For Cincinnatians

US Troops, Too

Really?
[sarcasm]

Feminism's Discourse

I just returned from a conference in Boston for Asian-American women to discuss issues of leadership. It's a Boston-based conference and intended for all aged women - highschool, college, or professional age. (It being held at Harvard is a clear message too, this invitation targeted those in the academy.)

I met some wonderful individuals, women with whom I hope to spend time with when I move there, hopefully to build a community with. While I was there, I spent much time in contemplation about my feminism, my radicalness, and my life as a Filipina women. I have come to some slightly distraught conclusions about feminism.

A panel of Asian-American women were formed. Their task was to talk about how to utilize the media in their everyday lives. As a blogger, I have taken more interest in grassroots organizations, understanding that the more mainstream something is, the less accurate its depiction of reality. Mainstream, to be mainstream, something must be warm. It cannot be cold, it cannot be hot, it must be warm. It must be warm so EVERYONE can relate to it, so as many people as possible can be comfortable. Challenging topics are watered down so they, at best, are given a nudging reminder to be somewhat aware (e.g. global violence, global warming, the war, etc). And fear is used to freeze people in their lives, promoting defensiveness, suspicion, and vigilance from "the killers among us" (a CNN report in reponse to VT) to "can you really trust your pharmacist?" Fear, Fear, Fear.

Anyway, these mainstream media Asian-Americans (AA), were commenting on how to pitch a story to journalists, what their opinion was of the VT coverage and racial tension, and such. [insert big pats on the back for the panelists]

A bit tired at the unrelatedness to the larger theme (Meangingful Leadership Among AA)I stood up and asked a question, "Given the complexities of the differing cultures, races, and heritage of those labeled 'Asian-American,' what do you personally and/or professionally think about the umbrella term being used to lump everyone together?"

and this was the reply as she looked me in the eye:

"I wouldn't get bogged down by details like that. I would encourage you to just embrace the term 'Asian-American' and not try to constantly separate yourself and divide us any more than we already are. We're only 4% of the population as is."

The facilitator went on to say, "I think we have something to learn from other cultures. Whites have embraced their term Caucasian. African-Americans do not dispute over the term 'Black,' as much we do. There seems to be power in unifying and not creativing division. Perhaps this is what Asians need to do - group together for power."

Mhm - ignore the rich differences all in the name of "unity" and "power." Where, oh where, have I heard that before?

I looked around and no one had a comment. No one had enough fucking guts to disagree, even though I saw the disagreement in their eyes. I stared back at her, not coldly, not defiantly, but with unblinking, unafraid eyes. "BOGGED DOWN?" Are you kidding me? Oh, I guess I should have clarified the weight of my question. NOTE: ADD ADDENDUM TO QUESTION, IDENTIFY THE RELATED ISSUES OF IDENTITY, CULTURAL TRENDS OF THE MEDIA, AND RACISM.

Apart of me admonished myself for asking a news anchor what she thought about these troubling isses. And then I realized, I didn't ask her because she was sitting on a panel, I asked her because she was perceived to be a leader. She was sitting on this panel because she was labeled a leader. She was labeled a leader because she has "made strides" for "Asian-Americans" and apparently getting a "scoop" and your face on TV makes strides for AA and is what leadership is all about. Leadership, from this panel, explored the outdated and futile method of leading by visibility. It explored the kind of leadership that upholds the vociferous, not the thoughtful.

A lesson that I must learn over and over again is perception doesn't mean shit. Just because someone is a person of color doesn't mean they've personally explored what being a POC means to them. A leadership conference entitled leadership doesn't necessarily guarantee that MY definition of leadership will be considered. The dicotomous challenge for leadership conference event planners is emphasizing leadership on the community level and then filling your panel with individuals who do such work. But the mistake comes when the event planners revert to finding the high-profile "leaders." The ones who are senior advisors to Hillary Clinton for education issues (my small group leader) and editors of national magazines (plenary session speaker). "Cultural change" is measured by numbers, economic status, and education, and mindful contribution to capitalism. ("Support indie films, not Hollywood," which is a valid point, but is a bit ironical in that particular situation).

The hard-cheek issues we are looking for as a global community are not found by mainstream media, they are being affronted by the grassroots people who are less than rich, seen, visible, and heard. They are the writers, artists, activists, and educators who are not connected by the spokes to the bigger wheel. They are found, most often, reflecting, offering, criticizing, and intiating on much, much smaller levels. They are the ones who balance setback with liberation, laughter and shame, learning with prayer. They are the ones I am looking for.

The timeliness of my return from that conference to this morning's ritual of checking in with the feminist blogosphere is uncanny. I am a contributing writer for the Feminist Review and was reading their review of Jessica Valenti's book, Full, Frontal Feminism which I've posted about before. And upon clicking on links, have found nasty, nasty diatribes going back and forth. I don't know where it started, I don't know if it's over, I just know it's ugly and hardly surprising.

I have begun to read Valenti's book and can tell you right NOW that I will not finish it because it's more of the same found on feministing (again, beside the former link above, I do not link to the site) which targets young, white, heterosexual, USA's middle women. Often, I've asked myself since last Tuesday when it was delivered, why would I even both to pay for a book and read what I most likely will vehemently disagree. Well, the hard thing about being an aspiring cultural critic is that you have to be in tap with trends and acknowledge what others pay attention. There are self-arguments I make with myself, "Why support and grow the audience?" For this, though, for feminism, I choose not to look away from what I find short-changing, racist, and dangerously shallow. If my bi-culturalism can be used for something productive, I would like to utilize to understand two worlds and possible offer a translation and provide forecasting warnings or imminent victories.

