I. Bush Doctrine
I’m on a mission. Firm in my resolve to find a living situation that I can endure. After last night, I realize that a mash-up Bush Doctrine/Marshall Plan may have to be implemented in my search. For, I was bombarded all night long by Kamikaze-Suicide-Bomber mosquitoes. I’m sure they have weapons of mass destruction somewhere, ready to be unleashed. They do not respond to my diplomatic entreaties. They are, quite simply, hellbent on vamping every last ounce of blood out of me.
Get ready, Beirut, you’re either with me or against me!
II. Desert Storm
A vast desert stretches out as far as the eye can see. Pristine, beautiful. On the horizon, oil derricks, plunging and pulling in their timeless manner. This oil is the envy of the world. It’s guardian must take precautions and be careful not to upset those who covet this treasure, lest they make war.
Oh, there will be war.
From down below, if you have a keen eye, you just may catch a glimpse of an enemy drone, probing from high above, looking for the perfect place to strike. Just when you think you see it, it’s gone, like magic! And while you were looking, another one or two stealthy enemy fighters have dive-bombed some other not to distant region. They have spiked the surface, plunged in and are extracting the oil, this lifeblood. And a swarm is coming. They can be heard, but not seen.
The *armed* forces are overwhelmed. They are ill equipped to handle such a concerted onslaught. It looks like guerilla warfare will be the most effective way to fight. They may not be able to kill all of the invaders, or even force them out, but they can draw the enemies in, one at a time, little by little, give them a small taste, then…THWAK!
Yes, there will be blood.
And when you realize that the blood of the invader has come from the invaded, there’s only one option. Get up, get out, move something. This war must be stopped!
November 10, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Monday, November 09, 2009
Beirut Journal: Day #3--One Day, One Struggle
I have spent the better part of my morning at Café Younes, just off Hamra Street. It’s a lively establishment, where many internationals and counter culturists congregate. They play some pretty bad American music—I heard Bon Jovi, Sting, even Cutting Crew—but brew some stellar coffee. There’s a poster on the wall entitled “One Day, One Struggle,” which immediately draws me in. Apparently today is day of action launching “An International Campaign for Sexual and Reproductive Rights.” The Women’s Rights Club, together with the Health Sciences Expertise Club of the American University in Beirut is hosting a panel discussion. I haven’t been to one of those in quite awhile, for good reason—I can’t stomach the hostile takeover of the discussion by sectarians during the Q & A! Before I open my Lonely Planet to find something else to do, I notice a “Tweet” from @allaboutrace advertising this same campaign. Well, then, I know I have to go!
*
I arrive at the campus early, which is easy to do in the Middle East. Nothing starts on time. When I walk in to the West Hall on campus, there are about 20 people there, nearly all women, speaking a mix of Arabic and English. It feels good to hear English, I have to admit. Even though I am not a part of their conversations, I can still participate, however passively. I realize just how auditory I am. I really love to hear people speaking, to get a brief glimpse into their worlds. I’m not talking about evesdropping, or gossip; I find the word on the street very informative, and here I can’t engage it at all. It’s easy to feel mute. Muted. So, again, it’s comforting to hear familiar words, though I’m definitely curious as to what language this forum will take place in. I hope, for purely personal reasons, that it will be in English, but I don’t necessarily expect it to.
The crowd is reminiscent of my Berkeley days: shabby-headed dudes in baggy jeans, young women in ill-fitting tank tops, and piercings galore. I understand fully the irony of describing how people dress at the Women’s Rights Club. I lapse into the physical descriptions not to focus on young feminist fashion in Beirut, but to locate myself in a familiar setting. I only mean to say that these people look like college students! Plus, I am early, bored & have to write about something, right?
At any rate, I’ve always appreciated the strident vitality of college activists. The ardent belief in a particular cause, and the ability to transmit that belief with passion is very attractive to me. The University provides a sort of sanctuary for many young people to explore their own voices, to attempt to relate their experiences with a wider audience than they may have ever had, whether casually (like in a dorm) or formally. The University is not without its contradictions, to be sure, but it has nurtured many a fine young revolutionaries.
I am so thankful that I am here, at this university tonight, to hear what these young folks have to say.
*
As it turns out, the panel discussion was in English. A fact that was called into question by one young woman. “We are in Lebanon, why are we speaking in English?” I must say that she was right on, especially considering the fact that two of the panelists were not comfortable in this medium. Numerous times they struggled to search for words, and were even visibly upset at times. English was a strange choice, and it must have been considered, especially because most of the people there were at least bilingual. So it goes.
