woohoo!

Congrats to Sonia Sotomayor who just got confirmed by the senate to be a Supreme Court Justice! Now let's see what the "Wise Latina" can/will do.

ny times: symbol of unhealed congo

This article makes me cry inside some more. Male rape victims in the disaster zone that is the Congo are increasing. And honestly, as hard as it is for women to admit being raped, it's just as hard and probably harder for men to admit it and recover from it. If you read the stories in the article all I can get from them is sadness. One doctor writes, referencing the likelihood that Rwanda is maintaining the peace by shoving all the violence next door, "shouldn't the world feel guilty about what's happening in Congo today?" Well, I know I do, but there seems little that I can do about it. More people die there every day (probably every hour) than die in those plane crashes that get sensationalized in our headline news. But what is being done to stop it? What can be done? It seems a political solution is indeed in order but who will help bring it about? I feel helpless and disheartened and can only hope that sometime down the line I will have learned a way to do more than just write.

via nytimes

my outlet/free time.

Words are never sufficient and though I'm not a crazy talented artist, this kind of stuff suffices as an outlet.

ny times op-ed: "documenting brutalities to change the world"

"I am ... eager for us to create a better world together. When we truly listen to the communities we wish to serve, we absorb their pain and invigorate our search for justice and solutions. We cannot trick ourselves into thinking 'someone else will do it' because we are the ones privileged to have attended college. It is now our responsibility to rethink and implement sustainable change, whether local or global."

This is exactly what I want my life to be. I've no better words.

via nytimes

holy jellyfish.

I just saw this picture as I was scrolling through CNN's international news with its accompanying article. This is absolutely crazy! If the whole crisis wasn't so devastating to the coastal villages in Japan it would be funny. But it's not funny :( The jellyfish destroy fisherman's nets and then ruin whole catches which are the basis of these people's livelihoods = economic devastation on top of economic crisis = bad news. Too bad, these things look cool but I can see how much damage potential they have too. Especially when you think about them in large groups.

follow-up. (labels).

So having had some more days to reflect on Invisible Monsters and digest it some more, I feel a bit of a need to digree more on why the book was so powerful and how I managed to relate to it despite its most assuredly insane characters. Who, naturally, are simultaneously, in many regards sane. But that is another topic.

It's the third quote from the last post that really struck me. In the beginning of my first year of college, we did a few activities based on diversity sort of as due course - things any respectable college must have in some shape or form for all their freshman. In any case, we did two activities and got a rather boring, rather unengaging lecture (which, in my opinion, is one of the deepest flaws in diversity intiatives in most places, not just college campuses). The first activity was one in which you wrote down your reactions to words, like "Blonde" or "Black" or "Queer". This can be a good activity and I've participated in a well-done one, but this was not well done. That is also another story. What I'm really trying to get at is the second activity which was an identity one. On seven or so notecards we wrote down the word(s) that described us for a number of differeny categories that included gender, sexual orientation, age, race, ethnicity, social class, among others. Then we ranked each identity card based on its importance to us from 1 to 7. Next, we got rid of all the 1s (least important cards) and had to order the other cards based on their importance to us. Basically what that means is we had to pick what word that described us from those categories was the largest facet of our identities. Eek.

Ok, I realize I am rambling a bit, but I'm going to keep going anyways, so the choice is yours. Keep reading, or stop. I don't particularly care either way. So back to the story, you probably don't know this about me but I suffer from serious indecision. So I'm sitting in a chair trying to choose a card for this rather inane seeming activity and I find myself shuffling back and forth between three particular cards. One says "Asian", one says "Chinese", and the last one says, "Female". So that's it huh? Those are the three. But which is first? Which is most important? And I'm sitting there going how the hell am I supposed to be able to do this? Cram my whole life and whole life experience into a notecard with my rather neat handwriting spelling out these 5, 6, and 7 letter words. I'm just so tired of being labeled. But of course since nobody really cared about the activity (sad, I know, if only...) I just sucked it up and picked one. And I cheated a little. You see, I'd done the activity before with my orientation group and had picked "Female" that time, so this time, if my memory serves me correctly, I chose "Chinese". If I'd done it again, I'd probably have picked "Asian".