Regardless of my personal views of the book, what is most disheartening is the reaction of the catfight's audience. So many "feminists" strain and moan over the disruptive noise of disagreement. They don't like difference. Peaceful = Sameness = Progression. And women are excellently prepared to make disagreements personal. Females, usually, are trained to go straight for the emotional jugular. It's disheartening, and it just plain pisses me off.

If we're going to create a stink, let's create a stink about the Movement. Let's create a stink and ask questions that are informed, well-rounded and probe the text, not the author. And commenters! Why pick sides to what is clearly an online feud? Why add to the pettiness, why load the gun with your own personal ammunition? Let people duke it over and if you must comment (not excluding myself) get to the real issues: feminism's discourse and the inability to passionately listen and, with a non-defensive persona, respond without hostile conflict. If our feminist "leaders" want to cyber slingshot their personal vendettas, my stance is to let them go at it, post a reminder to get over ourselves, and not get caught in the cross-fire.

There is a place for online disagreement and it has incredible benefits of growth and community formation, but when common differences unfold into accusation and repudiation, I once again blush from feminist embarrassment, the flush from feminist rage, (this is how feminism is being represented?) and look for alternative leadership.

The Loving Blogosphere

To blog, one must have thick skin. Or so I've heard. After all, a blogger must put herself out there for the world to read or see. This can be especially difficult if you reveal your true identity. A blogger is open to all the benefits and consequences of real life, translated into online communication. You take the good with the not-so-good.

The Good
Well, I've been on the blogosphere since July of 2006. I'm a little shy of a year and it, truly, has changed my life. I mean, "changed my life" in a sense that my life is deeper. I understand information, am able to interpret opinion and fact much more quickly and efficiently than I have in the past. Most importantly, I have access to other writers (HOORAY FOR FEMINIST WRITERS OF COLOR) in the world who are utilizing their pocket of the internet to fill it with perspective, insight, and creativity.

The Bad
There's a lot of trash out there.

One of my Sheros, BFP, put up this picture from this link.


In Hebrew: ‘I have sex with Palestinian women.’

And then she got this message:
Palestinean Torreist | i_will_fuck_you@if_u_will_not_rempve_it.com | IP: 87.101.244.7
remove fucker mother
Apr 25, 4:53 PM — [ Edit | Delete | Unapprove | Approve | Spam | View Post ]
#
Palestinean Torreist | i_will_fuck_you@if_u_will_not_rempve_it.com | IP: 87.101.244.7
Fuck you all
this not a palestinain women this is a fcker jewish in palestinain clothes cuz our relgion push us to the a good things
remove this picture or i will send a pump for all of you fucker mother

To which, my Shero replies:

I do believe these are what’s called THREATS.

And in light of the fact that I do not support THREATS of any kind, I have decided to not “remove this picture”. I have chosen to embrace my “fucker mother” label and even reciprocate with a friendly fuck you. Oh, and how about a kiss my fat Mexican ass just to make things interesting. And may the day come when you, PT, rot in hell.

smooches,
your friendly fat assed mexican,
bfp.

I believe in the bravery of solidarity and not in the shrinking cowardice in the form of threats, be it verbal, facial, physical, or written; with or without serious intent and plan.

One should know better than to try and intimidate those who spend their lives fighting threats, oppression, and empty anger - anger that does nothing but attempt to suppress others, anger that feeds on fear, anger that follows footsteps and trails of strength.

In solidarity with the women in this picture, in solidarity with BFP and all bloggers who take SHIT on a daily basis for attempting to fill their internet pockets with Hope, in solidarity with all women who live in terror of violence, harassment, stalking and fear.

I say to all those who spread violence and fear, no matter how big or small:
You can kiss my Filipino ass as well.

The Sopranos and VT

This article was taken from Racialicious.

HBO’s “Sopranos” and the VT Massacre

by guest contributor Jenn Fang, originally published on Reappropriate

(Hat-tip to reader A.) Last night on HBO’s Sopranos, an episode entitled “Remember When” aired in which the character of Junior Soprano, who has been institutionalized, befriends a young, mentally-ill Asian American man named Carter Chong, and played by Ken Leung (Quill in X-Men: The Last Stand).

According to the Wikipedia write-up of this episode, Carter ultimately feels betrayed by Junior when Junior decides to take his meds, and attacks him.

In A.’s email, he writes:

The internet is already abuzz with the fact that last night’s episode of HBO’s “The Sopranos” featured a young, mentally disturbed Asian male with violent tendencies. People are drawing all sorts of ignorant “parallels” to the Virginia Tech massacre, all weighted on the fact that the character was an Asian male. If it had been a white male or a black male, of course there would be no such “comparisons” made.

Keep an eye on this story. The episode was written and filmed six months ago, and I guess the broadcast timing is unfortunately coincidental ONLY if the viewer connects ALL Asian males with ONE violent Asian male they’ve seen in the news. A lot of ignorance and racism is coming out from many just because of this one episode. Let’s address this.

Of course, this character has nothing to do with the Virginia Tech massacre last week, and Carter Chong couldn’t possibly be a reflection of Seung Cho; as A. points out, this episode was written and shot several months ago and only aired last night due to a coincidence of timing.

