Another Dayenu

health & accountability...some thoughts.

2009-12-01T14:32:00.000-08:00

Here I am, sitting in my old bedroom in my parents’ house (a privilege for sure), thinking about “accountability.” Why? I guess because lately, my health has made accountability difficult, even when it comes to the struggles that I see as the driving force in my life (I know, I know, that sounds extreme... but it's accurate).
And because there are certain spaces where the question of accountability is always sitting there, in the room, a frame, a finger tapping our shoulder, whether the word is spoken or not. Except that’s not quite right. Because “accountability” is not a question, it is an aspiration. Not even an aspiration, that would feel more do-able. It’s a requirement. One I often feel I can’t live up to because of my health. If it were a question, the whole thing might be different.
The thing is, something odd happens in terms of health, accountability, diagnosis, and confession. If we get a diagnosis (read: rely on the Western Institution of Medicine) and confess (read: buy into structures of Christian Cultural Dominance) then perhaps we have an “excuse,” and we aren’t unaccountable people, just people struggling with health issues (read: perhaps slightly inferior by nature, but it’s not our fault). It just feels like there has to be another option. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating for a system where we forget about accountability altogether. I’m just saying there has to be another option. There has to be. And don’t get me wrong about this either: I’m not blaming our movements or organizations, not at all. The structures of U.S. society are infused with these systems, among SO many others. They are insidious. They are difficult to locate. They are even more difficult to challenge.
Sometimes I’m afraid to critique these systems- “Western Medicine” or “Christian Cultural Dominance” (a phrase often repeated by one of my professors that I now find myself using in everything, even my poetry). I fear that my critique of these systems will “take away from” my critique of racism & White Supremacy & Israeli Apartheid. I have to remind myself this is absurd. These systems are all woven together. Sometimes I think capitalism might be the thread…but no. Weaving doesn’t even have a thread, does it? I mean, it’s all the thread. And besides, I think the idea of trying to locate one “thread” is dangerous.
This is conjuring an image for me, of the yarn that changes color as you knit or crochet. It looks different, but it’s all attached, all part of the same ball of yarn.
(I don't know if I could speak or write if there was no such thing as metaphor. The world would be so much more difficult to understand. And it's already really difficult to understand.)
But I wasn’t talking about yarn (or metaphor). I was talking about health, accountability, diagnosis, and confession. How I’d prefer to un-weave some of these.
I was reading Adrienne Rich today. Yes, even though I’m sick. Some authors are easier to read when I’m sick, the ones whose words resonate, make sense on a level that doesn’t require the most apt mental capacity. Those who embed poetry into their prose. Those whose ideas just make sense. Maybe that’s why when I first read Marx with a fever of 102 I still kind of “got it” (to the extent I’ll ever get any economic theory).
Adrienne Rich wrote an essay “Split at the Root: An Essay on Jewish identity.” I’d like to make an addendum to this essay & talk about Zionism, but that’s a little ambitious for me when I’m feeling this sick. For now I’m just going to quote her. She talks about accountability, and she frames it differently than I’ve heard it framed before.
In her last paragraph, she says:
“This essay, then, has no conclusions….It’s a moving into accountability, enlarging the range of accountability. I know that in the rest of my life, the next half century or so, every aspect of my identity will have to be engaged. The middle-class white girl taught to trade obedience for privilege. The Jewish lesbian raised to be a heterosexual gentile. The woman who first heard oppression named and analyzed in the Black Civil Rights struggle. The woman with three sons, the feminist who hates male violence. The woman limping with a cane, the woman who has stopped bleeding are also accountable. The poet who knows that beautiful language can lie, that the oppressor’s language sometimes sounds beautiful. The woman trying, as part of her resistance, to clean up her act.”
Why does this resonate with me?
I think it’s the embrace of contradiction, the idea of being ‘comfortable’ without conclusions.
The idea that accountability & “every aspect” of identity are inextricable.
And the talk about language, of course, that always gets me too.
But I think mostly it’s the idea of “enlarging the range of accountability.” What does that look like? What does that mean? I don’t know, I have no conclusions either. It’s just something I’m thinking about, despite this incessant headache.

the revolution will not be quanitified

2009-09-03T15:19:00.000-07:00

Quick update, 'cause I don't remember if I mentioned this on this blog or not...
I'm in grad school now...I started a week ago.

Now, on to what I actually wanted to say...

In one of my classes yesterday, my professor told us about how, after presenting testimony she had collected in Indian-occupied Kashmir, one audience member asked if she had any solutions to the problem. She didn’t, at least, not in the sense that he was asking. She talked about how the work we do isn’t always about solutions or quantifiable results (I’m definitely paraphrasing here). Sometimes, we find liberation in the process of struggle itself. Especially in terms of testimony, sometimes it’s the memory, the stories, & the way we honor them, that is important.

As much as I try to “be here, now” in the classroom, I cannot walk anywhere without carrying my dedication to certain struggles & to social justice in general right in with me. So, I started thinking about movements. I started thinking about how we’re taught to organize – how we’re taught to organize our organizing in linear processes that – supposedly- achieve concrete, quantifiable results. Often, however, we don’t strive for this because the specific concrete, quantifiable results are the ones we want most – we do it because we look for a “winnable” goal. Supposedly, “winning” keeps people motivated & inspired to stay involved. But, does it? Really? I don’t think that’s true. Sure, everyone loves to win...but losing a supposedly “winnable” struggle ALSO happens and that can be really de-mobilizing. Even if we do win, then what? It’s true that in the BDS movement, we list our victories over and over, so we maintain hope that there will be more in the future. But we can also find victories that are less quantifiable. This is certainly true for Break the Siege – conversations, when tabling, often feel victorious, when someone agrees to sign the pledge card when they weren’t initially sure, etc. And what about the other victories that we can’t quantify...the victory inherent in the creation of an organization that genuinely strives to combat oppressive dynamics within itself, in addition to fighting for justice outside? The victory in the idea that we can apply a community organizing model (a.k.a. base building) to Palestine Solidarity organizing? We talk a lot about recruiting new members, and of course this is important...but what about honoring the fact that there are people involved that have been involved for SO many years?
So, then I started thinking about how this model – the “quantifiable organizing results” model- seems to me to be directly related to the non-profit industrial complex & the power of the foundations & funders. They’re the ones who’ve been asking us to quantify our results, aren’t they? The NPIC is trying to force our movements into a corporate mold, whether that’s the overt intention of the funders & foundations or not. It makes me wonder, how much does the NPIC influence us, even when we’re not receiving foundation money, just because this is how we’ve been taught to structure our movements and our lives? What would it look like if we were to redefine victory? What would it look like if we were to redefine change? Redefine hope? I mean really, is victory all that gives us hope? Can the struggle itself, and the relationships we build within the struggle give us hope? Can the fact that we’re still trying to achieve these BIG goals (like “Free Palestine!” “Abolish prisons!”) give us hope? What about art, poetry, and the sharing of stories (the painful ones, but also the entertaining ones)? And clearly the idea that what “people” (whatever that means) need to maintain hope is NOT actual change, because look at Obama- he said “hope” over and over and it mobilized people and brought them out to the polls. He hasn’t changed much, if he’s changed anything at all. But that didn’t matter when it came to inspiring “hope” in people. He just had to say the word over and over again, remind us that it was important.
...Anyway, I could go on and on about all the other ideas that school has thus far inspired me to de-construct, but if I do that, I will not be able to finish my reading and go about the rest of my day. Which I should really do, because life is not just school, and the rest of life is important too. It’s also not just school & activism/organizing. I have to remember that.
My book of Hafiz is still near my bed...actually, it’s not my book, it’s Z’s book that I borrowed. I think I will keep it there for a week or so, before I give it back, and make sure to read a poem every night. Even if it’s one I already read. I want to remember that “academia” isn’t the only place where this kind of thinking happens, and theory isn’t the only place where intense, important ideas are expressed.