I found the panel to be moderately informative. The panelists attempted to cover sexual rights, sexual expression and gender identity in four different areas: global politics, personal pleasure, the Lebanese health care system and the Lebanese sectarian system. The latter two being the most clearly thought out and relevant to the audience.
"Scale Up"
Dr. Faisal Elhaq, a gynecologist, spoke quite eloquently of the effectiveness of what he called a “scale up” approach—another way of saying grassroots organizing. He said that they are making progress in Beirut by infusing “sexual rights into whatever service we provide.” He went on to explain that a certain religious leader (he did not say whom) made one phone call in 1997, which effectively quashed what was then a very good sex education curriculum. For the past 10 years he has been organizing his community of gynecologists , and has “been able to institute a new curriculum.” It’s his hope that this curriculum, combined with other direct health services like condom distribution, will help to reduce the number of sexual infections in Beirut and beyond. And he challenged everyone to put in work to directly address sexual rights and sexual health, in everything they do. He closed by asking, “Why fight against the wind? Scale up, and over time you can achieve results.”
“Our only aim is to protect our bodies”
Ms. Hibba, a writer and anthropologist, then spoke about how the Lebanese sectarian system serves as a tool of oppression against sexual minorities. To better grasp what follows, here’s a brief overview of this complex political system: There are 128 seats in parliament. Half are allocated to Christian politicians, half to Muslims. They get further subdivided based on what type of Christianity or Islam is practiced in a certain region, but the important thing to note is that the Lebanese system is a religious system that is essentially socially conservative.
Here, this conservatism is evidenced through Law 534 (a holdover from the French colonial period) which “criminalizes any relation that ‘goes against the laws of nature.” 534 is similar to the sodomy laws in the US, though they reach much further, and are enforced much more regularly. Furthermore, the “laws of nature” are mutable, and are continually being altered by the different religious parties.
“The Lebanese system gives religious groups political control, so the religious groups control our sexual rights.” she explained. And what’s more, Lebanon is in a seemingly constant state of war. And in times of war individual freedoms get rolled back, if not eliminated altogether. So, in a place like Lebanon, women and sexual minorities are under constant attack—they must deal with internal war, external invasions and internal sexual violence all the time. It never stops. The people who are affected first, last, and for the absolute worst, are women and sexual minorities.
By the end of the discussion three things were clear:
1) The oppression of women and sexual minorities is a global problem, with global ramifications,
2) The number one priority is to develop power for women and sexual minorities.,
3) Though global, Lebanon has a unique set of circumstances to contend with.
So, let’s get to work!
*
I arrive at the campus early, which is easy to do in the Middle East. Nothing starts on time. When I walk in to the West Hall on campus, there are about 20 people there, nearly all women, speaking a mix of Arabic and English. It feels good to hear English, I have to admit. Even though I am not a part of their conversations, I can still participate, however passively. I realize just how auditory I am. I really love to hear people speaking, to get a brief glimpse into their worlds. I’m not talking about evesdropping, or gossip; I find the word on the street very informative, and here I can’t engage it at all. It’s easy to feel mute. Muted. So, again, it’s comforting to hear familiar words, though I’m definitely curious as to what language this forum will take place in. I hope, for purely personal reasons, that it will be in English, but I don’t necessarily expect it to.
The crowd is reminiscent of my Berkeley days: shabby-headed dudes in baggy jeans, young women in ill-fitting tank tops, and piercings galore. I understand fully the irony of describing how people dress at the Women’s Rights Club. I lapse into the physical descriptions not to focus on young feminist fashion in Beirut, but to locate myself in a familiar setting. I only mean to say that these people look like college students! Plus, I am early, bored & have to write about something, right?
At any rate, I’ve always appreciated the strident vitality of college activists. The ardent belief in a particular cause, and the ability to transmit that belief with passion is very attractive to me. The University provides a sort of sanctuary for many young people to explore their own voices, to attempt to relate their experiences with a wider audience than they may have ever had, whether casually (like in a dorm) or formally. The University is not without its contradictions, to be sure, but it has nurtured many a fine young revolutionaries.
I am so thankful that I am here, at this university tonight, to hear what these young folks have to say.
