Musings, Wonderings and Other Writings

By Rebekah D. Mason

I’ve been talking for a while about ways to uplift Black, Latina, Indigenous, and Asian women, and gender queer people of color, at varying intersections of the practice of law. In this country, a nation built on the backs of enslaved & oppressed peoples, what does justice mean for us, especially lawyers, law graduates, law students, paralegals and others engaged in the practice of law who witness and experience breakdowns of the systems of law all along the way? I know it sounds really heavy, because it is heavy.

As members of historically marginalized groups, who have engaged in or are engaging in the legal profession, let’s talk about what justice and joy mean to us. I want to explore conversations in solidarity, with each of you, and all of us, where we can have hard conversations about what is lacking in our justice and joy buckets while we uplift each other and find our own moments of joy in justice. Maybe we will find justice through our shared and celebrated moments of joy?

More than a year ago I sent a detailed survey to a few friends as a way to wrap my head around getting this project started. While I am open to what this project will look like, the creative in me is moving toward Podcast interviews with other women and gender queer people of color at various intersections of the practice of law and ultimately a play and or a book. What it will actually become, I remain open to. Our time is precious, and I am on the look out for folks who can give thirty minutes to discuss the project or who can make time to be interviewed or who have some other way to support the project. I am open and grateful. 

I recently wrote about Mexodus, a live looped musical created by Brian Quijada and Nygel D. Robinson, which weaves an inspiring story about the lesser known underground railroad that ran south to Mexico. At the heart of the show is both a warning and a comfort, todos estamos juntos en esto; we are all in this together. Whether or not we can readily admit to it, we really are all in this together. And when they sang: “Why is it that the caged bird still sings? Because he is prepping for the day that he will be free!” I was left breathless! 

Later, Nygel breaks the fourth wall and notes that he is not living out his ancestors’ wildest dreams, but instead is living out his ancestors’ wildest impossibilities.

I think we all are too, even if it often feels otherwise. I’d love to talk about our stories and share and uplift them in any way we can. Talk to me if you are interested in this Justice through Joy: Labor of Love passion project of mine.

Anyone remember the time white Europeans revolted and disenfranchised an entire continent of native indigenous brown people in the process? Or stop me if you remember the one about white Europeans enslaving black folks and bringing them to another land to help build up a nation “under God”? What about the time the USA interned Japanese Americans? Experimented on service members of color? Deported native-born Mexican Americans to a country they had never before visited? 3/5’s of a person?

Come on, America has not always been great or safe for native people of color or their descendants or trafficked or enslaved people of color or their descendants. ‘Making America Safe Again’ or ‘Making America Great Again’ does NOT work for people of color.  It hasn’t been safe to drive while black, walk while black, sit in your living room while black, walk while brown, shop while brown, pray while black or seek asylum or refuge while brown or black. We can now sadly say it is unsafe to watch the Astros while brown.

What we need is an end to white supremacy and the normalizing of domestic terrorism while the racist in the White House spews defenseless hate speech intended to fan the flames of hate and engage his base toward ensuring his reelection bid and making America white.

How many times do we have to tell you ‘America’? Fighting words and white supremacy beget violence in a way that we refuse to accept as normal or inevitable.

Hate speech is not protected speech, please spread the word on that one, America! Fighting words are not protected speech, again, pass it on, por favor.

As a native Tejana/Chicana/Mexican American/Latina, my roots run deep in Texas, way before Texas was the good ole US of A. I also fight daily as a lawyer for vulnerable populations, including seniors, veterans, and traditionally disenfranchised folks in need of access to justice.

It breaks my heart that a friend of mine, a fellow Latina lawyer, was harassed at Minute Maid Park in Houston, Texas, my old stomping grounds on August 3, 2019. My friend G. Huerta* and her brown colleagues were called monkeys and told to go home to their country in Houston, Texas—while attempting to enjoy an Astros game.

Mere hours before the tragic and preventable terrorist attack in El Paso, Texas and then later the tragic and preventable loss of life in Dayton, Ohio.

El Paso. Then Dayton. Every day my heart breaks a little more. Again and Again and Again and Again. These incidents of harassment may seem like a turn the other cheek moment but they perpetuate the dehumanization of people of color and this is more than dangerous.  It has seemingly been happening most of my adult life.  It makes me wonder what, if anything I can do.  Some days I am afraid to get on the train.  Other times on the street, I wonder what I would do.  When I leave the parking lot of the mall, I think, I made it.  If someone bumps me at Costco, I wonder if they were mad that the aisles were full, or if they were upset about all the people of color?