Oh! And so, as I was typing this, I got the following article in an email...ironic, isn't it?
Read: Did Leviev's Empire Succumb to Boycott?
Wow!!!!!

"You are pure soul and made of ground"

2009-08-26T18:15:00.000-07:00

"Lovers find secret places
inside this violent world
where they make transactions
with beauty.
Reason says, Nonsense.
I have walked and measured the walls here.
There are no places like that." --Rumi, Secret Places (from the book 'Bridge to the Soul')

Since Saturday, I've been reading a lot of Rumi & Hafiz. I don't know why...but something about their poetry feels like breathing.
& I've been thinking about this distinction: Love vs. Reason. Body vs. Mind.
in that first excerpt, Rumi seems to agree with that idea that they are separate.

Then again, in another poem, Rumi says
"You are pure soul
and made of ground

You are eyeshadow
and the kindness in eyelight."

Lately, my mind & body have been feeling particularly separate. It's interesting to me how that distinction & our critique of it often leaves out the whole idea of "soul." Maybe "soul" is what happens when they merge. But I don't think so. I think it's more complicated than that. Not that I know what I'm talking about. What I do know is that lately, the only thing my mind & body seem to have in common, besides existing in the same space (most of the time) is that both are completely at the mercy of my emotions. Which, as seems to be the trend when it comes to absolute power, are playing all kinds of games with the rest of me. Ah, life.

And, as if they weren't already disconnected enough, in two days I start grad school. Don't get me wrong - I'm excited. Just a little nervous...
And then there's the part where I'm also a little exhausted. I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to take this AMAZING anti-racist training program AND start grad school in the same semester. And then at the same time, I don't want to give up either of them. Not that I have that option, since I've already committed to them both, but even if I could, I wouldn't. What I want is to be able to fully immerse myself in both experiences. Of course there are other parts of my life that would continue to exist, and I'm not saying I don't want that too. But these are both new experiences that I want to cherish and remember. I want to journal about my experiences and realizations in Anne Braden AND i wanna talk about how I feel about returning to academia, how I feel academia is both useful AND problematic, how it might (and might not) be able to relate to grassroots movements, etc. But how do I do that when I'm also trying to do all the reading for both, and actually stay adequately engaged in both? ...And as I said, these are not anywhere near the only two things in my life. They are just the two newest ones. Hmm...

My body is overwhelmed by all this & got sick, so now I'm dealing with that too.

Not that I'm complaining. Just processing. There is a difference.
Mostly, I'm excited about all the things in my life.
Well, I'm not excited that I'm sick right now, but besides that.
*deep breaths*

One last poem, this one's by Hafiz:

Dropping Keys

The small man
Builds cages for everyone
He
Knows.
While the sage,
Who has to duck his head
When the moon is low,
Keeps dropping keys all night long
For the Beautiful
Rowdy
Prisoners.

brief passage from Edward Said

2009-06-12T01:06:00.001-07:00

I have been reading a lot of Edward Said since I got back from Gaza.

This is a particularly notable passage I read today (from 'Secular Criticism'):

"The degree to which the cultural realm and its expertise are institutionally divorced from their real connections with power was wonderfully illustrated for me by an exchange with an old college friend who worked in the Department of Defense for a period during the Vietnam War. The bombings were in full course then, and I was naively trying to understand the kind of person who could order daily B-52 strikes over a distant Asian country in the name of the American interest in defending freedom and stopping communism. 'You know,' my friend said, 'the Secretary is a complex human being: he doesn't fit the picture you may have formed of the cold-blooded imperialist murderer. The last time I was in his office I noticed Durrell's Alexandria Quartet on his desk.' He paused meaningfully, as if to let Durrell's presence on that desk work its awful power alone. The further implication of my friend's story was that no one who read and presumably appreciated a novel could be the cold-blooded butcher one might suppose him to have been. Many years later this whole implausible anecdote (I do not remember my response to the complex conjunction of Durrell with the ordering of bombing in the sixties) strikes me as typical of what actually obtains: humanists and intellectuals accept the idea that you can read classy fiction as well as kill and maim because the cultural world is available for that particular sort of camouflaging, and because cultural types are not supposed to interfere in matters for which the social system has not certified them."

...I'm thinking about what this means for me as a "writer"...
But I'm also thinking about Edward Said as trying to "naively understand" something. It's weird. I think of him as this incredibly wise, brilliant man who couldn't possibly have ever been "naive" about anything -
But he too once wondered what could possibly bring a person to order daily bombings.
He probably came closer than anyone to actually figuring it out- by turning away from the psychological question, of course, and towards a systemic, political one...

On Strategy & Humanity...

2009-06-09T22:34:00.000-07:00

In Gaza, every step, every potential action taken, alliance built, poem written, essay published, word spoken feels significant. Important. Needed. The desperation is palpable, & therefore contagious.
Now, I question every step that I intend to take. What will have an impact? What matters? How can we really confront Israeli Apartheid? What is the purpose of sharing these stories? Does anyone want to listen? Will anyone hear?

I’ve been crying every day since I returned and I chastise myself for the time I waste in tears.

Then, I come across a website like this:
http://wewillrememberyourname.blogspot.com/

And I remember: people aren’t strategy. It doesn’t matter whether or not it’s strategic or useful to mourn- it’s respectful.
And when the all powerful US-Media-Government-Military-Industrial-Etc-Complex tries to deny a People’s humanity, they deserve a little extra respect from us (regular people) to make up for it.
So maybe crying isn’t strategic. Maybe returning, time and time again, to the look in Farah’s eyes, the sight of her mother’s blood splattered on the wall, the words of the old woman who told us that taking pictures wasn’t enough & asked for food, water, and for their homes to be rebuilt, the grafitti in Hebrew on the wall of the home that warned “next time will hurt more”- all these images & more- maybe returning to them is not strategic.
That doesn’t mean it’s not important.

So yes, let’s take action, build alliances, write poems, publish essays (okay, I don’t know how to do that, but I still think it’s a good idea), and speak words and REMEMBER, whether we’ve met them or not, the stories of the people of Gaza. And let’s do so in a context of strategy & impact. AND also- let’s not forget about respect. Let’s not forget that people are not statistics. Everyone has a name. Everyone has a story.

2009-06-08T22:22:00.000-07:00

...I rarely share poetry that isn't polished, and this one's barely been edited once...
but it's the first thing I've written & completed since I came back from Gaza, so I want to share it, not as a poem so much as stream of consciousness with intentional line breaks and a little bit of rhythm.

