I so often find that one door closes and another opens. And what's behind door 2 or 3 is better than the original. In this case, President Obama named Governor Bill Richardson, a leading Hispanic, as his commerce secretary. Events unfolded and Governor Richardson resigned the appointment. Next, President Obama named Judd Gregg, a Senator from New Hampshire and he decided not to proceed with the appointment. Now President Obama has named Gary Locke. Here's his background:

Locke, a democrat, is currently working for the Seattle-based law firm Davis Wright Tremaine on issues involving China, energy and governmental relations. He was the former governor of the state of Washington, serving two terms from 1997 to 2005. Locke was the first Chinese-American to serve as governor in the United States.

Imagine, a Commerce Secretary who has enormous experience dealing with China and who is a Chinese-American who speaks Taishanese Cantonese (Chinese) (OK, Mandarin would be better!).

Although Governor Richardson is a great public servant, I don't think that having a Hispanic Secretary of Commerce makes near the statement of having a Chinese Secretary of Commerce. Where does our future lie in terms of trade - Asia, especially China. What is our top concern - energy.

This is a brilliant pick...better late than never!

Gillian Parrillo
SacWomen.com

Posted by Gillian Parrillo at 9:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

June Harltey assisted her brother to die after he repeatedly begged each and every family member. She has now been charged with assisted suicide. You can read the details of this heartbreaking story in this Sacramento Bee article. It brings to my mind the words heartbreaking, courageous, love, compassion and most certainly not criminal. However, others have different ideas:

The sister made a grave mistake," said Randy Thomasson, president of SaveCalifornia.com, which opposes all forms of assisted suicide. "This lady cannot get off scot-free for killing her brother. Charges must be pressed.

"It needs to be said loud and clear that suicide is never the answer, and helping someone who is depressed to commit suicide is a crime. What the depressed person needs is counseling, not death." Italics added by me.

Counseling? And by the way even if it was relevant, would you, Mr Thomasson be ready to foot the bill for that counseling for June's brother and for every other like him? I would bet not!

Can anyone be more heartless than Mr. Thomasson today?

Gillian Parrillo
SacWomen

Posted by Gillian Parrillo at 6:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Just in from "The Phnom Penh Post", Monday February 16 2009:

Page 6 (national news) - "Man Robbed By Street Prostitute"

A 44-year old moto-taxi driver had his bike stolen by street prostitutes on Saturday while he was touching the girls in a Phnom Penh park. The man realized that his bike was stolen and escorted one of the prostitutes to police for questioning. The 21-year old girl admitted she'd passed the bike's key to her friend to steal while the man was busy touching her body.

Gillian Parrillo
SacWomen.com

Posted by Gillian Parrillo at 6:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

DEar oprah i wrote this poem novenber 4th 2008 for the 44th president of the united states of america.like millions of people around the globe i was captivated.caught up in the magic of the molment on that historic day. euphoria spread through my viens in the form of silent joyous tears.with sweaty palms my body ached with an overwhelming pasion unexplainable to some.yet no doubt familar to so many. then magicly as if subconsously i knew this molment would come.i began to write to the president elect.my friend barry whom by the way i have never met before. see i am an inmate in a california state prison.i am a recovering drug addict whos made some poor choices.yet i now have hope. ironicly i am a bi racial man.my father african american my mother caucasian.I can relate. a while back a dear friend sent me both of baraks books.instantly i was born again so to speak. religously i followed the campagne mezmerized by his elligance.warmth.compasion.drive and charizma.

Yet it was his sincerity that peirced my soul. not long after.that same friend of mine gillian parillo became a deligate for the state of texas.she was living her dream.i was dreaming again. together through corrispondance it was if i were right there.registering new voters.meeting interesting people of all walks of life.hearing the voices of change and hope. all of a sudden i was waching the world news.nightline and shows like charlie rose.i wached every debate.he won them all.we won them all.yes we can. i enrolled in a college corrispondance course.have written a few childrens books and have been trying to start my own drug rehab.program. as the days passed i would eagerly anticipate letters and pictures from my friend like a child awaiting xmas.she was in denver at the convention and a hundrad yards from the podium at the inauguration.i was there also.in spirit.

See even behind these dreary cement walls and never ending bobed wire fences hope and change would brighten my days and inspire me like nothing has ever. even in prison i am a proud american.i can and will and have changed.hope is a reality.dreams can come true...yes we can. oprah i am hoping you can pass this poem on to the president.i want him to know what an impact hes made on my life.this poem is genuan and from my heart.it of course is entitled...yes we can.thank you so very much.enjoy.

