Letter to Sandra Fluke from "Obama for America" in Response to email titled "Illegitimate Rape"

Joanna --

In a recent statement that was both factually inaccurate and horribly offensive, Republican Missouri Senate candidate Rep. Todd Akin said that victims of "legitimate rape" don't get pregnant because "the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down."

Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan tried to distance themselves from the remark -- but the fact is they're in lockstep with Akin on the major women's health issues of our time. Just this morning, the Republican Party voted to include the "Human Life Amendment" in their platform, calling for a constitutional ban on abortions nationwide, even for rape victims. Several Romney supporters and advisers stood silently by while this vote took place, and the Los Angeles Times reports that the platform "was written at the direction of Romney's campaign." 

President Obama spoke out in response to Akin's comments: "What I think these comments do underscore is why we shouldn't have a bunch of politicians, a majority of whom are men, making health care decisions on behalf of women."

This controversy is not an accident, or a mistake, or an isolated incident. It's a reflection of a Republican Party whose policies are dangerous for women.

There is a clear choice for women in this election: Stand with President Obama.

I entered this national debate on women's rights in February, when, as a Georgetown Law student, I testified before members of Congress on the issue of contraception.

Without knowing me or my story, Rush Limbaugh called me a "slut" and a "prostitute" on his radio show.

Many Americans stepped forward to tell me they agreed with me, and supported my right to speak out without being verbally attacked. President Obama stood with us.

Mitt Romney, on the other hand? He didn't even condemn the remark, instead saying only: "It's not the language I would have used."

Since that moment, I'm even more resolved to continue the fight to make sure every single woman -- and every man who cares about the women in his life -- knows exactly what's at stake in this election. The Republicans are frighteningly clear on these issues.

The party platform itself includes a "salute" to states that have pushed "informed consent" laws, such as those that force women seeking an abortion to first undergo an invasive and medically unnecessary ultrasound.

Just last year, Paul Ryan joined Todd Akin and more than 200 other Republicans in co-sponsoring legislation that would have narrowed the definition of rape, limiting which victims of rape were "legitimate" enough to receive financial assistance for access to abortion care.

Mitt Romney famously says he would "get rid of" Planned Parenthood if he had the chance. And both Romney and Ryan pledge to go back to a system where insurance companies can discriminate against women and charge us more than men for the same health insurance.

Akin's comments shouldn't be surprising. But this isn't about him -- just like it was never about me.

President Obama has told us what he's fighting for: "I want women to control their own health choices, just like I want my daughters to have the same opportunities as your sons."

Republicans, led by Romney and Ryan, have made it clear that they want to make our decisions for us.

President Obama trusts us to make our own.

It's as simple as that. Join me and stand with him today:

http://my.barackobama.com/A-Clear-Choice

Thanks,

Sandra Fluke




Dear Sandra Fluke (Random Obama Campaigner),
    I'm so happy you feel comfortable discussing rape with a perfect stranger. As a rape survivor I think it is incredibly healthy to discuss these issues out in the open. Since you are so comfortable discussing rape with me I suppose I will open up and tell you a story.
     Once upon a time there was a little girl who lived down the block from me, went to my elementary school and was in my Girl Scout troop. I remember her to be friendly, mostly kind and particularly good at gymnastics. She lived with her mother, step-father and two step-brothers. One day she cam over to my house after school and wanted to play a game. I wasn't comfortable with the game. She told me that her and her step-brother played this game all the time.It didn't make a lot of sense to me and it made me cry and eventually it made me hurt. We were nine years old.
    Let me tell you another story. This one happened four years later. I was hanging out with a friend at the local convenience store. We were smoking cigarettes and looking for something "fun" to do. One of our classmates older brothers pulled up in his car with some friends and invited us to go for a ride. He had just graduated from high school. He gave me a sip of "beer" from his water bottle. I started to get dizzy and can't remember much after that except vague memories of having my someone holding my hair tightly in their hand and the sound of a car honking and circling me. I remember my knees were on the pavement. When things became clear again I slowly noticed that I was in a park that was near my house. A park where I had climbed trees, played swings and rode my bike too countless times. I was alone. My knees were scratched and bloody, my mouth was sore and I had no shirt on. I was thirteen.
      Now that you know my stories I am going to ask you a sincere question. In what world is it appropriate to insinuate that VOTING FOR OBAMA will somehow eradicate the millions of memories in the minds of millions of humans on this earth who have experienced rape, sexual assault, sexual abuse or the attempts of any of these things. In WHAT UNIVERSE did you wake up and consider it acceptable to take the issue of RAPE and USE it to convince me to VOTE FOR OBAMA?
    In all honesty, I am ABSOLUTELY disgusted. As disgusting as Sen Akin's ignorance is, as triggering and terrifying it is to realize that the world is a flood of systemic sexual violence it is NEVER appropriate to utilize this issue as a means to collect votes. Please, for the love of survivors of sexual violence everywhere, cease and desist sending this email.     Immediately.
It is an insult to our tragedies, and insult to our womanhood, and insult to our dignity and an insult to our intelligence.
 Sincerely, Jo Robin