I also want to share the photo of a little girl whose family's story, to some extent, inspired this not-quite-poem. Of course it wasn't just their story- it was all the stories- but her story stands out to me, for some reason.

The girl's name is Farah Abu Halima. I didn't take the photo, someone else on my delegation did.
Farah is 3 years old. Her body is covered in burns from the white phosphorous that hit her house. She lost many family members. Her mother survived the attacks & the two of them went to Egypt for medical care. Her mother died in Egypt, and Farah returned alone, still not cured of the burns. Looking at her, I could see that she was still in pain. She is the little girl that did not smile. For some reason it makes it all more intense when I think about how the name "Farah" means "joy."
...Farah's mother's blood is still on the wall of the house. So is white from the phosphorous & black from some other kind of burning. At least I think that's what it's from.
It's hard to remember all the details. I'm glad that some people from my delegation wrote everything down. When we were there, at this particular house, I couldn't think about much except for Farah. The way she kept looking at me, but, when I looked back, turned away, every time. The way that at 25, I'm probably about the age that her mother was. The way my maternal instincts (that I've always claimed I didn't have) kicked in & I wanted to care for her. The raw quality to that feeling that helped me understand what people mean when they say things like "It's not Fatah. It's not Hamas. It's not anything. It's just a child and a war." A child and a war and a fractured family, missing pieces that will never be found. And yes, of course, an illegal occupation and an illegal siege and an illegal war and an illegal State and a racist ideology...but mostly, in the moment, it was just this little girl. I still cannot stop thinking about this little girl.

Anyway...
here is the not-quite-poem:
(untitled)
Reality isn't.
Can't be.
Not like this.
In reality, buildings do not crumble,
fields do not bloom with rubble,
little girls smile,
and old men die before their daughters
grandmothers before their daughters' sons
so Reality isn't
Can't be
Not like this.

Or perhaps,
Reality isn’t.
Can’t be.
Not like this.
In reality, buildings do not stand strong,
Fallic and infallible
In reality small stores do not shelve nine types of pasta,
sixteen flavors of yogurt,
or twenty-four varieties of wine,
In reality,
One cannot rely on
The government
Or electricity
To work for them consistently
No,
Reality isn’t
Can’t be
Not like this.

Politicians strive for reconciliation
Speak of two-state solutions,
And draw borders on paper with omnipotent pens,
Make promises in pencil
Erase them later
When no one is looking

I strive to reconcile too:
My life with yours
The children I’ve never had
With the little ones you lost
Here with there
With everyone
And everything
between

I strive
I cry
My tears
With yours

Video: What We Turn To

2009-06-08T19:39:00.000-07:00

Last day in Gaza...

2009-05-30T13:57:00.000-07:00

Tonight is my last night in Gaza. Tomorrow, we meet the fishermen (whose boats are targeted by Israeli pirates- official government pirates of course, but still pirates, as one member of our delegation pointed out), then meet with anLother NGO, then head towards the Rafah crossing and back to Cairo.
I am not ready to leave. It's not that I want to stay. "Want" is not the right word. I don't know the right words. One woman said, "Sometimes I think that words are not made for what we go through." Maybe that is why I don't know the right ones. How can I write when my notes are disjointed, one thought after another, hopeless/hopeful, emotional/detached, metaphor mixes with reality until the line would almost certainly be blurred for anyone that hasn't seen and/or doesn't know the extent, the truth, the reality of the horrors that have happened here.
But perhaps the blur exists because reality is blurred as well. People's eyes glisten with leftover tears when they smile and tell the story of their struggle with pride. The light of creativity shines through the cracks of the destruction, but no amount of creativity can rebuild a house in a sustainable way when the siege prohibits construction materials- even though that creativity CAN make a mercedes run on batteries (which apparently it has).
And yet people survive. Continue to struggle. Continue to live.
I am fairly certain I had a very similar sentence in my blog when I was in the West Bank. I am impressed. I don't know if I could do it. I think I would break.
One woman said "All people are brave here," when someone complimented her personal bravery. She is right. I know that the answer to "how?" is "They have no choice." And I know. But when I ask "how?" I don't expect an answer. The answer isn't the point, it's the question that matters. The validation of the struggle and the strength. The recognition that while we might explain things to ourselves, and listen to story after story of terror, we will never truly understand how they feel or how they keep going despite all this...not just living, but resisting as well, although of course, "to exist is to resist," so I suppose it's all the same.
I will write more later. I will write about the fields that "bloomed" with the rubble of houses - of homes. I will write about the farmers who cannot farm without being shot because of the "buffer zone" that, of course, the Israelis put on the Palestinian side of Gaza, which is already so condensed, so overpopulated, and where some of the most fertile land is right on the border. I will write about the fishermen who cannot fish because the gunboats shoot. The families who lost their homes - and there are so many. Those who lost a member of their family. The marks white phosphorous left behind on the walls of peoples' homes- and on peoples' bodies. And I will write about how people organize here, provide services to their community, some people who return, despite the fact that they got out, because they do not want to abandon their home or their community. I will write about all this and more - just not yet. I'm not ready to elaborate. All I have are notes, thoughts, feelings, and, like so many people who have lived this or just witnessed it, leftover tears. Perhaps with those tears, the words will come. Later.

Al Arish, still en route...

2009-05-25T22:30:00.001-07:00

The internet wasn't working last night when I wrote this, but here it is today...

Day Two: Al Arish...so close, but there's a border in the way...

Today began at the US Embassy, which felt like a glorified DMV, where we paid $30 each to sign away our consular rights, because apparently it helps pave the very, very complicated road (of hoops) (is that mixing metaphors?) to Gaza. Then we drove to Al Arish, the town on the Egyptian side of the border. I caught a glimpse of the Nile in Egypt & the sea here in Al Arish, but there was no time to visit either...and tomorrow, early in the morning, we head to the border. It's strange to be in a place with so much vibrant history and no time to explore it.

Of course, that doesn't mean there isn't time for thoughts. Driving through the Sinai, looking out the window and watching the desert, the plants, & the people go about their days, I thought about how so much of Palestine would look similar if it weren't occupied – if so much of it hadn't been stolen. Even the land would be free to self-identify as “desert,” without anyone requiring it to bloom beyond its own inclination.

...More soon.
Also, check out this guy's blog: http://www.philipweiss.org/
He's on the same trip as I am.

In Cairo...

2009-05-24T10:58:00.001-07:00

I'm in Cairo checking email, posting on facebook & my blog...
strange things can be so "typical" so far from home -
of course the music in the background is different...but the honking horns sound about the same.

In a couple of days I'll be in Gaza. Most of you who read my blog know this already, because I've told you, or because I mentioned it on facebook.
I was going to wait until I was in Gaza to blog, but then I realized that I DO already have things to say...

(one) I'm scared. I am writing that here because in our group conversation (I'm going with a delegation) we talked about check-ins & I began to think about emotion - how the trip will be more powerful in every way if we open ourselves up to what we will feel - how a lot of the organizations we will visit & meet with deal with trauma, and that to deny our own emotions, and pretend we are "above" them is to disrespect them & their work. So, I admit that I'm afraid.

