We’ve passed out school uniforms and backpacks to families who needed that assistance for nine years. This would be the tenth. However, on Wednesday, we were informed that we wouldn’t be receiving the grant that we were counting on to fund this annual day of giving. And it's put us in a position where we have a list of children who need uniforms and school supplies, but at this late hour, no way to afford them. I’m not saying that our fight with the city is what cost us this sudden loss of funding. However, I can say it didn’t help. A grant for 40k could’ve not only paid for uniforms and backpacks, but it could've gone a long way to helping us transform our space.
We know that it’s the eleventh hour, and kids start school on Monday. However, I guarantee there will still be families in need next week, and we still want to be able to do what we’ve always done: HELP.
So we’re asking you to donate. To buy a uniform or two. And we’ve never had too many backpacks. The same kids who need supplies in the fall also need just as many supplies after winter break. So nothing will go unused.
I’m all about solutions. And making sure young people have what they need, and don’t need to resort to their own devices to get it, is one. We’ve been doing that on the block for years. Water is important. But apparently, it isn't the only thing.
Now that you’re here, indulge me for a couple of minutes, please and thank you…
For all of my adult life, I've struggled with uterine fibroids, as many women do. In the summer of 2017, they were exceptionally severe. The condition caused anemia, intense abdominal cramping, and hemorrhaging.
I didn't see my doctor because I was on the corner every single day, for the entire summer. And I couldn't abandon my post.
There were days I felt faint. There were times my mom had to bring me a change of clothes because the ones I was wearing were soiled, and I had to use the bathroom of an angelic elder who lived on the block to get myself together. And when I did, I went right back to my lawn chair.
Two days after we wrapped up for the summer and the kids went back to school, I had surgery.
The persistent loss of blood had caused me to become tachycardic.
This embarrassing and painful episode played out on the corner, in public, for all to see. This bad situation wouldn't have been so traumatic if there had been a bathroom and clean running water on site.
My family used to vacation together every summer. They went on cruises and visited beautiful island destinations. They shared photos and enjoyed just being with each other.
I never went because I was on the corner.
I've missed out on barbecues, festivals, birthday parties, and reunions because I was on the block.
I once had to load my car with a barbecue grill, charcoal, lawn chairs, and enough food to feed a hundred people every day.
I have sat outside in the rain and in punishing heat.
I remember when kids who are now fifth graders were born.
I've been there for baby showers and funerals alike. I have celebrated with the people on the block and cried with them.
Before heavy machinery was donated, we removed boulder-sized chunks of the foundation of the building that once stood on our lot, with our bare hands.
With that came all sorts of injuries, but with the finished product came pride, and a place where we would open the first pod school in the city—the day after CPS was shut down due to the pandemic.
I love the block. I love the people there, and I love what we've built. I even love what we're going to do next because there's always something next.
Last year, I considered quitting. The problem is that's just not possible. I need those people as much as they need me.
There's no stopping, especially not now.
There have been laws passed that will affect people in poor Black communities in ways we may not be able even to imagine just yet.
We may be looking at the gradual phasing out of public school education. We're going to have to contend with children no longer receiving school lunches, and the question of whether or not they are getting meals at home.
We're going to have to find a way to bring in more food for giveaways once people's food stamps are cut. After witnessing what is happening in DC and what happened in LA, Chicago may soon be faced with the occupation of the National Guard and federal agents in our neighborhoods. Someone is going to have to be there to bear witness to any potential civil rights violations or dissuade them because we are watching.
We want to build a space where we can provide early childhood educational opportunities and support for kids who may be struggling in their respective public schools, and we may want to start our very own school. Because yes, homeschooling may soon become a necessity for Black parents.
In short, the rain is coming, and we should all be working on building our ark.
For over a decade, we've done this great work without a bathroom or running water. We need to be able to grow and expand to meet the changing needs of the community that we serve. But that can't be done with a Portopotty and trips to McDonald's, that's three blocks away.
I am sad and a bit afraid that we are even here. I'm sorry because I don't understand how this is even a matter that has to be debated. Doesn't everyone deserve a place where they can use a clean toilet and turn on a faucet to wash their hands with clean water?
And I'm also afraid that there will be retaliation because we dared to ask for something that we believe to be a fundamental human right.
The problem shouldn't be that we have asked and we've been asking. After all the work we've d and our dedication to improving the community and our city, we're still treated as if we haven't earned it.
WOOSAAAHHH, Thank you for hearing me out and, hopefully, donating.
GIVE US WATER, OR GIVE US DEATH