Wrestling Grizzlies.

Hey Friends,


As most of you know, I was assaulted in my home on the eve of the anniversary of Marcia's death. I decided to flee rather than continue to fight the next day (May 20), and have since been living out of hotels, tents, a storage locker, and most recently, my grandmother's spare bedroom. I'm just grateful to have a place to land at night that I don't have to pack up and move again in the morning, frankly. And a regular shower.


Anyway, since I was busy moving all my shit out of the house I loved (that's right stalkers, I am no longer on Willetta Street), I didn't organize any memorials for anyone on May 20th. My friends from the International Prison Watch community covered for me and posted some stuff on my blogs, but I've been mainly too disorganized myself to cover much...and I've been a bit wrapped up in myself as well. Victimization does that to a person.


Violence is nothing new to me, but that's the first time since I was a kid, really, that it actually came screaming into my bedroom at night wearing the face of someone I trusted. I should have seen it coming when he started drinking more, but I was worried he might hurt himself, not me.


I thought it was kind of strange, really: the timing of all that. It was just an hour or so after I got home from the ADC Hep C Candlelight Vigil, where we were joined and blessed by the folks holding down the fort for the anti-SB 1070 contingent at the Capitol. It was really a sacred moment, that point in the vigil. The whole night was pretty sacred. Then I was attacked - the weird thing is that a lot of this guy's rage was directed at my activism. He even tried to take out my computer. It made no sense; we're so like-minded on that stuff.


Moreover, we were friends who respected eachother for the work we do.


Someone must have gotten to him somehow.


Anyway, my bro had joined me that morning for a three week "vacation" out here, and became homeless with me overnight. I was so grateful he was there - at both the vigil and the house. I don't know how I would have coped with things or moved all my junk without him - Thanks, Bill. Same goes for my Mom, really - she arranged for the storage and U haul and hotel rooms, and even my new digs.


I'm still coming in for a landing, though; it's hard being scattered everywhere even for a few weeks, and this isn't a permanent - or even long term - solution. Still, while I think it would be a good idea to have the fire trucks ready, I have a feeling that I might just be landing on my feet this time, catching up these blogs and then out chalking the streets again. I'm mostly just working out logistics right now.


As for having my safety and home violated - I hurled obscenities and threats at him until he backed off, but what's an abolitionist to do in this situation? He's three times my size. Really, if he wanted to kill me he could have - he busted in my door and his hands were around my neck. He didn't even mean to assault me, I don't think - just to scare me out. Perhaps even just to derail me - maybe even for a day - that particular day.


Anyway, it so happens that I'm working through my trauma and discovering some alternatives to pressing charges and using courts and cops, but that's for another night. In the meantime, if you're interested in where I might be going, check out the "Incite! Women of Color Against Violence" site: there's some good stuff on violence and the prison industrial complex.


Back with you again soon.


Free Marcia Powell!
Peace & Blessings,
Peg