(two) I'm excited. Before signing up for this delegation, I didn't even know the extent of work that is happening in Gaza. I'm sure I'll have more to say about this later. I'm also here with a lot of people I don't know, but people I suspect are pretty amazing. So that's exciting too. And there's a BIG student delegation here as well, and a bigger Code Pink delegation on its way in a few days...it's inspiring that so many people want to witness & share what they see.

a (brief) story of a young woman

2009-02-13T15:05:00.000-08:00

Reprinted from Ma'an News:

Bethlehem- Ma’an – Israeli authorities released 25-year-old A’reen A’wad Husein Shu’eibat from prison on Thursday. The young woman was detained in 2002 during the Israeli siege of Bethlehem.
The young woman, from the Bethlehem suburb of Beit Sahour spent her seven-year imprisonment in the Israeli Ad-Damun prison in northern Israel.
The young woman prepared to launch a suicide bomb attack against the Israeli soldiers occupying Bethlehem in 2002. She left her home prepared to carry out the mission but had a change of heart and returned home. Israeli intelligence surrounded her home two days following the event. Forces imposed a curfew on the entire town, raided the home and arrested her.
A’reen was in her second year of a Business Administration degree at Bethlehem University when she was detained. She was charged with attempting to carry out a suicide attack.
A friend and colleague of A’reen continued with his attack mission and detonated the explosive device strapped to his chest at a bus station in Tel Aviv killing three and injuring several others.

Something about this woman's story just gets to me...Maybe it is because she is 25, as am I. Seven years ago, both of us were 18. Wow, 18. I was busy writing hippie poetry, attending anti-war meetings, and making plans to drop out of school and drive a bus across the country. I didn't follow through with my plans either, but I was lucky enough to find my way into other adventures. Not prison. It's hard to believe her change of heart cost her 7 years in prison. What went through her mind in those years? Did she ever regret her decision? Any of her decisions? ...I've never been in prison, but I imagine that it would involve a deep sense of isolation. ...Wow. But now she is free...and that is good. The sad part, still, though, is that in Palestine, there never seems to be enough time to heal from one trauma before the next one begins...

It's been awhile...

2009-02-13T08:51:00.001-08:00

I know, I know. It's been awhile.
What happened was,
I got this adorable puppy. She makes me laugh, which is SO important. I tried to train her to chew up a flag of the United States, but her little teeth weren't quite up to it yet...but we'll get there.
Then, I got the flu, which was much less adorable, and much less fun.
I'm starting to feel better though.

I also came across this, and even though it's about the 4th of July, I'm going to post it in the spirit of Valentine's Day comin up tomorrow...

I'm usually cynical about Valentine's Day but this poem is better than cynical: it's just real.

Al Jazeera says "No Change"

2009-01-23T20:45:00.000-08:00

Now, let me be clear: I don't want to dismiss the power of the positive decisions that Obama has made thus far. I'm really glad that he's going to close Guantanamo and not torture people and talk to Iran instead of bomb them and not take away abortion rights. Really. This is good. It's not enough. Not nearly enough.
Personally, when I hear the word "change," I want MORE. Like, for example, I want us to not bomb Pakistan and kill 19 people.
And I want us to not blame Hamas for the fact that Israel just massacred over a thousand people in Gaza.
Those are just two things I want when I hear the word "change." There are many more, but I can list them another day. It would take a long time.
I'm so tired of bittersweet victories. I'm done with the "bitter." Ready for just plain sweet. I want to know what it's like to taste just plain sweet. Was there ever a time? ...I don't remember.?

And I guess, this is what it feels like to hope. To hope is to feel your heart crushed over and over and over.
And yet, we still hope. Because it is worse not to hope. Not to hope is to have your heart disappear. Not to hope is never to feel at all.

This post is incredibly depressing. I apologize. I think we DO need to hope. I think we just need not to place it in the hands of one man who, regardless of his personal qualities, is now the head of a capitalist, imperialist, patriarchal war machine that calls itself a country. I think we need to place it in ourselves.
One of the weirdest parts of this whole thing is...I'm pretty sure He says the same thing.

2009-01-23T12:32:00.000-08:00

I was working on a long post about Obama, but then I came across this on someone's Facebook profile and I figured...
that's basically all I have to say.
I love this image.

From Gaza to Oakland...Resist!

2009-01-19T13:49:00.000-08:00

Hip Hop vs. State Violence

Oakland:

Gaza:

Gaza...and Oakland:
(I couldn't get the 'embed' code to work, so go to this link and press play)
http://emergencemusic.net/node/118

can't stop now

2009-01-17T13:38:00.001-08:00

And so the war criminals finally call for a ceasefire.
...If only this were cause for celebration.
Instead, it is cause for nothing more than a moment of relief.
Yes, I am glad that perhaps tomorrow morning, I will not have to wake up and check the rising death count...Or perhaps I will. Just in case. Because, Ehud Olmert, I don't trust you.
What are the terms of this "unilateral" ceasefire?
Well
(1) Israeli troops will remain in Gaza
(2) The blockade of Gaza will continue
(3) A threat to continue the war if another rocket is fired
...So of course it's unilateral. This way, it's all on their terms.

In many ways, this is the most difficult part about organizing in solidarity with Palestine. I imagine it is far more difficult for those who actually live there. "Normal" consists of a list of atrocities that become mundane. "Normal" means occupation, blockade, & the looming threat of all out war. Again. "Normal" means you have only a moment to mourn before something else happens, someone else is killed. "Normal" means you are faced with a choice: Resist and face massive destruction OR Don't Resist and live in an occupied prison with little or no access to resources such as food, electricity, & medicine. In other words...still massive destruction...just slower.

A few weeks ago, I posted a blog about "cautious optimism." Even Al Jazeera was using that term (that's where I got it). Now, the best I can manage is "cautious relief." The ceasefire will give us time to mourn, if it gives us time at all, and this is good. If it lasts, it will give us time to organize, hopefully in sustainable ways...like boycott, divestment, and sanctions, for example.
When a war ends, the victor/victimizer celebrates. And what of the victims? The death count - - of Palestinians- - is 1,230. And of Israelis? 12. 9 of whom were soldiers. How can they even pretend that this is justified? Before the "ceasefire" was declared, the Israelis shelled another UN school today. They have what they call "smart weapons." They are not bombing schools by mistake. And as for civilian areas, as many people have pointed out, there are no non-civilian areas in Gaza; it is a crowded prison, surrounded by an apartheid wall. This is 'business as usual.' This has all been 'business as usual.'

So, now, even if israel doesn't back out of it's ceasefire - I urge everyone to remember that if we don't keep organizing...boycott, divestment and sanctions, ongoing support for the Palestinian people, more marches, lobby days, etc...this WILL happen again. This has been happening since before 1948...
We can't continue to be surprised every time!
And we can't just be appalled every time; we need to be appalled ALL the time.

And as for "not in our name," I feel even more strongly now, after giving it a lot of thought, that this is not the right slogan. Because it is in our name. Because until we build ourselves up big enough, strong enough, brave enough to truly make it STOP it will be in our name. So we can't stop now. Not just Jews, but everyone in the US...We can't stop now.