*
As it turns out, the panel discussion was in English. A fact that was called into question by one young woman. “We are in Lebanon, why are we speaking in English?” I must say that she was right on, especially considering the fact that two of the panelists were not comfortable in this medium. Numerous times they struggled to search for words, and were even visibly upset at times. English was a strange choice, and it must have been considered, especially because most of the people there were at least bilingual. So it goes.
I found the panel to be moderately informative. The panelists attempted to cover sexual rights, sexual expression and gender identity in four different areas: global politics, personal pleasure, the Lebanese health care system and the Lebanese sectarian system. The latter two being the most clearly thought out and relevant to the audience.
"Scale Up"
Dr. Faisal Elhaq, a gynecologist, spoke quite eloquently of the effectiveness of what he called a “scale up” approach—another way of saying grassroots organizing. He said that they are making progress in Beirut by infusing “sexual rights into whatever service we provide.” He went on to explain that a certain religious leader (he did not say whom) made one phone call in 1997, which effectively quashed what was then a very good sex education curriculum. For the past 10 years he has been organizing his community of gynecologists , and has “been able to institute a new curriculum.” It’s his hope that this curriculum, combined with other direct health services like condom distribution, will help to reduce the number of sexual infections in Beirut and beyond. And he challenged everyone to put in work to directly address sexual rights and sexual health, in everything they do. He closed by asking, “Why fight against the wind? Scale up, and over time you can achieve results.”
“Our only aim is to protect our bodies”
Ms. Hibba, a writer and anthropologist, then spoke about how the Lebanese sectarian system serves as a tool of oppression against sexual minorities. To better grasp what follows, here’s a brief overview of this complex political system: There are 128 seats in parliament. Half are allocated to Christian politicians, half to Muslims. They get further subdivided based on what type of Christianity or Islam is practiced in a certain region, but the important thing to note is that the Lebanese system is a religious system that is essentially socially conservative.
Here, this conservatism is evidenced through Law 534 (a holdover from the French colonial period) which “criminalizes any relation that ‘goes against the laws of nature.” 534 is similar to the sodomy laws in the US, though they reach much further, and are enforced much more regularly. Furthermore, the “laws of nature” are mutable, and are continually being altered by the different religious parties.
“The Lebanese system gives religious groups political control, so the religious groups control our sexual rights.” she explained. And what’s more, Lebanon is in a seemingly constant state of war. And in times of war individual freedoms get rolled back, if not eliminated altogether. So, in a place like Lebanon, women and sexual minorities are under constant attack—they must deal with internal war, external invasions and internal sexual violence all the time. It never stops. The people who are affected first, last, and for the absolute worst, are women and sexual minorities.
By the end of the discussion three things were clear:
1) The oppression of women and sexual minorities is a global problem, with global ramifications,
2) The number one priority is to develop power for women and sexual minorities.,
3) Though global, Lebanon has a unique set of circumstances to contend with.
So, let’s get to work!
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Beirut Journal: Day #2
Today was much less eventful than yesterday, but fascinating nonetheless. I left the hotel in the early afternoon & headed toward the sea. For me the rush & crash of waves has always given me some solace, perspective; unruly waters have always made me feel a little less alone. And being here, a foreigner who doesn’t speak the mother tongue, it’s really easy to live inside my own headspace. I think it’s called “culture shock,” & I want to avoid it at all costs, so finding some familiarity in this quite complicated & alien place is an absolute necessity.
On the way I came across a graffiti wall, which also gave me some comfort.
The corniche is only about 10 minutes away. When I got there I saw a mural of “King Pele” and the Nejmeh Football Club. As I was getting my camera focused, an older man putted up on a little scooter. He pointed at the mural and said, “That’s me.” The second from the right, on the bottom row. He said he played for the team for 13 years. We had a good laugh at his full head of hair then, as compared to now, shook hands & parted.
I continued down the corniche, buoyed by that encounter, & by all the people out. There were kids roller skating, swimming in the Mediterranean; people smoking sheesha, drinking coffee, and fishing. All in all, folks were enjoying this sunny Sunday afternoon.
Then a German fellow, Ky, asked me to take his picture, which I happily did. We struck up a conversation through which I learned:
1)He just finished his Ph. D in electrical engineering, and has been traveling for nine weeks.
2)He’s been to Russia, Azerbaijan, Japan, Korea, Syria & has just arrived in Lebanon.
3)He feels that Lebanon “hasn’t got anything interesting about it.”
“Really?” I gave him a sideways glance. “What would make it interesting to you?”
