The more things change, ya'll. Four years, almost to the day, that I posted this, I've lost my last living grandparent. My other grandmother. I have been writing more regularly, both for work and for a private project, but I miss this space. There's likely no one out there anymore, but I can't believe it has been four years since that post.
Ain't no time to waste, ya'll. I won't be writing a lot here about this, or perhaps anything at all, but these lives we live across cultures and with families and generations split across continents - you know you're supposed to feel something specific because that's what society tells you. So what happens when you don't? Or when what you feel is related to other unexplained losses that you've experienced but still not processed? Is it too self-centered to explore that pain when something else is more immediate?
Feb 25, 2010
Time and Cycles
Nov 11, 2008
A Note on Veterans' Day
It's not enough to just get the day off to rest and do whatever we want. These holidays, rare as they are (particularly when you compare with the Indian calendar loaded with many holidays for its many peoples), should be a time when we think about what it is that we're celebrating. I don't know the history of Veterans' Day, but I know that in a time when constant, unending war seems commonplace for the American, we're still largely untouched by what our government is waging. Our perpetual state of war is different from that of the nations on the receiving end, or places like Palestine or Sri Lanka.
But where that toll is visible is in the faces, the stories, and the lost innocence and lives of soldiers who have given up everything in the belief that they were fulfilling a patriotic duty. Not all soldiers are perfect, but most of them are quite young, and regardless of their rationale or that of the nation to send them in harm's way and off to fight, it's hard not to get choked up when you think about what they and their families have given up. I am a pacifist: I don't believe there is any "good" war. I suppose there are times when one can argue that war is necessary, but it seems to me that it's always been a small group of people in control that either cause the harm that must be dealt with, or who send off the troops to do the dealing.
If we dealt with those people directly, millions of innocent people - the soldiers included - would not have to die or lose faith in human motives and judgment. It's a large price to pay. Even in movement work, many times we use the lexicon, the metaphor, the iconography of war: I am guilty of the same thing, and many of the radical groups I listen to or read use "soldier" and "battle", perhaps to reclaim the terms.
But I don't believe in war - real, imagined, or otherwise. I want to build, and I want to use words that come from places of strength, love, and peace. So as we remember veterans today and in the years to come, perhaps we can also take some time to challenge this culture of war - from the words and images we use to describe our work, to the way in which we imagine movement work as a whole.
Sep 11, 2008
Seven Years Have Passed.
Seven years have passed.
The elementary school near where I live broadcasts its morning announcements to the streets via a speaker or two on the outside. Today, they took a moment of silence for 30 seconds and I wonder "Is this what it was like in the decade immediately following Pearl Harbor or the Triangle Shirt Factory tragedy?" Do kids who only read or hear about recent tragedies through newly edited textbooks feel anything, or are they all just going through the motions like we tend to do in so many other circumstances?
Seven years have passed.
And what was once too immediate and present to speak about with anyone, has now become almost too distant and faded. I had a hard time dealing with what other people were feeling and experiencing, and hadn't really addressed or come to terms with my own feelings, and now I wonder if the time has passed. Is it time now to "move on"?
Seven years have passed.
I got a message yesterday from an old friend from whom I've grown a bit distant because of time and place. But we had worked together in communities affected by the aftermath for more than 2 years. And his mind returned to that place and time, even if he just said that he was checking in. Something remains.
It's odd to think about time before a date was reduced to a soundbite and the same video clips played over and over. I'm just as tired as anyone else, but the memories trigger something, and I'm forgetting what that innocence was. And I start to feel conflicted sometimes, because I have a better idea than many of what real loss in the wake of that loss was like, but it wasn't my own or even that of people who I knew personally. And seven years have passed.
Jun 19, 2008
Vincent Chin, 26 Years Later
I wrote about Vincent Chin a little when I found out about the film called "Vincent Who?" I don't want to revisit that discussion, read it here if you care to.
Just taking today to reflect a minute: hate crimes are a terrible, dangerous breed of crime. There are many people who just don't want to recognize that there is a special kind of intent behind these crimes, and a broader impact than just on the immediate victim. Part of their logic is that there are already statutes and laws in place to deal with the crime committed - that of beating someone up, killing them, or in the "lucky" situations, merely ridiculing or harassing someone.