Banner Drop

2009-01-17T13:32:00.001-08:00

From JATO's press release:

NYC Jews Call for an Immediate End to Israel's War on Gaza: Banner Drop at U.S.S. Intrepid Marks Spread of U.S. Jewish Solidarity With Palestinians

A banner drop over New York City's West Side Highway, carried out by members of Jews Against the
Occupation/NYC, declared “Jews Say: End Israel's War on Gaza NOW!” This action by Jewish New
Yorkers continued the wave of increasingly public Jewish solidarity with the Palestinians targeted by the
Israeli government's ongoing attack on the Gaza Strip, which has killed over 1,000 people, nearly 1/3 of
them children.

The banner, which was seen by thousands of commuters during morning rush hour on Friday, January 16th, 2009, expanded the public presence of the many New York Jews who strongly disagree with the self-appointed community spokespeople who have repeatedly expressed support for the bombing and invasion of Gaza. “We are standing up for justice,” said Niuta Teitelboim, one of the JATO/NYC activists, “which is a Jewish tradition that many Jewish organizations seem to have abandoned. Too many have vocally endorsed a war which has involved a continuous string of Israeli war crimes: the mass killings of children and families at UN schools designated as places of refuge; the targeting with bombs and artillery fire of hospitals and ambulances; and most recently the destruction of food and medical aid supplies in a UN facility.”

JATO/NYC placed the banner at the U.S.S. Intrepid to highlight the role of U.S. aid to Israel in the
current war and massacres. “Palestinian doctors, ambulance drivers, and children are being killed by
bombs paid for with U.S. taxpayers’ money, dropped from planes paid for with U.S. taxpayers’ money,
sent by an Israeli administration that could not maintain one of the world's largest militaries without a
constant flow of cash from the U.S. treasury,” elaborated R. Rosenthal, another JATO/NYC member
involved in the action. “That means all of us are involved in this bloody war. Even if foreclosures and
unemployment weren’t decimating our neighborhoods, surely there are better uses for $3 billion a year
than helping the Israeli government commit war crimes.”

Over the past week, Jews across North America and Europe have shown their opposition to Israel's latest
war, as well as its ongoing military occupation of the West Bank, Gaza Strip and East Jerusalem and
denial of Palestinian refugees right to return home. Jewish groups have held sit-ins at Israeli consulates in
Toronto, Los Angeles, and San Francisco; taken it upon themselves to declare the cancellation of a
London rally in support of the war; participated actively in the many demonstrations calling for an
immediate end to the bombing and invasion of Gaza; and joined the worldwide campaign for boycott,
divestment and sanctions on Israel until Palestinian rights under international law are respected. “Today’s
action is one small contribution to the growing movement in solidarity with the 1.5 million Palestinians
being bombed, shelled, and shot by the Israeli army," JATO-NYC member Sholom Schwartzbard
explained. "We know from our own history what being sealed behind barbed wire and checkpoints is like,
and we know that ‘Never Again’ means not anyone, not anywhere - or it means nothing at all."

I <3 San Francisco

2009-01-15T20:12:00.000-08:00

Watch SF activists be amazing &
Listen to ABC call Israel's actions "Genocide":
(well, kind of...)
(i mean they kind of called it that, not it kind of is, it definitely is)
http://abclocal.go.com/kgo/story?section=news/local/san_francisco&id=6606245

A Poem for Gaza

2009-01-13T23:10:00.000-08:00

My most recent poem...for Gaza, of course:

a powerful video

2009-01-13T16:00:00.000-08:00

a cautious comment on the "not in our name" demo

2009-01-13T15:05:00.000-08:00

"Not in Our Name"?
What about, NOT AT ALL…?

First, let me explain why I'm writing this entry: I think it's important for us, as Jews, to be able to critique our own organizing strategies & slogans. I also think it's important for these discussions to happen in a public forum, rather than behind closed doors & over personal phone calls & emails. I realize my blog isn't exactly a "public forum," (even though anyone can read it, I guess) but it's the most public forum that I have access to, so that's why I'm posting this here. It's about accountability. I'm not calling out other people and my tone is not accusatory towards any of the organizers of Monday's demonstration. Instead, I'm bringing up an issue that I think is important to discuss.

Personally, I think it's great that a Jewish demonstration was organized in NY against the massacre in Gaza. I think it's great every time a demonstration is organized against the massacre in Gaza (or in solidarity with Palestine in general), and the variety of options here in New York has been, for me, a real source of hope. The demonstration on Monday was organized with urgency and desperation, and, I think, without much debate around the specifics of slogans and framing. This urgency makes sense. However, I think it's important that even in times of crisis, we think strategically about our messaging and how we are framing our voices, and the situation/struggle in general.

"Not in Our Name" can be interpreted in various ways:
"You're not doing this in our name," directed at the Israeli government, doesn't sound problematic. However, "This is not in our name," directed at the world seems…well…is that really the message we want to prioritize?

At the demonstration, I overheard a conversation between a few people attending. One of them was explaining how she was glad this Jewish demonstration was organized – she opposed the massacre in Gaza, but did not feel comfortable at the larger, Palestinian-organized demonstrations.
Why?
I think there was talk of "anti-Semitism," etc. You know, the usual.
But why really?
In my opinion, racism. Racist fear of being surrounded by Palestinians and, probably, discomfort with signs like "From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free." (I call that discomfort racism too, because it's based on Zionism, which, I believe we all know, = racism).
So what does it mean for us to be creating space for people like this without challenging them directly through our messaging, flyering, and talking points?
Is this really helpful?
To whom?

Then, there is the overall difference in messaging between the demonstrations. At the Jewish demonstration, very few signs referenced Zionism itself as a violent ideology. There was a focus on "End the Massacre" – which is important – but what about the right of return for Palestinians? What about an Apartheid framework? What about an anti-imperialist framework? When we say "end the occupation" are we talking about 40 years or 60 years? I've said before, "it's all occupation," but is it perceived this way when we don't specify? I'm pretty sure it isn't.

So how does this present us? As the "rational" and "reasonable" Jews, of course, in contrast to the "angry," "radical," and "irrational" Palestinians. In other words, it provides fuel for the fire of racism and reinforces the very stereotypes that we're supposedly trying to challenge. This is a problem. We need to recognize that this is a problem and strategize around it.

It's a question that's been asked time and time again: How do we use our voices/privilege not only to express our own opposition Israel & it's actions, but to highlight and carve out space for Palestinian voices?
And if that isn't what we're doing…then what ARE we doing?

Racist, Colonial, Apartheid State

2009-01-13T12:14:00.000-08:00

In case you've had any doubts about whether or not Israel is really an Apartheid State:

"Israel on Monday banned Arab political parties from running in next month's parliamentary elections..."
Seriously? Apparently,
"Parliament spokesman Giora Pordes said the election committee voted overwhelmingly in favor of the motion, accusing the country's Arab parties of incitement, supporting terrorist groups and refusing to recognize Israel's right to exist."
Wow.

Also, read this article: "We could hear their bodies burning," on Ma'an News.

