0202 YLUJ
0202 remmus
DRUG USERS THINK
DRUG USERS THINK
SUMMER 2020 issue
what's inside this issue?
ask a sex worker part 2
treating drug users in the Er
kicking things on purpose
usu calls for methadone reform
power is peaceful protest is powerful
becoming usu
respect my drug use
being a mother
summer 2020 issue
usu call times and links
reproductive justice
This issue's contributors Alex MORSELLE CUPCAKE AAron Ferguson knina strichartz anna herdlein nicole Reynolds Peter Moinichen louise vincent
editors
knina strichartz CATY SIMON
webinar coming soon
dedication to aubri esters
DRUG USERS THINK summer 2020
ASK A SEX WORKER, PART 2 alex and morselle cupcake
Last issue we started a two-part article where we, Alex and Morselle Cupcake, answer your sex worker questions! We established some important boundaries around asking questions of sex workers, and answered some questions not usually considered constructive by sex workers as well as questions on activism. We are keeping that going here, with a mix of questions we are commonly asked. How did you start? Alex: If you read the last issue, you may be getting tired of this, but I will explain why some sex workers don’t like this question. I know workers who started as a way to survive on the streets as teens, and I know workers who started as adults because they thought the job would be sexy (and to many, it is!). If the person you are asking happened to start in a traumatizing way, the question feels voyeuristic and triggering. Plus, people may be at different places in their journeys with their sex work, and if we are trying to get out or if aren’t in good places with it, it doesn’t feel good to be reminded of the beginnings.
Sex work has led me on quite a wild ride and, though I am now a jaded whore, I am still glad I started and I still don’t have any other realistic options. Morselle Cupcake: I agree that this is kind of shitty to ask. Although I am a very privileged cyber-whore and I'm not particularly triggered by this question myself, I find it irritating because many people who do sex work are in survival mode after very traumatic life experiences. It's not kind to ask someone to retell their story of trauma, so please don't just come up and ask this question: trust me, if we want to tell you, we will! For me, trauma is not what personally led me to sex work, but I do have sexual trauma and it does affect my ability to work at times. That being said, my sexuality is a very strong and important part of my identity and I truly enjoy the work that I do! I take a lot of joy in my Sexy Work and I genuinely look forward to spending time with clients.
I started when my kid became a teenager. I was in my late 30s and I had badly injured my knee and was unable to walk for a couple months. My family has always been The question doesn’t bother me though, so here’s my resourceful, making ends meet in a variety of ways. I not-very-exciting entrance story: in my late 20’s I was have often worked very physical jobs including a member of a Facebook group supporting landscaping and bodywork. I have also been a sauerkraut marginalized populations, and one of these wench, a kids’ yoga teacher, and an elementary school communities was sex workers. The whores there teacher, and I’ve always been an activist. With me helped me start thinking about my options, but more injured and out of work, my primary partner struggled to importantly they enabled me to start out radicalized make ends meet. My medical bills were out of control and leftist with mostly the right opinions about sex and I had to find some way to earn money. work. I was lucky; I was at a time in my life when I needed money but still had the ability to plan and to be thoughtful about how I started. I told my partners I wanted to be a full service sex worker, and they immediately supported it. We all felt very proud to be queer and polyamorous and kinky; we were happy to live life outside mainstream culture (I recall that, after I left them, they insulted me by saying I was “LGBT” instead of “queer.” It was quite the cutting remark.). Me being a sex worker felt like an extension of our rejection of white middle-class values. In truth, I didn’t have much of a choice. At the time, my mental illness was misdiagnosed, but I had never “made it” at a “real job” … at least not long term. One partner looked up ways for me to start and helped me sign up for a sugar dating site. With my eyes wide open, I had no illusion that I would find real love nor did I harbor any belief that it wasn’t just about money.
I had always entertained the idea of doing phone sex. As a teenager, I used to call chat lines when I was horny just to masturbate. I've never met anyone that I've ever talked to; it was just a safe way for me to explore my sexuality (to be honest, I started out calling with a friend and we would basically prank people on there. We would really mess with people--seriously though, don’t do this! I was just a teenager!). Now, as a laid-up adult, I got to thinking maybe I could find an in to the phone sex or camming business. My partner and I are queer and open, and I was lucky to have his support, but I had no idea where to begin. I am not a very trusting person, but starting for me involved research by word-of-mouth. I have always found people with lived experience to be the real experts, so I started by talking to a harm reduction colleague who I knew had done camming. She was very kind and took me under her wing, telling me which sites were reputable and how the process generally goes. She suggested trying several sites to see what I liked, so I started exploring cam work in multiple places while making my own clips and posting them for sale on porn sites. I went all-in and started a phone sex business at the same time. I also got ahold of some very helpful books written by sex workers and loaded with advice on everything from how to do your taxes (if you're into that kind of thing--haha, just kidding), to how to advertise, to how to attract and retain customers, to working with technology, and everything in between. Have you, a sex worker, ever hired a sex worker? Morselle Cupcake: I have. And I intend to keep exploring!! I hired a queer woman sex worker for a cuddle session and it was a deeply impactful experience. I was depressed and going through enormous amounts of personal trauma while also coping with a violent trauma I had experienced in my civi job. For me, the cuddle session was much better than a talk therapy session; I unpacked so much more in the hour I spent cuddling with this woman than I had in a very long time in therapy. We drank Prosecco together and she wore a Care Bear onesie! She zipped down the front so I could cuddle her big beautiful titties. We lay together and talked about life as she very lovingly stroked my back. We spoke about doing more of a full-service session in the future and I am into it! I am saving up and while I definitely can't afford sessions as often as I would like as a low-income sex worker myself, I feel it's an important part of self-care for me in the long run. Seeing her made me think about expanding my services to do cuddle work as well at some point. I can see how this type of service, like all sex work, can be an enormous benefit to people. Alex: Morselle, that makes me so happy for you! I likewise was seeking sexual healing. Unfortunately, it turns out I am a very tedious client.
