I’ve been a Texan since 1973, when my parents moved the family here to escape Illinois winters. My mother grew up on a dairy farm in Michigan, and my father in the mountains in northern California. Together, they provided me with a wonderful childhood and continuing moral support today.
While I enjoyed a nice childhood, my parents valued hard work. My first job was at a dry cleaners. I preferred working in the back, away from customers, and during that time, I sweat alongside the working poor. I remember taking lunch breaks together and realizing how disproportionately good I had it. Their meals sometimes consisted of nothing more than a can of corn. It was a stark contrast to my life that, thanks to my father’s career with American Airlines, included first class seats to Paris. I’d also witnessed abject poverty in the Caribbean. I knew I had it easy, and I’d done nothing to earn it.
I’ve spent the last 26 years in nonprofit, specifically mental health and crime victim advocacy. Lots of people think my work would place me in the left edge of the political spectrum, but that’s not the case. I’ve witnessed how assistance programs kept people on assistance. I’ve watched victims of domestic violence enter poverty because they couldn’t free themselves from government programs designed to keep them dependent. I’ve felt helpless and frustrated over the expense, time, and energy required of immigrants who come here legally. In nonprofit, I’ve also shaken my head (and fists) at the inefficiency of the government. One of the reasons we couldn’t serve people on Medicaid, for instance, was because we didn’t have the budget to hire someone to keep up with the perpetually changing standards and regulations. As a victim advocate, something that incited my outrage was (and still is) the refusal to hold accountable criminals who violate gun laws. Violations of weapons charges were often the first to be dismissed. U.S. Attorneys encouraged advocates to report gun law violations to help protect victims of domestic violence, yet they didn’t pay attention, much less prosecute offenders.
I suppose my work in nonprofit has pushed me slightly right of a moderate. I’m stuck somewhere between Libertarians and Conservatives. I’m also a strong supporter of Texas Independence, and my website will spend time on that.
Regarding Texit, I took my sweet time embracing that idea. At first I assumed the movement consisted entirely of angry rednecks, open carry zealots, and/or xenophobes. My next response was to hold on to the belief that we should put our efforts into fixing the federal system. Now, I’ve come to the conclusion that our efforts are better placed in reinstating our independence. I value social services, and I can imagine how much better they’d be if Texans handled them on our own. After all, we would add a minimum of $110 Billion to our already solid annual budget.
In addition to running a nonprofit and supporting Texas Independence, I also write fiction influenced by my twenty-four years in victim advocacy and inspired by those fighting the good fight– the level-headed victim advocates working miracles behind the scenes, the honorable cops (like that big Texan I’m seated next to in the photo), and the prosecutors and their investigators who care more about justice than conviction rates. I change names to protect the good guys. I change the names of the bad guys, too, but for entirely different reasons. You can keep up with my writing by visiting DeborahDobbs.com
D.W. Dobbs 