Miriam, what you are noticing could be true and of course there could be
another explanation. A couple of years ago I predicted that audio book
production would start to decline; not necessarily because of politics but
because of braille . NLS is about to start deploying braile displays and that
means more books produced in braille. If you look at the advocacy groups that
that lobby NLS you'll find that almost all are braille readers (as opposed to
only a small fraction of all blind folks) and that is why resources will
continue to be diverted from audio production to to braille. Personally, I
subscribe to Bookshare and that is the best bargain around. Fifty bucks a year,
pretty much all you can read.
Frank
-----Original Message-----
From: blind-democracy-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
[mailto:blind-democracy-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx] On Behalf Of Miriam Vieni
Sent: Friday, February 24, 2017 6:52 PM
To: blind-democracy@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Subject: [blind-democracy] Re: I Was a Muslim in Trump's White House. I Lasted
8 Days.
I have gently begun to ask people on the other lists involved with NLS books,
if they've noticed a difference in books offered in the last 3 weeks. I would
like to believe that paranoia is getting the better of me. However, my
observation is that the number of newly produced books, books produced by NLS
and commercially produced on BARD, has dropped drastically. Talking about being
on the edge of something. I'm not sure that in terms of library services, we
are just at the edge. We may have already dropped off the cliff. It is amazing
to me that all of the people on the BARD Talk list who become panicky when the
site goes down for a few hours, haven't noticed this. Of course, a lot of them
are young and they're still reading the books I read 15 years ago and also,
they save literally thousands of books on storage drives, God knows why. But I
like the wonderfully new experience of reading the books that my sighted peers
are reading at the same time that they're reading them. And I no longer feel
financially secure enough to spend $150 for 12 Audible books or whatever the
cost is now.
Miriam
-----Original Message-----
From: blind-democracy-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
[mailto:blind-democracy-bounce@xxxxxxxxxxxxx] On Behalf Of Carl Jarvis
Sent: Friday, February 24, 2017 5:02 PM
To: blind-democracy@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Subject: [blind-democracy] Re: I Was a Muslim in Trump's White House. I Lasted
8 Days.
This article, and other similar stories, give me the feeling that I am standing
on the edge of a giant Black Hole, and the ground beneath my feet is crumbling
away.
For 8 years under the "leadership" of Barack Obama, we barely held the line.
In just over a month, Donald Trump has threatened Life as we Know it. 8 years
of holding the line, and now we are looking at 4 years that will destroy the
working class totally.
Can we say, Indentured Servants?
Of course we can.
It's a beautiful day for the Ruling Class...
Carl Jarvis
On 2/24/17, Miriam Vieni <miriamvieni@xxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
Ahmed writes: "Like most of my fellow American Muslims, I spent much
of
2016
watching with consternation as Donald Trump vilified our community.
Despite this - or because of it - I thought I should try to stay on
the NSC staff during the Trump Administration, in order to give the
new president and his aides a more nuanced view of Islam, and of
America's Muslim citizens. I lasted eight days."
Rumana Ahmed, who worked in the White House as part of the Obama and
Trump administrations. (photo: Leah Varjaques/The Atlantic)
<https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2017/02/rumana-ahmed-tru
mp/517
521/>
I Was a Muslim in Trump's White House. I Lasted 8 Days.
By Rumana Ahmed, The Atlantic
23 February 17
WWhen President Obama left, I stayed on at the National Security
Council in order to serve my country. I lasted eight days.
n 2011, I was hired, straight out of college, to work at the White
House and eventually the National Security Council. My job there was
to promote and protect the best of what my country stands for. I am a
hijab-wearing Muslim woman--I was the only hijabi in the West
Wing--and the Obama administration always made me feel welcome and
included.
Like most of my fellow American Muslims, I spent much of 2016 watching
with consternation as Donald Trump vilified our community. Despite
this--or because of it--I thought I should try to stay on the NSC
staff during the Trump Administration, in order to give the new
president and his aides a more nuanced view of Islam, and of America's Muslim
citizens.
I lasted eight days.
When Trump issued a ban on travelers from seven Muslim-majority
countries and all Syrian refugees, I knew I could no longer stay and
work for an administration that saw me and people like me not as
fellow citizens, but as a threat.