The death toll is nearing 1,000, according to Al Jazeera. It's been 18 days of war. To me, it simultaneously feels like it's been 3 days and 100 days...18. Well, and also 60+ years, depending you how you define "war."

Video from tonight's "Not in Our Name" Protest

2009-01-12T23:17:00.000-08:00

Phone Call for Gaza

2009-01-11T12:08:00.000-08:00

I just got this email twice in about five minutes.

I admit, calling politicians is not generally my recommended course of action.
But, as one friend pointed out, it can't hurt.

Apparently, Obama's staffers are "tallying votes" on the issue.

This is the text of the email that's being passed around, in case you haven't received it yet:

Dear Friends:
I just called 202-540-3000, then pressed 2, and spoke to a
volunteer with the Obama-Biden team about Gaza. They are TALLYING phone
calls. PLEASE CALL. I just elaborated on one point, that Obama must
call for an IMMEDIATE cease-fire. That it's an ongoing massacre, that the
Gazans are fish in a barrel, that Obama must SAY something, that it
will be a historic moment. PLEASE CALL NOW.

Boycott & Divest

2009-01-10T20:55:00.000-08:00

On Safety and Justice:

2009-01-09T22:39:00.001-08:00

State Violence, Racism, and a "World on Fire"

2009-01-09T22:28:00.000-08:00

I just posted a facebook status that said that three meetings in one day had left me too tired to blog, but then I realized I was wrong.

I'm going to take a break for a moment from discussing/critiquing U.S.-funded Israeli State violence in Gaza to discuss U.S.-funded U.S. State violence in Oakland.
I think there's a theme here.
On New Year's Day, the BART police shot a 22 year old man.
Guess what?
He was unarmed.
Why do you think they shot him?
Yup, that's right. Because he was Black.
Racism did not end because Obama was elected.
Are you surprised?
…Oscar Grant was apparently already restrained with zip tie handcuffs on both his ankles and his wrists when he was shot.
Do the BART police learn their techniques from the Israeli soldiers or do you think it's the other way around?
Okay, okay, it's neither. This is just the way that violent, racist Institutions function.
According to an article from KTVU that I got via the Critical Resistance listserv –
"Grant's family says his lungs were damaged in the shooting when the bullet went through him and then ricocheted off the ground and re-entered his body. Family members confirmed that Grant died from his injuries late Thursday morning. He leaves behind a four-year-old daughter."

So in case it wasn't enough to mourn the 801 deaths in Gaza, now you have one more.
The description of his death makes me cringe. A ricocheting bullet. A young daughter left behind. Already bound by his ankes and his wrists.
In Oakland.

Oh. And in the village of Kfar Qaddum, near Qalqilya – which is in the West Bank, not Gaza- settlers invaded and started shooting at several homes. How did the Israelis soldiers respond? They invaded the village as well, of course, and prevented people from entering the mosque.
They have also announced a curfew in Huwarra, south of Nablus.

You know, I should be clear that all I'm really doing here is compiling information from Ma'an News, adding my commentary, and maybe including a couple things from Al Jazeera.
I mean, not the part about Oscar Grant. But the Palestine parts.

Recently a good friend expressed this sentiment: "The world is on fire."
I have to agree.
But some parts are burning a lot more than others. Some parts are barely burning at all.

And of course, i can't end this entry without at least a brief update on Gaza –
The Israelis have most recently destroyed:
The home of Palestinian journalist Ala Mortijar, killing him and injuring several others
A building complex in Gaza City that housed media and production studios of over 20 media organizations including several international news agencies
(I think they're hiding something)
The home of Nareman Abu Au'da in Beit Hanoun. She was killed by the shrapnel of an artillery shell.
The home of the Sa'id family in Al-Qarem in northern Gaza, killing Fatma Sa'eed Sa'id (42), Sumeya (25) and Ata Jamil (12).
The Salha family home in Beit Lahiya, also in northern Gaza, where seven people were killed including 60 year old Mohammed Mubarak Saleh and his wife Halim Saleh.
And for all you sports fans who need one more reason to be appalled and enraged: they also destroyed Gaza's International Football Stadium in Rafah.
I really don't understand why.
Again, source, Ma'an News.

By the way, here's just a little more from another source – "Dissident Voice," "a radical newsletter in the struggle for peace and social justice."
I don't know anything about this source except that this article seems to have some very detailed information about a certain ceasefire - - and who violated it - - and did/didn't intend it's sustainability. Interesting facts from this site/article include:
1. Prior to the ceasefire, Isreal had announced its intention to wage full-scale military operations against Gaza. The cease-fire did not end those plans.
2. Israel violated the ceasefire on numerous occasions by shooting Gazan farmers working on their land near the border. On June 27th, an 82 year old man was injured in one of these attacks. In another (date unspecified) a Palestinian woman (age unspecified) was wounded.
3. Israel made up this thing they called a "special security zone" WITHIN Gaza (seriously, what's with them? they sound like bush. "special security zone." "axis of evil." it's like these people think they're in a comic book). They decided that they could fire upon any Palestinian who entered into this special security zone in Gaza. Basically, this was what they used as an excuse to shoot farmers, as mentioned above.
4. ALL this was even BEFORE the Israeli airstrike on November 5th which killed five Palestinians in Gaza and wounded several others.
5. And then, of course, there was the blockade.
6. Oh, and the Occupation.
7. And it's ALL Occupation.

I have more to say, but I realize this is getting long. So I'll stop and I'll try not to just write again in another 15-20 minutes.

NOT IN OUR NAME

2009-01-09T13:04:00.000-08:00

More Information on Monday's "Not in Our Name" Action:

PLEASE FORWARD WIDELY (and repost, etc)....

*PLEASE JOIN US*
Monday, January 12 at 5:30 P.M.
in front of the Israeli Consulate
800 Second Avenue between 42nd and 43rd Streets

We are Jews who say "Not in Our Name" to the Israeli Government.
*We ask you to stand with us as we call for:*

- an immediate end to the massacre of the Palestinian people
- an immediate ceasefire and withdrawal of Israeli troops
- an immediate end to the blockade of Gaza
- immediate steps taken to end the Israeli occupation

We stand in solidarity with the Palestinian people,
with our sisters and brothers in Israel who are bravely opposing the
brutality of their government,
and with all those around the world calling for justice and peace in the
Middle East.

There will be no speakers at this event. We will stand together in silence,
holding up signs reiterating the points above.