I don’t know how to not care if my sexual partners are genuinely enjoying themselves; my short-lived experiments with hiring sex workers certainly gave me empathy for the clients who repeatedly ask if I am really ok (a very obnoxious habit, I might add. I work very hard to put on a good show, and breaking the fourth wall repeatedly is a great way to both frustrate me and waste your own money). I have very little physical sensation in my nether regions, so to me good sex is all about my intellectual and emotional connection with someone. I love pleasing another person, and I love the interaction between genuinely passionate partners. I just can’t feel it if I don’t know for sure you aren’t just doing this so your kids don’t starve. Help me find the balance between this idea that sex workers love their jobs all the time and are super empowered and the idea 99% of them are being trafficked? What’s the actual deal with trafficking? Alex: The short answer is that when working in harm reduction with any vulnerable population, you have to treat everyone you see as individuals, never assuming you know where they are in their journeys. You don’t assume someone wants to be sober just as you don’t assume someone isn’t interested in quitting. It’s the same for sex work. Don’t start out the conversation with either overly enthusiastic support for the job or with harsh condemnation of our managers. Simply listen, and meet us right where we are. Of course, you are always welcome to assume that, whether we love our jobs or are escaping violence, we probably don’t want to be arrested or put in harm’s way. About trafficking: forced labor does occur in hospitality, domestic, agricultural, and sex work, and probably some of this forced labor is from people who were explicitly trafficked across borders for the purpose of sex work. Yet it is hard to know how extensive this problem really is. The US Government Accountability Office stated, in their report to the US House of Representatives, that the accuracy of all estimates of human trafficking is in doubt. They documented the lack of research supporting the US’ claims that antiprostitution legislation is necessary and that nearly all sex work is actually done non-consensually. They also cited a paucity of research into the effectiveness of anti-trafficking organizations. It’s very easy to garner outrage against people being forced into slavery, but harder to mobilize people to fight against consensual but exploitative work conditions. The problems with sex work are really problems with capitalism, and liberal organizations serve to prop it up, not tear it down; it is no accident that the wording used to discuss sex work obfuscates facts.
Unfortunately, the unclear and unstable definitions of words such as “trafficking” and “prostitute” lead to confusion in comparing studies and understanding trends. Just as a group of people who commercially sexually exploit migrant kidnapped minors would be called a trafficking ring, so is a group of adult consensual women who work together for safety. When a man forces his girlfriend to have sex for money, that is called pimping; people who eat groceries purchased by their sex worker partners can also be considered pimps. Furthermore—even when taking obfuscation, unfounded assumptions, and poor research into account—trafficking statistics are often lower than expected. For all of the fear induced in the US State Department’s 2007 report on human trafficking, there were only 98 convictions for any kind of human trafficking (not just sex work) in the US that met their definition of coerced labor in 2006, despite continued efforts of the US to crack down on trafficking. Remember: that’s their definition. Keep in mind that sex workers are sometimes convicted of trafficking ourselves! We are talking about a mere handful of actual victims; meanwhile, a large number of innocent consensual sex workers are swept up and arrested for prostitution in massive anti-trafficking sweeps. There are a lot of fingers in the very deep pockets of the anti-trafficking non-profit complex, and they have no motivation to change misinformation. In fact, most of the funding goes to “awareness” and to advocating for laws and policies that wind up devastating sex worker communities. One example was SESTA/FOSTA, which--under the guise of stopping online trafficking--forced sex workers outdoors and into the streets. Arrests of outdoor workers quadrupled in some cities after websites pushed them out. The End Banking Access for Human Traffickers, a proposed piece of legislation, could effectively prevent sex workers from having bank accounts; another proposed piece of legislation, the PROTECT Act, would make supplying a sex worker with any legal or illegal drug synonymous with trafficking (there is no exclusion for, say, naloxone distribution). One of the unfortunate consequences of all this funding being diverted towards devastating our communities is that there are very few resources for those actually trying to escape exploitative or violent situations. If your agency has funding, having a separate fund to actually help sex workers who find themselves in crisis and wish to leave the profession would be incredible. henever activists happen upon an actually trafficked person, others in the community reach into our pockets and give what we can.
