When you walk into your neighborhood public library, you expect the librarian to help you find your next favorite book or some accurate information on a topic at interest. You don't probably expect the librarian to come running out from behind the reference desk with Narcan, ready to revive someone overdosing on heroin or fentanyl. But this is happening at some libraries.
Cando entras na biblioteca pública do teu barrio, esperas que o bibliotecario che axude a atopar o teu próximo libro favorito ou algunha información específica sobre un tema que che interesa. O que probablemente non esperes do bibliotecario é que saia correndo do mostrador con Narcan, preparado para salvar a alguén dunha sobredose de heroína ou fentanil. Pero isto está pasando nalgunhas bibliotecas.
Public libraries have always been about community support with all kinds of services and programs from assisting with job seeking efforts to locating resources for voter rights to providing free meals to kids and teens even. But what we think of as community support takes on new urgency when you're in the middle of an opioid and overdose crisis.
As bibliotecas públicas serviron sempre de apoio á comunidade con todo tipo de servizos e programas, dende axudando a buscar emprego ata provendo de recursos para os dereitos dos votantes e mesmo ofrecendo comida de balde a cativos e adolescentes. Pero o que entendemos por apoio á comunidade adquire unha nova urxencia cando estás no medio dunha crise de opioides e de sobredoses.
I work at the McPherson Square Library of the Free Library of Philadelphia. It's located in Kensington, one of the lowest income communities in Philadelphia, with a long history of being isolated from resources and opportunity. And because of that, it has been the center to the city's drug trade and drug use for decades. And so inside the neighborhood, our library is nestled inside of a park, which has unfortunately garnered a reputation for being a place to find and use drugs, especially heroin, out in the open, putting us and the community in direct contact with the drug trade and use on a daily basis.
Traballo na Biblioteca da Praza McPherson da Biblioteca Pública de Filadelfia. Está situada en Kensington, unha das poboacións con menos ingresos de Filadelfia, cunha longa historia de privación de recursos e oportunidades. E por iso, durante décadas foi o centro de tráfico e consumo de drogas da cidade. No interior do barrio, a nosa biblioteca está situada dentro dun parque que lamentablemente colleu a fama de ser un lugar onde atopar e consumir estupefacientes, especialmente heroína, ao aire libre, poñéndonos a nós e á poboación en contacto directo co tráfico e consumo diario de drogas.
And so inside the library, it is routine to see people visibly intoxicated on opioids: eyes closing, body swaying slowly. It is routine for me to ask them if they are OK, but at the same time remind them if they can't keep their eyes open, they have to go. It is routine for our volunteer, Teddy, to pick up dozens of discarded needles on our property and throughout the park. And it is normal for kids to come into the library to tell me or our guard, Sterling, that someone is outside using, which typically means finding someone injecting on our front steps, benches or near the building, then asking them to move along because kids see them. And it is normal for the community to see people in various states of intoxication and withdrawal, to see people buying and selling, and to see people act and react violently.
E no interior da biblioteca, é moi común atopar xente visiblemente intoxicada por opioides: ollos pechados, movementos lentos e inestables... É común para min preguntarlles se están ben e ao mesmo tempo lembrarlles que se non poden manter os ollos abertos, teñen que marchar. É común que Teddy, o noso voluntario, recolla decenas de xiringas desbotadas pola propiedade e por todo o parque. E é normal que os rapaces entren á biblioteca para dicirme a min ou ao noso garda Sterling que alguén está fóra consumindo, o que polo xeral significa atopar a alguén inxectándose nas escaleiras da entrada, nos bancos, ou preto do edificio. Entón pedímoslles que se vaian porque os rapaces estanos vendo. E é normal que a comunidade vexa xente en varios estados de intoxicación e de abstinencia, vexa xente mercando ou vendendo, e que vexa xente actuar e reaccionar dunha forma violenta.
I'm not sharing this to sensationalize Kensington. I'm sharing this because this is the reality of a community that is constantly striving to move forward, but due to factors like structural racism, urban segregation, the cyclical nature of poverty, of trauma -- the community has inequitable access to education, health care, employment and more. And this is also what it's like when the drug trade and use affects every aspect of life in the neighborhood. And the opioid epidemic has only amplified that stress.
Non estou contando isto para facer sensacionalismo con Kensington. Fágoo porque esta é a realidade dunha comunidade que loita todo o tempo por saír adiante, pero debido a factores como o racismo estrutural, a segregación urbana, a natureza cíclica da pobreza, do trauma... a comunidade ten acceso desigual á educación, atención médica, emprego e moito máis. E isto é o que acontece cando o tráfico e consumo de drogas afecta a cada aspecto da vida no barrio. E a epidemia de opioides non fixo máis que amplificar ese estrés.
