Sometimes feminist thoughts put me in an all too serious mood. I'm needing to go back to my roots...my side that is creative, humorous, and loves variety. My writing didn't always used to be so long-winded.
I'm going to start making bumper stickers for my blog about whatever is on my mind.
Have a saying you want to see into a bumper sticker? Send it my way.
Since my induction to the feminist blogosphere, I've put much time into narrowing my focus. Widespread blogging seems too general, unfocused, and leaves me with little direction. Mostly, I don't feel I learn as much as I want when I blog across the spectrum.
About a year ago, I decided to move forward in specific issues relating to feminism - defining "radical," exploring sexual violence, faith, media, and womyn of color.
Every once in a while though, I wonder if focusing on "feminism" somehow limits my exploration of "gender."
How does that focus change me, my writing, when and if I write: I want to explore feminism vs. I want to explore gender.
Is it the same thing?
Before I would have emphatically stated yes.
Now, I would emphatically distinguish that mainstream feminism and academic courses absolutely ignore the entirety of gender as an issue. Often times, feminism is conflated with the upward political, class, and elitist advancement of White women. Somehow, in some contorted, quiet way, I've often thought that gender has gotten lost in feminism. Sure, it's pointed out when women, particularly women of privilege are abused, oppressed, or violated, but, for the most part, feminism and gender, ironically, are often not paired together in headliners.
I'm thinking, specifically, of the transgendered lives and experiences that I, admittedly, know very little about.
I am not and do not identify transgender and have often felt like my understanding is extremely limited by my slow understanding and deconstruction of socialization when it comes to gender roles. For as much as I analyze the experience of womyn of color, I often fail at pushing myself to explore the experience of transgendered womyn of color. Semantically, it's easy to ask, "What about the transgender folks?" But to truly be an individual open to learning the struggles and causes of the transgendered population, the questions must conquer the fear and confusion.
And so, as someone suggested to write about feminism as it relate[s] to transgender, here's my honest reply:
I don't know. You tell me.
And I write that with as much respect and honesty as a womyn of color who once asked how feminism relates to US-born Filipinas with immigrant parents. I write that as someone who asks how feminism relates to a late-birthed sexual awakening and an even delayed political consciousness. How does feminism relate to transgender lives?
If I do not live a transgendered life, do not know the full extent of the pain and violence and discrimination suffered by transgendered womyn, I will not know how feminism relates to them, or even IF it relates to them.
Despite what is being written in the history of mainstream feminists in the westernized, classist world of iconic femmies with self-serving agendas, the truth is that feminism has the power to transform consciousness and spirit. It has the ability to challenge our very definitions of humanity and rights. I believe, however, that it must arrive in the grain of relationship and a shitload of humility.
Feminism, the study of women's lives, excludes no one...in theory. Yet, we don't live theoretically, do we?
We live individually, often to own detriment. We live so individualistically that we fail to even understand gender within feminsm and we fail ourselves. We fail as writers, activists, listeners...we fail as people, I think, when we forego others. Feminism has long bypassed transgendered womyn. I write that as someone who only sees transgender issues written about when someone has been slain. I write that as someone whose blog only mentions transgender issues a handful of times.
Truthfully, my goal as a writer is to point out the holes. Most people mistake that for seeing the negative, or constantly bitching about what's wrong. But there are enough fans of mainstream feminism and not enough compassionate critics who long to see it do better than what it is currently doing. And the "doing" isn't by feminism itself, but by the students and practitioners who claim to be activists within a "Movement." And if the students and practitioners are happy with feminism, we are in big trouble.
It isn't just about transgendered folks being ignored or how the issues are only mentioned in the blogosphere by way of violence and brutality, it's the complete disregard for any gritty issue of gender when it involves unfamiliar territory. This is true for feminism as it relates to the disability movement, transnational or international womyn, immigration, faith, Katrina...the list goes on.
Feminism does not make itself relevant to folks like you and me. We must make it so.
In other words, your voice, my voice is needed to explain why.
Dear Veronica,
Bloated, gassy, indigestion, and interrupted sleep. Is that you in there?
I'll have a better idea tomorrow.
It's almost two weeks since my little happy dance that I ovulated and your father and I are trying to keep our hopes reasonably low while I get up in the middle of the night because of gas pains and cramps.
"It could be my period, that's all. But I really hope not."
The wondering is torturous.