WWe don’t have many resources, and we are all doing our best to survive. If you are looking for ways your agency can help, start up a fund for getting money to actual survivors. Even better, give money to mutual-aid organizations that already exist, like Lysistrata nationally or Bay Area Workers Support based out of San Francisco or-according to Morselle--the Green Light Project in Seattle. Be prepared, however, for most of our survival stories to fall closer to “exploitation” than to “human slavery” on the spectrum of shitty sex worker conditions. Exploitative work conditions under capitalism are bad enough. They are in fact deadly. Okay, what about sex workers facing domestic violence from managers (pimps)? Alex: This is such an important and extremely complicated topic. Domestic violence situations with workers being abused by their managers or pimps are far more common than classic “human slavery” trafficking situations, and survivors in these situations are often scorned or turned away from help. There aren’t really beds available in women’s shelters, and even if there were it’s unlikely someone with a serious habit would be allowed to stay. The first thing to know when faced with domestic violence is that you aren’t going to magically solve the situation. The average survivor takes 7-9 times to leave a violent relationship, and the more precarious our situations are, the harder it is for us to find safety. People have complex and important reasons for staying, ranging from finances or their children to their lifetimes of trauma. People don’t want to leave people they love. Since you can’t fix people, you are just going to have to be there for your participants and listen to what they need. Support them by meeting them where they are. If they want to stay, help them stay safer while making sure they know that you are there for them. If they want to leave, help them make their own plans to safely leave. Know that they may go back and that it’s okay if they do. Basically, be a harm reductionist! Remember, you are there just to serve a community, not to be a hero. If you start noticing yourself getting angry at people for staying or catching yourself victim blaming, it’s a sign you are in need of a break and self-care. Don’t become more invested in other people’s relationships than they are!
When I talk to survivors, I am all about compassion. Compassion for ourselves and for the choices we’ve made, but also compassion for others in our community. Community connection is the lifeboat to people drowning from trauma, violence, and shame. Hidden anger at your participants for refusing to leave shows through eventually, doesn’t teach them to hold compassion for themselves, and severs their connections to the resources you are providing. Abusers love to break community ties because they know how powerful we are together. Just having a safe space for people where you show them love goes a long way toward helping survivors begin their healing journeys. Become educated in domestic violence, and if you have an agency make sure your whole agency gets training. Unfortunately there aren’t any agencies (or individuals besides myself) that I know of that provide this training in a whore-friendly and druguser friendly way, but that doesn’t mean you can’t hire a local domestic violence center to give you the low-down. You can then apply that knowledge to your harm reduction knowledge for a holistic understanding. And hell, if you pay me, I will come and lead a workshop myself. How does the drug war impact your sex work? Alex: The drug war and the war on whores are one and the same. There’s a new piece of proposed legislation that really makes this clear. It’s called the PROTECT Act. This bill says that furnishing someone with “a drug or an illegal substance” is “causing” them to engage in a commercial sex act with trafficking, even if no force, fraud, or coercion are involved. USU realized right away that this was the perfect project for our sex worker organizing group, so I am helping coordinate things with lots of help from other members of the sex worker organizing group. They are trying to target drug users by going after trafficking now that support for the drug war is dying out. The wording makes it so that you can’t even give legal drugs to someone before they do sex work-and Narcan is a legal drug. So are cigarettes. But we decided not to focus on that because if we did, they might just change that wording. Even if it was only about dope, it would be a devastating law to sex workers who use drugs. In many states we are protected by Good Samaritan laws that allow us immunity when we help reverse an overdose. The PROTECT Act will weaken those protections. In the middle of an overdose crisis, this is incredibly dangerous!
It’s pretty clear this law isn’t designed to protect us at all. It’s just a law to help prosecutors. Trafficking survivors and sex workers need services and resources, not more criminalization. This is just another law designed to target our communities--and we all know that we are the only real resources in our lives. The police do not help us. We have to help each other. And any laws that hurt our networks hurt us. And this will hurt the people who are most vulnerable first. Transgender women, black and indigenous people, and street-based sex workers will be the most harmed by these laws. And that’s really scary because vulnerable people are the most at risk of overdose and of violence. So, to answer your question, the war on me as a sex worker IS just more of the war on drugs. Morselle Cupcake: The drug war makes me fear that I could be criminalized for my work and the choices I make about what I put in my body. I do outreach in my community, engaging with many people that have been affected by SESTA/FOSTA who are also affected in some way by the drug war, and I think it all comes back to the harm of capitalism. The prisonindustrial complex causes unbelievable damage to people who use drugs and sell sex, and this disproportionately affects people of color and trans folx. When people are othered by society, they are pushed into the shadows where they cannot be seen and therefore do not have access to the same rights that mainstream, privileged people take for granted. The most marginalized people are the proverbial canaries in the coal mine; they may be impacted first, but when life is so dangerous for so many of us, it will come to impact us all.
08
kicking things on purpose BY knina strichartz
II don’t want to. I'm out of money.
I am in the elevator. Our offices are on the 31st floor.
I could call my dad, tell him just about any story from my repertoire, and money would appear. I don’t want to call my dad.
