H-Bomb Guinea Pigs! Natives Suffering Decades After New Mexico Tests -
The world’s first atomic bomb was detonated on July 16, 1945, in New Mexico—home to 19 American Indian pueblos, two Apache tribes and some chapters of the Navajo Nation. Manhattan Project scientists exploded the device containing six kilograms of plutonium 239 on a 100-foot tower at the Trinity Site in the Jornada del Muerto (Journey of Death) Valley at what is now the U.S. Army’s White Sands Missile Range. The blast was the equivalent of 21 kilotons of TNT. At the time an estimated 19,000 people lived within a 50-mile radius.
…The government briefly monitored the radiation levels at several sites near the blast with the relatively crude instruments that were available at the time and according to the extremely lax standards of the time. ”So they detonate the bomb at Trinity and they leave,” said Cordova, a cancer survivor. “They never come back and tell the people to take care of how they live, what they consume, what they eat, drink. Nothing.”…Nowadays the United States Environmental Protection Agency readily acknowledges on its website the likely effects associated with long-term or chronic low-level radiation exposure. The longer the exposure the more likely that cancer and other illnesses will occur, according to the EPA’s website.
However, this is in hindsight prompted in part by what happened to the Navajo and other American Indians after the test blast. In New Mexico, American Indians would begin to experience many types of cancers—rare cancers as well as multiple primary cancers. Cordova said that her father, who was three years old at the time of the test, had two oral cancers and one gastric cancer, none of them the result of metastasis. He never smoked or drank.
"At one time I could name ten people who had brain tumors,” said Cordova, who grew up in Tularosa. “The town I grew up in is probably about 3,500 people. The normal incidence of brain tumors in the [general] population is about one in 5,000. So that gives you some idea on the incidence of these things. Brain tumors are associated with radiation exposure."
girlebony said: Why are you so great?!?!
Mostly because I have an amazing partner who encourages me to greatness.
Not Your Average Black Woman: Put a face with the name
This is George Zimmerman.
We as a community need to put a face with the name. Everyone needs to see what this sociopath, white supremacist, child murderer looks like.
This grown man^^^^ claims self defence against this unarmed child.
(Source: kreyolcoco, via girlebony)
I go through episodic patterns of how well I get to sleep. Sometimes I’m anxious and I don’t want to go to sleep because I feel the day has unfinished business. Sometimes I’m eager, worn out and ready to get some rest. Recently, I’ve been relaxed - enjoying the brief seconds between lights out and sleep where I can enjoy the total darkness of my room with whimsical ideas flowing into my dreams.
But in Richmond, the night calls to me. Almost every street holds a story for me. Whether it’s cutting through the bottom past what used to be Richbrau, or driving by Johnson Hall and looking at the surly freshmen sitting outside like the beta version of who we all used to be, something about being in Richmond at night is exciting. Not the nervous tugging at my gut, but the feeling of butterflies that comes with a place of potential.
Because there’s no city like Richmond, not at night. Some places may have a better nightlife, of that there’s no doubt - but they just don’t feel the same. New York may never sleep, but once it sits down for the evening, there’s a creeping emptiness to its streets. Meanwhile, D.C. is just too segregated for its own good, day or night, and once the Metro shuts down the city just feels sad and weighed down. And Los Angeles just blows.
But Richmond at night - the bridges and the buildings and the Flood Wall and the diners and the drunks…it just feels right. For me, it’s almost definitely nostalgia and good memories, but I just feel that energy.
ICE Deports 14-Year-Old Citizen -
People keep telling me that Texas is part of the South, so I suppose I should speak on this.
Beyond what’s obvious from the headlines, a few more details. The girl gave the police a fake name - the name of a 22-year-old illegal immigrant from Colombia who had an outstanding warrant. Now, I know that everyone who works for the police and for ICE can’t be expected to fall on the Batman/Sherlock Holmes end of the ability spectrum, but Jesus. Let’s look at a couple facts:
1) The girl is 14, not 22, and if you look at the pictures she doesn’t look 22, she looks 14.
2) She speaks not a word of Spanish.
Some - idiots - would argue the first point is subjective. It’s not, but let’s move past that to the fact that THIS GIRL SPOKE NO SPANISH. Seriously, what kind of Keystone Cops nonsense is that?! I mean, I guess she could have theoretically spoken one of the 78 regional languages recognized by the Colombian constitution, which I would list EXCEPT I DON’T KNOW SPANISH. How does this happen? Could I get arrested for loitering, lie to the cop and say I was Jose Lothario and get deported for assaulting Sycho Sid? Is this how all criminal investigations should work, we just believe the first thing out of a suspect’s mouth and call it a fucking day?
Now, there’s one thing I left out here that makes the story makes sense.
Because when you’re black, you’re not allowed to be a child. You’re certainly not allowed to be a US citizen. And when your shop-lifting, runaway ass gets picked up and you give us a name that gets us a result we want we are going to issue you a one-way ticket to a country you’ve been with a language you don’t speak. And we’re not even going to feel bad.