The evening before I left, bidding farewell to some of my colleagues,
many of whom have also since left, I notified Trump's senior NSC
communications adviser, Michael Anton, of my departure, since we
shared an office. His initial surprise, asking whether I was leaving
government entirely, was followed by silence--almost in caution, not asking
why. I told him anyway.
I told him I had to leave because it was an insult walking into this
country's most historic building every day under an administration
that is working against and vilifying everything I stand for as an
American and as a Muslim. I told him that the administration was
attacking the basic tenets of democracy. I told him that I hoped that
they and those in Congress were prepared to take responsibility for
all the consequences that would attend their decisions.
He looked at me and said nothing.
It was only later that I learned he authored an essay under a
pseudonym, extolling the virtues of authoritarianism and attacking
diversity
<http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/michael-anton-trump-essay-publius
-deciu s-mus_us_589ba947e4b09bd304bff3c8> as a "weakness," and Islam
as "incompatible with the modern West."
My whole life and everything I have learned proves that facile
statement wrong.
My parents immigrated to the United States from Bangladesh in 1978 and
strove to create opportunities for their children born in the states.
My mother worked as a cashier, later starting her own daycare
business. My father spent late nights working at Bank of America, and
was eventually promoted to assistant vice president at one of its
headquarters. Living the American dream, we'd have family barbecues,
trips to Disney World, impromptu soccer or football games, and
community service projects. My father began pursuing his Ph.D., but in
1995 he was killed in a car accident.
I was 12 when I started wearing a hijab. It was encouraged in my
family, but it was always my choice. It was a matter of faith,
identity, and resilience for me. After 9/11, everything would change.
On top of my shock, horror, and heartbreak, I had to deal with the
fear some kids suddenly felt towards me.
I was glared at, cursed at, and spat at in public and in school.
People called me a "terrorist" and told me, "go back to your country."
My father taught me a Bengali proverb inspired by Islamic scripture:
"When a man kicks you down, get back up, extend your hand, and call
him brother."
Peace, patience, persistence, respect, forgiveness, and dignity. These
were the values I've carried through my life and my career.
I never intended to work in government. I was among those who assumed
the government was inherently corrupt and ineffective. Working in the
Obama White House proved me wrong. You can't know or understand what
you haven't been a part of.
Still, inspired by President Obama, I joined the White House in 2011,
after graduating from the George Washington University. I had interned
there during my junior year, reading letters and taking calls from
constituents at the Office of Presidential Correspondence. It felt
surreal--here I was, a 22-year-old American Muslim woman from Maryland
who had been mocked and called names for covering my hair, working for
the president of the United States.
In 2012, I moved to the West Wing to join the Office of Public
Engagement, where I worked with various communities, including
American Muslims, on domestic issues such as health care. In early
2014, Deputy National Security Advisor Ben Rhodes offered me a
position on the National Security Council (NSC). For two and a half
years I worked down the hall from the Situation Room, advising
President Obama's engagements with American Muslims, and working on
issues ranging from advancing relations with Cuba and Laos to
promoting global entrepreneurship among women and youth.
A harsher world began to reemerge in 2015. In February, three young
American Muslim students were killed in their Chapel Hill home
<https://www.ted.com/talks/suzanne_barakat_islamophobia_killed_my_brot
her_le t_s_end_the_hate/transcript?language=en> by an Islamophobe.
Both the media and administration were slow to address the attack, as
if the dead had to be vetted before they could be mourned. It was
emotionally devastating. But when a statement was finally released
condemning the attack and mourning their loss, Rhodes took me aside to
to tell me how grateful he was to have me there and wished there were
more American Muslims working throughout government. America's
government and decision-making should reflect its people.
Later that month, the evangelist Franklin Graham declared that the
government had "been infiltrated by Muslims." One of my colleagues
sought me out with a smile on his face and said, "If only he knew they
were in the halls of the West Wing and briefed the president of the
United States multiple times!" I thought: Damn right I'm here, exactly
where I belong, a proud American dedicated to protecting and serving
my country.