After 9/11 I knew our world would never be the same. That same week, while in college, I remember working the front desk of the dorm I lived and worked in I(as a Resident Advisor) at the University of Houston. I knew it would impact brown men and people who look or worship differently than white folks.  I feared the worst and wrote about in for a sociology paper and shortly thereafter became more involved in acting on my principles. I protested the invasion of Iraq.

I stood on street corners with signs and prayers and chants.  I protested in the streets of Houston.  Purple triangles on backpacks represented the people our government disappeared in its wrong attempts at ‘finding and punishing’ the culprits. I canvassed for working people and unions in Ohio and in support of undocumented workers seeking labor protections.  I fought for clean water in Texas and our nation. I marched against the KKK, and later worked with undocumented immigrant children who came to the United States seeking asylum and refuge, largely due to the policies our nation put in place in Mexico through violent force or financial pressures and political influence.

I went to law school with the hope of making a difference.  Student loan monsters keep me up at night, so does the 10th of the month, when rent is ‘due’. But after law school, I was blessed to fight for affordable housing and just federal and state housing policy. It  helped me deal with what Hurricane Katrina and Hurricane Ike did to brown and black and poor people.

I organized and recruited pro bono partners and provided direct legal services for low income Texas Veterans and then veterans and people of color and seniors seeking income and health security as they age in their communities. I woke up in tears that November morning, wondering what I could have done differently.  I hugged my friends and colleagues as we prayed and hoped that it would not end up as bad as we feared it would be. Inside I knew it might be worse.

I sat paralyzed by increased depression and anxiety as white supremacists walked with greater security in spewing hate and committing even more hate crimes against Jews and black people and brown people across this ‘great nation’. I found myself at the Dulles Airport with friends and colleagues hoping to feel something. I was paralyzed again when folks started putting kids in cages at a higher rate and denying even the chance to seek asylum or refuge in this ‘great nation’. I feel fortunate to have been able to use theatre to deal with some of this heart break and helplessness.  I had been off of social media mostly after 45 came into office, because it was too hard.  And here I am back again, not knowing what comes next. What can we do to work toward change, against more violence and hatred. We know what should be done, but what can be done? What comes next? We get to decide together.

*friend’s name changed for this post

By Rebekah D. Mason

I was leaving work yesterday after a long day at the office doing the advocacy that makes my days so fulfilling.  But sometimes, that same job and the task of seeing the world harshly impacting vulnerable people, that does not end when the 5:00 whistle blows.

It was pouring down, cats and dogs as they say. As I waited for the crossing signal, I spotted one of the gentlemen who often asks for change near my office. In his wheelchair, he was pushing himself across the street toward the signal, with his combined upper body strength and his sheer will pushing him ahead, he also somehow managed to keep hold of a large cup of change. His disabling condition, I imagined, along with the downpour of rain, were holding him back. It took me a second before I decided to and asked if I could help push him through the light. He did not hesitate before he accepted.

I held on to my umbrella and adjusted it out to cover us both and I did my best as I pushed his chair with one hand. We made it across the street but not before exchanging some chitchat.  “It’s ugly out here tonight.” I recall saying. “It sure is.” he replied before continuing on with something else. I think he was talking about needing or getting new shoes, but I missed what he said because by that point we had made it across the street and we had managed up the ramp. He looked up and thanked me, but not before the cup slipped from his grasp and change was everywhere. I kneeled to collect the pennies and the dimes. And as I handed him the cup, and each piece of change, the rain kept coming down and I remember thinking that this scenario was all too much.

At the moment when I handed him the last bit of change for his cup, I was completely overwhelmed. When I was ready to leave, I patted him on the shoulder, I didn’t know  what, if anything, that pat was meant for or what compelled me to do so. I think now, looking back, I  hope it helped him somehow understand that I cared about him, that I wished him well.

As I  made my way toward my train, my eyes began to well up and my mind was wandering; I remember thinking, he is a child of God.

There are many marginalized individuals, vulnerable people, persons with disabilities, people experiencing homelessness in a variety of ways, couch surfers, refugees, people living with mental illness or addiction, internally displaced citizens-folks here in the United States and  folks across this globe, people are all struggling in their own way.

And yes my heart was heavy last night thinking about my friend and his change, the wheel chair he was sitting in all soaking wet and whether he had anywhere warm to go.

I wish that I could have done more for him and yet I am grateful for the chance that I had to serve him in even this, the smallest of ways. We can’t do everything, but we can each do one thing.