Because here's what I've realized and what I started realizing again or more or I'm not sure what the right word there is, but in any case, I'm so sick of being stereotyped based on how I look. All of those things you can tell based on a photograph of me (Ok, admittedly some people think I'm Korean though I don't actually know how they get there...). "You're so Asian." "You're only saying that cuz you're a girl." Here's the thing though, no one says I do something because I'm Chinese. Maybe that's why I chose Chinese over Asian the second time. (Of course, maybe it was just random, but I'm trying to make a point here). I don't know if people notice this but Asia is HUGE. And I know that now, "Asian" is pretty much synonymnous with "East Asian" but that's kinda harsh on the rest of the Asians. Everyone seems to know what being Asian means for me, and whether this is true or not, I can actually say that not everyone knows what it means to me that I'm Chinese, or rather Chinese-American. I'm not just being a nitpick, it's an important distinction. But again, another story. So here's my big problem. Everyone looks at me and goes Asian, female, maybe they throw in short just for kicks. But what does that mean? I can guess what they think it means off of the stereotypes but can you honestly bottle me up into two or three words?? You didn't even get to ethnicity, or personality, and I know that you just assumed I was straight.

Stop it. (This isn't just a message to you, it's one to me too.) Stop assigning words to people like you know them just by looking.

I mean, if that were true then we'd all be so damn similar I think we'd hate each other with more hate than (sadly) already exists in the world. And sure, sterotypes exist for a reason, like I don't already know that. I was good at math in high school; I play piano; hell, I even play violin. But I just don't want you to look at me and go check Asian, check piano, check math, check female, check feminist. Even if it is true, can't you find it our for yourself and stop labeling me? I know it might mean that I won't fit into a nice little box in your brain and you won't fit into your respective one in mine, but I'll argue with you any day that it'll be totally worth it.

--
*Edit: Just realized that for all my talk of being Chinese, I did name the blog Tickle Me Asian. So what does that say about me? Still preaching to myself. And old habits die hard. And society has way too much power over my life still.

invisible monsters.

I just finished an amazing book Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk who also wrote Fight Club and I must say I now understand why the friend who recommended it to me said that he needed to recover from it. It's intense and raw in a way you just have to read to understand. It's certainly not a style that everyone will like, but it's one that, during these moments of my life, fit perfectly.

Here's some of my favorite quotes from the book:

-No matter how careful you are, there's going to be the sense you missed something, the collapsed feeling under your skin that you didn't experience it all. There's that fallen heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should've been paying attention.

-The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.

-I'm not straight, and I'm not gay. I'm not bisexual. I want out of the labels. I don't want my whole life crammed into a single word. A story. I want to find something else, unknowable, some place to be that's not on the map. A real adventure.

wake up: dawen wang

I saw this video over at another blog i follow and having now listened to it more times than I'm willing to admit, I will memorialize it (sort of) here. Because this is one of those songs where when I'm done listening, in my head (and admittedly sometimes out loud), I'm saying yes, this is my story too. And to me at least, that's cool. I'm not the only one who thinks these things.



via SlantEye

frazz.

Frazz is pretty much my favorite comic strip, replacing even FoxTrot, my childhood favorite. If you haven't heard of it, it's witty, funny (yes, those are two different things) and just overall worth a whole lotta good laughs. Today's was especially great (and I'm really glad that the politician is a she).

learning chinese

Now that I finally have a break from Monday to Friday Chinese classes, I've been wondering more and more about why it is I'm even learning Chinese, especially considering how much time it takes up. It's a question that often gets brought up in class as a way to practice grammer structures so I have a few spitfire answers always prepared. They include: it's interesting, I'm a Chinese-American and I want to learn about my ancestral culture, I took it in high school and wanted to continue. It'd say that easily the one that intrigues me the most is the second one (not that I don't think it's interesting). I'm a Chinese American, so it's like a pseudo obligation to learn the language, right? Ironically, my dad's side of the family speaks Cantonese (dialect from South) and my mom's side speaks Shanghai dialect, and here I am learning how to speak Mandarin...I do realize that everyone learns Mandarin now so everything else is dying, but clearly the "ancestral" part of "my ancestral culture" is not really there. So why as a fourteen year old about to go to high school did I decide to take Chinese instead of continuing with Spanish? And why as an eighteen year old about to go to college, did I decide to continue? It's not as if I didn't understand the dialects thing, I did - but Mandarin is pretty much the only dialect you can learn anywhere anyways. It wasn't a hate of Spanish either, I'd always enjoyed it.