Graham's hateful provocations weren't new. Over the Obama years,
right-wing websites spread an abundance of absurd conspiracy theories
and lies, targeting some American Muslim organizations and
individuals--even those of us serving in government. They called us
"terrorists," Sharia-law whisperers, or Muslim Brotherhood operatives.
Little did I realize that some of these conspiracy theorists would
someday end up in the White House.
Over the course of the campaign, even when I was able to storm through
the bad days, I realized the rhetoric was taking a toll on American
communities.
When Trump first called for a Muslim ban, reports of hate crimes
against Muslims spiked
<https://www.splcenter.org/hatewatch/2016/11/14/anti-muslim-hate-crime
s-surg
ed-last-year-fueled-hateful-campaign> . The trend of anti-Muslim hate
crimes
is ongoing
<https://www.splcenter.org/hatewatch/2016/11/15/update-more-400-incide
nts-ha
teful-harassment-and-intimidation-election> , as mosques are set on
teful-harassment-and-intimidation-election> fire
and
individuals attacked--six were killed at a mosque in Canada by a
self-identified Trump supporter
<http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/quebec-city-mosque-attac
k-susp ect-known-for-right-wing-online-posts/article33833044/> .
Throughout 2015 and 2016, I watched with disbelief, apprehension, and
anxiety, as Trump's style of campaigning instigated fear and
emboldened xenophobes, anti-Semites, and Islamophobes. While cognizant
of the possibility of Trump winning, I hoped a majority of the
electorate would never condone such a hateful and divisive worldview.
During the campaign last February, Obama visited a Baltimore mosque
and reminded the public that "we're one American family, and when any
part of our family starts to feel separate . It's a challenge to our
values." His words would go unheeded by his successor.
The climate in 2016 felt like it did just after 9/11. What made it
worse was that this fear and hatred were being fueled by Americans in
positions of power. Fifth-grade students at a local Sunday school
where I volunteered shared stories of being bullied by classmates and
teachers, feeling like they didn't belong here anymore, and asked if
they might get kicked out of this country if Trump won. I was almost
hit by a car by a white man laughing as he drove by in a Costco
parking lot, and on another occasion was followed out of the metro by
a man screaming profanities: "Fuck you! Fuck Islam!
Trump will send you back!"
Then, on election night, I was left in shock.
The morning after the election, we lined up in the West Colonnade as
Obama stood in the Rose Garden and called for national unity and a
smooth transition. Trump seemed the antithesis of everything we stood
for. I felt lost. I could not fully grasp the idea that he would soon
be sitting where Obama sat.
I debated whether I should leave my job. Since I was not a political
appointee, but a direct hire of the NSC, I had the option to stay. The
incoming and now departed national security adviser, Michael Flynn,
had said things like "fear of Muslims is rational." Some colleagues
and community leaders encouraged me to stay, while others expressed
concern for my safety.
Cautiously optimistic, and feeling a responsibility to try to help
them continue our work and be heard, I decided that Trump's NSC could
benefit from a colored, female, hijab-wearing, American Muslim patriot.
The weeks leading up to the inauguration prepared me and my colleagues
for what we thought would come, but not for what actually came. On
Monday, January 23, I walked into the Eisenhower Executive Office
Building, with the new staffers there. Rather than the excitement I
encountered when I first came to the White House under Obama, the new
staff looked at me with a cold surprise. The diverse White House I had
worked in became a monochromatic and male bastion.
The days I spent in the Trump White House were strange, appalling and
disturbing. As one staffer serving since the Reagan administration
said, "This place has been turned upside down. It's chaos. I've never
witnessed anything like it." This was not typical Republican
leadership, or even that of a businessman. It was a chaotic attempt at
authoritarianism--legally questionable executive orders, accusations of the
press being "fake,"
peddling countless lies as "alternative facts," and assertions by
White House surrogates that the president's national security
authority would "not be questioned."
The entire presidential support structure of nonpartisan national
security and legal experts within the White House complex and across
federal agencies was being undermined. Decision-making authority was
now centralized to a few in the West Wing. Frustration and mistrust
developed as some staff felt out of the loop on issues within their
purview. There was no structure or clear guidance. Hallways were
eerily quiet as key positions and offices responsible for national
security or engagement with Americans were left unfilled.