I reach ground level. I’m dancing in place waiting for the elevator doors to open. I don’t have much time. It’s a six block walk to the subway. There’s maybe 7 minutes of momentum left in my body. I am hauling myself on an Six minutes early, I escape into the single unisex bathroom invisible rope down 32nd street. I take a direct route at work. My six minute shield. Being early to work is not a straight through the crowd. People stop and stare at me, I reflection of my character. Within the past five years my stare straight ahead. I cannot engage. I cannot afford to mind has been retrained to believe that I am barely capable lose the focus I have left. A few people cross the street to of handling anything which requires me to take self avoid passing me, My nose is beginning to drip mucus.I responsibility. My substance abuse is tacked on as one butt bump down the subway stairs. My legs have totally more failure. Just another character flaw in the eyes of my given up. I’m trying to formulate a dignified way I can crawl parents, and yet if I had cancer instead the moral failing onto the train car. they felt I projected would be nonexistent. Although I was a heavy user with no intention of quitting and all my I don’t actually end up crawling. I do start sneezing, research had suggested methadone as my best option, I making loud unpleasant noises. I’m lucky to have gotten a was denied my request. In the interest of outward seat. After two stops I have three seats to myself and I’m appearances my parents decided to go with a able to lie down. More people become uncomfortable buprenorphine prescription, and knew enough people, and switching cars during stops, until finally, I have the entire paid enough money to find a clinic which gave me one of subway car to myself for the rest of the trip . I perform the the first prescriptions for Subutex. walk from my subway stop to the clinic in a black out state. I don’t bother locking the door. I crush three of the white pills.I use the lid of my prescription bottle as a ratchet excuse for a cooker. I add faucet water, creating pill powder paste. 100 cc of murky white liquid mixes with a flash of red and then disappears into my wrist.I’m fucked. I know I’m in precipitated withdrawal within the first ten seconds. I can feel what had been mild anxiety turning to full blown panic. I stumble forward out of the bathroom. “I have to go to the doctor,” I say. I’m not sure who I say it to. I have only been at work for ten minutes. No one questions the fact that I’m sick, they had seen me almost fall leaving the bathroom. I look sick. I look awful. I was sick. I feel awful. Fucking awful. I grab my jacket and my purse. I can hear people asking me questions.. “What doctor are you going to?” “Where is your doctor's office?” I can’t answer. I choose not to answer. No one had explained precipitated withdrawal to me when I’d been given my prescription of Subutex. I had concluded based on the name it was simply “a withdrawal that came early”.No one told me it was hell.No one told me I would feel like I was about to die.I feel like I am about to die.
I must have lost one of my shoes at some point because I’m standing at a strange tilt. I yank off the remaining 4 inch Marc Jacobs platform, a gift from my dad, and throw it over an iron fence into a small park. It’s only the beginning of March, cold in New York, but I already can’t feel my feet. I’m at the door to the clinic. I don’t remember walking the rest of the way. My mind is fuzzy. My phone is in my hand and I’ve called and texted my dealer sending both the clinic address and my order. I don’t remember calling or texting my dealer. I have no money to pay for any half of anything.
go inside and up the narrow staircase. My parents have always been disconnected and disinterested. Society dictated they become even more disconnected after my substance abuse disorder came to light. My need for love and emotional connection was bought off for years with expensive gifts and money. This meant My parents refused to address my problems. The advice offered by “experts” stipulated that they refuse to address my person as well. Eventually my emotional, behavioral, and mental issues became so burdensome other people were paid off to address them. The one issue they didn’t pay to have addressed was my need for love. My parents were firm believers of the mindset “money can fix any problem”. I was a problem. I was alone.
IThe nurse had turns to talk quietly to one of the male counselors standing behind the glass with her. “Ok, I told you what was going to happen” the nurse says, turning back to me. “Now you can pick yourself up off the floor and you can also pick up the mess you made, and you need to leave right after my floor is clean.” I roll and rock back and forth, moaning. “Get up, now! ” I start to cry. “Please, please call Dr. Sanchez. Oh my god, oh my god, please!”. I start hyperventilating. “Andrew, go get her out of here!”I feel a man's hand wrap around my upper arm;
As a person with substance abuse disorder it was believed I wasn’t responsible enough to consistently make it to the methadone clinic on time every morning, or even make it there at all, and as a person with privilege it was believed I shouldn’t have to wait in line. My father had paid an outrageous amount of money to the clinic director to ensure that I would be able to participate in treatment whenever and however I wanted to. What he couldn’t buy from the clinic was passionately caring for your patients and treating them with dignity and respect.
“Get up or I’m going to yank you up. I am not dragging you across the floor.” I couldn't get up. My muscles are locked together. I have no feeling in my feet. My vision has started blurring as my eyes tear continually, I don't even think I’m crying. I am crying hysterically, and a string of large wet clear snot drips from my nose. Andrew lets go of my arm quickly in disgust, kicks me a couple times with the tip of his shoe, shoving me off to the side of the room. The door to the second floor staircase opens. Dr. Sanchez stands in the doorway wearing his usual white lab coat.