That leaves me stuggling with the age old question of did I start Chinese because I felt like I needed to? Was it all those times when kids asked me if I knew Chinese and I always had to say no? Was it all the other ABCs (American Born Chinese) mocking me for not knowing any? Maybe. And maybe there was a part of me that did feel obligated to take Chinese, even if it's not the closest connection to my heritage, it was something. I can't avoid being Chinese right? So might as well embrace it. I'll probably never be able to actually figure out why I started taking Chinese and I'll probably never have perfect tones, but I can still say that I'm glad I've taken it. For all the hard work, it's really cool to be able to carry on a conversation in a language, and it wouldn't have mattered if that language were Chinese, or Spanish, or Urdu. Plus, as it turns out, Chinese is a good language to learn considering how many people speak it and the likelihood that at some point I end up back in China.

So maybe now, it doesn't matter if it started out as an obligation, because it isn't one anymore.

summertime and langston hughes

School's over and with the onslaught of summer a lot of my thoughts have turned more to catching up with friends than with what's been going on in the world so I haven't had either the time or the desire to write much. My one comment is on the shooting that happened at the holocaust museum a few days ago. It's such a prime example of the bigotry that still exists in the states and it's just depressing. An 88 year old man has a lot of years of hate in him. Am I being too idealistic if I ask if hate is the only way? Because I just can't accept that for this man there was no other action to take than to open fire on the guards and to harbor all that resentment for all these years. If you ask me, it's just not worth it to hate that much. It takes all your energy away from significantly more important things in life.

Anyways, I really just wanted to leave one of my favorite poems as something that keeps me up when the world seems headed down.

Still Here
by Langston Hughes

I been scarred and battered
My hopes the wind done scattered
Snow has friz me
Sun has baked me

Looks like between 'em they done
Tried to make me

Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin' -
But I don't care
I still here

"we have an obligation to listen"

Interesting NY Times Op-Ed that I think is a really important thing to be reminded of every once and a while. It can be really dulling to listen to or read the news because it seems that all you hear about are numbers of deaths and mass atrocities and nuclear testing on top of all that chaos that is your daily life. Or is at least my daily life.

In any case, I definitely know that feeling of giving up on changing the world. Gandhi says to "be the change you wish to see in the world" but there are definitely days when I feel like being that change is impossible. No one's listening anymore. It seems like all this change is just being thrown against a brick wall that's not going anywhere. But all of these issues and scary news events involve real people with real stories and lives and problems. Where has all the empathy gone? Where has all the motivation and action gone? I mean why are we criticizing Sotomayer because she has empathy. When did it become a bad thing? Even if we are talking about the Supreme Court, we're still dealing with people. Not automated answering machines and banking systems.

Men in Power?

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/chi-u-of-c-mens-groupmay19,0,4707353.story?page=1

If you read this, it's a little ridiculous. Ok, lies. In my opinion, it's a lot ridiculous. Do people really believe that the world needs to be more focused on men? As if it's not focused enough. I'm not saying that reverse sexism doesn't exist, it does, but that's not their main argument for why this student group "Men in Power" should exist. There's a reason why more money is devoted to women's issues - because they are farther behind - who's been able to vote for longer? who do we study in history class? who heads most companies? You just can't tell me that the answer to these questions is women. If you want to learn about people in power, why limit it to just men? Feminists aren't telling you to only study the women in power. We're just suggesting that you take into consideration the fact that there is a gender disparity in CEOs and the like. The founder writes that he "hopes Men in Power will help more men get ahead while raising awareness of the male experience." Really? Really? Let's talk about making the world more equal. Men and women together, no more of this separation nonsense.

take back the night.

so last wednesday night my college's rape and sexual assault network (RASAN) put on the event take back the night which is a march and protest aimed at bringing greater awareness on rape and sexual assault and creates a safe space for victims and friends of victims to tell their story. i'm really grateful that this college even has a sexual assault and rape hotline because even though thankfully i've never had to use it, it's nice knowing that it's there because even within this bubble of college, rape happens. it happens to and it has happened to members of this campus and knowing that there are people to talk to is something that not many other colleges offer (or at least not to the extent that they should).