“Well, in Damascus I really enjoyed the souks. Yeah, it was dirtier, but, I don’t know. It somehow felt more interesting. It’s just so, washed here.”
It’s true that Beirut, the part that we were in, is pristine. Snazzy fitness clubs, five-star hotels, Porsche dealerships, Jimmy Choo shoes. Even a Starbucks. It’s a bit like being in newly gentrified areas of Seattle, actually. We continued walking & talking & came across some bombed out hotels. They were riddled with bullet-holes, literally in ruins, and right next to the Hard Rock Café. I wondered if my new German friend thought this was interesting.
I also got busy confronting my own ideas and ideals about development. Under “normal” circumstances I absolutely loathe so-called high-end development. High end business development does not have much to offer to working, and poor, people. About 30% of all Lebanese are living below the poverty line, and 8% of those people are considered extremely poor, according to the International Poverty Center (http://www.undp-povertycentre.org/pub/IPCCountryStudy13.pdf). Though many of the people of Lebanon are not starving, many of them are not doing all that well, and a Porsche, or a Lamborghini (which we saw) is but a pipe dream.
On the other hand, there are war-torn hotels, inhabitable. There’s a People who are trying to emerge out of three decades of wars and invasions. I don’t know what it means to be a 35 year old Lebanese. It must be a relief, if surreal, to take your kids swimming in the Mediterranean, especially if you had to dodge bullets to cross the street when you were their age.
I find that interesting.
I find my German friend’s myopia sad. Edward Said would find it disgusting. It’s that facet of Orientalism that relegates Peoples to some preconceived idea of who they are, or worse: who they should be.
The Lebanese of Beirut, evidentially, are not the open-air market people of Damascus. They are who they are. They exist in a context shaped by entirely different forces. To ignore their particular context, while dismissing them as uninteresting, is, well, foul. I mean, I don’t believe that the Hard Rock Café, or Starbucks or Jimmy Fucken Choo is going to do much to lift the Lebanese economy or the quality of life of the Lebanese people.
But 30 years of war sure didn’t either. And if I have to choose one over the other, well…
Upcoming articles:
Tomorrow there is supposed to be a big announcement that the government has finally formed, after six months of political infighting. I'll try to find out what some folks think about it.
…On Tuesday I’ll meet with Bilal Elamine, one of the founders of LeftTurn Magazine. I’ll talk to him about this, and see what he has to say about the internal movements for people-centered development.
On the way I came across a graffiti wall, which also gave me some comfort.
The corniche is only about 10 minutes away. When I got there I saw a mural of “King Pele” and the Nejmeh Football Club. As I was getting my camera focused, an older man putted up on a little scooter. He pointed at the mural and said, “That’s me.” The second from the right, on the bottom row. He said he played for the team for 13 years. We had a good laugh at his full head of hair then, as compared to now, shook hands & parted.
I continued down the corniche, buoyed by that encounter, & by all the people out. There were kids roller skating, swimming in the Mediterranean; people smoking sheesha, drinking coffee, and fishing. All in all, folks were enjoying this sunny Sunday afternoon.
Then a German fellow, Ky, asked me to take his picture, which I happily did. We struck up a conversation through which I learned:
1)He just finished his Ph. D in electrical engineering, and has been traveling for nine weeks.
2)He’s been to Russia, Azerbaijan, Japan, Korea, Syria & has just arrived in Lebanon.
3)He feels that Lebanon “hasn’t got anything interesting about it.”
“Really?” I gave him a sideways glance. “What would make it interesting to you?”
“Well, in Damascus I really enjoyed the souks. Yeah, it was dirtier, but, I don’t know. It somehow felt more interesting. It’s just so, washed here.”
It’s true that Beirut, the part that we were in, is pristine. Snazzy fitness clubs, five-star hotels, Porsche dealerships, Jimmy Choo shoes. Even a Starbucks. It’s a bit like being in newly gentrified areas of Seattle, actually. We continued walking & talking & came across some bombed out hotels. They were riddled with bullet-holes, literally in ruins, and right next to the Hard Rock Café. I wondered if my new German friend thought this was interesting.
I also got busy confronting my own ideas and ideals about development. Under “normal” circumstances I absolutely loathe so-called high-end development. High end business development does not have much to offer to working, and poor, people. About 30% of all Lebanese are living below the poverty line, and 8% of those people are considered extremely poor, according to the International Poverty Center (http://www.undp-povertycentre.org/pub/IPCCountryStudy13.pdf). Though many of the people of Lebanon are not starving, many of them are not doing all that well, and a Porsche, or a Lamborghini (which we saw) is but a pipe dream.