But the point of hate crimes is that they affect communities - the victim is a symbol, and so are the acts. By not embracing much more strict hate crime laws, we're basically saying, you can hate all you want - just don't cross the line of beating or killing someone. But the kind of intimidation that naturally flows from these acts is also behavior that we should actively be pushing against. We don't want to - or at least shouldn't want to - allow people to act out their hate in the public arena without knowing that the society we live in won't tolerate these individual acts against groups of people. That's not the America we want to live in.
But it's all a policy discussion, and in this country, substantive policy discussions quickly devolve into surface political sparring. That's not going to change anything.
So what did Vincent Chin die for? Nothing. His death, just like his attack and his attackers, have become symbolic to some people. But in the end, it means nothing more than that striking, heart-breaking image in Christine Choy's original film about his killing, when his grief-stricken mother said solemnly, fighting back the tears, "We want justice. We want justice."
That we organize, that we coalesce around these watermark moments (or build them into focal points to help us rally for our work), is not a bad thing. It's just sad that it takes this kind of event, and the countless others - small and large - to rally people around creating a more safe, respectful, and polycultural society.
It's sad that mothers who understand their kids' English at home, but didn't have to make public statements in that tongue, have to come forward and put their grief on display in an awkward language, in words wholly inadequate to capture what they are feeling.
***
People gather in Strawberry Fields in Central Park every year to sing and remember John Lennon on December 8th, the day he was murdered in 1980. I used to think, wow what a wonderful thing that people do that, and that they get together in that way. But Yoko Ono has asked people not to - she said the day was not a day people should commemorate - it was the day that he was taken from us. Remember his birthday instead.
People often create monuments for those who have fallen - from formal statues to street art tributes. The best of these remember the lives of those who we have lost, but often, it's the day that they die that we remember and commemorate. And stories of their lives are superseded by the sad/angering memories of how they were killed/taken from us. While these things are important, we can't lose sight of the stories behind these stories - the stories of triumph, strength, or just people (flawed as they may be) just trying to live their lives.
But I couldn't find Vincent Chin's birthday anywhere - Wikipedia only says that he was born in 1955, and that he was adopted by his parents in 1961. Vincent Chin wasn't trying to be a hero or a martyr. He was at a strip club, celebrating his bachelor party with some of his friends, before his wedding, which was supposed to be on June 27th. Maybe I'll just remember June 27 from now on and think about his loss then instead.
***
Regardless, remember Vincent, or at least the story of his life and how he was killed. Remember that something is happening to someone right now - whether Asian, black, Latino, white, gay, woman. That person feels alone, feels trapped, feels angry/suicidal/unknown, unheard, unseen. That person may be someone you know, or someone you don't know, but it is someOne.
Dec 16, 2006
R.I.P. Baiji
China's River Dolphin Declared ExtinctSobering news on the extinction front. This river dolphin, which once lived in the Yangtze River in China, was just declared "functionally extinct." Full story here, for now. Otherwise, go to the website for the research and conservation team.
20 Million Years and a Farewell
Andrew Rivkin, New York Times, 12/17/06
The first species to be erased from this planet’s great and ancient Order of Cetaceans in modern times is not one of the charismatic sea mammals that have long been the focus of conservation campaigns, like the sperm whale or bottlenose dolphin.
It appears to be the baiji, a white, nearly blind denizen of the Yangtze River in China.
And so go the large mammals, the most noticeable victims of ongoing human development... Read More......
Dec 7, 2006
R.I.P. James Kim
This is such a heartbreaking story. I didn't put the name to the face to the awesome dude that I've watched on CNET a number of times. I was so proud that an Asian American man was doing work that he enjoyed, bringing his joy of gadgets to the wider public, and looked at ease and like he was having fun doing it. I can't pretend to know about his personal life, etc, but just seeing the clips in the short tribute piece that CNET put up, as well as reading about his commitment to his family, really rips your heart out.
Nov 29, 2006
dark horse.
Here's to George, on the fifth anniversary of his passing. While John and Paul got all the press, before and after the band's time, George was the enigmatic, whimsical, talented, pure soul who made beautiful music, took a lot of drugs, was always called "the shy Beatle," and said he was happier being a gardener than a musician. Beyond all the accolades - for his clean and unique guitar tone, his beautiful harmonies, and his lyrics that went from pensive to blissful - he seemed to live the philosophy and spirtualism that he adopted after going to India in the 60s.