I remember in 1997, I went to one of those ridiculous fortune tellers who read my palm and told me two things. First, she said that my professional career would be diverse, that I would try many, many things before I made up my mind. She said I'd work with children, adults, in different disciplines and settings before I settled. Well she was certainly correct about that.
The other was that I would only have one child and that child would be a son.
I don't know what these letters will look like if you turn out to be a boy, but it doesn't really matter to me. I've fantasized about you, Veronica, a small piece of existence coming into the world through my body and should you turn out to be Isaiah, well, I'll love you just as much.
It's hard for me to focus on anything but my body right now and it's glorious possibilities and horrendous limitations, but I keep my eyes forward. Not up, not down, just forward. I am setting my heart on hope, with a lot of strength.
Should you continue to exist only in my heart, I will continue to move forward in dreaming of what might be and being the kind of person I would have lived out as a mother - kind, stern, loving, challenging, understanding, and faithful.
Come to us. We're waiting.
Love,
Mom
If you don't know by now, let me remind you: make/shift magazine is a fresh, grassrooted, and truth-telling effort that is looking for events of any and all variety in all parts of the world that are capturing "feminism in motion."
We (especially me) are looking for the awesome work that is being done that have few outlets of publicity.
Show us the colors, sizes, and fierce faces of feminisms.
Catch the plural?
We're looking for the folks behind community justice, creativity, education, activism, and art.
Still unconvinced?
Visit the website or email me.
Please forward to all universes, planets, countries, nooks, corners, and tree houses you can! Just get it to me by May 25, 2009. Submit to me at: lisa@makeshiftmag.com
Muchas gracias,
Lisa
*IMMIGRANTS MARCH FOR DIGNITY IN QUEENS, CALL FOR ACTION ON MAY DAY 2009*
for pictures, see here
WOODSIDE-- Latino, Filipino, Korean, South Asian, and Indigenous South
American immigrant rights groups marched together last Sunday in a 150+
strong march along Roosevelt Avenue to demand an end to random police raids,
arrests, ticketing against immigrants, and scam employment agencies. The
march, beginning at 69th Street and ending up at 83rd Street, ran up
Filipino immigrant businesses as well as South Asian and Latino
immigrant-owned businesses in a show of stunning multi-ethnic solidarity for
a common cause-- dignity for all immigrants. Amongst the key organizers and
sponsors of the march were the Jornaleros Unidos de Woodside (United Day
Laborers of Woodside), Philippine Forum, NAFCON (National Alliance for
Filipino Concerns), Filipinas for Rights and Empowerment (FiRE), New York
Committee for Human Rights in the Philippines (NYCHRP), Anakbayan NY/NJ,
Nodutdol for Korean Community Development, Sisa Pikari Labor Center, No
Raids Committee in Queens, BAYAN USA and the May 1st Coalition for Workers
and Immigrant Rights.
The Queens rally and march come at a critical time as Capitol Hill turns its
attention to US immigration policy next month. Two weeks ago, President
Barack Obama announced that US immigration reform would be a subject on the
table of lawmakers this May. The following week, two major national labor
federations, AFL-CIO and Change to Win, announced their united endorsement
for comprehensive immgration reform.
For the grassroots immigrant rights groups marching last Sunday, however,
the developments call for more urgent pressure coming from the most
oppressed and victimized from the broken immigration system-- immigrants
themselves-- and the immigrants of Queens are especially ready to speak out.
Latino day laborers stand along Roosevelt Avenue generally looking for work
and have founded a protective community for themselves. Despite this,
growing anti-immigrant attacks by the NYPD, such as random ticketing for
standing on the sidewalk, culminated in an arrest and detention of 10 day
laborers for no apparent reason other than standing this past October 2008.
"Yesterday, we wanted to show the local community that it’s not just the day
laborers that are fighting but the rest of the community. We also wanted to
show the real problems that are going on in the community especially the
police harassment," stated Felix Ortiz, a day laborer with the Jornaleros
Unidos de Woodside and victim of the said harassment by the police.
"Together we are fighting for our human and constitutional rights," said
Attorney Felix Vinluan from National Alliance for Filipino Concerns
(NAFCON)."And we will not stop until we have equality amongst all people of
all races.