And yet, some viewers seem to insist that the episode and the shooting are related, as an eerie “not connected but I insist they are karmically related” kind of way. On the forum, “Television Without Pity”, one viewer summed up the subplot as ”young Asian man with severe anger management problems and a history of gunplay”, while another commented “[t]he Asian having deep seated aggression problems was just too spooky.” Gotta love how in that second quote, Carter Chong is “the” Asian. One viewer commented, “I think most of us, even with no direct link to the horrific shootings, felt a little uncomfortable watching tonight. Whether fiction or not it was reminiscent enough of what happened to serve as a memory cue for an event that is probably hard to stop thinking about even without direct reminders.” However, a fourth viewer wrote:

A member of my immediate family was taken from us this week in the VATech thing, and I debated on whether or not I wanted to watch Sopranos tonight (ultimately I did since I’m a grown man and can realize that this is fiction). I did find the young asian male to be terrifyingly similar to what I envisioned the man who murdered my cousin to be, so it did weird me out for most of the episode. I just kept telling myself that I was overreacting because it’s barely been a week, so this is one of those episodes I’ll probably have to wait a while to rewatch. I’m sure it was unintentional, just unfortunate timing.

Other than both Seung Cho and Carter Chong being Asian: what’s the connection? Oh yes: a racially Asian man with mental illness is automatically associated with violent mass shooting sprees because Asian craziness is a factor of one’s skin colour, whereas the countless depictions of White men with mental illness are non-threatening because White craziness has nothing to do with Whiteness.

Again we see the inability of mainstream america to distinguish between a person of colour’s race and his actions, be the actions positive or negative. Seeing one Black man dunk a basketball or rap a song is proof positive that all Black men are capable of such feats, and an example of one Korean American man who succumbed to the violent nature of his mental illness is evidence that all Asian Americans with mental illness will be Seung Cho re-incarnated. (Even more telling the conflation of a Korean American with a character who is ostensibly Chinese American). Such irrational connections are never made when the targets are White.

I don’t have to watch last night’s episode of The Sopranos to know that Carter Chong and the Virginia Tech Massacre are not related. But, of course, there are those who see one Asian face and think they’re seeing us all.

Good Morning

 

As I job hunt, I keep in mind the things I absofreakinglutely cannot deal with anymore.

More Road Pics

 

If you take a look around, you find so much humor on the road.

SAVE ME

 

Another great roadtrip picture on 75 North. No one believes me when I tell them there is a building-size Jesus coming out of the water. They say I sound delusional.

Asian Fear

From Postsecret.

Think this has anything to do with VT? Do you really believe there is not relationship between the race-driven media and fear?

Here were other comments made after this postcard was sent to Postsecret.

----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, April 22, 2007 3:33 PM
Subject: Asians Scare Me

Don't worry, after VT, we have more reasons to be scared than you do.
-----End Message-----


-----Email Message-----
Sent: Monday, April 23, 2007 8:02 AM
Subject: PostSecret

I grew up being in fear that I was asian. Now after VT I too am more scared then ever. It's good to see that someone else feels the same way I do . . . That email message made me feel better about the situation we are in now.

For more postcard-ed secrets, click here.

Crimes [of Hate]

I am on a listserve for people involved and work for women's issues. One of the emails I received this week was concerning whether or not any violence against a woman would/should be considered a hate crime. If someone is targeted, just because she is s woman, similar to if an individual was targeted just because s/he is of a certain religious background, race, ethnicity, or sexual orientation, why shouldn't it be considered at hate crime?

The email author went on to say that she was at a seminar with the FBI concerning hate crimes and someone posed the question and the FBI, under unusual candor said something along the lines of, "If every act of violence toward women was considered a hate crime, the FBI wouldn't have enough officers to handle all the cases."

Feminism Anymore

This is a poem I wrote in reaction to Listen Up! Voices from the Next Generation of Feminists.

My Feminism anymore is not about knowing
that when I walking into a room my body belongs to me
and
my choice,
my sexual choices
are a reflection of my dreams and my desires,
not just a flaunt
of a carefree
sexolution

My Feminism anymore is not demanding.
If you demand something, it still has a connotation
(and a degradation)
that something must be handed over
But it was never theirs
to begin with

No, My Feminism anymore means I Expect it.
All of it.
My raised eyebrows say, "Oh, you haven't heard?"
The revolution is here,
today,
in this conversation,
existing,
between us.
I'm not lofty.
You're just behind.

In Solidarity

From abcnews.com

Reading Between The Lines

I stayed up late last night despite a monstrous headache, intolerable of loud noise and bright lights. I watched the special reports of what is going on at Virgina Tech and the global reactions.

Not surprisingly, the blogosphere is blowing up. What's happening at VT, appropriately, has the world reacting. In my natural tendencies with tragedy and deep events, I observe and take in the event before I really have an opinion. The two things I can see at this point is that there is still so much unknown and people are debating as to whether race is at all a part of this.

The young woman who was first killed in the residence hall is speculated NOT to have any relationship with the gunman. The young man who was killed trying to help was a resident assistant. He apparently had no relation to her, except being her RA, or the gunman either. All the news is covering is why why why and there is no connection yet found. I, like, everyone else am simply broken by this senselessness and am quiet with sorrow. Thirty three people died and through witness testimony, I cannot fathom the level of hysteria and fear that University must have experienced that day.

As for the debate around race, well, really, is there any surprise? All different kinds of asian groups and representatives, including the governement of South Korea have issued some form of an statement which includes some apologies. Is it just me, or is that slightly flabbergasting? We're ALL sorry, we're ALL reacting to this together, but because the gunman was originally born in South Korea, but has lived in the US for 15 years and was a legal citizen, an entire country is expected to issue a statement? Or perhaps they were fearful of what the US might do if they did not?