I mean, we're talking about the guy whose wife left him for his best mate, Eric Clapton, and he not only forgave them, but he attended the wedding! Can you imagine anything like that happening with the jokers that folks listen to now? Living in the Material World, indeed. Though I still love the famous scene in Let It Be when George throws a fit because of Paul's attitude during the rehearsal. Didn't George quit the band at some point, too?
Peace to you, George. Thanks for the music and the inspiration.
Apr 25, 2006
In Memoriam.
R.I.P. Jane Jacobs. I'm saddened by this news. She was a wonderful writer and activist, and though I don't know precisely what the New York she loved and fought for looked and felt like, I know that I have her to thank for neighborhood planning that actually takes community perspectives, street life, and public space into account.
More to come when I find time.
Feb 26, 2006
The Future and Loss.
Went to a conference on lawyering that has got me thinking about what I want to do while in school and beyond. Blogging is not really one of these things, unless directly connected with a campaign. I anticipate a slow decline in my posting, or at least a focus on keeping the posts more closely related to work that I want to continue in the long run.
Got half-way home when I was met with the sad news that my baa passed away today. I'm so glad I got to see her one last time before she did, but it makes me remember also how quickly time is passing, and how much I have yet to do to approach the legacy of my parents and their parents. It is sobering, and a reminded to stay on track and away from distractions.
Peace, y'all.
Jul 7, 2005
Loss.
It has been a harrowing 2 weeks, first with my brother-in-law's very serious accident, and then the sudden and unexpected loss of my Masa. With other life events pushing their familiar heads up to remind me that time marches on, I feel like I haven't had the time to really process all that's happened.
Death is never an easy thing to process, and with my Masa being in India, it still feels very distant, very unreal. Unlike other relatives, I've been quite close to him over the course of my adolescence and adult life, and his example has helped to shape my aspirations of a life worth living. He went through tremendous hardship while growing up, made a life and a name for himself through his own business, raised 4 intelligent and loving children, and supported both the full extended family and the general community in Ahmedabad. He actually knew my father while they were in college, which connected him to my Mom beyond the fact that he was married to her sister for nearly 50 years. My father had respected him so much, and I will always remember the times that they were able to spend together, and the things that Masa told me about my Dad after he passed away years ago.
Masa was the kind of person who would ask you about your family if you were Gujarati, and almost always come up with someone who is either related to you, or would know your family well. He was even able to do that with non-Gujaratis. His grasp of current events, his ability to stay in touch with current developments in his neck of the woods and abroad, his incredible ability to stay in touch with everyone via phone, email or letter, even at 70, and his clear vision concerning Jainism and seva for community members who weren't as fortunate as he are all things that I will always remember.
Masa had a booming voice that filled a room almost as much as his laughter, which came from deep inside. He was the first person to explain the Namokar Mantra to me, going syllable by syllable to explain this central piece of Jainism to me. He was a gentle soul, one who would shed tears when he heard of others' pain, had a legendary temper before he conquered it, and organized a great deal of social good on a small scale in Ahmedabad.
I will miss him so much, from his periodic emails in large typeface, to his Yahoo! Messenger notes that just let folks know that he had logged on. I associate my trips to India with him. Sometimes it felt like he would be more concerned about my schedule and making sure that I was all set with my agenda than I was. He took such care of us, and welcomed us into his home and heart as if they were our own.
Previously, I've written about my family in a tone that isn't altogether positive, but it's at times like this when I realize how much I value having a network of relatives who care for one another the way that they do. Politics will always be a difficult area to traverse, and political consciousness has to grow gradually, but that bond that comes from blood is very hard to replicate with friends or other acquaintances.
Losing someone close to you is never easy. But when it's someone who has touched so many members of your family, and touched you in so many profound ways, it almost feels like you're in a collective mode of disbelief, waiting for the dawn of the next day to break, waiting for the sudden realization that you are a little more alone now. Waiting for the cold empty feeling that comes when you realize what you've left unsaid.
Sep 12, 2003
The Wanderer
Johnny Cash, R.I.P.
you hurt us all today
see that we all feel
we focus on our pain
it throbs cold, all this is real.
why does everyone we love
go away in the end.
sole voice
meandering horizon
comes beneath your black boot
the wanderer is lost
sunset came too soon
and as you search
for your beloved june
may you find that final peace
with your bible and your gun
who will guide us now
who will be our man in black?