Initiators of this call for action:

Renate Bridenthal, Nina Felshin, Michelle Fine, Sherry Gorelick, Jane Hirschmann, Carol Horowitz, Esther Kaplan, Melanie Kaye/Kantrowitz, Abigail Levine, Alan Levine, Richard Levy, Donna Nevel, Michael Ratner, Amy Schoenwald, Len Weinglass, Dorothy Zellner

Opportunities to take Action in NY

2009-01-09T12:51:00.000-08:00

Here are some upcoming events for those in the New York area who want to take action in solidarity with Gaza:

FRIDAY, 1/9...
MARCH TO BROOKLYN BOROUGH PRESIDENT'S OFFICE
Presented by the Break the Siege Coalition
When: Friday, January 9th, after Friday prayers
Where: Masjid Al Da3wa on Atlantic & 4th Avenue to Brooklyn Borough President's Office on Court & Joralemon Streets

SATURDAY, 1/10...
LET GAZA LIVE! Stop the U.S./Israeli War Against the Palestinian People
National March on Washington
Presented by A.N.S.W.E.R. Coalition
When: Saturday, 1/10, 1pm
Where: At the north side of the White House (there are some buses going from NY, I think)

SUNDAY, 1/11...
TIMES SQUARE RALLY & MARCH
Presented by the Break the Siege Coalition
When: Sunday, January 11th, 1pm
Where: Assemble at Times Square, 42nd St & 7th Ave

MONDAY, 1/12...
JEWS SAY: NOT IN OUR NAME
When: Monday, January 12th, 5:30pm
Where: In front of the Israeli Consulate, 800 Second Ave b/w 42nd and 43rd Streets

TUESDAY, 1/13...
MASS COMMUNITY & ORGANIZING COMMITTEE AROUND GAZA
Presented by the Break the Siege Coalition
When: Tuesday, January 13th, 6:30pm
Where: MAS Bath Avenue Youth Center
1933 Bath Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11214
D Train to 20th Ave in Brooklyn

EMERGENCY TOWN HALL MEETING - A CALL TO ACT
Initiated by Revolution Books
When: Tuesday, January 13th, 7pm
Where: New York Society for Ethical Culture
2 West 64th St. @ Central Park West NYC, Admission $10
Speakers include Cynthia McKinney, Alan Goodman, Chris Hedges, Adam Shapiro, Peter Weiss, and Najla Said

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 14th...
PROTEST RALLY & CANDLELIGHT VIGIL
Presented by Brooklyn for Peace
When: 1/14, 4:30pm
Where: Brooklyn Borough Hall (Court and Remsen Streets in Brooklyn)
(M, R to Court St or A, C, F, 2, 3, 4, 5 to Borough Hall)

2009-01-07T22:24:00.000-08:00

There are times when I've gone to protests and returned home, relieved to have spoken, potentially been heard, and at least been around like-minded people for awhile.

This is different.

I go to protests and return home angrier. There is a collective anger that the protests allow me to feed on. A righteous anger. An anger that we should feel - - all of us - - but also an anger that keeps me up at night, because the protest eventually ends, and I'm eventually too tired to get any work done, but too riled up to fall asleep.

I think of the Canadian women who took over the Israeli consulate in Toronto.
I'm inspired!
Then, I think of women in Gaza who are struggling to survive and protect their children.
I'm sad again.

I can think of nothing else. I have no desire to think of anything else. I have a pile of books to read, on various topics, some novels, some non-fiction, and I cannot get through more than one or two pages without distraction…some sentence, some word, some idea that was somehow triggered that wasn't even written there makes me think of Gaza. When I read about the history of Palestine, I do so in order to argue more effectively with the Zionists in my life. I take notes. Seriously, I take notes. The other day, I thought about making a quiz, because back when I was in high school, I remember cramming for quizzes fairly successfully.

Awhile ago, I was editing a statement written by an organization I work with. Someone had ended the statement with the phrase, "to resist is to exist," when he intended to use the phrase "to exist is to resist," a popular slogan of the Palestinian resistance.
I am contemplating that statement. The accidental one I mean. "To resist is to exist."
I think it's what I feel right now.
Maybe that's what he felt at the time.
As anti-Zionist Jews, we are spoken for unless we speak (loudly) for ourselves.
If we do not resist, we do not exist.
Maybe this explains the need I have to live, breathe, and be the struggle at every moment.
Or maybe this explains it…

or this...http://english.aljazeera.net/Services/Gallery/Default.aspx?GalleryID=200915125116945651

or maybe it's the fact that Ma'an News, which has been reporting almost hourly on the death count, now says "Gaza death toll approaching 700," like it's finally too many to count.

Sometimes I wish I was a doctor instead of a writer.

Protest at City Hall Today

2009-01-07T20:25:00.000-08:00

Video from today's protest at City Hall.

The audio is good, but the video itself is dark and all you can see are the bigger press people who kept getting in my way.

For those of you who don't live in NY and probably don't know, Bloomberg visited Israel to show his support for Apartheid and massacre.
I mean...that's probably not how he would put it. But this isn't his blog, is it?

Group of Jewish Canadian Women Occupy Israeli Consulate in Toronoto

2009-01-07T10:59:00.000-08:00

This is HELLA exciting. And inspiring.
WHY are we not this hardcore in the U.S.?
Seriously...

Arrests underway in Toronto Israeli Consulate Sit-in

Toronto: Wednesday January 8, 2009 Time: 11:20 am

Police have moved in to arrest a group of Jewish Canadian women who are currently occupying the Israeli consulate at 180 Bloor Street West in Toronto.

The women took their action in protest against the on-going Israeli assault on the people of Gaza.

The group is carrying out this occupation in solidarity with the 1.5 million people of Gaza and to ensure that Jewish voices against the massacre in Gaza are being heard. They are demanding that Israel end its military assault and lift the 18-month siege on the Gaza Strip to allow humanitarian aid into the territory.

Israel has been carrying out a full-scale military assault on the Gaza Strip since December 27, 2008. At least 660 people have been killed and 3000 injured in the air strikes and in the ground invasion that began on January 3, 2009. Israel has ignored international calls for a ceasefire and is refusing to allow food, adequate medical supplies and other necessities of life into the Gaza Strip.

Protesters are outraged at Israel's latest assault on the Palestinian people and by the Canadian government's refusal to condemn these massacres. They are deeply concerned that Canadians are hearing the views of pro-Israel groups who are being represented as the only voice of Jewish Canadians. The protesters have occupied the consulate to send a clear statement that many Jewish-Canadians do not support Israel's violence and apartheid policies. They are joining with people of conscience all across the world who are demanding an end to Israeli aggression and justice for the Palestinian people.

The group includes: Judy Rebick, professor; Judith Deutsch, psychoanalyst and president of Science for Peace; B.H. Yael, filmmaker; Smadar Carmon, an Canadian Israeli peace activist and others.

Spokespersons for the group will be outside the Israeli consulate:

Dr. Miriam Garfinkle:
416-731-6605
mgarfinkle@sympatico.ca

Cathy Gulkin:
416-697-0768
cgulkin@rogers.com

Release is online at http://www.sources.com/Releases/NR135.htm

2009-01-06T09:02:00.001-08:00

I had a dream last night where I ran into an "old friend." Some of you may know him. This "old friend," hasn't been a friend since we were, I think, sophomores in high school. After that, though, he and I remained in many of the same "circles."
That "friend" went on to join the military. Not because he needed money for college or because the military recruiters tricked him but because he genuinely wanted to "fight for his country."
Through the grapevine I've heard that, during his time in Iraq, he not only killed, but tortured people.
Then, when he was finally done...he decided to go back. Not because he had to, but because, even seeing what he had to do there, he still wanted to "fight for his country."