By Rebekah D. Mason

We listen to the stories every day on the radio, in the news, we read the blogs, newspapers and magazines.  And yet we turn to our friends and colleagues, loved ones and lovers, shaking our heads. What is it that has driven our Nation to this point? Every voice cries out that this day in our Nation’s history is one not to be taken lightly.

Children and seniors, mothers and daughters, veterans and teachers in Michigan cannot drink water without fearing the ongoing and already devastating affects of being poisoned by the drink of life, today and always. Water, they cannot drink water.

There is ongoing gun violence in this Nation like no other.  Gun violence in this Nation is literally like no other.  Our mothers and daughters, sons and neighbors continue to be victimized and to die in vain. And we still, as a Nation, refuse to acknowledge that a “Constitutional” right to bear arms is less valuable than the right to live free of fear from senseless and tragic violence.

And much of this violence disproportionately affects people of color, the brown and black folks, wrongly pulled over, or verbally or physically abused, killed, by people in authority who have gone too far.

Our Muslim brothers and sisters are wrongly profiled as well and bear the brunt of the fear running through our Nation which refuses to be quieted through communication and discourse.

A man who wants to lead this Nation of ours, claims that all Mexicans are drug dealers and rapists; he refuses to disavow support from leaders of the KKK, one of the ugliest terrorist groups this Nation has ever seen and screams about building walls, reducing access to healthcare for people with low income and shakes his fist at every nation of the globe who dares to act in any way contrary to his ignorant rants.

This ignorant hate speech and these ramblings have actually drawn people–our neighbors and friends some of them I imagine,  from the rural and urban nooks and crannies of our country, folks from small towns and big cities alike have voted for hatred.

People, I ask you, what’s going on?

Yesterday I met with a disabled client who is so disabled that he chose not to sit down in my office during the entire meeting. He was afraid that he might not be able to get back up. That was really hard for me to handle, to continue to do what I needed to do, all the while wanting to cry for him. I see a lot of vulnerable people but this angered me and hurt me to see, because I knew his appointment in my office was one based purely on government error which had caused him grave and serious consequences that are life-altering.

I met with him to discuss his Medicaid, including his Medicaid covered home health care benefits.  Medicaid provides this low income senior a personal care aide who can assist him in maneuvering in and out of the hospital bed in his apartment which he spends much of his day in.  These Medicaid home health care and other services keep him from living in a nursing home isolated from his friends, family and community that he loves. When he is seated, he has to keep one foot elevated for most of the day due to a medical condition which causes him greater pain otherwise.

He continues to be eligible for Medicaid but his coverage lapsed two months ago due to an administrative error.  Due to this government error and negligence, he is now without access to medical treatment, for example he has been denied physical therapy and medical appointments that are critical to his continued health. He found his way to our office after a referral from a dedicated community social worker.  This client is a victim of government inefficiencies brought on by, among other things, in my opinion, the WAR ON POVERTY in this country. 

The War on Poverty, I mean to say, the WAR ON POOR PEOPLE.  Programs that support and serve the most vulnerable among us are constantly under attack and they leave people like my client at risk for less opportunities to live healthy and fulfilling lives.  My client has never not been eligible for Medicaid these last few months.  He in fact continues to be physically and financially eligible for Medicaid.  And because he is a senior, his Medicaid coverage helps pay costs (like co-pays and monthly premiums) for health care services paid for by Medicare.

The problem with my client is purely technical on paper: his Medicaid was not timely “recertified” so the coverage ended.  But it doesn’t feel technical to him. It feels devastating.

He complied with the government requirement to submit his Medicaid recertification paperwork. The government agency has however not processed it timely, so the coverage lapses in a computer somewhere in oblivion and the results in reality are devastating.

An inadequate number of government staff to READ, PROCESS and APPROVE Medicaid cases affects people in real time. When you think about government spending and reducing waste, yes there is always room for improvement, there is always room for more efficiencies, but don’t forget about the seniors and the single moms, the children without food or medicine or medical treatment.

These are our friends, neighbors, retired teachers living on limited retirements, the elderly veteran living on nominal amount of VA benefits, the survivor of domestic violence and her children, these are the folks who are affected like no other when budget crunches and funding cuts cause critical government services to be cut in half.

This is not a post about how government workers do not care to do the right thing.  It’s not about that.  It’s about an inadequate number of people dedicated to do those things that we consider absolutely critical to keeping the myth alive that this is the greatest Nation on Earth.  I mean, that’s what they say, and in so many ways it is.  But oh people, “you have some explaining to do”.