YES WE CAN BY Michael Smith Thank you, Mr. President. President Obama, we thank you. You’ve given us hope and promised change, and we know that’s what you’ll do.

Thank you for proving that anyone could be whatever they wanted to be.
With hard work and determination, dreams become reality.

Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for all you’ve done.
Thank you for reaching out your hand to each and everyone.

Thank you for your sincerity, your inspiration and your style.
In desperate times you eased our minds and gave us reason to smile.

Thank you for diminishing stereotypes and opening up our eyes.
Thank you for understanding and listening to our cries.

Thank you for having a vision. Thank you for having a goal.
Thank you for waking us up as people, and reigniting our souls.

Thank you for your commitment. Thank you for your cause.
Thank you for your drive and compassion, and we know it’s because…

You believe in a great nation. You believe in mankind.
You believe that hate and racism will soon be left behind.

You believe in education, family values and health care.
You believe that we’re all equal and should be treated just and fair.

You believe in civil rights and have made so many proud.
Like JFK and Martin, your voice rings true and loud.

You’ll regulate and deregulate. You’ll delegate and not discriminate.
You’ll cross party lines and open up closed minds, and unite in our fight for freedom.

And somehow you’ll fix the economy,
bring troops back to their families, create new jobs and energy and orchestrate world harmony.

Thank you, Mr. President because we know that’s what you’ll do.
You’re our leader and our savior and we believe in you.

Thank you, President Obama, sincerely your biggest fan.
God Bless America, God Bless you, and I say….YES WE CAN.

I publish the note as I received it, spelling mistakes and all. I am awed at how Mike embraced Barack's campaign and made it his passion. And the passion continues as he continues to motivate himself to self-improvement. Keep it up, Mike...I know you will!

Gillian Parrillo
SacWomen.com

Posted by Gillian Parrillo at 10:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

A piece from my new favorite website, PulseWire, hosted by World Pulse, the organization that brings together women's voices from around the world. I was just with Worldpulse in Cambodia talking to powerful women leaders - more on that later. It is entitled Widow and is written by Ooluss Louisa Ibhaze. She lives in Lagos. She is working to have an anthology of her work published.

My husband died in his sleep but my in laws said I killed him. How could I have killed my husband? After all, my uncle had married me off to such an old man because he could not repay the debt he owed. I had only set eyes on him a few days to the wedding and only known when my aunt had pointed him out, “That is your husband.”

On the wedding day, I had wept. I didn’t understand what was happening as I had only just had my first period and my aunt had not educated me on the intricacies of womanhood, I was but a child. Before I was escorted to his hut , my aunt and the other women had said to me , “Do as your husband says and be a good daughter to your mother in law.” Left alone in his hut, it finally dawned on me that my new role and duty as a wife had begun.

Old enough to be my grandfather, he was kind and treated me well , I took good care of him. Pregnancy came with agony and my young body struggled. I was a child carrying another child and it didn’t help that the women advised me to be strong. It seemed like forever and somehow I miscarried and bled and bled. I wasn’t angry at him for making me pregnant , instead I felt I had failed him as a wife. So how could I have killed this kind old man? Didn’t his family know that at his age he was prone to having a heart attack? I had never been bold enough to ask him why he had not married earlier in his life. I was just a wife.

Five years after the miscarriage and I had still not conceived, his family said I was witch and a man. That it was part of the reason I had killed their son and brother. Come to think of it, a hut and a piece of land was too small a reason for me to take a life.

They had shaved my beautiful hair with a new blade as a sign of respect for the dead. His corpse had also been washed and the water given to me to drink to prove my innocence. After which they isolated me in a hut far from the others, where I sat shivering at night from the fear of the thought that my male in laws might prey on my young body to satisfy their lust as had happened to some other young widows. Every night before I went back to that hut, I had to do the forbidden which was to carry firewood from my hut to the forest instead of the other way round..

What more did they want from me? Hadn’t I wailed louder than other women and attempted to jump into the grave to show how bereaved I was ,as was expected? Hadn’t I endured the humiliation of having a herbalist throw his cowries on the sand and leave without a word to prove my innocence?

My body itched from days without bathing and my mourning clothes stank, I was hungry too. Tomorrow I would be inherited by my husband’s brother, who already had two older wives. They would mock my barrenness and my new husband might beat me because of their lies.

Carefully I slipped out of the hut and stealing my dead husband’s bicycle, I begin to ride fast into the night, towards the light in my head. Leaving the past behind. I was free…

I think it's a beautiful piece!

Gillian Parrillo
SacWomen.com

Posted by Gillian Parrillo at 2:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)