The bottom line, for me, is that you must read between the lines of the Asian diaspora to understand that race is an issue. You must be able to read the fine print even though so many will claim you are reading something that is not there. Trust me, it's there. Race is alluded to the lives of people of color every damn day of their lives and once it's in conversation and you bring us race the response is usually,"Why does race always have to be a part of it? It has nothing to do with it."

I don't know. Ask the folks in charge (even though I guarantee they'll have a lame answer), or ask the media why it allows racially charged articles to be printed that are anti-asian, anti-immigration, and think immediately of terrorism. Ask the folks who asked random asians for comment. Ask yourself.

The actions of Seung-Hui Cho are as dispicable, tragic, sad, and horrific as a human can do. My reaction is not singular. I do see race, but I also see it mixed with questions surrounding mental wellness, isolation, assimilation, community, and an unknown family background.

It's a time for mourning, and I don't doubt there are enough people trying to accuse, blame, and propose negative stereotypes. Really, is that any different from any other day in the USA after tragedy?

Another Perspective on Virgina Tech

Thanks to BFP who got it from Priscilla.

What May Come: Asian Americans and the Virginia Tech Shootings

Tamara K. Nopper
April 17, 2007

Like many, I was glued to the television news yesterday, keeping updated about the horrific shootings at Virginia Tech University. I was trying to deal with my own disgust and sadness, especially since my professional life as a graduate student and college instructor is tied to universities. And then the other shoe dropped. I found out from a friend that the news channel she was watching had reported the shooter as Asian. It has now been reported, after much confusion, that the shooter is Cho Seung-Hui, a South Korean immigrant and Virginia Tech student.

As an Asian American woman, I am keenly aware that Asians are about to become a popular media topic if not the victims of physical backlash. Rarely have we gotten as much attention in the past ten years, except, perhaps, during the 1992 Los Angeles Riots. Since then Asians are seldom seen in the media except when one of us wins a golfing match, Woody Allen has sex, or Angelina Jolie adopts a kid.

I am not looking forward to the onslaught of media attention. If history truly does have clues about what will come, there may be several different ways we as Asian Americans will be talked about.

One, we will watch white media pundits and perhaps even sociologists explain what they understand as an “Asian” way of being. They will talk about how Asian males presumably have fragile “egos” and therefore are culturally prone to engage in kamikaze style violence. These statements will be embedded with racist tropes about Japanese military fighters during WWII or the Viet Cong—the crazy, calculating, and hidden Asian man who will fight to the death over presumably nothing.

In the process, the white media might actually ask Asian Americans our perspectives for a change. We will probably be expected to apologize in some way for the behavior of another Asian—something whites never have to collectively do when one of theirs engages in (mass) violence, which is often. And then some of us might succumb to the Orientalist logic of the media by eagerly promoting Asian Americans as real Americans and therefore unlike Asians overseas who presumably engage in culturally reprehensible behavior. In other words, if we get to talk at all, Asian Americans will be expected to interpret, explain, and distance themselves from other Asians just to get airtime.

Or perhaps the media will take the color-blind approach instead of a strictly eugenic one. The media might try to whitewash the situation and treat Cho as just another alienated middle-class suburban kid. In some ways this is already happening—hence the constant referrals to the proximity of the shootings to the 8th anniversary of the Columbine killings. The media will repeat over and over words from a letter that Cho left behind speaking of “rich kids,” and “deceitful charlatans.” They will ask what’s going on in middle-class communities that encourage this type of violence. In the process they may never talk about the dirty little secret about middle-class assimilation: for non-whites, it does not always prevent racial alienation, rage, or depression. This may be surprising given that we are bombarded with constant images suggesting that racial harmony will exist once we are all middle-class. But for many of us who have achieved middle-class life, even if we may not openly admit it, alienation does not stop if you are not white.

But the white media, being as tricky as it is, may probably talk about Cho in ways that reflect a combination of both traditional eugenic and colorblind approaches. They will emphasize Cho’s ethnicity and economic background by wondering what would set off a hard-working, quiet, South Korean immigrant from a middle-class dry-cleaner-owning family. They will wonder why Cho would commit such acts of violence, which we expect from Middle Easterners and Muslims and those crazy Asians from overseas, but not from hard-working South Korean immigrants. They will promote Cho as “the model minority” who suddenly, for no reason, went crazy. Whereas eugenic approaches depicting Asians as crazy kamikazes or Viet Cong mercenaries emphasize Asian violence, the eugenic aspect of the model minority myth suggests that there is something about Asian Americans that makes them less prone to expressions of anger, rage, violence, or criminality. Indeed, we are not even seen as having legitimate reasons to have anger, let alone rage, hence the need to figure out what made this “quiet” student “snap.”

Given that the model minority myth is a white racist invention that elevates Asians over minority groups, Cho will be dissected as an anomaly among South Koreans who “are not prone” to violence—unlike Blacks who are racistly viewed as inherently violent or South Asians, Middle Easterners and Muslims who are viewed as potential terrorists. He will be talked about as acting “out of character” from the other “good South Koreans” who come here and quietly and dutifully work towards the American dream. Operating behind the scenes of course is a diplomatic relationship between the US and South Korea forged through bombs and military zones during the Korean War and expressed through the new free trade agreement negotiations between the countries. Indeed, even as South Korean diplomats express concern about racial backlash against Asians, they are quick to disown Cho in order to maintain the image of the respectable South Korean.

Whatever happens, Cho will become whoever the white media wants him to be and for whatever political platform it and legislators want to push. In the process, Asian Americans will, like other non-whites, be picked apart, dissected, and theorized by whites. As such, this is no different than any other day for Asian Americans. Only this time an Asian face will be on every television screen, internet search engine, and newspaper.