What’s going on?

As a legal aid and poverty advocate, I help people who are often underrepresented and marginalized. And YES, I personally struggle with acknowledging that the situation(s) I find myself in, in my personal life, can never compare to those daily struggles that my clients deal with. And YET, student loan monsters keep me up at night. And YES, the world we live in sometimes seems incredibly scary, because as we all know, sometimes really bad things happen.  And YET, I recently took a part time job at a retail store in order to keep up with my own financial obligations. And YES, family members encourage me to find a job that could put me in a better financial situation.  And YES, sometimes I dream..not about a fancy new car or even a nicer wardrobe, but about going a day without a creditor calling to remind me that I am behind on some bill or financial obligation.

And YET, I am privileged to represent the 96 year old client that is having her home health care services terminated by a Medicaid provider because she was approved for a GREATER amount of services.  My vulnerable client was approved to receive 24 hours of personal care services (nursing home level of care covered by Medicaid) in her home. When the provider learned her services were approved for an increase from 16 hours to 24, they decided to terminate her because they do not want to serve her over night. This violates a lot of laws and is just plain wrong.  It is my joy to help her and her family.  What an honor to be her advocate!

And YES, I am excited to report that a client who had been wrongly denied Medicaid, three times, was approved two days before Christmas this year thanks to our advocacy.  This client receives Medicaid thanks to health care expansion under the Affordable Care Act.  Too bad the government decided that Medicaid applications are now two bifurcated applications.  Traditionally, and until very recently, a Medicaid beneficiary could submit one application to apply for Medicaid and they would be considered under all eligibility categories.  Unfortunately for our vulnerable client with chronic breathing difficulties, her traditional Medicaid application was denied three times and the client was never advised about the ‘other’ Medicaid application through the Health Care Exchange portal.  We helped her submit the new application, but here–she was without Medicaid for six months, received three notices from the government which did not provide her adequate notice of her appeal rights or the process for obtaining Medicaid through this ‘expanded’ eligibility category.  Without our help, the client would not have had access to support and representation as her claim was reviewed.  She cried joyfully the last time we were in court and the government brought us a copy of the approval notice.  “What a Christmas miracle for me, I’m gonna call my doctor today for an appointment!” she cried.

AND YES, last week I received an email from a veteran client.  His application for VA benefits that we submitted in August, was approved!  That’s record processing time for the VA and for our client, with absolutely no current income and he was thrilled to have a check in the mail from the VA for $1,000 right before Christmas.  AND YES, it was more money than I had in my bank account, but I cried for joy for him.  This disabled veteran, with a history of homelessness, struggles with a number of disabling medical conditions.  For his benefits to be approved just in time for Christmas, meant so much to my client and to my colleagues and me.  That income will literally change his life. AND YES, that’s my 9 to 5.  Pretty cool, way to make a living, right?

AND YET, it’s too bad my credit card was declined when I tried to buy a burger at Five Guys last week; that was a humiliating and humbling scenario a few days before payday. AND YES, I realize there are grave and serious things going on every day in all corners of this world in big cities and small.  There is an absolutely unacceptable amount of aggression and violence and injustice perpetuated disproportionately against people of color and women. There are discriminatory decisions made everyday that prevent people living with disabilities and the elderly from equal access to opportunities for all sorts of things, including aging in place or entertainment or other services. Crimes against women and children and sectarian violence against indigenous people or religious or ethnic minorities across the world and in our streets, rightly keep us up at night and our prayers duly focused on global issues.

AND YET, we MUST pray for and WORK toward peace in whatsoever capacity that we can.  I have always said, IF we are a people of faith, we must be people of action.  I will say it again.  If we are people of faith, then we must be a people of action.

So people, I pray and hope and trust that the small struggles I deal with in my life can bring me closer in solidarity to the people amongst us who need even greater help.  The situations that I see every day in my client’s cases and in the stories they tell and written on their faces, I do my best to find a legal or advocacy remedy that I can work toward.  And YES, I do my BEST to then lift up those concerns and I TRY to let them go when I leave the office.  Just like the stories of racial profiling and world conflict that I hear about on NPR and Pacifica Radio, I listen, I lift up and I do my best to educate others.

BUT THEN, I try to find an uplifting or joyful piece of music, or a good cup of coffee, or the smile of a friend’s baby, or something that I can truly be thankful for, like a call to your mother or your favorite poem.  I try to find peace in my day, as best as I can, because otherwise, they win.