it's a powerful thing to walk in a group of people, holding a candle, in complete silence. the thoughts that run through your mind are completely unpredictable but more profound that you could ever imagine.

i was struck by the stories told. both by one brave individual who had been raped over the summer and by numerous others who spoke at the open mic portion. i think it's really important to put a face to the stories. i only wish that people could "take back" more than just this one night. it's such a big issue, it affects so many people, and yet it's still not treated the same way that numerous other equally serious crimes are because there is such a big stigma against it, about consent, about what to do when it happens within a relationship. starting the dialogue, learning how to talk about it. those are important first steps that i'm glad to be able to undertake.

that this happens. that people pretend it doesn't.
it makes me furious.

giles li

yesterday saw giles li, a community activist and slam poet (who coincidentally works in a community center in my grandmother's condo building) perform and talk as the keynote speaker for asian heritage month. really liked his performance and his poems none of which i remember well enough to quote but i always find it amazing how much word twisting and texture can go into these poems that are also embedded with meaning both for the poet and for the listener. even though most of his poems cover pretty serious stuff, he kept the show light with lots of talking and stories and some acoustic guitar.

here's one of his poems that he didn't perform, but that i found on his website and really liked (remember what i said about some of his poems being serious/a bit of downers):

For Bang Mai, 16
stabbed to death on July 11, 2004 in South Boston

The sky is getting darker.
We’re losing our stars one at a time
to streets that don’t hear prayers
and calls to stop the violence.

Our sons are dying in the city scenes they call home
as their mothers send breakfast-time chants in their direction,
keeping them safe until streetlights come clean
to serve as makeshift guardian angels.
A generation disappearing before its light has a chance
to shine through,
etch its shadow in our minds,
decorate our night sky with spirits
we can remember without having to try.

A generation disappearing, begging for blessings
from anyone who might have them to give.

It’s harder to notice stars from the city
because lights from the ground
make them harder to see.
Another one of our stars has fallen to the ground,
and all we can do is keep our heads up,
eyes toward the heavens,
and wish there was an answer that
would keep our night sky from falling,
falling,
trying to lull us back to sleep.

But it’s hard to find sleep tonight,
because looking into the sky,
we know another one of our stars was taken
before his time.

copyright Giles Li, 2004

abduction of boys in china: nyt quote of the day

"a girl is just not as good as a son. it doesn’t matter how much money you have. if you don’t have a son, you are not as good as other people who have one."

su qingcai, a tea farmer in China who paid $3,500 for a 5-year-old boy

so this was the quote of the day today in the new york times and my only reaction really is ew. i mean i have others too. like how still in china girls just aren't as good as boys - the stigma clearly thrives given the article this comes out of about how there's a lucrative business in kidnapping and selling boys. and that's not even half the problem...i mean i know it's not the focus of the article but how much must it suck to be a girl there. you have to be good so your parents can be proud of you and you have to make up for the fact that you're a girl and not a boy. egad. it's sad that people see such justification in buying up boys to make their family better.

soar conference

this past weekend i took some time off from spring breaking at home to travel down to hartford, ct to participate in the SOAR conference aka society organized against racism (in new england higher education) which was pretty interesting although much better at talking about stuff than actually coming up with anything about what to do about it or how to think about what's going on. some interesting speakers from the 60s, including charles mcdew who started SNCC. maybe i'll write more thoughts on that later, or put up some of my notes from the conference. but one other thing that was particularly interesting to me was that i was one of a handful of asians and i'm not even just counting east asians, that includes south asians too and could probably even include the middle east which is technically southwest asia. it was a very typically expected group of people, black and white. now i'm not saying that that's a bad thing, just that racism on college campuses doesn't just affect black people, the most recent event on my college campus happened against an asian girl. i guess all i'm saying is that i wish there was more variety because it is an issue and it's not just a matter of black and white.

profiling

ever been profiled?