Dear MoveOn.Org Intern

I got yet ANOTHER MoveOn.org email asking me to sign yet ANOTHER petition. This was my response email. Dear MoveOn.org Intern, SO let's be real. I'm gonna make a MASSIVE bet that you are an intern. HI INTERN! Right now your "job" is to read through emails. I'm sorry. No really, that is a pretty thankless job. Actually, in my experience, being an INTERN is a thankless job. It's also mostly PAYLESS. My guess is you probably care a lot about what is going on in the world. My guess is everything seems a little bit off to you. Why in God's name are there people starving when we have a food surplus? Why are the national politicians arguing about issues our High School text books say we already settled? Why do the people "representing" us not understand what rape is? Why is the burden of the state of the world resting on your shoulders? Why does the good, healthy delicious food that grows out of the ground cost so damn much money? Why does a landlord collect all your wages once a month so that you can live in a shelter? WHY DO YOU HAVE A WATER BILL WHEN WATER FALLS FROM THE GODDAMN SKY??????? These are excellent questions, and very good reasons to get involved in activism. Unfortunately I have very bad news for you. MoveON.org is NOT activism. WAIT!!! STOP THE PHONE!!! DON"T MOVE THAT MOUSE!!!! I know that is an incredibly rude thing for me to say to you, not knowing you, but just let me get a little farther along before you abandon my email. Here's the deal. The petitions are NOT feeding the hungry. The petitions are NOT challenging the cultural norms. The petitions are NOT changing the world we live in. They just aren't. I know somewhere deep in that compassionate heart of yours you probably know this to be true. Just think about it for a minute. The voting drives and anti-Romney events are absolutely NOT feeding people. They are not stopping the ecologically destructive machine that's killing nearly every species on the planet. They are NOT representing the people. YOU KNOW THIS. Here's the thing. You deserve to do work that makes you feel good about yourself, that makes you feel whole, that meets your needs and helps meet the needs of others. THIS IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN IN AN OFFICE. You HAVE to get out of the office. While you still have the PASSION that is required to help stop the cogs in the machine, GET OUT OF THE OFFICE. PLEASE. Your recognition that this is thankless, payless, pointless work is actually incredibly important. You are being tricked. Tricked into a false outlet for your feelings of guilt. You are not alone. We ALL feel guilty. We SHOULD feel guilty. But we don't have to feel guilty if we get OUT OF OUR SEATS and get to know some of the other people working on building stronger communities, alternative mutual aid networks, making fusses in the street and saying HELL-NO to the system in which we were born into. It ISN'T right. YOU KNOW THIS. See you in the streets (hopefully), Jo Robin