I might have lasted a little longer. Then came January 30. The
executive order banning travelers from seven Muslim-majority countries
caused chaos, without making America any safer. Discrimination that
has existed for years at airports was now legitimized, sparking mass
protests, while the president railed against the courts for halting
his ban. Not only was this discrimination and un-American, the
administration's actions defending the ban threatened the nation's
security and its system of checks and balances.
Alt-right writers, now on the White House staff, have claimed that
Islam and the West are at war with each other. Disturbingly, ISIS also
makes such claims to justify their attacks, which for the most part
target Muslims.
The
Administration's plans to revamp the Countering Violent Extremism
program to focus solely on Muslims and use terms like "radical Islamic
terror,"
legitimize ISIS propaganda and allow the dangerous rise of
white-supremacist extremism to go unchecked.
Placing U.S. national security in the hands of people who think
America's diversity is a "weakness" is dangerous. It is false.
People of every religion, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender,
and age pouring into the streets and airports to defend the rights of
their fellow Americans over the past few weeks proved the opposite is
true--American diversity is a strength, and so is the American
commitment to ideals of justice and equality.
American history is not without stumbles, which have proven that the
nation is only made more prosperous and resilient through struggle,
compassion and inclusiveness. It's why my parents came here. It's why
I told my former 5th grade students, who wondered if they still
belonged here, that this country would not be great without them.
<http://e-max.it/posizionamento-siti-web/socialize>
Error! Hyperlink reference not valid.Error! Hyperlink reference not valid.
Rumana Ahmed, who worked in the White House as part of the Obama and
Trump administrations. (photo: Leah Varjaques/The Atlantic)
https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2017/02/rumana-ahmed-trum
p/5175
21/https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2017/02/rumana-ahmed-t
rump/5
17521/
I Was a Muslim in Trump's White House. I Lasted 8 Days.
By Rumana Ahmed, The Atlantic
23 February 17
When President Obama left, I stayed on at the National Security
Council in order to serve my country. I lasted eight days.
n 2011, I was hired, straight out of college, to work at the White
House and eventually the National Security Council. My job there was
to promote and protect the best of what my country stands for. I am a
hijab-wearing Muslim woman--I was the only hijabi in the West
Wing--and the Obama administration always made me feel welcome and
included.
Like most of my fellow American Muslims, I spent much of 2016 watching
with consternation as Donald Trump vilified our community. Despite
this--or because of it--I thought I should try to stay on the NSC
staff during the Trump Administration, in order to give the new
president and his aides a more nuanced view of Islam, and of America's Muslim
citizens.
I lasted eight days.
When Trump issued a ban on travelers from seven Muslim-majority
countries and all Syrian refugees, I knew I could no longer stay and
work for an administration that saw me and people like me not as
fellow citizens, but as a threat.
The evening before I left, bidding farewell to some of my colleagues,
many of whom have also since left, I notified Trump's senior NSC
communications adviser, Michael Anton, of my departure, since we
shared an office. His initial surprise, asking whether I was leaving
government entirely, was followed by silence--almost in caution, not asking
why. I told him anyway.
I told him I had to leave because it was an insult walking into this
country's most historic building every day under an administration
that is working against and vilifying everything I stand for as an
American and as a Muslim. I told him that the administration was
attacking the basic tenets of democracy. I told him that I hoped that
they and those in Congress were prepared to take responsibility for
all the consequences that would attend their decisions.
He looked at me and said nothing.
It was only later that I learned he authored an essay under a
pseudonym, extolling the virtues of authoritarianism and attacking
diversity
<http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/michael-anton-trump-essay-publius
-deciu s-mus_us_589ba947e4b09bd304bff3c8> as a "weakness," and Islam
as "incompatible with the modern West."
My whole life and everything I have learned proves that facile
statement wrong.
My parents immigrated to the United States from Bangladesh in 1978 and
strove to create opportunities for their children born in the states.
My mother worked as a cashier, later starting her own daycare
business. My father spent late nights working at Bank of America, and
was eventually promoted to assistant vice president at one of its
headquarters. Living the American dream, we'd have family barbecues,
trips to Disney World, impromptu soccer or football games, and
community service projects. My father began pursuing his Ph.D., but in
1995 he was killed in a car accident.