The Roosevelt Avenue march comes weeks before the upcoming May 1st rally and
march for immigrant rights in Union Square at 4pm. Every May 1st since 2006,
thousands of New Yorkers have rallied and marched for comprehensive
immigration reform, including a path to legalization for all, end to ICE
raids and deportations, and swift family re-unification for separated
families. This is also a beginning for groups to come together and plan for
neighborhood clean-ups and other community-based activities in the local
Woodside and Jackson Heights area.
References:
Christina Hilo, BAYANIHAN Filipino Community Center,
email: cshilo@gmail.com
Roberto Meneses, Jornaleros Unidos de Woodside,
email:jornalerosunidosdewoodside@hotmail.com
In catching up with the feminist blogosphere, I found some powerful discussions around cisgender privilege, trans issues and lives, and voice.
If you'd like to read as to why Voz created this image to boycott Feministing and Feministe, I encourage you to follow this discussion and learn as I have.
As a self-identified feminist of color, I try to engage in all issues related to gender, power, and identity, but I think I allowed my fear of not understanding the lived experience of trans womyn and men, along with my fear of saying the wrong thing permeate my blog with barely audible support. It took me a while to even get my vocabulary straight as to what certain words meant and in what context to use them. Is that the best I can do?
I think not.
This recent outcry really rattled me. In both good and bad ways. Their powerful voices, their deep passionate debates about rights and awareness remind me of some voices in the womyn of color blogosphere who have long abandoned these mainstream blogs which, among many radical womyn of color, are notorious for unsafe dialogue and space.
This conversation is "intersectionality" (how much do I hate that word?) at it's finest. As Voz says, "Because exploitation of women with a trans history for blog hits and cis navel gazing has to stop somewhere."
A powerful and interesting perspective on the 2009 WAM conference in Boston.
h/t to BFP
From Joyce Angela Jellison
I have been stewing for two weeks - mad as hell at how I have been treated and then I am searching blogs and I find this - I feel empowered with this connection.
Basically, I was told by the WAM conference committee to get someone from the commercial publishing industry to present with me - huh? I mean what the fuck? If I had that type of connect would I be self-publishing? I actually do have some commercial connects, but not for the genre in which I write. These lovely connects declined to co-present as they did not want to undermine my message of self publishing as an empowerment tool - much respect for the consideration.
I did jump through a hoop like a dreadlocked poodle and get another sister - well known - Letta Neely to present with me -she is self-published, but the feminist elite at the Center for New Words love her - she is their magical negro and I mean that without offense to Letta - just to example how some quasi-progressives dont actually see you as equals but rather as their charges - like I dont need them to lift my ass from some plantation - I am already free so the good master treatment doesnt work for a womyn like me and it should not work for anyone.
Next thing I notice is they are ignoring me and referring to me as a moderator and Letta as the presenter - when I wrote the proposal and busted my ass trying to get a co-presenter. They invited me to lead a dicussion on women of color and the obstacles to the commercial publishing - but you know what, it is bullshit like what they tried to pull at WAM that is an obstacle. Racist love is a bitch and I have no time for it. It is basically the appearence of solidarity but it manages to silence you because you are manipulated into thinking certain parties see you as an equal when they are treating you like a special project.
Move the fuck out of my way and let me write - and if you dont publish me, fuck you. I can publish me and sell my books like pussy on a street corner. Feminism is about choice and what I pimp is purely my business…. So this feminist elite have inherited the movement from their grandmothers and mothers and like them - they exclude the brown, the black, and other groups that rival their definition of feminism.
Fuck silence and Fuck WAM - I wanted to go to the Black Women and Radical Tradition Conference at CUNY anyway
Dear Veronica,
I have high hopes for this month and trying to contain my excitement and impatience is a lot more difficult than you'd think. You'll find that people are much more accepting of children being explosive than adults. The expectations for adults is that we should be even, controlled, and mature. That's not what your mom is these days.
Finally, a bit of good news on the ovulation tests. It looked good and I squealed and woke up your dad to share my overflowing joy. We snuggled as I clutched the stick, two lines growing deeper in truth as each minute went by. I smiled at my body and prayed for good health and possibility.
Your father and I are Catholic and we plan to raise you that way as well. In our faith cycle, this past week was the most powerful week all year. As someone said, "It's when the impossible becomes possible." Funny how all this occurred during Holy Week. It felt somewhat miraculous and difficult to believe.