My Response Letter to the 300th Request for Money from Michele and Barack

Dear Michele & Barack (from your emails I assume we are on a first name basis), I have received endless emails from you and your collaborators over the past months asking me incessantly for money. I don't have any. No really. I LITERALLY DON'T HAVE A DOLLAR IN MY POCKET. Can you please STOP asking me for money? No seriously. It's absurd. I'm going back to school and the costs are incredibly high, even for Community College. I can BARELY pay my rent, let alone my food costs and utilities. The truth is I want to be a teacher. That means I will be in school for the next 6 years. By the time I make it out with a BA, a MA and a teacher's certificate I will probably be in nearly 50,000 dollars worth of debt, if not more. You ask me for 3$. You make it sound like three dollars is nothing, mere pocket change. It's not. 3$ buys a loaf of bread or a gallon of milk or two boxes of macaroni and cheese or a few apples or a sandwich or fresh juice or a bag of chips or a bag of potatoes. Have you been watching the news? We're all getting poorer. WAY poorer. And there's drought on, that means the cost of simple foods like corn and soy are going up. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH CORN AND SOY is in our foods? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH CORN AND SOY feeds the cows and pigs that are the meat we eat? So between rent, food, utilities and transportation costs for work I just DON'T have a dollar to spare. I definitely don't have THREE of them to spare. I'd like you to PLEASE STOP ASKING ME FOR MONEY. Every email I get asking for "small change" makes me feel less capable of supporting myself. Somehow it feels as though I was born owing everybody. Doesn't it seem a little strange that I can't lay my head down on the ground God made without having a police officer come around and tell me to move on? Doesn't it seem a little strange that good honest food that grows out of the goddamn ground isn't available for me to eat without coughing up the little money that I have? Doesn't it seem messed up that the things I need like water and shelter and a good solid education about the world I live in aren't things I was born with the right to have? I was born owing. I was born owing the world. The truth is I think this is a little messed up. I feel like we OWE our children. You have kids, I have a kid as well. What is our job as a parent? To make sure our children have what they need and are prepared to take care of themselves. Well goddamit if I don't think that's just about impossible for people nowadays. So go on and ask the rich folks for money. They're the ones who keep you in office, right? They're the ones who set your policies and tell you who to bomb and who to bail out and what laws to pass. The funny thing is they're paying that Romney off too. I got to be honest, all I see is two men. One in a red shirt and one in a blue shirt stuffing their pockets full of cash coming in from the big bankers and bosses. You know the ones, the ones WE bailed out with our taxes which should have been going to supporting these farmers who are now in drought, or the people of Louisiana who lost everything, or those Tornado victims, or the families of soldiers who die overseas, or veterans who are losing their homes, or the kids who can't pay back their loans. Instead all that money you all collect from us went right into bailing out those big banks, the SAME goddamn banks that are taking back homes from VETERANS. I just don't have it in me anymore to play this big stupid game. It's all over. You can't have my money. I wouldn't want to waste it on somebody who inspired SO MUCH HOPE and fell SO FLAT. But don't you worry. It sure as HELL isn't going to Romney either. Sincerely, Jo (anna) Robinson

Dear Police Departments

Dear Police Departments, I know this must be strange for you. I imagine you sitting at home shaking your head in confusion, after all, this is how the PDs have always acted. These kinds of things happen all the time. The sacrifice of a few poor people keeps the rest of the people in line. I can see you don't understand. Let me try and explain. I bet once or twice on your beat you've encountered some domestic disturbances, right? A neighbor calls in explaining that they are hearing screams and banging, and it's your job to go in and keep the peace. It's your job to protect that person from their violent partner who will use physical force when they think they're boyfriend or girlfriend isn't respecting them or following their authority. Usually it's because the victim decided to go out with friends, or push some rule that the perp had created that just didn't seem fair. And sometimes I bet you've seen when that gets out of control. When the victim actually gets killed by their partner. Years of hidden abuse finally got out of control without outside interference. Or the victim finally kills their attacker. Well let me tell you what's going on in Anaheim and South Dallas and all over the country. THIS is a domestic disturbance, and the people in the streets yelling at you are intervening. You are the perp. Is this sinking in yet? It's going to be difficult to let go of the kind of authority you are used to and I know you think you are doing what's best for the country but you're out of control. We are stepping in. You see, the irony is we are doing what you claim YOUR job is. To keep innocent people safe from violence and theft, but YOU are the violence and you are robbing communities of their dignity. Your bosses will tell you that you need to regain control, and come back harder this time. But you, mindless machine you may be, still have a choice. Don't be that perp who kills his wife. Don't be that perp who is killed by his victim. Protect communities and QUIT THE FORCE. Sincerely, Us.

America, The Beautiful

Oh beautiful for dumpstered food
And squatted foreclosed homes,
But empty parks with barricades
Are everywhere I roam!
America! America!
What has become of thee?
Or has it always been this way
And we just didn't see?

Oh beautiful for--free schools,
And roof-top garden beds.
But all around they tear them down,
Not legal's what they said.
America! America!
I have not what I need.
And when I try to plant my own
You dig up every seed.

O beautiful for citizens
Paint art upon on the bricks.
But your police don't keep the peace,
They beat us up with sticks.
America! America!
You try to crush my will.
When will the guns be taken from
The men who shoot to kill.

Oh beautiful for Spring is Here,
And fearless now we rise
Against the rent, of Government
And all it's violent lies.
America! America!
No borders will we keep,
But drink and bread and home and bed
For every one there'll be.

America! America!
Good riddance to your name.
For from the blood, runs through the mud
Is how you staked your claim.

The Blood Splattered Banner

Oh, say can you see? By the cops out in force?
What they fear in our minds, that they cannot control.
I stand with the crowd through the perilous fight,
O'er barricades we stood while the parks they did hold;
And the floodlights bright glare, the chants sound in the air,
Gave proof through the fight that our pride won't be spared;
O say, does that blood-splattered banner still wave
O'er the land of the poor, and the home of the caged?