I was 12 when I started wearing a hijab. It was encouraged in my
family, but it was always my choice. It was a matter of faith,
identity, and resilience for me. After 9/11, everything would change.
On top of my shock, horror, and heartbreak, I had to deal with the
fear some kids suddenly felt towards me.
I was glared at, cursed at, and spat at in public and in school.
People called me a "terrorist" and told me, "go back to your country."
My father taught me a Bengali proverb inspired by Islamic scripture:
"When a man kicks you down, get back up, extend your hand, and call
him brother."
Peace, patience, persistence, respect, forgiveness, and dignity. These
were the values I've carried through my life and my career.
I never intended to work in government. I was among those who assumed
the government was inherently corrupt and ineffective. Working in the
Obama White House proved me wrong. You can't know or understand what
you haven't been a part of.
Still, inspired by President Obama, I joined the White House in 2011,
after graduating from the George Washington University. I had interned
there during my junior year, reading letters and taking calls from
constituents at the Office of Presidential Correspondence. It felt
surreal--here I was, a 22-year-old American Muslim woman from Maryland
who had been mocked and called names for covering my hair, working for
the president of the United States.
In 2012, I moved to the West Wing to join the Office of Public
Engagement, where I worked with various communities, including
American Muslims, on domestic issues such as health care. In early
2014, Deputy National Security Advisor Ben Rhodes offered me a
position on the National Security Council (NSC). For two and a half
years I worked down the hall from the Situation Room, advising
President Obama's engagements with American Muslims, and working on
issues ranging from advancing relations with Cuba and Laos to
promoting global entrepreneurship among women and youth.
A harsher world began to reemerge in 2015. In February, three young
American Muslim students were killed in their Chapel Hill home
<https://www.ted.com/talks/suzanne_barakat_islamophobia_killed_my_brot
her_le t_s_end_the_hate/transcript?language=en> by an Islamophobe.
Both the media and administration were slow to address the attack, as
if the dead had to be vetted before they could be mourned. It was
emotionally devastating. But when a statement was finally released
condemning the attack and mourning their loss, Rhodes took me aside to
to tell me how grateful he was to have me there and wished there were
more American Muslims working throughout government. America's
government and decision-making should reflect its people.
Later that month, the evangelist Franklin Graham declared that the
government had "been infiltrated by Muslims." One of my colleagues
sought me out with a smile on his face and said, "If only he knew they
were in the halls of the West Wing and briefed the president of the
United States multiple times!" I thought: Damn right I'm here, exactly
where I belong, a proud American dedicated to protecting and serving
my country.
Graham's hateful provocations weren't new. Over the Obama years,
right-wing websites spread an abundance of absurd conspiracy theories
and lies, targeting some American Muslim organizations and
individuals--even those of us serving in government. They called us
"terrorists," Sharia-law whisperers, or Muslim Brotherhood operatives.
Little did I realize that some of these conspiracy theorists would
someday end up in the White House.
Over the course of the campaign, even when I was able to storm through
the bad days, I realized the rhetoric was taking a toll on American
communities.
When Trump first called for a Muslim ban, reports of hate crimes
against Muslims spiked
<https://www.splcenter.org/hatewatch/2016/11/14/anti-muslim-hate-crime
s-surg
ed-last-year-fueled-hateful-campaign> . The trend of anti-Muslim hate
crimes
is ongoing
<https://www.splcenter.org/hatewatch/2016/11/15/update-more-400-incide
nts-ha
teful-harassment-and-intimidation-election> , as mosques are set on
teful-harassment-and-intimidation-election> fire
and
individuals attacked--six were killed at a mosque in Canada by a
self-identified Trump supporter
<http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/quebec-city-mosque-attac
k-susp ect-known-for-right-wing-online-posts/article33833044/> .
Throughout 2015 and 2016, I watched with disbelief, apprehension, and
anxiety, as Trump's style of campaigning instigated fear and
emboldened xenophobes, anti-Semites, and Islamophobes. While cognizant
of the possibility of Trump winning, I hoped a majority of the
electorate would never condone such a hateful and divisive worldview.