Faith is a choice, but also a gift. It comes in many forms, different languages, symbolism, and tradition. If you ever decide to leave the Catholic Church, which many people decide as an adult, the only thing I would encourage you to do, Love, is to stay with whatever draws you deeper in mystery and challenge. Stay with what draws you closer to a mysticism and Love of others. I found it in faith. You may find it in something else, but always keep one hand on the rail of belief because, I do believe there is more after this life. There is so much more than you and I will possibly be able to understand. That unknown used to frighten me and I tried to believe for a period of time that there was nothing else but my body, this world, our earth.
But deep, deep inside, in the cavernous echo of my heart, I always believed there was something Else out there.
Years ago, when I worked in the University, I often laughed at bumper stickers on the backs of cars with which I was stuck in traffic. There was this one I never forgot. On the right side of the bumper it said, "Militant Agnostic." The other side read, "I don't know and neither do you."
Precisely!
No one knows for sure...which is why it's called faith.
It might be a toss of a coin and I might be wrong about everything I believe. But if I, your old farty Mom, lives a good life where I can help improve this planet, where I create something that brings joy to others, or work on behalf of those who are in need - and if my faith is the backbone of those actions - than even if I'm wrong, I'm still in a good place.
I take in what energizes me to live a decent life. Faith is the oxygen to that action.
When you come to us, you will have moments where you hate what we tell you, you'll be bored and angry when you want to do something else and make you learn what we have grown to love so passionately. But, I will tell you that I understand your frustration and I do.
You'll wonder why in the world I'm teaching you things that seemingly do not translate to your life and I will tell you to stay with it, to revisit the stories and keep thinking. You'll resent how I will tell you to ponder mystery and move forward with no easy or clear answers. I'm sure you'll even leave for a while or express disinterest for the things I find so critical to your faith development. Even with all of that, I am so excited to pass this gift to you.
It's messy and hairy and full of contradiction and ambiguity, but you'll find, dear Child, that the challenge and reward of faith is a reflection of the deepest way to live life, your life. You need not come with answers, only a willingness to love.
Love,
Mom
What does it mean to be a feminist of faith?
Specifically, what does it mean to be a Catholic feminist? Is this a living contradiction? Can the two blend together in a search for truth, meaning, or even justice?
How can two radically different ideologies and practice possibly come together?
I always wanted to write about my faith and, funny, it seems the more confident I grow in writing about my faith, the more capable I am of asking questions in my writing. There are no ways to move through faith without poignant questions of practicality, relationship, and the living out of our faith.
It sometimes feels like those of us who do have some sort of active spirituality that is exercised through organized religion are often segregated, left in our own strange world of ritual, tradition, and silence.
I wanted to write about faith because I find so little feminist writers who write out of a plain existence. So many articles and books about Catholicism are written from the religious, or the scholars, the ones who have dedicated their entire lives to understanding. I've come to find I've dedicated my entire life to questioning and, therefore, often took myself out of the running to write about faith. Too scared about what people would think, too scared to find what I might possibly overturn in my own soil, but mostly, I didn't write because I didn't feel I had authority to write about faith, feminist faith, my faith.
How ironic, isn't it? As a person of faith, as a person dedicated to the preferential option for the poor, social justice, and relevant theology, I never really saw myself as someone who had anything to say about faith. It was my backbone, but never my specialty to write. It was my crux, but I was convinced I would only be adding to the noise. There were plenty of people with enough opinion out in the world, and I never felt really justified in adding mine to the increasingly loud voices.
Besides, I thought to myself, the world needs people with answers and maps to help them feel better. All I have is hope and helluva lot of questions. And, I curse too much.
Once I was through categorizing my short-comings as to why I would never write about faith and feminism, I began drafting a book proposal about radical marriage. In my drafts, I began reflecting on my life, the things that most resonated with me that shaped my views on marriage. There was really no way to write authentically without centering the one thing that remained constant - my questioning and growing faith. There would be no book about radical marriage, or any topic, really, if I denied a part of myself that influenced every choice I ever made in my life. My writing, giving myself, would be something authentic. Challenging and provocative. To be a writer of substance, I had to trudge up the things that I most feared and was reluctant to address. To address my experience and understanding of marriage, I had to talk about God.
To write less, would mean to be less.
When I talk about God, some of my dearest friends still think I judge them, their lives, and their belief system, or atheism. Truthfully, I tell them, the presence of a living spirit has little to do with what you talk about, but more on how you live. The way you live is more important than whether or not you say you believe in a God or not. They don't believe me. To this day, many of my friends still fret that I judge them for not having an active and practicing faith.