From my eyes dimly seen through the mists of the mace,
Where freedom's foe stands, in dread silence reposes,
What is that which we want, says the powerful face,
Pretends it doens't know, it conceals, not discloses.
Citizens film our dreams, as the camera light beams,
In full glory reflected now shines on livestream;
'Tis the blood-splattered banner; AS it burns to the ground
We the people won't stand, for the injustice we've found!

And where are those men who so desperately swore
That the injustice we face doesn't need revolution?
We know in our hearts that the power's no more,
For when faced with distress we provided solutions.
Free homes and free bread, as we honor the dead,
Free schools and free aide, is what we wanted instead
Of the prisons and jails on our bodies and minds,
For the land of the free, and the home of the kind!

O! thus be it ever, when freefolk shall stand
Between their loved homes and a soul-less Corporation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the poeple's own land,
Void the power that made and forced us into a nation.
Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just.
And this be our motto— "In Anarchism we trust; "
And the blood-splattered banner in defeat it shall burn
For the land of the free to whom all is well earned.

Letter To My Government

Dear Government;

This may come as a shock but I want you to take a paternity test.

I know it sounds crazy, you do seem so SURE you are my father. You've always acted as such and I was a dutiful child.

I followed your rules to the best of my ability (There are so MANY of them) and accepted your punishments. You always told me it would make me a better citizen.

I did the chores you assigned and accepted you meager allowances. You said they would build character, and that building character was more important than wealth.

The thing is and THIS is where I began to suspect our genes were not the same, you CHARGED me for everything. I paid for school. I paid for my doctor and my dentist. I paid for my apartments and home, my food and water. I paid for everything.

Not only that, but when tragedy struck, you abandoned me. Remember the floods and the hurricanes and tornadoes, even the earthquakes. When times were tough you were no where to be seen.

And what about the food shortages, and job crisis and when the banks took my home? You were on vacation. I know because the news reported it.

You told me in these times that tragedy built character. I believed you, but now I know you were merely trying to convince me of your paternity. You spent your time with other countries, protecting and fighting with them while I struggled alone.

When bad things happened you blamed others. You told me it wasn't your fault but if I just followed your rules I wouldn't have anything to fear, which I'm beginning to believe is nonsense.

So look, rather than maintaining this charade just send me some of your blood. No big deal. Let's just settle this so we can both move on.

Sincerely,
Jo Robin

American I Betrayed You. MAYDAY2012

America, we've met.

I met you first before my father's fathers came to eat up your land with mouths on fire.
You whispered the secrets of your peace and I stood with you as you laid no claim on the ground my fathers came to devour. I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you.
You told me the names of your children and taught me secrets to survive the deadness of winter. I learned to eat fish and arroz and danced with your brothers. But I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you.
You reprimanded me as I stood behind the men and looked like a nervous child at my shoes, but I betrayed you. I fussed with my skirts, or I frowned in arrogance. It will never matter what I DID so much as what I DID NOT.

I met you again America. My wife pleaded I not go to the river by the border. My father said it was not a just war, but I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you. I fired the cannons like a dutiful boy to impress a distant and solemn father. I did not know he would not defend me. I found fury in my hunger and blamed you. I closed my eyes when I lit the cannons. I thought of new boots, and an officers honor. They fed me rancid meat and still I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you.

When the slaves were tired of their slavery I thought I did right. I told their bosses to ease up and whispered gently to the children with no mothers. But I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you. It will never matter what I DID but what I DID NOT do.
At the auctions I asked the men to buy the families whole, but could not look you in the eyes America. I kicked the dirt. I hung my head but this is nothing. I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you.

I met you in the strikers homes. I helped in the kitchens and listened at the town halls to hear the men whose hearts of rage were spewing justice's fire. I tended the children and brought the strikers water but when the police came I ran. I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you.
When they broke into the flour storage buildings I gathered some in my apron, but when the army came I ran. I ran from the sticks and I ran from the guns. It doesn't not matter what I DID but what I DID NOT do.

We chatted on the bus before you refused to stand. I did not know you were right. I pleaded you to stop and just let it go. I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you. You told me it was not right and I said yes. I nodded and glanced at my tennis shoes. But when the bus stopped to let the police on I got off. I could not look at them take you, I could not. I was hungry and afraid but I betrayed you.

When the wars came and went I sent you letters. I told you I loved you. I said I was proud son. But I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you. I told you how you wore the badge of justice, the mark of honor. It will never matter what I DID but what I DID NOT do. I watched the other children in the streets, their heads hit pavement, their eyes ablaze. But I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you.