During the campaign last February, Obama visited a Baltimore mosque
and reminded the public that "we're one American family, and when any
part of our family starts to feel separate . It's a challenge to our
values." His words would go unheeded by his successor.
The climate in 2016 felt like it did just after 9/11. What made it
worse was that this fear and hatred were being fueled by Americans in
positions of power. Fifth-grade students at a local Sunday school
where I volunteered shared stories of being bullied by classmates and
teachers, feeling like they didn't belong here anymore, and asked if
they might get kicked out of this country if Trump won. I was almost
hit by a car by a white man laughing as he drove by in a Costco
parking lot, and on another occasion was followed out of the metro by
a man screaming profanities: "Fuck you! Fuck Islam!
Trump will send you back!"
Then, on election night, I was left in shock.
The morning after the election, we lined up in the West Colonnade as
Obama stood in the Rose Garden and called for national unity and a
smooth transition. Trump seemed the antithesis of everything we stood
for. I felt lost. I could not fully grasp the idea that he would soon
be sitting where Obama sat.
I debated whether I should leave my job. Since I was not a political
appointee, but a direct hire of the NSC, I had the option to stay. The
incoming and now departed national security adviser, Michael Flynn,
had said things like "fear of Muslims is rational." Some colleagues
and community leaders encouraged me to stay, while others expressed
concern for my safety.
Cautiously optimistic, and feeling a responsibility to try to help
them continue our work and be heard, I decided that Trump's NSC could
benefit from a colored, female, hijab-wearing, American Muslim patriot.
The weeks leading up to the inauguration prepared me and my colleagues
for what we thought would come, but not for what actually came. On
Monday, January 23, I walked into the Eisenhower Executive Office
Building, with the new staffers there. Rather than the excitement I
encountered when I first came to the White House under Obama, the new
staff looked at me with a cold surprise. The diverse White House I had
worked in became a monochromatic and male bastion.
The days I spent in the Trump White House were strange, appalling and
disturbing. As one staffer serving since the Reagan administration
said, "This place has been turned upside down. It's chaos. I've never
witnessed anything like it." This was not typical Republican
leadership, or even that of a businessman. It was a chaotic attempt at
authoritarianism--legally questionable executive orders, accusations of the
press being "fake,"
peddling countless lies as "alternative facts," and assertions by
White House surrogates that the president's national security
authority would "not be questioned."
The entire presidential support structure of nonpartisan national
security and legal experts within the White House complex and across
federal agencies was being undermined. Decision-making authority was
now centralized to a few in the West Wing. Frustration and mistrust
developed as some staff felt out of the loop on issues within their
purview. There was no structure or clear guidance. Hallways were
eerily quiet as key positions and offices responsible for national
security or engagement with Americans were left unfilled.
I might have lasted a little longer. Then came January 30. The
executive order banning travelers from seven Muslim-majority countries
caused chaos, without making America any safer. Discrimination that
has existed for years at airports was now legitimized, sparking mass
protests, while the president railed against the courts for halting
his ban. Not only was this discrimination and un-American, the
administration's actions defending the ban threatened the nation's
security and its system of checks and balances.
Alt-right writers, now on the White House staff, have claimed that
Islam and the West are at war with each other. Disturbingly, ISIS also
makes such claims to justify their attacks, which for the most part
target Muslims.
The
Administration's plans to revamp the Countering Violent Extremism
program to focus solely on Muslims and use terms like "radical Islamic
terror,"
legitimize ISIS propaganda and allow the dangerous rise of
white-supremacist extremism to go unchecked.
Placing U.S. national security in the hands of people who think
America's diversity is a "weakness" is dangerous. It is false.
People of every religion, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender,
and age pouring into the streets and airports to defend the rights of
their fellow Americans over the past few weeks proved the opposite is
true--American diversity is a strength, and so is the American
commitment to ideals of justice and equality.
American history is not without stumbles, which have proven that the
nation is only made more prosperous and resilient through struggle,
compassion and inclusiveness. It's why my parents came here. It's why
I told my former 5th grade students, who wondered if they still
belonged here, that this country would not be great without them.
http://e-max.it/posizionamento-siti-web/socializehttp://e-max.it/posiz
ioname
nto-siti-web/socialize