I cut in front of everyone in line and squeeze myself right up against the plexiglass window: “I need Dr. Sanchez to come see me. It’s an emergency. I need him to come-”
He wasn’t the prescribing physician at the clinic. He wasn’t an MD. He was the head counselor, not even a psychiatrist. He was the person paid off by my father to deal with me and manage my “issues”. I reach my arms up and out towards him pathetically like a child. “Oh my god. Help. Please help. Please give me something. Help me.”He walks up to my crumpled body and outstretched arms and stands over me, looking down upon a complete disaster of a person, on someone else's child who is now his responsibility.
The dosing nurse cuts me off “I will have someone call upstairs for him. You can go sit down”. She points to the plastic chairs. I sit down in one of the plastic chairs. .My body immediately does a weird combination of jerks and tremors. I slide out of the plastic chair. “Excuse me ma’am,” the nurse spoke loudly through the plexiglass. “You need to get up off the floor right now. If you are not able to sit still quietly I’m going to have to ask you to leave and go outside”.
“I can’t give you anything, Knina, I don’t know what you’ve taken, and so for medical safety until we’re able to detect what is already in your system, you're going to have to calm yourself down and wait.
“Please,” I moan. “Call Dr. Sanchez, please.” “I already called him, ma’am. If you are unable to calm yourself down you're going to have to leave”.
.”“HEROIN!” I hiccup loudly, “AND SUBUTEX! Please, I told you, so you know now and you can give me something, please. Please. Please.” I grab at his lab coat with my hands and he steps back quickly, pulling away from me.
sMy body spasms, and my leg kicks the little table to my right. My leg kicks it two more times in quick succession “Call an ambulance,” he says. The nurse picks the phone up and the ceramic lamp sitting on top of it flies off, smashing from the cradle and gives me a sneering smile from behind on to the floor. the plexiglass. I look up at Dr. Sanchez. I want him to reach down and pick me up. I want him to hold me and tell me I wail. “Oh my god, please call him again. Pleasseeee.” it’s going to be ok. I want him to be my dad.
drug users think summer 2020
USU CALLS FOR METHADONE REFORM by aaron Ferguson
It has been clear for a long time that access to methadone and buprenorphine is too restricted. Despite having the tools at our disposal to cut drug poisonings in half, those seeking these medications still have to do more than most people are capable of doing. Patients are required to spend hours driving to and from the clinic for daily dosing, have their privacy violated by being “observed” while urinating, and carry around their medications in lock-boxes like no other prescription in the world. These are just a few of the standard practices that make using heroin more attractive than getting treatment. When COVID-19 took place it threw a serious wrench in the social control that is the opioid treatment system. With state and local governments issuing stay at home orders, people could no longer continue congregating in long lines outside of clinics at 6 AM waiting for the doors to open. When SAMHSA and the DEA released guidelines allowing for the most relaxed regulations to methadone in 40+ years, the Urban Survivor’s Union, the National Alliance for Medication Assisted Recovery, and the Drug Policy Alliance came together to write a letter in support of a more humane approach to MAT delivery. The outdated, ineffective regulations on these medications were not only preventing people from getting lifesaving treatment, they were now placing them directly in harm’s way.
More than a few members of USU attend methadone clinics across the country, and the adverse experiences each have had—both before and during COVID-19–are shining examples of the need for reform. When the letter first started taking shape we had no clue what kind of support it would receive. Within a matter of weeks, over 140 organizations and hundreds of individuals had signed on in support. Following a social media campaign under the hashtag “freethemethadone,” we have found ourselves leading a national discussion about how treatment providers and regulators can do a better job of humanizing treatment. News outlets have begun to spotlight this important topic, and we hope to begin seeing some concrete steps toward lasting reform both during, and after COVID. What we definitely do not want is to go back to business as usual. The way this treatment has been conducted up to this point is simply unacceptable and people are dying because of it. We as a union strongly support permanent reform to the current system of delivery for methadone and buprenorphine to more accurately reflect the needs of people who use substances. We believe that the best way to save lives is for treatment decisions to involve patients in the conversation about their own health, just like any other field of medicine. In the future we will continue to urge regulators and providers to apply the same attitude to people who use drugs as they would to every other American seeking medical assistance. We need your support in this effort. Please look into attending our Monday Methadone calls, and reach out to us to find out how you can become involved in this fight for change. Join from your computer, tablet or smartphone www.gotomeet.me/usucall/methadone-mtg United States: +1 (872) 240-3212 Access Code: 289-450-221
drug users think summer 2020
POWER IS PEACEFUL PROTEST IS POWERFUL PHOTOGRAPHY BY NIC REY
This wasn’t my first time being threatened by police or physically harmed, as a community member. But this was the first time I felt I wasn’t alone, surrounded by people just as angry and hurt as I was. People locked arm in arm, refusing to back down, to the police! I got up close to a group of officers and took a couple shots, then joined the action. Marching, face masks on, signs in hand, we ended up in front of the confederate monuments at the state capital. Protestors dancing, and yelling excitedly, rejoicing at the mere thought of change. Then just like that, officers were shooting at us! People were running, scrambling to get away, as the police became closer and closer, guns drawn and ready. I backed up and took a side street towards safety. When an officer appeared out of nowhere, looked directly at me, and pulled his trigger. (continued pg. 12)
