gripped the New Orleans area for five nights last week dipped to a deadly level. But apparently only two of the hundreds of homeless people who sleep on city streets and in abandoned buildings in Orleans and Jefferson parishes were lost to the cold.

Those deaths — one man who perished in a fire in an abandoned building in Bridge City and another who was outside in New Orleans’ Central Business District — are tragic. It is a blessing, though, that there weren’t more fatalities with temperatures in the low 20s night after night. That is due to heroic efforts by caseworkers and volunteers with UNITY of Greater New Orleans, a consortium of 63 organizations working to end homelessness, and the New Orleans Police Department’s homeless outreach unit.

They coaxed dozens of people to go to shelters, which were allowed to expand capacity during the freeze. They also made continuous checks on those who refused to move indoors, taking them extra blankets and supplies during the night.

The generosity of metro area residents was vital to the life-saving effort. More than 40 volunteers helped serve meals and visit with people staying at the emergency public shelter operated by the Red Cross in New Orleans. Donations poured in to UNITY as the severity of the weather became known: blankets, socks, sleeping bags, winter clothing, money for gas for UNITY caseworkers.

But the success of the outreach during last week’s freeze isn’t the end of the issue.
UNITY’s member groups are working to provide thousands of homeless people with housing and a more stable life so that they aren’t at risk of dying in a freeze. As the organization moves toward that goal, it needs our continued help.

Small things like a gift card from a fast food restaurant and individual-size bottles of water allow UNITY’s Outreach Team to help homeless people who cannot or won’t go to a shelter. Sleeping bags also are helpful for people who are waiting for permanent housing. Currently UNITY gets five new housing vouchers a week for disabled homeless people, but there are 900 people who have completed applications for a voucher. At that rate, some people will be without a home for many months or will die before a voucher is available.

There ought to be some way to increase those numbers and at least get disabled people into housing more quickly, and federal and local housing officials should make sure that happens.

Meanwhile, UNITY’s Outreach Team needs basics like flashlights and batteries for their nighttime checks on homeless people. The organization need bus tokens for homeless clients to get to work and to medical appointments. And it needs cash donations to pay for a place for medically fragile disabled people to stay until they have housing.

Then there are the items that help make a house a home for those lucky enough to get their own place to live: Sheets, towels, dishware, used furnishings. “They have nothing, and they need everything,” UNITY staffer Sue Weishar said. And, of course, there is always a need for volunteers to do everything from sorting donations to helping clients move into apartments to assisting with the agency’s annual homeless count Jan. 26. The count is required by the U.S. Deparment of Housing and Urban Development and drives the amount of resources for fighting homelessness that flow into our community.

A post-Katrina explosion of homelessness has left an estimated 6,000 people, many of whom suffer from mental illness or substance abuse, camping in more than 65,000 abandoned buildings in New Orleans.

Homelessness is a problem that can make people feel helpless to do anything meaningful. But, as many people discovered when the temperatures plummeted, there are some very simple ways to make a difference.