On the other hand, there are war-torn hotels, inhabitable. There’s a People who are trying to emerge out of three decades of wars and invasions. I don’t know what it means to be a 35 year old Lebanese. It must be a relief, if surreal, to take your kids swimming in the Mediterranean, especially if you had to dodge bullets to cross the street when you were their age.
I find that interesting.
I find my German friend’s myopia sad. Edward Said would find it disgusting. It’s that facet of Orientalism that relegates Peoples to some preconceived idea of who they are, or worse: who they should be.
The Lebanese of Beirut, evidentially, are not the open-air market people of Damascus. They are who they are. They exist in a context shaped by entirely different forces. To ignore their particular context, while dismissing them as uninteresting, is, well, foul. I mean, I don’t believe that the Hard Rock Café, or Starbucks or Jimmy Fucken Choo is going to do much to lift the Lebanese economy or the quality of life of the Lebanese people.
But 30 years of war sure didn’t either. And if I have to choose one over the other, well…
Upcoming articles:
Tomorrow there is supposed to be a big announcement that the government has finally formed, after six months of political infighting. I'll try to find out what some folks think about it.
…On Tuesday I’ll meet with Bilal Elamine, one of the founders of LeftTurn Magazine. I’ll talk to him about this, and see what he has to say about the internal movements for people-centered development.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Intifada Poems
It's hard to write haiku 4 Palestine
b/c you must go
sofarsofast then slingshot
poems like cold stones
I say what I can
but Palestine needs
bread & land more than my poems
*
slingshot rocks rail walls
bricks & bullets rain down sharp
26 more dead
*
water sucked from stones
slingshots versus tank grenades
blood seeps down brick walls
w/ this blood we draw borders
through Jerusalem, Jenin
Gaza Strip bare ribs
kids inhale bullets like air
homes collapse like lungs
forgive us our trespasses
give us this day our day's bread
b/c you must go
sofarsofast then slingshot
poems like cold stones
I say what I can
but Palestine needs
bread & land more than my poems
*
slingshot rocks rail walls
bricks & bullets rain down sharp
26 more dead
*
water sucked from stones
slingshots versus tank grenades
blood seeps down brick walls
w/ this blood we draw borders
through Jerusalem, Jenin
Gaza Strip bare ribs
kids inhale bullets like air
homes collapse like lungs
forgive us our trespasses
give us this day our day's bread
Ahmad's Bullet
I struggle to write
you down
Ahmad
I struggle to fit
your knuckles & how
you brushed them over
my adam's apple
after fastening your bullet
necklace around my neck
I peel back
pages of notes
poems scrawled in the heated
moment barely
legible the bare details buried
b/w all my words
& all this war
I struggle
to find that exact place
you touched me
that epicenter
sending aftershock
waves through my body
how can we
men
love one another
from where we breathe?
our tongues stretched
taut
snapping back & away
from each other
how can we men
love each other
when bullets & broken stones
are the only flying things in the sky?
how can I wear
your bullet
when I can't throw stones
next to you?
you down
Ahmad
I struggle to fit
your knuckles & how
you brushed them over
my adam's apple
after fastening your bullet
necklace around my neck
I peel back
pages of notes
poems scrawled in the heated
moment barely
legible the bare details buried
b/w all my words
& all this war
I struggle
to find that exact place
you touched me
that epicenter
sending aftershock
waves through my body
how can we
men
love one another
from where we breathe?
our tongues stretched
taut
snapping back & away
from each other
how can we men
love each other
when bullets & broken stones
are the only flying things in the sky?
how can I wear
your bullet
when I can't throw stones
next to you?
Monday, September 14, 2009
Pardon the Interruption
It has been a week of unceremonious interruptions. Joe Wilson, a Republican Senator from South Carolina, shouts "Liar" during *ahem* President Obama's speech. Kanye West jumps up on stage, feeling that Beyonce, the current queen of pop, was (Taylor) Swiftboated. West has been publicly threatened; below is a fair representation of the hatred that people are expressing toward the entertainer. In addition, West was apparently escorted out by security, and his performance was canceled.