for me, it's never been damaging or detrimental to me in any kind of deep, profound way, just something that bothers me. a recent incident reminded me of how prevalent it is in our society. a really nice guy at the snack bar where i go to school asked me if knew this girl tiffany who apparently tutors his daughter. i didn't at the time. turns out, tiffany's asian like me. i guess all the asians know all the other asians...and i guess it is partially true - most of the asians where i go to school know most of the other asians but really thats because there aren't all that many of us, so it's not too hard. still. it does seem that in society as a whole, often times people act like if your asians you will probably know this other asian they know. ummm not true. there are more east asians in the world then i count to in a sitting and if you throw in the rest of asia too, it becomes a number i don't think i'd ever have the patience to count to (not that i'd have the patience to count to the number in east asia either, but that's besides the point).

a friend of mine made this joke the other day about how some of the lacrosse equipment hadn't come in yet and it was "made in china" so could i just make a phone call and fix that problem? yea, it was funny. i'll admit that. but. part of me was like, you're kidding. another asian joke. in retrospect, it was even less funny, but i've sort of gotten used to being profiled and teased (mostly endearingly) about being asian (not even usually specifically about being chinese), and that in itself it a little disgusting to me because sometimes i feel like it should bother me more. who knows. i'll think about it some more and get back to you.

"seeking justice, chinese land in secret jails"

"i know my life is in danger but I just can't swallow this injustice" - wang shixiang, a Chinese businessman who has made 10 trips to beijing to petition for the prosecution of corrupt policemen, each visit ending in detention

ick. in a political system where petitions are means of getting your voice heard but where petitions mean black marks on the records of the local politicians, it's no wonder that government officials play dangerous games to prevent one of these petitions from being successfully filed and those who help them are rewarded lucratively.

the whole system has turned into an official way of saying here, have your say, while unofficially squashing any and all complaints and opinions.

all i can say is that as glad i am to be chinese, it's articles like this that make me glad there's a hyphen american after that. (not that petitions around here are oh so much more effective, but at least we don't usually get arrested into black houses for doing it).

via nytimes

alvin lau

just saw slam poet alvin lau and was reminded how great poetry and spoken word are for laughter and meaning and back in split seconds. how it stays with you even after the perfomance is over.

two samples that have particularly great messages

a pale shade of yellow

"I tried hard to be white, and there were people who hated me to trying to be too white. And then I tried to be yellow again and there were people who hated me for being too yellow, so I tried to be a paler shade of yellow to please everyone, and there were people who hated me for being a little too white; and so I tried to darken up a bit and there were people who hated me for that too.

So all I’m left with is something in the middle; not yellow nor white, not one thing or another. Just something halfway in-between."

-A Pale Shade of Yellow by Patricia Pham via 8asians.com

my my does that sound mighty familar or what? it took me awhile (until late in elementary school) to even truly realize that i was different from everyone else because of the way i looked and it was a struggle from then (and still is) - a constant oscillation between proud and shameful

introduction.

i am.
asian.
american.
student.
piano player.
female.
tiny writer.
pear eater.
liberal.
turquoise lover.
college frosh.
amateur blogger.
pretend poet.
rambler.
flip-flop wearer.
shower singer.
chinese.
bostonian.
sushi lover.
tea drinker.
coffee addict.
picture taker.
ticklish.
lost.
friendly.
social justicer.
cookie monster.
knowledge hungry.
grocery shopper.
aspiring cook.
almost baker.
book lover.
music listener.
opinion expresser.
dreamer.
imaginer.

i am a life.
a moment.
a memory?

who are you?

*edit: i've imported some posts from an older blog that i like and have to do with my ramblings on issues of social justice and or importance/interest to me

yes, they could, so they did: nytimes op-ed

“Why this mad, insane plan to travel across India in a caravan of solar electric cars and jatropha trucks with solar music, art, dance and a potent message for climate solutions? Well ... the world needs crazy ideas to change things, because the conventional way of thinking is not working anymore.”

-Alexis Ringwald, a Fulbright scholar in India

via nytimes

courage campaign video

this is straight up a great video, made in response to ken starr's call to invalidate 18,000 same sex marriages in cali - this is human. this is life. this is real. and this isn't the kind of future i want to have to look forward to.

[and as a cherry on top, i really like regina spektor and this song is perfect for this video.]


