The 14th annual Disability Pride Parade took the streets July 22nd to talk about the civil rights goals they want to achieve for their community and how these issues are addressed in Chicago.
A recurring theme that came up during one of the meetings for organizing the parade was defining the difference between their parade and a protest. Hank, one of the Grand Marshalls, explains that, “The balance is: what do we want, what will it give us and how will we go about that and how far we are willing to go. My take is, that the balance is, that we’ll go as far as we have to.And that means that we may have to act as advocates”.
It is important to note that although the parade this year has passed, The Disability Pride Parade is striving to create a larger event next year. This can be an intimidating task considering the obstacles they’ve encountered when requesting for a larger street to march down, however this goal is definitely achievable and they are looking for support and solidarity from other Chicagoans.
To learn more about the parade, check out Disability Pride Parade on Facebook or their website !
You can read up on statistics of resources and employment for people with disabilities here.
When speaking about Rise from the Ashes, a Plainfield-based 5013c nonprofit that provides legal and emotional support to low-income women suffering from domestic violence, founder Stephanie Austin is quick to point out some truly staggering numbers. Domestic violence, for example, causes more injuries to women every year than car accidents, muggings, and rapes combined. Additionally, abusive partners seeking sole custody of children achieve their ends in 70% of cases in which the victim of domestic violence lacks representation. These numbers, she says, speak for themselves, testifying resoundingly to the urgent need for her organization and its work.
And they aren’t, she points out, just empty numbers, black-and-white statistics she’s culled from the pages of reputable journals but to which she cannot attest in real life. This is because Austin herself is a survivor of domestic violence, once a near-penniless mother struggling to sever the legal ties binding her to an abusive husband. “It was a desperate situation,” Austin says. Even when she considered trying to leave her husband, she “quickly found there was nowhere for me to go. You can stay in a women’s shelter, sure, but you can only stay for six weeks. Then what?” Not only was there nowhere to flee in the short-term, but the prospect of long-term solutions seemed equally grim: “No matter where I ended up staying,” she explains, “I needed legal representation to obtain a divorce and get custody of my kids. But this is almost impossible if you don’t have the money to hire an attorney.”
After all, she continues, the issue is more complicated than people think: “People will say, go to legal aid—you’re entitled to an attorney even if you can’t afford one!” she remembers, her words recalling the Miranda warning made famous by popular police and court procedurals, such as Law and Order. “But they don’t know or haven’t thought about the fact that this pertains to criminal law, not civil cases.” You’ll get a state-funded attorney if you’re charged with a crime, in other words, but not if you’re pursuing a civil matter, such as a lawsuit, a divorce, or a protection order. This means that many women—often already vulnerable due to straitened circumstances and abusive relationships—are left in a legal no-(wo)man’s land, struggling to address their problems legally but possessing no fiscal means to do so.
Original artwork by Charlotte Farhan https://panmelacastro.carbonmade.com/projects/6093377
It makes sense, perhaps, that people don’t know much about this side of the system as long as they’ve never had to deal with it personally; after all, Austin herself only comprehended the complexities of the problem once she encountered it. Faced with the urgent need for a divorce and custody of her children but with almost no money to do so, Austin threw herself at the mercy of an attorney she found by googling the term “aggressive solo custody lawyer.” Upon learning of her plight, this lawyer—Chicago-based attorney Michael A. Biederstadt of Biederstadt Law, P.C.—agreed to represent her.
Both Biederstadt and Austin would find the case and partnership to be an eye-opening experience: Austin encountered countless other women battling similar circumstances, women who, without the magnanimous assistance of an attorney, were faring far worse in their own cases than Austin was. At the same time, Biederstadt was learning about a side of the civil court system he had never so much as glimpsed before: even after years of practicing family law, Austin’s case was the first time he witnessed the unique and astonishing problems specific to domestic violence cases. He saw how the system tended to work against women in violent marriages and result in their legal underrepresentation. For example, many women experiencing domestic abuse do not possess an independent income or access to marital funds or assets, meaning that they cannot afford to hire their own attorneys. This material disadvantage does not, though, translate to free legal services as it would in many other cases: most free or subsidized legal aid services take the husband’s income and assets into account when considering whether an applicant qualifies for assistance. Consequently, women just like Austin were suffering in violent marriages because they couldn’t get representation to escape them.
The shared experience was so profound, Austin says, that neither one felt they could continue their lives as before, even after Austin’s own divorce and custody cases had been satisfactorily adjudicated. In recounting the formative inspiration for their venture, she recalls a favorite saying of her cofounder: “[Biederstadt] says all the time that you get opportunities in life to really make a difference, and it’s up to you if you take them or not.” So, the pair resolved to form a nonprofit that would support women in abusive marriages, connecting philanthropically minded lawyers and counselors with the women most in need of them.