My last answer is this: If it bothers you this much, then it's not about me or our friendship. You need to come to a place within your own life where you are comfortable and confident with what you do and do not believe. No amount of my coaxing, comforting, or shrugging will satisfy a heart laden with guilt, anger, or dismissal.
And so, the hesitancy to write about faith grew. And then, several years ago, someone gave me a quote that went something like this: You do no one a favor by shrinking yourself. It does nothing to become one with darkness out of solidarity. Be yourself. Be light.
By pretending faith was not important to me, I spent years in the dark trying to blend in the background. The veil has been pulled and these are my colors. I am a womyn, a feminist of faith. And for all the questions, contradictions, and controversy that brings - well, it's better to face those things head on, with no pretense, than to submit to a writing life with no authentic tongue.
When you say that you're Catholic, it's almost as loaded as when you say you're a feminist. Almost.
When you say that you're a Catholic feminist, well, that's when the furrowed brows come out to play.
I've been both Catholic and feminist all my life, I've just only known about the Catholic identity a lot longer than the feminist. But, both have always been there, the development of one consciousness with separate feeding tubes.
I've hesitated to blog much about faith. In rare surges of courage, I'll post a thought or two about my spirituality, but the fear of scholars and other forms of judgment have paralyzed my writing on spirituality. Often, I convince myself that writing with emotion and with truth is spiritual, and it is, but writing ON the topics of feminism, faith, and spirituality is entirely different.
The questions come swiftly every time I want to write about being a Catholic feminist. Maybe I don't know enough. Maybe it'll leave a bitter taste in non-Catholic, non-believers blogmouth. Maybe I'll find something in my exploration that will make ME question my faith even more.
Being a womyn of faith is a funny thing. Often times, my experience of being a Catholic feminist runs into conflict. Many equate being a person of faith with being a person of certainty.
Oh, the irony!
Faith, for me, is about attempting to shut down every sensory tool in my body and listening only to what moves wordlessly within me. Faith, for me, is not about being right, but about relationship. Moving with a Creator, not following rules, is a hard concept to grasp. Speaking through prayer, not just reciting prayer takes a certain level of clarity and trust. Sometimes those grains are as small as seedlings, but I trust that the presence of those seedlings, no matter how tiny, are important. Critical even.
For much of my life, my friends have turned to me to inquire about my faith, its twists and turns and volatility. At times, I think a lot of people assume it's an ongoing, painful road where I am barefoot, bleeding, and sorrowing the passion of Jesus Christ.
Jesus Christ.
Two of the two heaviest words in a feminist's vocabulary.
Faith, if you center it in relationship, will never be stable. I will never be stable. How many relationships of love are barefoot, bleeding, and sorrowing? They have moments that mirror that description. There are those dark, dark hours of tragedy, death, illness, and loss that cannot be humanly reasoned or understood.
And there is living room dancing as well.
There are moments in that relationship where I dance by myself. Salsa, ballet, my own version of hip hop...MY moves that express joy, release, and euphoria. There are moments like that, too.
The swing between the two is faith, a constant searching for a Deeper, a More.
Relationship, the kind that I am looking for, is not meant to be justified to those who don't believe. That relationship is what I need, period. G*d is both noun and verb, an infinite and endless collaboration with a mysterious Being.
I feared writing about this. I feared that there would be no place for it in my writing.
Over the years of desiring to write about Catholic feminist spirituality, I felt small tugs on my shirt. Like a small toddler looking up at me and trying to get my attention. I would feel small tugs on my shirt that whispered, "if it's a part of your life, it will be a part of your writing."
But fear is paralyzing and it makes your life spotty with a haven for shadows.
I lived with the whispers for the majority of my life. The function of writing, the function of truth-telling eventually leads you to a path of fullness and strength. Writing, to work its peaceful and powerful effects, needs more light than shadows. It needs courage to talk about the shadows and dark corners.
Faith has always been a part of my life and the denial of that faith is a denial of my feminism. It is a hypocritical fallacy to declare my own feminism with no hint of my faith. I don't think anyone would have a problem with my declaration of spirituality. What most people have found conflict is, specifically, when I say I have a Catholic faith.
Immediately, thoughts jump to one topic: abortion. Women's rights. Reproductive health.