When I was hired by the Free Library in 2013, I specifically chose to work at McPherson because I understand what it's like to grow up in an environment where substance use disorder shapes the everyday, and I wanted to use those personal experiences as a guide for my work. But before I get to that, I want to share what it was like to witness this epidemic grow in Kensington.
Cando me contrataron para a Biblioteca Pública en 2013, escollín traballar especificamente en McPherson porque sei o que é medrar nun ambiente onde o trastorno por consumo de estupefacientes moldea o día a día, e quería utilizar esas experiencias persoais como guía para o meu traballo. Pero antes de chegar a iso, quero compartir como foi ser testemuña do crecemento desta epidemia en Kensington.
Like many other communities, we were just not prepared. We began to take notice of IDs we were seeing: addresses from nearby and upstate counties and then slowly out-of-state ones. People from Arkansas, Ohio, South Carolina, Alabama coming to Philadelphia for cheap heroin. People began to linger longer and longer in our public restroom, causing us to pay more attention to the restroom than to our daily responsibilities because it was an accessible place to use drugs just purchased. One day our toilet clogged so badly in the restroom, we were forced to close our library for two days because the culprit of the clog was discarded needles. For a while prior to that incident, we had been asking for a sharps container for the restroom, and after that, the library administration quickly approved installing one along with hiring bathroom monitors. And as the weather warmed, we struggled to respond. People began camping out in the park for days, weeks. You could walk outside on a sunny, warm day to find multiple groups of people in various states of intoxication and children playing in between them. The amount of needles collected by Teddy on a monthly basis skyrocketed from 100 to 300 to 500 to 800, to over 1,000, with many found on our front steps and the playground.
Como moitas outras comunidades, simplemente non estabamos preparados. Puxémonos a tomar nota das identificacións que viamos: enderezos próximos e do norte do condado e despois, aos poucos, os de fóra do estado. Xente de Arkansas, Ohio, Carolina do Sur, Alabama vindo a Filadelfia por heroína barata. A xente comezou a demorarse cada vez máis e máis tempo no noso baño público, facendo que prestaramos máis atención ao baño que ás nosas responsabilidades cotiás porque era un lugar accesible para consumir drogas acabadas de mercar. Un día o inodoro do noso baño atascouse de tal xeito, que nos vimos forzados a pechar a biblioteca durante dous días, xa que as culpables da obstrución foran as xiringas desbotadas. Un tempo antes do incidente estiveramos insistindo en pór recipientes para obxectos cortantes no baño, e despois diso, a administración da biblioteca rapidamente aprobou instalar un e contratou vixiantes para o baño. A medida que o tempo se puña cálido, loitabamos por responder. A xente comezou a acampar no parque durante días, semanas... Podías camiñar fóra nun día cálido de sol e atopar unha multitude en varios estados de intoxicación e rapaces xogando entre eles. A cantidade de xiringas que Teddy recollía por mes saltou de 100 a 300, a 500, a 800, ata máis de 1.000. Moitas delas atopadas nas escaleiras da entrada e no parque infantil.
Then there were the overdoses. So many occurred outside in the park, some inside the library. Sterling, our guard, would spend his time walking in and out of the building and throughout the park, constantly making sure everyone was safe, because at times, our fear of having someone overdose and die came close. One overdose in particular occurred after school, so the library was full of kids, noise and commotion. And in all of that, we heard the thud from inside the public restroom. When we opened the door, we found a man on the floor, unresponsive. He was pulled out in plain sight of everyone -- kids, teens, adults, families. Someone on staff called 911, someone else escorted the kids and teens downstairs, somebody went to flag down the ambulance in the park. And the rest of us -- we just waited. This had become our overdose drill because at the time, it was all we could do. So we waited and we watched this man lose air -- seize up. He was dying. I don't know how many of you have witnessed an overdose on opioids, but it's horrific because you know the gasping for air, the loss of color in someone's face, is a timer running down on the chances of this person surviving. But luckily for this man, the ambulance arrived and he received a dose of naloxone through injection. And I remember he jolted like he was electrocuted, and he pulled the needle out, and he told the paramedics to back off. And then he stood up, and he walked out. And we -- we went back to work because people were still asking for time on the computers, kids still needed help with their homework and this was our job -- our purpose.