We met again America. I was sweating in the afternoon sun in Alabama, picking ticks off of my dog who whined in the summer's intolerable heat. You took me home to meet your husband whose southern drawl left me confused but calm. Your daughters showed me the houses torn by the tornadoes. They held my hand and cried. But I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you.

In a pool hall in New Orleans we met again. Your indignation filled the room. You whispered that they blew the levys, and that everyone knew. You always thought you'd beat me, but never did. You took me to the 8th ward, and the earth had eaten up the homes. There was no FEMA here, you said. But I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you.

In Florida you fed me oranges from your truck, and spoke softly in spanish. Naranjas, comidas? You looked at your sneakers when you told me that you slept by the bridge, but you drove me all the way to Pensacola and shared cheap tequila you passed through the window to the back. You said they'd pull you over if I sat with you in the front. I remember thinking I had never thought oranges could be so beautiful. But I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you.
You said your three sons had been sent back, that one had been shot trying to get in and I filled with rage. But I was hungry and afraid and I betrayed you. It will never matter what I DID but what I DID NOT do.

In New York you said I couldn't sit. You said I couldn't stand. You said I couldn't speak, or draw or sing. But you were hungry and afraid and you betrayed me. You pulled me from the crowd and put your boot down on my neck. But you were hungry and afraid and you betrayed me. You turned me over and binded my arms with plastic that cut into my skin. But you were hungry and afraid and you betrayed me. You put me in the van, or truck or bus.
You said it was just a job.
I said you should find a better one.
But you were hungry and afraid and you betrayed us.

Mama Mama Can't You See Additional lyrics

Original Lyric (Origin Unknown)

Mama, Mama can't you see?
What police have come to be.
They keep trying to beat us down,
but we're rising all around.

Father, father can you feel?
The cold of bars made out of steel.
They keep putting me in jail,
Who want's the people all to fail?

Sister, sister can you hear?
The police sirens drawing near.
I'm just trying to speak my peace,
but they just send in the police.

Brother Oh what will you say?
As they're leading me away.
I'm just trying to make a stand,
For the people of the land.

Daughter, daughter can you pay?
For what you learned in school today.
Did you know that you would fight?
For what should be your given right.

Oh my son, what will you do?
When they take your house from you.
Will you take it like a "man"?
Or will you finally take a stand.

Preacher oh what will you say?
On the pulpit come sunday.
Jesus turned the tables down,
And they laid him in the ground.

Doctor, Doctor will you heal?
The broken bones that I can feel.
Can you hear that awful sound?
The sound of heads hitting the ground.

Mama, Mama can't you see?
What the police have done to me.
They keep trying to drag me down,
But I'm rising from the ground.

Baby, Baby is it true?
What the policemen do to you?
When they tear you from my arms,
Do they put you behind bars.

The WHY Manifesto

"Never be deceived the rich will vote away their wealth." -Lucy Parsons
"If voting changed something, they would make it illegal." -Emma Goldman
"Women have no government." -Victoria Woodhull

I don't know what it was that instigated my involvement in Occupy Wall Street.
I can't pinpoint any particular moment that shattered my perceptions of the world.
It could have been one of thousands.
It could have been my recognition of the seemingly causeless depression that hangs like smog over urban centers and rural ruins.
It could have been driving through Gary, Indiana witnessing the modern ruins of a city, once thriving, now utterly abandoned.
It could be bearing witness to the individuals left helpless by our government in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.
It could have been the pointless harassment of black youth in New York City.
It really doesn't matter, does it?

I know that the struggle for liberty is eternal.
I know we will never win absolute freedom from oppression.
I accept that arrogance and selfishness is an infinite plague, and that humanity, even it's most glorious moments will never completely eradicate the hoarding of resources.

That being said; I will never stop fighting.

I will not let my desires for freedom be glazed over by what seems to be an impenetrable fortress of mindless human weapons.
I will not allow fear to stand between me and my joy.
I will not eat the cake, so to speak.

I will, rather, bear witness to each act of indignant resistance.
I will glorify the people at every turn, and encourage revolt.
I will not be bystander to revolution.
I will deny the fate presented to me by the powers that be.
I will engage in daily acts of irrelevance.
I will forge psychic bonds with any and every people who stand against injustice.

When they stand, I will stand.
When they fall, I will fall.
When they rise, I will rise and so on until I stand facing death with satisfaction, assured that I have lived devoted to the true EVOLUTION of PEOPLE.

I care not your religion, your race or your language.
I care not your gender, your genes, your preferences.
I care only in your liberation from emotional, spiritual and physical bondage.

I may never meet you face to face, or hear your stories of struggle, but I will know them like the backs of my hands.
I will know them without words, without pictures.
Your story will be mine, and my story yours.