Tamara K. Nopper is an educator, writer, and activist living in Philadelphia. She can be reached at tnopper@yahoo.com

Glad That's Clear

And one more thing about my disgust with the media today, as if Imus and the circus around that fiasco isn't enough -

I'm SO, SO glad we know that the gunman is Asian.

(Never mind my vendetta with the umbrella use of that term.)

So often people wonder by "people of color" see race in everything and everything is racialized and in every possible action, something comes up regarding race.

And then in a tragedy like this, one of the first things we need to know about the gunman, not if he acted alone, was a student, or what his agenda was - no, we want to know what race he is.

Have you seen the links on the internet that give listings of Asian killing sprees? Or that the gunman might have been an international student and is not looking to see if he has ties with a terrorist group?

AARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Virginia Tech

Adonis and I spent last night watching, thinking, and talking about what has happened at Virgina Tech. Every perspective I read about influences that way I see it. It's interesting to hear the global perspective; how lax our gun laws are, a nation that "seemingly has self-defense written in their DNA" with its citizens who cling to the notion that carrying a gun is an inalienable right, and the mixture of anger, solitude, and inability to communicate other than violence seems to be a horrific trend.

But, all I can think of are the "kids" that have died in Iraq over this war. Our soldiers are pretty much the same age as these students and we hear daily accounts of bombs, not bomb threats. We read all the online crap saying, "Two more soliders in Iraq were killed by a roadside bomb." And we go on with our lives.

Granted, this is a much different situation, I realize, but the extent of violence in our lives is causing so, so much pain and yet we refuse to change our culture, we refuse to look at our cultural icons and behaviors. In recent memory, in addition to the casualties of war, the Columbine incident, 9/11, the killings at the Amish school house, and local accounts of violence have all pointed to a culture of violence. One man who did this, in a "it could have been here" town is both aberrent and symbolic of what is going on in our culture.

My GA pointed out that the profile of most of these individuals are young men. Somewhere and somehow we are teaching men that one of the ways to communicate problems and hardships is to pick up a weapon and make your point with violence.

I tried to stop reading about the Duke LAX case and after I found out about Virgina, I wanted to stay away from the news. Then I realized I have to practice what I preach: to be a part of the solution, one must not retreat from the world, but rather engage with the pain, and learn.

Paz.

Weekend Photos

 

Amid all the odd things you see on roadtrips, awesome signs of hope can still surface.

Weekend Photos

 

But, even in a "man's world," there are random signs of appreciation for beauty.

Weekend Photos

 

And people still say that it's not a man's world?
Taken in a contruction area site.

Weekend Photos

 
 

There's nothing like a weekend trip home. You've got fam. Good food. Lots of good times. And don't forget the religious reminders along the highway that always make me feel so EXCITED for life. If you can't read the second picture, it's the Ten Commandments. Don't worry, Adonis was driving, I was in the passenger seat going nuts.

Where I'm Headed: Allied Media Conference

I'm headed to the Allied Media Conference this June. Here's a short clip of what to expect.

Thanks to No Snow Here.

Submission for Catholic Women's Experience

I am submitting this essay for consideration to be included in an anthology that explores the catholic women's experience. Copywrited, 2007.

There Are No Memoirs

What would you say if I said that I feel forgotten by God?

Would you say that it’s ludicrous because God never forgets? That I must not have strong faith? That I should pray more frequently? Or would you say that I am an ill-hearted pessimist hoping to smear the windows of the pretty blue churches?

What would you say if I reconsidered and posed that perhaps it isn’t God who is forgetting me, but rather, it is I who is allowing me to be forgotten? Is it then my lapse? Would you abandon your once ready pep talk about God’s eternal memory and reach in for a different sermon index card with “Spiritual Motivation!” in the headline instead?

What if neither of those are the answers? Suppose what I have to say is not really a memoir of statements or a collection of unreleased womanly truths about Catholicism. What if in my chance as a Catholic, first generation Filipina - who was told to shut up; who wept into the hard wooden pews; who was told to give and give until my soul bled; who mind-cursed at priests; and was told to be a sacrificial lamb for others and to forgive regardless of apology – I chose not to provide a self-testament, but a question?

Simply put, I just don’t have the desire anymore to tell the highlighted stories about my life, about the cultural split of being raised in a White western society by immigrant parents with inflexible Filipino Catholicism, or how my first and only love once left me to go to seminary. I’m too drained to once more expand upon my experience with church scandal and betrayal, symbolism, and pain. A hundred times already have I expounded upon the circular journey of finding strength and resilience in the Catholic Church. No one really listened before. So, why ask now about my seemingly unsettling identity as a Catholic Radical f(P)eminist of color? Would anyone, anymore listen? Would one more narrative really crack the walls of the church?

In my ephemeral, naïve days, I believed, yes. I believed that solely because it was my story, my voice, and my life it actually would crack the church walls from the inside. However, that kind of belief system breathes egocentric air and the church has had its full of pompous, one-way leaders who believe their footpath is strikingly similar to the road to Calvary. That kind of leadership resembles mixing oil with holy water. Not even with a thousand furious stirs, those two elements will not fuse.

In the place of a one-dimensional scorecard, I began spending more time sifting complexity, paradox, and metaphor. Asking questions swallowed me to a deeper space. I began asking questions. Not the lamenting or accusatory questions that prompt defensiveness and spit dogma, but the arrowed questions that cannot and should not be denied. The kind of questions you must never attempt to swerve around or risk silencing. They are the hinting questions that indicate perhaps most of our problems are not that we ourselves are terribly wrong, but rather we have narrowly shortchanged the creativity of our Creator. Where is the sin in truth-seeking and truthful inquiry? I figured that if the Church will not take my answers, then the Church must take my questions.