Despois estaban as sobredoses. Moitas ocorrían fóra no parque, outras... dentro da biblioteca. O noso garda Sterling pasaba o tempo entrando e saíndo do edificio e por todo o parque, asegurándose en todo momento de que todo o mundo estivera ben. Porque por veces, o noso temor a que alguén morrera de sobredose era real. Unha sobredose en concreto ocorreu despois da escola, polo que a biblioteca estaba ateigada de rapaces, ruído e barullo. E no medio de todo iso, escoitamos un golpe seco que proviña do baño público. Cando abrimos a porta, atopamos un home no chan, inconsciente. Sacárono diante da vista de todos: nenos, adolescentes, adultos, familias... Un empregado chamou ao 911, outro levou aos nenos e adolescentes ao piso inferior, alguén foi avisar á ambulancia no parque. E o resto de nós... tan só agardamos. Convertérase no noso adestramento en sobredose porque nese momento, era todo o que podíamos facer. Así que esperamos e vimos a este home perder aire, paralizarse... Estaba morrendo... Non sei cantos de vós presenciastes unha sobredose de opioides, pero é arrepiante porque sabes que a dificultade respiratoria, a perda de cor na cara, é unha conta atrás nas posibilidades desta persoa para sobrevivir. Pero por sorte para este home, a ambulancia chegou e inxectáronlle unha dose de naloxona. E lembro que se sacudiu como se se electrocutara, sacou a xiringa, e díxolles aos paramédicos que o deixaran en paz. E despois ergueuse e marchou. E nós... nós volvemos ao traballo porque a xente seguía pedindo utilizar os ordenadores, os cativos aínda necesitaban axuda cos deberes e este era o noso traballo, a nosa función.
I think that incident stays with me because of the waiting. It made me feel helpless. And it was that feeling of helplessness that reminded me so well of my childhood. Before I was born, both of my parents began using heroin. It made our lives chaotic and unstable: promises being made and constantly broken, their fighting, the weight of their secret -- the weight of our secret kept so much so-called "normal" out of our lives. Every time we'd be dropped off at our grandparent's house, I'd be stuck on the thought that I was never going to see them again. Every time we'd be left in a car, at a house, at a store, I'd cry. And every time I saw those El tracks -- the same ones I take to work now to McPherson -- from the backseat of a car, I'd be angry, because even kids know when their parents are trying to score drugs. There was so little I could do to control what was going on around me, that that feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. I struggled in school, struggled to read, I was prone to anger and depression. When I was 11 years old, I started smoking, which shortly after led to my own experiences with drugs and alcohol. I convinced myself that my parents' past would be my future. But eventually both of my parents entered recovery and maintained recovery from opioid use. And their strength and their commitment provided support and stability for me and my siblings, and it was those personal experiences that brought me to McPherson.
Penso que teño o incidente na cabeza por causa desa espera. Fíxome sentir impotente. E foi ese sentimento de impotencia o que me lembrou moi ben a miña infancia. Antes de que nacera, meus pais xa consumían heroína. Iso fixo as nosas vidas caóticas e inestables: promesas que se acababan rompendo, liortas, o peso do seu segredo, o peso do noso segredo mantivo fóra das nosas vidas a chamada "normalidade". Cada vez que nos deixaban na casa dos avós quedaba atrapada no pensamento de que nunca os volvería ver. Cada vez que nos deixaban nun coche, nunha casa, nunha tenda... choraba. E cada vez que vía esas vías de tren, as mesmas que collo agora para ir traballar a McPherson, dende a parte de atrás dun coche, anoxábame, porque ata os nenos saben cando os seus pais intentan mercar droga. Podía facer tan pouco para controlar o que acontecía ao meu redor, que esa sensación de impotencia era insoportable. Esforzábame na escola, esforzábame para ler... Tiña tendencia á ira e á depresión. Cando tiña 11 anos comecei a fumar, o que pouco despois me levou a experimentar co alcohol e as drogas. Convencinme a min mesma de que o pasado dos meus pais sería o meu futuro. Pero co tempo meus pais recuperáronse e seguiron recuperándose do consumo de opioides. A súa forza e compromiso déronnos apoio e estabilidade aos meus irmáns e a min, e foron esas experiencias persoais as que me levaron a McPherson.