I don't really care about West, Swift or Beyonce. They make pop art: super. We need art. But they don't really speak to me, or to the issues that I think artists should be speaking to. But, what I do find interesting is that, what West said is true: Beyonce made one of the best videos of all time, and by extension she deserves the award. I mean, how many different youtube "Single Ladies" versions are there?!
But, at the VMA, decorum reigns over truth.
If only the same values were in place during Obama's health care address to Congress. Joe Wilson, among numerous other elected officials, tried to shout down the elected President of the United States! And nary a response! It was a Presidential Address!
Wilson was not slinging words off the cuff. It was not a misguided spontaneous outburst. It would be foolish to regard Wilson's actions as anything less than calculated.
When we get our jobs in our organization, the first thing you do is you sit down with some of Saul Alinsky’s books, Rules for Radicals. And we read that book and we study that book, and everything that we've been trying to do here comes straight out of those pages.
Those are the words of Adam Brandon, from Dick Armey's "non profit" Freedom Works. They have been organizing the recent "tea parties" and public disruptions, using Alinsky as a guide. Now, many on the left have dismissed these demonstrators as lunatic. The demonstrators may-well be. But they are besides the point. The point being the demonstrations. They have forced a debate, when there should be none. Though they have rejected initiatives, without offering anything, they have garnered public space. They have captured airtime on major networks. And they have elected officials shouting down the President on their behalf.
This is not something
to dismiss this is
not something to debate
This is something to fight
~June Jordan, "On the Occasion of a Clear and Present Danger at Yale (1975)"
So we will not debate the lunatic who dares dispute the validity, the value of Black and Third World and/or any other human life. Our lives are not debatable....We will continue to struggle for our survival and for the freedom of our children who will survive us by every means we choose to use.
There is no logical response to state violence. There is no logical response to state sanctioned hate, so-called "free speech." The only avenue we have is the fight. They disrupt public debate and the state police don't escort them out, then we do. They hold a tea party/hate rally in our town, and the state police don't escort them out, then we do. We have already been brutalized and imprisoned. We have had our families turn against us. This fight is not fair. They get headlines, & we get tazed.
But, to end with another June Jordan interrogation:
Will you assume responsibility for your life, in these many, urgent ways, will you assume responsibility for your life, and my life, and our lives, the lives that are now, and that have always been, endangered and attacked by our enemies operating under deliberately asinine slogans....With all my heart, I hope so.
Monday, September 07, 2009
Standing at the edge, there's nothing to fear because the world is not flat.
(image from Eddie Colla)
My teachers taught me how & when to fight.
And there's no time like the present.
My teachers also taught me how, & when, to love.
And there's no time like the present.
My teachers also taught me to love the fight.
And I do.
And I do.
And I do.
What follows has nothing to do with Van Jones. Nor is it about Barack Obama. I'm not concerned with The One Who Shall Not Be Mentioned.
What follows is about Us. The We. The People. The constituents of this global union who, having been pushed to the edges for so long, are finally there, and together. And we know that the world is not flat, and that this edge is no edge at all, but a gleaming center. A homebase.
We are strong, in love with each other. In our love for each other.
What follows has nothing to do with Van Jones, Barack Obama or any of those outsiders. What follows is about Us.
I witnessed two friends get married this Labor Day weekend. 'B,' a bio-woman baker. 'J,' a tranny electrician. They were "straight married," which is to say that 'J' has successfully completed all the "official" paperwork to have his gender-identity reflect what he has always known. And now, the State will recognize their relationship. A relationship that, without this "official" paperwork the State is openly hostile to.
But this is not about the outsiders. The State and its rules and regulations.
I learned a lot about marriage this weekend. About the convulsive vitality of family. Out here, at homebase, we have been choosing Family. Constantly expanding it outside of the bounds/bonds of blood relations. Always seeking to create new bonds, & strengthen those that already exist.
We need to know who will fight with us, when the time to fight comes.
We need to know who will love with us when the darkness falls. When someone is carted off to prison, or beaten in the street, or beaten in the home.
We need to know that We do not need to apologize for who We are.
We are building who We are.
We, actually, elected a president--a person who we hoped in, with, and for. Most of us understand the mechanics of this corrupt political system. We know limitations, we have been brutalized for pushing its boundaries. Nonetheless, millions of people engaged in serious work, with fervent hope and the best of intentions.
We wanted him to be one of Us.