"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

remember but don't stand still

on this special day of remembrance, martin luther king jr. day, there's more than just a day off from school for kids and more than just a day off from work for some adults. i won't deny the greatness of a three day weekend, but it's also a day for reflection and remembrance of the strides and struggles that have brought us here today. and a day to re-realize that the fight's not over, the battle is not yet won. we are not the nation that mlk dreamed about because there are still hate crimes based on appearance. and there is still widespread inequality. while the infamous "i have a dream" speech is quite lengthy, i've attached some excerpts (long ones, because i think it's very good and i feel as though most people haven't read through it before or have only read parts of it) - if you want the full text or to listen to the audio clip, here's where i went for it.

but remember also that there was more to king than just the "i have a dream" speech, and more to him than straight up civil rights. and he didn't exactly choose to be a leader of the civil rights movement. leadership was, in many ways, thrust upon him, but he willingly took up that mantle. and, most particularly later in his life, he became actively opposed to the war in vietnam and wook up a poor people's campaign to address economic injustice.

another interesting piece to read written by king (i won't add it here, this post is already too long) is his letter from birmingham jail.

so take some time today to reflect and read and remember that there's still work to be done. social justice is not here yet, but i remain hopeful.


---
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

[...]

Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

[...]

We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.

We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹

[...]

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

real talk

i seem to have a lot of time for perusal of some really interesting online blogs (time probably comes from it being winter study and having significant break time between classes - but i feel like this and some extra reading (and sh, some more tv and movies) are a pretty good use of my time)


this is from a post on feministing.com that quotes Al Sharpton that i thought was rather poignant


"There is something immoral and sick about using all of that power to not end brutality and poverty, but to break into people's bedrooms and claim that God sent you," Sharpton told a full house on Sunday.

"It amazes me," he said, "when I looked at California and saw churches that had nothing to say about police brutality, nothing to say when a young black boy was shot while he was wearing police handcuffs, nothing to say when they overturned affirmative action, nothing to say when people were being [relegated] into poverty, yet they were organizing and mobilizing to stop consenting adults from choosing their life partners."

the end of white america?

"we aspire to be post-racial. but we still live within the structures of privilege. injustice, and racial categorization that we inherited from an older order. we can talk about defining ourselves by lifestyle rather than skin color. nit our lifestyle choices are still racially coded. we know, more or less, that race is a fiction that often does more harm than good, and yet it is something we cling to without fully understanding why - as a social and legal fact, a vague sense of belonging and place that we make solid through culture and speech."

an excerpt from "the end of white america?" - an article in the atlantic monthly by hua hsu

excerpt from chinese cooking reading

"life is jiaozi; the years one spent in life are the wrapping, and the life experiences one has had are the fillings, which contains the entire spectrum of taste: sweet, sour, bitter, hot and all" - cui yongyuan

college reads: the absolutely true diary of a part-time indian

so a project of my college's committe on diversity and community is to try and get lots of campus to read the same book and their choice this year was sherman alexie's the absolutely true diary of a part-time indian which i thought was a very interesting book and was also a very quick read. it examines the crisis faced by a boy caught between the world of the reservation and the world beyond the reservation in a comical, yet serious, story. i've never read much about life on reservations before and the interactions between the indians and the whites in the surrounding area are very telling of the wrongs that have been done and continue to be done to indians in america. i'd also recommend alexie's poetry - at least what was read to us on opening night of this "event" was very good.

--

I wept and wept and wept because I knew that I was never going to drink and beacuse I was never going to kill myself and because I was going to have a better life out in the white world. I realized that I might be a lonely Indian boy, but I was not alone in my loneliness. There were millions of other Americans who had left their birthplaces in search of a dream.

I realized that sure I was a Spokane Indian. I belonged to that tribe. But I also belonged to the tribe of American immigrants. And to the tribe of basketball platers. And to the tribe of bookworms.
And the tribe of cartoonists
And the tribe of chronic masturbators.
And the tribe of teenage boys.
And the tribe of small-town kids.
And the tribe of Pacific Northwesterners.
And the tribe of tortilla chips and salsa lovers.
And the tribe of poverty.
And the tribe of funeral-goers.
And the tribe of beloved sons.
And the tribe of boys who really missed their best friends.
It was a huge realization.
And that's when I knew that I was going to be okay.