"We can not be sure of having something to live for, unless we are willing to die for it" - Bottom right
"Through understanding we coexist peacefully to become united in a way that supports humanity, rather than destroying it." - Above
Above -"A revolution is a struggle between the future and the past"Â Below - "White silence is violence" Raleigh, NC
(continued from page 10) I was suffocating in tear gas. A bystander grabbed me and began flushing my eyes. I said a prayer and attempted to breathe, as every part of me was under attack and I felt suddenly all alone. I managed to get away from officers and the tear gas that seemed to follow me, while calling my ride to come get me. This wasn’t over, it was far from over. I feel blessed to be alive, grateful to be part of a community that stood up and fought back, but scared at the thought of how many more people would be murdered at the hands of the people that are paid to protect us. NO JUSTICE, NO PEACE. - Nic Rey
Below left -"Everyone needs a revolution but by the blood of others." Raleigh, NC Below right -"A revolution is a struggle between the future and the past." Raleigh, NC
“It is our collective and individual responsibility to preserve and tend to the world in which we all live.” - Dalai Lama, Raleigh, NC
drug users think summer 2020
BECOMING USU by anna herdlein Covid-19 kicked my ass and then, bestowed upon me the gift of connection to The Urban Survivors Union. This past Spring I was out of my straight work and, due to my living under the crushing weight of capitalism, thought it best to acquire at least one new “marketable” skill during lockdown so that, perhaps, I could gain employment which wouldn’t evaporate during the second wave of The Virus. I thought, since I am routinely adjacent to non-profits, I should learn how to write grants and become gainfully employed as a “Grant Writer.” That sounds like meaningful employment! Sounds like a strictly skill-based job that wouldn’t ask too many questions. Surely that is the type of job that wouldn’t piss test me! In March of this year, I spotted an advertisement for the following afternoon from a shared social media post titled “Don’t Be Scared of Grant Writing!” I nervously joined the free webinar and was met by 2 wonderful, beyond intelligent, and absolute gifts; Caty and Lindsay. I was so grateful to be welcomed into The Grant Writing Call for The Urbans Survivors Union. I was suspicious… “Are these two and everyone else actually this nice? Everyone seems to know each other…” I googled up a storm while everyone was doing check-in’s and found that I had stumbled upon, in the wilds of social media, The Urban Survivors Union! Further research told me how USU operates, their position on various topics, where they are located, etc. I was fucking floored to have happened to bump into a fucking Drug User Union call?! Jenna from down the street had just told me about a Drug User union starting a few towns over. Needless to say, I was not versed on the ways of recognized and structured drug user organizing.
However, I am beyond well versed in my struggles as a drug user and sex worker who uses drugs. I had survived and operated within underground economies, lost several friends, straight jobs, and family members due to the drug war, oh, pardon me, “my actions.” What I am trying to say, my dear reader, is that I felt I have been battling aspects of the drug war my whole life. But to stand up to the powers that be in an organized and systematic way?! I couldn’t imagine it. I have since gone on to be welcomed onto The Grant Writing Call on a routine basis and have learned more about grant writing than I could have ever hoped for. I began improving my ability to write and have already contributed to ACTUAL (!!!) grants. Skill building aside, I have joined a small group of respectful, inventive, and genius human beings. I count myself as very lucky to learn from this warrior group each call. From there, I encountered The Advocacy Academy on Basecamp and was, somehow, yet again, welcomed onto this twice weekly call. Once more, I was overwhelmed with how kind Aly, Knina, TerL, and everyone on The Advocacy Academy call was to me! Due to Advocacy Academy, I have been able to see the unique background and insights I possess as a drug user for what they are; highly sought after and rare skills. I had been trying to suppress all these drug user skills we all have due to shame, such as being an expert in drug diversion and theft, knowing how to de escalate an irate client, and knowing, first hand, how exactly the drug war has vilified me, to even myself. Now, I love learning about how to properly display my unique talents in a way that highlights how fucking much I, and many others, have suffered and gained due to being a survivor of the drug war.
drug users think summer 2020
RESPECT MY DRUG USE BY PETER MOINICHEN
Accept and respect my drug use. Remove the stigma that surrounds drug use. This is a movement for social justice built on the belief in, and respect for the rights of people who use drugs. We deserve a safe environment for the use of drugs. Pleasure is not just the result of intoxication; the complete consumption event, set and setting, contributes to satisfaction.
“The road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom... for we never know what is enough until we know what is more than enough.” William BlakeStop Thinking of us as brain damaged and ill (disease concept) or lost souls (12-steps). We are able to make informed decisions. We are the agents of our own path. Paternalistic harm reduction wants to manage our drug use while true harm minimization recognizes that substance use is not harmful. It is the relationship that we develop with substances that requires our own examination. “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Socrates Substances can be a blessing, curse, cure, balm, even a poison depending on our relation to them. There is nothing intrinsically fearful or evil about the non-ordinary state; rather it should be sought after and appreciated. To seek mood alteration is a noble pursuit, and yet mood and mind altering substances have become the demon to avoid, for those who have chosen to believe in abstinence. To desire an alteration in one's mood, but then suppress it, stems from the belief that the mood we have is the correct one and others are false. What a crock of shit!