But he is not. The ouster of Van Jones makes that apparent. Forget about what Jones said or did. Forget about that "Truther" nonsense. Forget about the so-called "political climate" we are supposedly in. This is not about Van Jones. By not standing up for his own decision, and a good decision at that, he shows us exactly where he stands.
He does not stand with Us.
And, after eight years of the Bush doctrine, we're ready to apply some of that same logic, ourselves.
And we know how to fight.
"and I can’t tell you who the hell set things up like this~June Jordan
but I can tell you that from now on my resistance
my simple and daily and nightly self-determination
may very well cost you your life"
Monday, August 31, 2009
Ted Kennedy Never Meant Sh*t to Me
There. I said it.
Also, I don’t care if you do…no, really, it doesn’t change the way I feel about you one way or another. His life & death, when it’s all boiled down, is actually rather insignificant, if you think about it the way I do.
Let me explain, at least, before you decide to hate me.
For me, it’s about the cold calculus of human suffering; human *being*
Ted Kennedy lived to be 77 years old. He embraced/battled alchoholism & clogged arteries. So, he outlived the “average” American, despite a decidedly unhealthy lifestyle. (Maybe that’s why he proclaimed “Healthcare Reform” as the fight of his life.)
Also, Kennedy is/was *rich*. I don’t mean, like, he had a lot of money that he worked hard for. I mean, he was landed gentry rich.
"Ted Kennedy’s father, Joseph P. Kennedy, was a savvy investor his whole life. Income from the various trust funds, real estate investments, and oil and gas leases he set up from the 1920s through the 1940s still yield income. He made most of his money, however, by purchasing retail giant Merchandise Mart in Chicago in 1945 for $12.5 million. Since then, it’s raked in hundreds of millions in revenue for the family. In 1998, the Kennedy clan decided to sell Merchandise Mart….Ted Kennedy received about $75 million….
Tax returns have yielded some insight into family funds as well. In the 1980s, Ted Kennedy’s income was shown to be about $500,000 a year. In 2007, his net worth was estimated to be as high as $163 million, based on campaign records." (slate.com/id/2226420/)
Most of My Heroes Don’t Appear On No Stamps
The life & death of some aristocrat are of little interest to me, especially since cancer took my Amma about 6 years ago. We could barely afford to cremate her (as per her wishes) & now have to store her ashes in an old cookie jar.
She worked her whole life to make life bearable for her kids & grandkids. She had an amazing ability to stretch a meal of corned beef & cabbage, & to adapt to a changing American landscape. I’ll never forget the way that she explained Transgender Identity to my Umpa. Something so far from her life experiences, from her upbringing in Dutch Harbor, Alaska in the 1930’s, yet so full of love & genuine compassion, if not true understanding, it makes me want to weep while I write this. She is not remembered by anyone who didn’t know her personally, yet her compassion was transcendent.
& I Can’t Tell You Who In the Hell Set Things Up Like This
It took the NY Times over 3 days to publish an obituary of June Jordan. If I were to create a short list of American Heroes & Warriors, she’d be on it. Her contributions to this American life are numerous & immeasurable, and she was officially forgotten before she was taken from us.
She was the first African American Woman to publish a book of political essays. The first. She made true friend of official enemies: going to Nicaragua, to Beirut, to Palestine. For this, these acts of solidarity and compassion, the NY Times refused to publish anything written by her.
There was some bitter irony to Barack Obama pilfering one of her signature lines “We Are The Ones We Have Been Waiting For” while he was on the campaign trail. Though Obama popularized it as a line, June lived it as a mantra. Or better yet, a declaration of war against anyone who was against the proliferation of human life.
And yet, who knows of her? Who will light an eternal flame to this Soldier?
Finally, the issue of Katrina and the lives of the vulnerable. Kennedy’s funeral fell on the 4th anniversary of Katrina’s touchdown. The destruction of Black life in New Orleans as a result of official government policy is well-documented fact. In so many ways, Katrina was the funeral for New Orleans as we have known it. Through no fault of their own, the aged, the poor, the marginalized people of this historic city were whitewashed out of the present. They now live, if they survived, in Houston, Atlanta, Alabama, Mississipi. They now live, if they survived, as aliens in a strange land. A land that has never wanted them. They live as the true embodiment of the American Spirit.
So, instead of mourning the $163 milliondollar aristocrat, in my own small way, I’m celebrating the lives of the people who have made my life what it is today.
MollyLou Cameron. Always.
June Jordan. Always
The People of New Orleans. Always.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