It is my prayer, my winged breath that my questions rock the core of so many leaders who have painted the Holy Spirit as a flying dove with a scroll in its mouth delivering its message to the “Chosen.” It is my desperation, not my hope that carries me forward. It is desperation for change, for urgent change because the young are being kidnapped far too swiftly and easily by indifference. Because the elderly are being treated as fragile and dying plants that simply need nutrition, not love, attention, and presence. Because more and more people are hiding from relationship, retreating from genuine struggle, and plugging their ears with devices to channel out any chance of forming community. We are becoming weak with excessive bravado and we are foolish to believe compassionate understanding alone is enough for the ostracized to feel embraced. I am desperate because so many believe contemporary faith is having answers in the face of adversity, numbing pain with pretension, and relieving any discomfort with pills, falsities, and cowardice. The absence of conflict is not an answer. That’s emptiness. Exonerated answers or pretending to have the answers only obstructs the hearing canal of our faith.

This is my experience as a catholic woman: to be fierce, not certain; to resurrect despite being discounted; to be transparent, not invisible. I do not believe one documented essay can uphold or attempt to record my life experience or that even a collection of Wisdom will save me or reveal something unknown. It is my desperate prayer that my question, my burning confusion will light someone else’s way so that our reflections are not about ourselves and our journeys, but more about providing light so I can see your face and you can see mine.

Before you is a question, not a statement. It is a 28-year-old offering, not a gift, of possibility and what could be, not what actually is. I can only share my Divinity, not in certitude, but in faith that it will be received, hopefully considered, or maybe even celebrated.

My question, among many, remains: What is so consuming in the church that it cannot hear my screaming?

LAX...DUKE Depression

picture taken from amazon.com

How I wish those letters were referring to Los Angeles Airport, LAX. But, no, we do not live in a life where my blogging concerns the details of luggage delays and incredibly long minutes of terminal waits. How I wish I could write a comparitive dissertation on mainstream airports such as O'Hare, LAX, La Guardia, and Reagon.

LAX refers to the non-shocking but heartwrenching story of the Duke Lacrosse/Nifong rape case. In case you haven't heard, all charges have been dropped against the three young men. Read more about it here, thanks to The Primary Contradiction.

Aside from the clear multiplicity of stories this case has birthed, the one I find myself most fascinated by is the intersection of media, journalism, and the public perception of rape and sexual violence.

In other words, in lay terms, I cannot fucking believe how ignorant people are about the effects of sexual violence and trauma on survivor's lives, choices, and memory.
I mean, SERIOUSLY, do people honestly think that women with "questionable" histories who dress in "sheer red negligee" go around saying they were gang raped for shits and giggles? Because it is SO much fun to be publicly humiliated and Wikipedia-ed as a result of reporting a sexual assault?

The plain and enraging fact is that no one - not media, Nifong, or even Finnerty and his crew (if they're truly "innocent") - know the truth. The truth, of sexual assault, is often buried in the moment it occurs. Every rape is different, every assault is different, and I happen to believe that this woman was assaulted. By who, when, where, and how, I will never know. But after working years in the field of sexual violence, what steams me most is the arrogance and ignorance of the "spectators" who have the audacity to supposedly determine culpability or innocense based on MEDIA's perception of the events?

Just because we have cell phone records and time lapsed photos that contradict the times where she said she was raped, strangled, and sodomized does not prove a violent act never took. Anyone with half a brain could reflect on the last time you were inconvenienced and draw a clear relationship between forced human memory and actuality. Ever wait in line at the grocery store too long when someone couldn't find the right change? In actuality, "price check on aisle 3" takes:

a) less than 2 minutes
b) ten minutes
c) at least 10 minutes


In the moment, I say B, or if I'm really pissed, maybe C. In retrospect, it was probably about 45 seconds. So, A is the reality. But, when you are running late because your boss is expecting you back at the office in 3 minutes or when you need to use the restroom, the 45 seconds are about 5 minutes. Five minutes feels like 10 minutes...and so on and so forth.

My point?

My point is that even under the most mundane conditions, our ability to measure time and its relationship to memory is skewed by one's EMOTIONAL STATE. A recount of how much time something took is different in how it FELT. Often, in trauma, there is no distinction or memory. So, take that and apply it to, oh, I don't know, someone pushing a penis, hand, or inanimate pointed object into your vagina or anas. It just might be that details and ability to recollect are less than precise. It just might be that drugs, alcohol, and perhaps general life experience and past abuses have prevented a one-way, linear avenue of clear communication that so many people demand to satiate their own demented conclusion of truth and justice. These elements might radically change time tables, causing eyeballs to sway to and fro.

We get so caught up in the search and the weight of "facts;" facts which usually tip the scale toward the accused and away from the accuser, that the understanding piece of the nature of sexual assault is swept under the rug. THE "TRUTH" OF SEXUAL ASSAULT DIES IN THE MOMENT IT HAPPENS. The details of what led up to "it," who wore what, what drink was poured and how much fade in the human act of violating another person's essense, their own body. There are necessary and appropriate places for wondering how the puzzle pieces fit, but a major, major problem is that general perception is tainted by our own gendered views of propriety.

