We declare the right of every person to water, food, care and shelter and affirm our absolute right to peace of body, mind and spirit. Continue reading We are being suffocated by a system of colorism and supremacy
A Dia de los Muertos celebration in Walker Square Park featured a parade, food, dance and tributes to the ancestors. Continue reading “This is where the spirits leave”
Growing up on Chicago’s west side, Patricia Williams lived in almost-constant fear. When she became a mother, she decided it was time for a change. Continue reading “I kept getting stronger”
From growing up in one of Milwaukee’s most challenged neighborhoods to running a business of her own, Kathy Kingcaid has lived her life with no regrets. Continue reading “There is nothing like watching something grow”
The free event, hosted by the MacCanon Brown Homeless Sanctuary, will include resources and activities. Continue reading Picnic offers place for “those who may not have anywhere else”
Donald Ealy shuffles across an empty Center Street in Park West. Ealy’s tired eyes and thin mustache adorn his weathered face; a patterned cardigan and brown driving cap lend him an air of aged dignity.
“When I went to prison, my eyes wasn’t open,” Ealy says. “I wrote the judge a letter thankin’ him for savin’ my life. I had 30 years. The judge brought me back to court because he said he had never got a letter like this before, and he said the letter was so sincere … he brought me back to court and took 15 years away.”
Diego Sebastian pushes his cart of elotes (boiled or grilled corn on the cob), papas (hot and spicy Mexican potatoes) and chicharrones (fried pork rinds) up South 30th Street, honking a loud horn. Sebastian, who’s been in Wisconsin for 10 years, is trying to attract customers.
“Me, I push carts,” he says, as he scans the street. “[There’s] nobody outside, no have monies.”
Joanne walks to the sidewalk from beside the open passenger window of a Jeep, where she had been a moment before. She opens her chapped lips to speak; the Pick ‘n Save at 2355 N. 35th St. looms in the background.
“We are so hungry … we ain’t eaten in two days. Please help me,” she says.
Preston Jones smokes a cigarette outside the Milwaukee Rescue Mission on W. Wells Street in the Marquette neighborhood. Expelling the smoke seems like a sacred ritual for Jones — he opens his mouth in a long “o” shape, exposing his slender, yellow-stained teeth, before breathing out.
Jones was “born and raised right here in Milwaukee” and, for the most part, hasn’t left. “I done been to Chicago before, I done been to Holly Springs, Mississippi, before — only one time to each one of them,” he says, though you wouldn’t know from hearing him talk — his voice is loud with a hint of southern drawl.