The authenticity of one's mood is determined by the individual alone. Altering mood leads to numbness, expansion, excitation, enjoyment; to lump all alterations under one umbrella commits one to a path upon which blinders must be worn.
drug users think summer 2020
mother
BY LOUISE VINCENT
The world hates people like me. They especially hate mothers like me. From the time I was 13 my life has been shaped by mental illness and substance use. I have been told from the time I was young that I don’t care about my family, that I don’t love my children or my friends because I am a person who uses drugs. I can’t tell you all of the times a social worker or police officer has said to me, “If you loved your mother you would stop this.” “If you loved your child you would not do this anymore.” I have been told I only love drugs and that I am immoral at my core. Every mother thinks about all the things they wish they would or could have done. I have certainly spent much time worrying about all the things I could have done differently. My daughter Selena died of a drug overdose at age 19. She died in a California drug rehabilitation program that did not have Naloxone on site. When my daughter died, my world ended. I thought I neither would nor could ever go on. Selena was my world. I had to call my own mother in order to write this. I needed someone to reassure me that I was a good mother to my daughter. My mother told me, “Oh, Louise, you were a beautiful gift to your daughter---oh, how she loved you.”
From the day Selena was born and I looked into her eyes, I knew my life was hers. My daughter wanted nothing more than to be with me, to be around me and like me. She loved me like no one else ever will or could. She slept with me well into her teenage years whenever I would let her and she knew I would protect her from anything and everything I possibly could. Over the years I did everything a mother does and more. I fought for Selena. I attended functions for Selena. I played with Selena, taught her to swim, and had birthday parties for her. I researched daycares for Selena, then elementary schools, then middle schools and finally high schools. When my life spun out of control, I went to rehab and worked on my issues with substance use and mental illness. I visited my daughter every weekend without fail. I wanted to give her a better life so I returned to school and graduated college. I completed graduate school and began a harm reduction program and fought for people like myself. One of the difficult things that I did for my daughter was when Selena was about 7. Selena’s father died when she was 2, leaving me a single parent. I, like most mothers, wanted what was absolutely best for my daughter so I chose to move in with my mother so she could have every opportunity and the most stability possible, even though I would have preferred to have more independence. All of these things I did, I did on my own. They were my decisions. I did them because I loved my daughter and wanted the best for her. Substance use disorder and mental illness are not things that go away. They are often lifelong struggles. Selena always knew of my struggles. She was in counseling from the time she was in elementary school. I never wanted to hide my struggles from her. We dealt with my struggles together. This is what families do.
REPRODUCTIVE JUSTICE FOR PWUD BY Aly PEELER This June, passionate debate took place on the North Carolina Senate floor. House Bill 918 was up for a vote, and if passed, would make it faster and easier to both remove infants at birth and terminate parental rights following exposure to substances. Senate Democrats, armed with education from advocacy groups, shared just a few of the reasons the bill is dangerous: it disregards medical science; demonizes substance use; expects parents to access traditional treatment without medicaid expansion; places more kids in our defective foster care system; and largely targets poor families and families of color. Meanwhile, Republican proponents of the bill performed faux concern for infants with Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome, something that can be treated by close physical contact with parents. They used inaccurate and disparaging language like "addicted families" and glazed over questions about the true consequences of the bill. While Black Lives Matter protests were demanding attention all across the nation, Senator Krawiec was asked if she knew what racial disparities the bill might cause and responded, "I do not know, and frankly, do not care." While the bill passed its final reading in the NC Senate and then in the House of Representatives, we felt that the unanimous opposition by House and Senate Democrats- along with a couple Republicans- was a victory itself. What's more, Governor Cooper vetoed the bill in early July, allowing us to truly celebrate the fact that pregnant and parenting folks who use substances are just a little bit safer this month than they were last month. This could not have happened without our community. Behind-the-scenes folks have shared that the opposition by legislators, their passionate debates, and the eventual veto by the Governor had everything to do with the tremendous advocacy our coalition did around this bill. Advocacy works! We are tremendously grateful for everyone who shared their stories and convictions with lawmakers.
Though the veto means that House Bill 918 is most likely dead, it is still possible for the legislature to bring a veto override up for a vote when they return for one last week of the legislative session in September. Further, this bill highlighted for us more ways that the drug war has brought surveillance and violence to the drug user community, and how these harms play out differently across intersections like sex, gender, class, and race. We have all been force-fed stigma surrounding drug use and parenting for decades, leading to gaps in solidarity even within our own coalitions. It is all too easy to limit our willingness to fight for people who use substances to those who meet arbitrary guidelines of traditional respectability, like total abstinence or socalled perfect parenting. It is easier still to create programming that simply forgets to take into account needs like prenatal care, childcare, or avoiding or navigating social service involvement. NCSU is committed to closing these gaps, and fighting HB918 is just the beginning. We are partnering with harm reduction services that specifically cater to pregnant folks, starting a storytelling initiative to disrupt narratives around parenting and substance use, and always looking for ways to uplift our community members.