Choosing to be a librarian and choosing to be at McPherson was me letting go of that feeling of helplessness and finding ways to be supportive to others. And one way to provide support was learning how to administer Narcan. Public libraries respond to the needs of their communities, and not knowing how to utilize Narcan was a disservice to the needs of our community. We were on the frontlines and desperately needed access to this lifesaving tool. So finally in late February of 2017, after much advocating, we finally received training from Prevention Point Philadelphia and about a month of so later, I utilized Narcan for the first time to save someone's life. It was after school again, and Teddy came into the library and said someone was overdosing on a front bench. Someone on staff called 911 again, and I grabbed the Narcan kit. The woman was barely in her 20s and barely breathing. Her friend was frantically slapping her in the face in hopes of reviving her. I administered the Narcan nasally, and thankfully she came to. But before the ambulance arrived, she and her friend ran off. And when I finally turned around, I saw the kids -- kids that come into the library on a daily basis, some that I have known for years -- standing on the steps of the building. They saw everything. And they didn't seem like they were visibly upset or in shock, and so I walked into the building, right into our workroom, and I cried. I cried partly from the shock of what just happened because I never thought I'd be saving anybody's life ever, but I mostly cried because of the kids. This is their normal. This is the community's normal. This is a catastrophic normal, and in that moment, I was forced to confront once again that this should never be normal, and as with my childhood, when you're in it, you just accept it.
Escoller ser bibliotecaria, e escoller selo en McPherson era eu mesma liberándome desa sensación de impotencia e atopando maneiras de ser un apoio para outros. E unha forma de axudar era aprender a administrar Narcan. As bibliotecas públicas responden ás necesidades das súas comunidades, e non saber como utilizar o Narcan implicaba un mal servizo para as necesidades da nosa comunidade. Estabamos na fronte de batalla e necesitabamos desesperadamente acceder a esta ferramenta salvavidas. Finalmente, a finais de febreiro de 2017, logo de moito insistir, recibimos un adestramento do "Punto de Prevención de Filadelfia" e contra un mes despois, utilicei Narcan por primeira vez para salvar a vida dunha persoa. Foi despois de clase outra vez e Teddy entrou na biblioteca dicindo que alguén tiña sobredose nun banco dos de diante. Un empregado chamou ao 911 de novo e eu collín o kit do Narcan. A muller tería uns escasos 20 anos e apenas respiraba. O seu amigo losqueáballe freneticamente a cara con esperanzas de revivila. Administreille Narcan por vía nasal, e por fortuna volveu en si. Pero antes de que chegase a ambulancia ela e o seu amigo xa fuxiran. E cando me xirei... Vin aos nenos... Rapaces que veñen á biblioteca todos os días, algúns que coñecía dende hai anos... Parados nas escaleiras do edificio. Viran todo. E non parecía que estivesen moi afectados ou conmocionados, polo que entrei no edificio, cara á sala de traballo... e chorei. Chorei en parte pola conmoción do que acontecera, porque nunca pensei que salvaría a vida de ninguén... pero chorei sobre todo polos cativos. É o normal para eles... É o normal para a comunidade... É o catastroficamente normal, e nese momento, vinme forzada a enfrontar unha vez máis que isto nunca debería ser o normal. Como aconteceu na miña infancia, cando te ves envolta niso, tan só acéptalo.
The opioid epidemic is not just about those living with opioid use disorder because the reach of the epidemic goes well beyond those living with this and their families. It impacts the entire community. Kensington was a community in crisis before this for reasons that are endemic and intertwined, and anyone familiar with the neighborhood can think of why: racial disparities, failure of local and federal government to properly fund schools, lack of economic opportunity. And what we're trying to do at McPherson is find ways to support this community out of crisis. And perhaps now, because of the epidemic, more people are paying attention to Kensington. But regardless of that, at McPherson, we will continue to do what we can with the resources we have and we will continue to provide whatever help we can in hopes of keeping our community safe and healthy because public libraries have always been more than just books. We are physical shelter, a classroom, a safe haven, a lunch room, a resource hub and yes, even a lifeline.
A epidemia de opioides non afecta tan só a quen padece de trastornos polo consumo, porque o alcance da epidemia transcende a quen vive con eles e ás familias. Afecta a toda a comunidade. Kensington era unha comunidade en crise antes disto por razóns endémicas e entrelazadas, e calquera que coñeza ben o barrio sabe por que: diferenzas raciais, o fracaso dos gobernos federal e local ao investir de forma correcta nas escolas, falta de recursos económicos... E o que estamos tentando facer en McPherson é atopar formas de sacar esta comunidade da crise. E pode que agora, pola epidemia, a xente preste máis atención a Kensington. Pero independentemente diso, en McPherson, seguiremos facendo o que poidamos cos recursos que temos e seguiremos brindando a axuda que faga falla coa esperanza de manter a nosa comunidade sa e segura, porque as bibliotecas públicas sempre foron máis que libros. Somos un albergue, unha aula, un refuxio seguro, un comedor, un centro de recursos, e si, tamén un salvavidas.
Thank you.
Grazas.
(Applause)
(Aplausos)