For instance, in my experience, everyone always points to the woman in cases of college acquaintence or date rape. A woman makes a stupid decision, like, trusting a stranger at a party. Dumb decision, yeah. Who doesn't do their share of stupidity? I drive drunk sometimes. Isn't that more dumb, mindless, and idiotic than kissing a good-looking, perceivably good person who likes you? Do I or the other person deserve to have our bodies violated against our will? Does one decision warrant the most heinous human act of violence? Well, she should have known better to go home with him. I KNOW. SHE TOTALLY DESERVED TO BE RAPED. [read: intense trademark AWE sarcasm]

How much more does a lifetime of circumstances, a lifetime of choices that we do not approve of, taint our ability to see truth? She's a stripper. Single mother. Black. Student at a less prestigious school. She supposedly stripped less than 2 weeks after the alleged rape. If she was really raped, she wouldn't go back and do that sort of thing again. Or, SHE MIGHT HAVE NO OTHER OPTIONS AND NEED TO FEED HER CHILDREN.

She "wanted the money" she didn't receive from the Duke folks who hired her to take off her clothes. See? She's just a money-hungry liar who just wanted their money. She wasn't really raped. or, MAYBE SHE STARTED STRIPPING TO FINANCE SCHOOL AND FAMILY, AND EVEN THOUGH THE WORLD IS NOW WATCHING, YOU ARE STILL IN THE SAME ECONOMIC DISPARITY.

The multiplicity of begging questions surrounding this case are clearly overwhelming. Was she raped? Who raped her? Did Finnerty, Evans, Seligmann have any part in it? I don't know. Nobody knows. Not even the luxury box Duke parents who flipped their hands on 60 Minutes and called the accuser "disturbed" and cried over their sons' unknown future. Are their lives forever changed and smeared because of this? Absolutely! But you gotta find another blog if you want sympathetic commentary for the millionaire families with tarnished lives.

In the future, these men will always be, perhaps unjustly, linked to the case and they will forever have to prove they were indeed "innocent" of the charges, and that the "fantastic lies" were indeed fantastically told.

But, my primary concern is not of the first class smear affairs. My focus is on the young women who will forever have those three children that lived through this and the murky mystery of what truly happened that night. My curiosity is peaked by the fact that she did not want to move forward in it and yet her name has now been released for all of America to know. My concern is not that her life will be spent defending her name and reminding innocence, but building a life without privilege and credibility when the world has already deemed you a liar, at best. I'm more concerned about her ability to heal her body, her self, a history of violence and, I believe, rape.

But WHO raped her then? I really don't care.

You wanna have a go-round about whose got it worse? Tell the truth.

If you had to choose who you'd rather be in this case, now that "it's over," would you rather:

Have to rebuild a previously privileged life after a terrible ordeal and have family wealth, resources, and live with the sting of a pseudo "innocent" label attached to your name for the rest of your life?

OR

Have to attempt to heal from the physical, psychological, and emotional trauma of rape that will be with you for the rest of your days with the label of the "that stripper who said she was raped by those lacrosse guys...what were their names again?"

No Reget

 
I took this pic several weeks ago in my apartment, on a day when I was feeling particularly restless for change and new possibility in my life.

I recently picked a new Contemplation card out of the pile. This is what it read:

REGRET
Should've. Would've. Could've.
Regret is like a noose around
your neck pulling you backward.
Let it go.
A new world awaits you.

Let it go.
A new world awaits you.

Two Hundo

This is my 200th post. Celebrate.

What I have been thinking about is my future. What does the future hold for me? In many ways, this is not a big deal. People look for jobs everyday. Everyone faces this uncertainty at one time or another.

For me, I see this as a crossroad, an opportunity and in the words of a special man-hero of mine, Lloyd Dobbler, I say, " I gotta admit I'm looking for something bigger. I'm looking for a dare to be great situation."

Every day, every morning, I wake up and wish there wasn't a laid out agenda in front of me. Is that living? Knowing everyday what is expected of you, what turns to make, and who you are going to be seeing? Am I nuts for thinking that I want my daily existence to mean more than a paycheck and saying all the right things? That I want a little unexpectedness in my life? That yesterday I almost wrote Adonis a love letter, but didn't have the time?

To me, that is failing. Failing to have time to write a love letter is not the kind of life I want. The speed and substance of my life is what matters most. If we are to live our lives working, I want my work to reflect so much more than this.

We all deserve that. We all deserve to wake up and be excited that the person next to us is who we truly want, both we and the day are chosen, and the life we live belongs to us.

1,000,000 Words

Pic off of bfp.

Rarely will I post a photograph that someone else has taken, but I love this picture. It's poetry.

Marie Stefanie Martinez

From The Anti-Essentialist Conundrum
A Filipina-American teenage girl was beaten on a bus for "looking Chinese," and the driver, after she reported it to him said to "go find a priest." Read the rage here.

Think this is a hate crime? Sign the online petition here. This goes to Mayor Michael Bloomberg, NYPD Hate Crimes Task Force Commanding Officer Inspector Michael Osgood, and MTA Bus President Tom Savage.

Sometimes I find myself in conversations when people comment, "That still happens? Like, in New York?"

And I silently ask where is there a place in which there is no violence due to people's intolerance for difference?

On a Lighter Note

From Gallery of the Absurd.

Thanks to BFP and Athenaeum, I found out that Angelina is adopting yet another child. A daughter, from Chad, will be gracing the most famous adopt-friendly family in Hollywood. Not much of a Hollygossiper, but this cartoon got me rolling...

LABAN

Laban means fight in Tagalog, the native language of the Philippines. Though it's a little hard to hear and a bit fuzzy at times, this powerful video captures the spirit of so many women in the Philippines, my untouched homeland.

