Blogspot: Friends of Peltier: UN Expert to Report on Affordable Housing Crisis

March 7. And now more than ever I am homeless at home. What kind of a world allows children to go hungry and forces people out on the street because they owe $4.50 in late fees. Well there are no more late fees or gas prices to bitch about. There are just memories af those two men removing my clothes as they put all their weight into to middle of my back as they pushed my head into a plastic matress on the floor. They left bruises and abrasions that were never treated, and drugs that were mysteriously absent from any medical chart. I spent the next 5 months documenting my experience. I took 1890 photos. I sent out 32,000 tweets. No one called. No one cared. My spirit is every bit as broken as my already fragile bones have been since I was twenty two. Thank you, Daddy. I'm every bit as strong as your dirty cops who beat all those men into the ground in West Philadelphia. There were my colleagues who lost the medical record that I so carefully preserved on the blank pages of a telephone book. There was Christina who brought me clothing and the Pastor who promised to visit. I never saw either of them again. There was chamber meeting I so carefully composed myself to give my regrets to the Mayor. The same fucking Mayor who names me on his committee of educators. I haven't forgotten, and trust me, neither will you.