USU CALL TIMES AND LINKS
MONDAY
METHADONE CALL 8PM EST http://www.gotomeet.me/usucall/meth adone-mtg DIAL IN: 1(872) 240-3212 ACCESS CODE:289-450-221
TUESDAY
CPD CALL 2PM EST
YOU MUST LOGIN THROUGH ZOOM https://zoom.us/j/2510128015
SUBSTANTIAL IMPROVEMENT: SUPPORTING EACH OTHER GROUP CALL 7PM EST http://www.gotomeet.me/usucall DIAL IN: 1(872) 240-3412 ACCESS CODE:177-648-909
DRUG USERS/SEX WORKERS ALTERNATING BI-WEEKLY CALL 9PM EST
http://www.gotomeet.me/usucall DIAL IN: 1(872) 240-3412 ACCESS CODE:177-648-909 http://www.gotomeet.me/sexworkers DIAL IN: 1(224) 501-3412 ACCESS CODE:590-384-757
WEDNSDAY GRANT WRITING CALL BI-WEEKLY 12:30 PM EST http://www.gotomeet.me/usugrants DIAL IN: 1(646) 749-3112 ACCESS CODE:523-285-461
SUNDAY HARM REDUCTION TRAINING 4 PM EST http://www.gotomeet.me/usucall DIAL IN: 1(872) 240-3412 ACCESS CODE:177-648-909
A DISCUSSION OF ALL THINGS METHADONE REFORM CREATION OF PATIENT MANIFESTO TURNING PATIENTS TO ADVOCATES CHANGING CLINIC POLICY REFRAMING SOCIETIES VIEW OF METHADONE
TALKING WITH THE CENTER FOR POPULAR DEMOCRACY
BUILDING OUR OPIOD TASK FORCE SPEAKING WITH LEGISLATORS ON THE BILLS WHICH EFFECT OUR COMMUNITY
HARM REDUCTION SUPPORT GROUP
REJECTS HIERARCHY OF 12 STEP PROGRAMS WHERE SUCCESS IS MEASURED BY TIME AWAY FROM USE REJECTS ABSTINENCE AS THE ONLY SUCCESSFUL OUTCOME FOR CHANGE
SPEAKERS AND DISCUSSIONS SURROUNDING INMPORTANT TOPICS IN BOTH COMMUNITIES A NATIONAL MEETING OF SOLIDARITY CHECK INS WITH CHAPTERS AROUND THE COUNTRY
LEARN GRANT WRITING SKILLS
OPPORTUNITY TO WORK WITH OTHERS COLLABORATIVELY ON GRANTS LEARNING GOALS OBJECTIVES AND OUTCOMES LEARN PROJECT AND GRANT BUDGETS
WEEKLY PRESENTATION TOPICS ON ADVOCACY AND HARM REDUCTION OPPORTUNITY TO PRESENT TOPICS OF YOUR EXPERTISE AND LIVED EXPERIENCE OPEN Q&A SESSION AFTER EVERY 23 PRESENTATION
racism & the drug war september 16th 2-4pm est
connecting the dots
FACILITATORS: DINAH ORTIZ
Robert Suarez
PANELISTs Ts William Miller sr. PANELI S T : TERRELL JONES Queen Adesuyi
HIAWATHA COLLINS Marilyn Reyes William Miller jr. Rajani Gudlavalleti
IN LOVING MEMORY OF AUBRI ESTERS Aubri Esters was a peer-to-peer harm reductionist and radical leftist activist for over 13 years. For 8 of those years she operated an underground syringe exchange and unsanctioned drug consumption space in the heart of East Somerville where she trained many peers on how to safely and effectively respond to overdoses within the space, in the larger community and in challenging situations such as in public housing or squats.
Aubri worked hard on drug policy, and the intersection between health policy and harm reduction as a consultant with the Emergency Medicine Projects Team at Boston Medical Center. She was one of the first co-founders of SIFMA NOW, the first grassroots organization dedicated to legalizing Safe Consumption Sites across MA since 2016, with a bill in support of safe consumptions having just passed, a week or so after Aubri's death. As the founder of Boston's drug user union in 2016, and the Secretary of the Boston Users Union she was a known leader in Bostons's Harm reduction community especially when it came to protecting the homeless and tent communities of Methadone Miles, as she watched violent police harassment along with an endless number of overdoses. Aubri recovered from previous unstable relationships to substances, was a person on long-term opioid agonist therapy and was a person who used and injected drugs.
IF YOU'RE INTERESTED IN WRITING FOR AND HELPING PUT OUT THE NEXT ISSUE OF "DRUG USERS THINK," PLEASE CONTACT: KNINA@ncsUNION.ORG LOUISE@URBANSURVIVORS.ORG ALY@ncsUNION.ORG WE
NOTHING ABOUT US WITHOUT US!
WANT: YOUR STORIES, YOUR THOUGHTS, YOUR IDEAS