And while I think those conversations can frame enriching and enlightening learning, it also detracts from the millions of womyn and men who are within the Catholic faith who are striving, yearning, torturing themselves to express the conflict of being a person of faith and a person of the world. That conflict needs relationship and the need for expression encapsulates more than just the pro-life argument or the Church's stance on gay marriage and sexuality.
What I am saying is that I want to write about my faith without fear. And I hope/think that I have come to a point in my life where I can have faith IN feminism and my feminism in my faith. For me, the two have never been disjointed.
The Tridium of Holy Week are the three most significant days of the Catholic faith and begins today. I plan to blog about my feminst spiritual perspectives on it this week.
I hope you can join me in a spirit of reflection and meditation.
I've received numerous emails and messages about my last post in which I shared the process of starting a new job and deciding to intentionally decrease my involvement in the feminist blogosphere. In my personal reflection, I offered a few insights about the process in which I realized that I was not fully engaging in human relationships because I was thinking about the online forms of feminism.
Three years ago, I was fully offline and not finding what I needed: community. I started blogging because of that void. The ache to be in deep, challenging, analytic conversation throbbed deeply in my bones. As a writer with no community of women of color or like-minded radical feminists, I found a wonderful resource in the online world. The mobility and accessibility, to me, was exactly what I had been needing. Through the feminist blogosphere, I found a connecting thread with others and in this space, my voice became stronger.
The function of the internet is complex and multipurpose. For those unable to be or engage in offline communities, for any reason, the internet can be a life-saving ticket of relationship, learning, and creativity. The function of the internet will be varied and in different degrees of significance. I would never say that what I did three years ago, or have e-built since then, doesn't count or is less meaningful. Quite the contrary. The online work and relationships I made were some of the most meaningful and enriching experiences of my life.
What needs to be clarified is my point: I am not saying that all online interactions is less significant or valuable as offline. My finding the RWOC and feminist blogosphere is a testament to that. Those connections got me through transition, job hardship, moving, confronting inner demons, and gave me back my sanity on countless occasions.
That counts. That counts beyond numbers, words, or reason.
I recognized a conflict last week when I realized I was paying more attention to blog topics and subheadings than the womyn a foot away from me asking me to get her walker so she can exercise her leg muscles for ten minutes. Wondering what any blogger is writing about is nowhere near as important in the moment I am trying to assist a womyn take medication after a seizure. In that moment, the work I am doing is not more important than any person blogging about their insights. I'm saying that the work I am doing is more urgent, more necessary than letting my thoughts float into the blogosphere when I am nowhere near a computer.
The crossroads lie like this: be present to the client or think about what Nadia is going to post about the AMC. Talk to a staff member about her internship and getting her associate's degree that she's worked on for several years or give my mental energy to wondering how BFP and Jess' walks are going. That's not a judgment call on the significance of that work, but it's a judgment call on the function of the internet for me in that moment. It is not a message to the disabled community nor is it an attempt to throw a blanket on all bloggers and readers of feminism to get offline and do "real work." That's a judgment call on where my own head is and what where my priorities lie in that moment when I have a decision to make.
To be human is to need relationship. To be in relationship, we must be present. However relationships come to us - offline or online - we need to be fully engaged to their the offerings and misgivings. One of the misgivings of the internet, for me, is that it lures me with its instant gratification and constant change. I began to grow comfortable in the mode and preferred that work over the offline womyn in my very hands. Examining an unexplained bruise on a womyn's breast is more important than reading my blog roll. Because of that fork in the road, because of that choice that is at my feet, I must make a judgment call on what is more important, what deserves my undivided attention.
That offline work that I am currently doing is not more important than the relationship building I did/do with the online RWOC. It all counts. It's all valuable. But when you start to sacrifice relationship for online activity - activity that is not consciousness raising, relationship building, or serving a greater purpose of need - then, yes, I believe it's time to get off the computer.
Saying that I need to be fully present to an individual human is not a message to the disabled community that their methods of communication are less valuable or "don't count," nor do I tell the person I was three years ago that her online outreach work weighs less than what I do now. It's when I begin choosing nameless and safe avenues of communication that serve more as a distraction AND deny the opportunity to be in full relationship with a human person breathing in front to me...THAT's when a problem occurs.
Logo by Jonas Diego
Power is never given back. When it's stolen, and if you want it back, you have to take it. - M. Caballero
