In 1975 the CIA and probably the military began spying on me after going to the Soviet Union with my husband, a couple of priests and five high school students as a school project. I paid my own way in case anyone inquires – by selling our bedroom set we bought after we were married in 1971.
So, since 1975 when I returned from the Soviet Union I was spied on by my own government, later by the Jews in Cleveland Heights, Ohio and later by just about every country and every major minority that had an espionage presence in the USA, or at least a network of operatives – often done in ways a lot more intrusive than computer espionage.
CIA, FBI, KGB/FSB, NSA, MOSSAD, MI6, NAACP, ANTI-DEFAMATION LEAGUE and others all took their turns with me – over decades now. And it continues in 2020. So, I have personal experience with oppression and all that entails.
Sometimes I felt like access to me was being sold – a certain amount of time for a price.
Despite the life I was forced to live, essentially imprisoned by those who thought it their legal and God-given right to spy on me in my own living spaces, and later, alter events in my life at their whim, and to claim ownership of my intellectual material, thus me, I continued to write.
It was made clear from the beginning that no one would ever publish me and that I would never earn income – they would never allow it. When I lost my home and was forced into a slum, after losing a personal injury law suit, in which they intervened, I was vividly told that I was where I belonged.
I learned all about consequences.
I never knew what it was like to have enemies, until the USA government, and all those to whom they gave access, entered my life and made sheer chaos of it.
And here I am at 71 years old living in public housing in Cleveland, Ohio, where nothing has changed. Ten years ago we rented an apartment in a senior apartment building. Just a few months ago it was converted it to public housing. I’m expecting the government to get a lot more intrusive and manipulative.
It’s a whole lot easier in government-controlled buildings for governments to operate freely and with impunity.
I stopped writing on the computer for about two years back in Waterloo, but it didn’t change anything. Once they’re in, they’re in and they keep performing the same procedures, practices, psychological, disruptive, terrorizing torture tactics. To what end? I never did find out. Mind you, this was in the day of word processing, not websites and social media.
Maybe they didn’t like my recipe development, maybe they didn’t like my views in the numerous books I was writing, maybe they didn’t like the practice writing brain storming problem solving venting type writing I often used to warm up my creative and analytical engines. I don’t think they even know. But it did a lot of harm to me, my family, my life. For no good reason – all that.
Once during those two years absent from the computer, I went back onto it and saw a yellow banner running across the top of the screen that read ‘secured by DOD’ with a bunch of numbers letters symbols. I eventually sent that MacIntosh computer to the city dump. But that didn’t deter them either.
When I bought a new computer, an apple laptop this time, it wasn’t long before I started having computer troubles and noticed that the DOD had a keychain access. Several.
Twenty-six years just in Cleveland, and that doesn’t include all the time before Cleveland, when I didn’t have a computer. Why spy then? Why spy at all? Why let me know they’re spying?
I know what terror is. I’ve been in it for decades.
When I was in ninth grade deciding which high school to go to my mother told me that our neighbor Mrs. Pilon told her not to let me go to Classical High School, because that’s where all the Jews go. “They’ll eat her alive”, Mrs. Pilon said.
I know what that means now. I didn’t go to Classical. But I ended up, unbeknownst to me, buying a house in the middle of an African and Hasidic Jewish neighborhood. I had no idea what I was in for. Looking back, Mrs. Pilon was right, I wasn’t equipped. Because of it, I suffered, and continue to suffer. I refuse to become like them. I stood my ground all these years, continuing to cook paint and write. And for all these years, at every juncture, they destroyed it or stole it.
‘It’s not your turn yet. It’s not your turn yet. You’re only one voice in a multitude. Don’t be so selfish. There are lots of people better than you at what you do. You weren’t groomed for success.’