The F/Peminist Catholic

As a Spanish Filipina, one of the most complex elements of life is faith. Faith is not just the Catholic Church. Faith, for me, incorporates relationships, love, and family. My faith is the beating heart of my life. From what gives life, I believe, is my faith in Something larger than the human mind's comprehension, and therefore, is considered sacred.

My relationship to catholicism is complicated by all the human conditions that I have been raised with: immigration, translation, ethnic shame, and ignorance. But it is a strong relationship. I know no other kinds of relationships other than strong ones. Despite all the destructive and narrow aspects of the human leadership I have experienced in the Church, I nonetheless, still believe in the power of Something larger and I believe in the spirituality of progress and growth.

As a peminist ([Filipina-American feminism or Pinayism]the "f" sound is not found in Filipino dialect and was enforced by the Spanish's conquest and King Phillip - note the "PH" sound in Phillip), there is an often disruptive relationship between peminism and catholicism. The Philippines is largely Catholic, something like 90% of the Philippines identifies catholic, and there is no divorce either.

If you are Christian, you may be observing Holy Thursday today. This marks the beginning of the holiest time of the year in the Catholic Church. It is a time of solemnity, sacrifice, deep prayer, and observance. It gives way to Easter Sunday, the fireworks of all Holidays for the Catholic. (In addition, I can have movie popcorn again make it at home during Grey's Anatomy. This sounds trivial, but you have no idea.)

So, for those of you who identify with the Catholic Church and concern over its well-being, here is a link. It's a survey asking for any Catholic, under the age of 40 to answer questions pertaining to the future of the church and your personal experience. I had much to say, surprise, surprise.

But, I believe in supporting any kind of initiative that tries to gather opinion from the young. I believe that, despite what my experience tells me, the leadership, or at least some of the leadership, cares about what I, a young Catholic woman, thinks. This effort stems from someone in the the D.C area, surprise, surprise, and I encourage all who observe these holy days of the year, to contribute your thoughts to this survey.

In English:

http://www.emergingmodels.org/survey/catholic_diocesan.htm


En Espanol:

http://www.emergingmodels.org/survey/catholic_diocesanSP.htm

On Leadership

I wrote this yesterday after a writing workshop on leadership.

This sounds terrible, but up until recently, I've yawned in leadership's face. Someone with a clipboard, microphone, conductor's stick. It's all been the same. YAWN.

Then, something deeper.

I yawned because that leadership is boring, the kind of person who barked at me for being too slow, the teacher who placed red Xs over my writing, and the priests who told me to be patient, be quiet, be good.

Leadership, in my experience, was men with authority, and for me, it was usually white men peering down at my 5'2 frame and telling me what to do and what not to do.

I never shied away from publich speaking. I've always loved groups, psychology, connection, conversation, and showing my passion to improve the world. But leadership? It was for people with power and God complexes.

And then I began experiencing transformation. I began recognizing the world collapsing around me: the lush green fading into murky brown; enslaving poverty in the international world; the voiceless, unheard children I worked with.

I became agitated, enraged, and recognized no one was coming. No leader I knew was coming to save me, or the children, or these women. No one was coming.

And then I saw myself. I was there.

Feminism, Connections, and Whose Voices You Hear

picture found on amazon.

For those of you unfamiliar with new media and the intersection with feminism, there is a large explosion of women bloggers, feminist bloggers, and women of color bloggers. What's the difference, you might ask. Good question. And good questions often spit out complex answers.

There are women who blog about random things - work, business, gardening, family sorts of things. There are feminist bloggers who take on women and gender issues. Then, there are also women of color bloggers, who tackle issues of gender and women, but take an even more cerebral and, brave, I might add, step in publishing their CRITICAL thoughts of the world, especially the feminist world.

Jessica Valenti is the executive director and founder of Feministing.com (I won't provide a link, google it if you want), which is a high traffic area for feminists, activists, academics, and journalists. I emailed Jessica several months ago and she was kind in dispersing advice about writing, academia, and connection. She and I are the same age and I couldn't help but begin to devour blogs shortly after I found Feministing.

Joining the ranks of Jen Baumgardener and Amy Richards, authors of Manifesta,, Valenti/Feministing and mainstream feminism is skyrocketing with its cultural punktified articles and seething sarcasm targeted at patriarchal practices and governing politics.

However, shortly after familiarizing myself with Feministing, I tripped and discovered the Women of Color Blog, Brownfemipower, and her axis of progressive persons of color; activists, academics, and writers, my favorite folks, who exercise and advise caution with mainstream feminism. The featured cover is Jessica's book that is coming out this spring. And I once again, notice the white skin tone of a book with FULL FRONTAL FEMINISM as its cover.

Sigh.

Oh, how many more white women writers with such certified feminist dexterity, empower their books with such titles and then dare to put a white woman's body on the cover? How many MORE books will do this? How many mainstream feminists will once AGAIN put a face (or hip) on the cover of a supposedly feminist book?

STOP EXCLUDIG WOMEN OF COLOR. STOP BEING NARROW AND STOP SHORT CHANGING FEMINISM. STOP THINKING YOU'VE GOT THE ANSWERS FOR ALL OF WOMEN. PLEASE BEGIN TO PUBLICIZE YOUR BOOKS CORRECTLY, WITH THE TARGET AUDIENCE IN MIND.

For individuals who think that a white naked hip is an appropriate cover for a book dealing with Third Wave feminism. For ultra-hip cool folks, who prefer high fiving other hands that agree with Whitestream feminism.