Only two short years after its formation in 2015, Rise from the Ashes now provides an array of services to Kane, Kendall, DuPage, and Will counties. Not only do volunteers provide legal representation and counseling to needy clients, but they also arrange court companions for women set to attend or testify in court against their abusive exes, as well as organize legal clinics at women’s shelters around DuPage and Kane counties. These clinics are a way for Rise from the Ashes to reach and assist a wider range of women than the relatively few clients who qualify for and receive the organization’s more intensive, one-on-one legal and counseling services. “Many women,” Austin explains, “don’t qualify for our services due to financial factors, but they can still get a lot of useful information, community support, and legal advice when they attend our clinics and forums.”
Image by Taproot India for the Save Our Sisters campaign
At a recent event, she recalls, the organization held an open-ended Q&A session where women could ask legal professionals any question they might have about their own personal plights and efforts to escape abuse. Many women asked whether or not it was legal for them to record abusive telephone calls or in-person confrontations with their current or ex partners—after all, they reasoned, they would be asked later for evidence to support claims of abuse and mistreatment. No, the lawyers, answered, surreptitious recordings of any kind—with the exception of those documenting a crime—are not admissible in court in Illinois. This means that, while women may want to capture instances of their husbands yelling at them or their children for future reference, it’s actually illegal to do so. Similarly, if one wants to videotape an abuser’s violent behavior, one must disclose the fact that one is recording the altercation in order to use it as evidence.
Despite the rapid expansion and resounding success of the young organization, Austin concedes that there are some challenges. Fundraising and finding relevant grant opportunities, for example, can be a huge headache: since each case usually takes a long time—sometimes over a year—to complete, the organization is still building its finished client statistics. This means that many of the statistics grant committees look for are misleading, unable to reflect the fact that RFTA has provided over $200,000 in billable hours—including legal clinics and counseling services—in the past year alone. It can also be a problem to find highly qualified professionals: while signing on attorneys willing to donate their time and energy to the organization has been relatively easy, Austin notes that it has been more difficult to find pro bono counselors and psychologists. This dearth of mental health volunteers is particularly problematic because victims of domestic abuse don’t just need physical and legal separation from their abusers; they also require intensive therapy to administer to the psychological scars of long-term trauma.
Thankfully, these challenges shrink to a speck when compared to the rewards of keeping Rise from the Ashes afloat. Not only does Austin feel that she gets to “pay forward” the tremendous gift she received from her lawyer’s initial generosity, but she also gets to witness firsthand a kind-heartedness and goodwill in Chicagoland residents. “In a lot of ways we’ve been really fortunate to have received such immediate and generous support: when people hear the numbers and find out about the lack of services available, they want to help. I always say, it’s an obvious problem with an obvious solution. Once people see the problem, they’re—more often than not—willing to help with the solution.”
Call to Action
Rise from the Ashes is always looking for volunteers to help the organization. More specifically, they are looking for women who can commit their time to acting as court companions for RFTA clients. They also need people who can help plan and put together fundraising events, as well as experienced accountants or bookkeepers who can help out with the clerical side of the organization. If you’re interested in performing any of these duties, just reach out! Email firstname.lastname@example.org and someone from the organization will be sure to respond—just be sure to indicate what kind of role you can envision yourself playing in the organization, as it can be difficult for organization members to assign and coordinate ambiguous volunteer requests.
Or, if you’re short on time but still want to help out, visit the official RFTA website—rfta.co—and donate directly. All donations go directly to client services and assistance, and even modest gifts are greatly appreciated.
Thanks to Kirbi Range and Deanna Hallagan from Project Hope, we get to spread some awareness on what it means to be a pregnant teen and how Project Hope has been working to empower these mothers for over 30 years.
Before starting Project Hope, after the 60’s riots, Kay Hallagan began volunteering with Marillac and started a bus service called Mothers to Mothers. This was necessary since the food deserts and lack of transportation were barriers for the mothers to have access to a healthy selection of foods, which is something we still see in present day Chicago. After running this service, Kay was encouraged to go back to school and receive a Masters degree in social work at the Jane Adams School of Social Work at UIC. Since then she was offered a position as the head of the family services. As a mother of 12 she could easily empathize with the mothers in need, in turn she started Project Hope.
From the Food Chain Workers Alliance, Co-Director, Jose Oliva, shared his experience, thoughts, and goals for the food system. Follow along to learn more about what’s happening and what you can do to help.
Hate is not a new or isolated issue. On July 2, 1999 Ricky Byrdsong, husband and father of three, was murdered by a white supremacist. As the former Men’s Basketball Coach at Northwestern University, his love for sports translated into his work of helping young people in the community reach their full potential.
In a study conducted by Williams Institute, shocking statistics appeared. About forty percent of the Chicago LGBT youth community were homeless. For many of these young teens, running away from home deemed to be the only option. Many would also be sexually, emotionally, and physically abused for coming out to their friends and family. It becomes systemic oppression at its finest and the tipping point for these youth. The streets become safer than their own homes.