In the dream, his face and hands were covered in blood. Deep, dark blood. Red. He didn't appear to be injured, so I assume it was intended to be either symbolic or someone else's or both. He looked like he was made of blood. He was smiling like a frat boy who just got laid. I can't get this haunting image out of my mind.
In the dream, there was an argument, but I can't remember precisely what it was about, who started it, etc.
Only the image: him, the gun, the blood, the smile.
Like he was playing a video game and he just got a high score.
Like all the people he killed gave him a high score.
haunting.

Today I'm moving to Brooklyn. That's not really relevant to anything on this blog, but since there are a few people who still read it primarily to find out what's going on with me, I thought I'd mention something.

In the past couple of days there have been a few things I've been excited to discover:

1. http://www.pflp.ps/english/?q=pflp-calls-upon-arab-and-international-forces-esca

2.

(A friend sent this photo from the protests in Southern Cal...)

3. Here in NY:
Stand with Gaza:
SHOES to Bloomberg
Wednesday, January , 2009
4:30 to 6:30 pm
NYC City Hall
take trains to City Hall or Chambers Street
BRING YOUR OLD SHOES
SHAME BLOOMBERG Bring your old shoes and show the Mayor your disgust.

4. There's also a protest planned for Saturday in DC and Sunday again in NY (Times Square), so keep your calendars open!

why, why, why, why, why?

2009-01-05T00:05:00.000-08:00

526. 526 people killed, that is.

A ground war now. Not just bombs.

Why?
Why, Why, Why, Why, Why?
...I'm not really looking for the answer. How would that help?
Besides, I already know the answer. Isn't this the nature of Colonialism? Of Racism? Of Apartheid? Of Zionism?...VIOLENCE.

I want to express, again, the extent to which I'm inspired by those in Gaza who have chosen to stay, as well as those who have no choice and still survive and still RESIST. You are amazing. All of you. My heart goes out to you. Gaza, my heart is with you. Perhaps that is why it feels like it's breaking.

5 Palestinian medics were killed today. Members of the International Solidarity Movement reported that the Israelis dropped a bomb in front of their ambulance to prevent them from getting to wounded people.
I could never be a medic. I mean, really, I would faint before I could do any good...all that blood...what resilient people!
"Resilient" has become one of my new favorite words.

Haya Hamdan, Ismail Hamdan, and Lama Hamdan were 12, 10, and 5 years old respectively, when they were killed by an Israeli missile while running an errand. Haya and Lama Hamdan were torn to pieces on impact and Ismail was transported to a hospital where he died on the operating table. Before they'd gone out on this errand, the children had been cooped up in the house for five days.
What would Haya, Ismail, and Lama have gone on to do with their lives?
Would they have gone to the university? Fallen in love? Struggled to bring a better future to all Palestinians? Had they survived the attack, would they have become medics or doctors themselves? ...There's no way to know.
Why? Why, why, why, why, why?

I will stop now. I don't want anyone to stop reading here because it's too painful and I know that talking about the deaths of children has that potential. So that's all. No more talk about the deaths of children, at least not until tomorrow or the next day.

For now, here is a version of some useful talking points, in Q&A form, from Adalah-NY:

1. Who broke the ceasefire first?
Israel. Hamas observed the ceasefire until Israel carried out an unprovoked military attack on November 5th, killing six Palestinians. Israel also failed to meet its ceasefire commitment to allow essential supplies into Gaza.

2. Isn't Israel just trying to stop Hamas rocket fire?
No: Israel provoked Hamas by breaking the ceasefire on November 5th, as it has done with numerous ceasefires in the past.
No: If the rockets were the provocation, then why is Israel killing and jailing Palestinians in the West Bank, where no rockets have been fired?
No: Israel, with US support, has been attempting to overthrow the democratically elected Hamas government since Palestinian elections in January 2006. After the elections, Israel imposed a siege on Gaza, closing borders, cutting off supplies, and continuing to launch attacks on Gazans. As a result, poverty, unemployment, and hunger in the already impoverished Gaza Strip have skyrocketed.

3. Isn't Israel only striking military targets?
No. Israel has killed well over 100 women and children and the death count is climbing. Most of the dead and injured have nothing to do with the attacks on Israel. Many civilians, civilian police officers, and other non-military officials of the Hamas government are among casualties. Targeting these people is a war crime.
Israel claims that Palestinians in Gaza hide behind civilians, firing rockets at Israel from civilian areas, and thus giving Israel no option but to attack inhabited Palestinian neighborhoods. But the Gaza Strip, one of the most densely populated areas in the world, is composed entirely of residential neighborhoods. Palestinians in Gaza have no other place from which they can respond to Israeli military attacks.

4. Isn't Israel just trying to defend itself against Palestinian violence? Don't they just want peace?
Oy. No. If Israel wanted peace it would have observed the ceasefire and stopped blocking Palestinian economic development. It would have allowed Palestinians to live normal lives. Israeli policy has been the root of violence in the region for 60 years, starting no fewer than 6 major wars and numerous smaller conflicts in the region. Israel has the most powerful military in the region, with which it continues to deny food, clean water, fuel, and medical supplies to Gaza's 1.5 million people; steal land from Palestinians to build Israeli settlements; and kill large numbers of Palestinians, mostly civilians. Since January 2006, when Hamas won democratic elections, Israel has killed 1672 Gazans and 1922 Palestinians overall.

5. Didn't Israel end its occupation of Gaza in 2005 and didn't Palestinians respond by launching rockets into Israel and electing Hamas?
All human rights organizations agree that Israel's withdrawal of settlers from Gaza in 2005 did not end Israel's occupation of the Gaza Strip. Surrounding Gaza with its military, Israel maintained control of Gaza's borders, airspace, sea, electricity, fuel, and the movement of goods and people into and out of Gaza. Thus, Israel remains an occupying power under international law.
Frustrated by Israel's denial of their basic rights, growing poverty as a result of Israel's decimation of their economy, and 13 years of failed negotiations (in which Israel often refused to hold up their end of the deal), Palestinians voted for change and elected Hamas in January 2006. Some Palestinians in Gaza, living under Israeli siege, in desperate poverty and deprived of basic human rights, have responded to Israel's assault by launching homemade rockets into Israel.

6. Aren't the attacks on Gaza justifiable as self-defense?
No. Israel provoked the conflict. Also, by carrying out indiscriminate bombing that targets civilians, Israel is practicing collective punishment and disproportionate force against the 1.5 million Palestinians living in Gaza. This is a war crime and a violation of international law and the Fourth Geneva Convention.

7. Doesn't Hamas reject peace with Israel?
No. Hamas has stated that it is willing to negotiate with Israel and abide by a two-state solution if Israel respects Palestinian rights. By contrast, Israel has refused to recognize Palestinians' right to self-determination and has not abided by its obligations under peace agreemnts with the Palestinians.

...well, I can barely keep my eyes open to keep typing, so perhaps more talking points will follow tomorrow.
Please feel free to add your own!

...And again, these are taken from Adalah-NY, but they're also adjusted/adapted for this blog (and my tiredness) and I don't think they were a finished version even from Adalah, so don't quote them on that.

Protest Photos

2009-01-04T20:36:00.001-08:00

Protest Against the Massacre in Gaza, January 3rd, NYC

Protest Video

2009-01-04T20:26:00.001-08:00

Foreign Passport Holders in Gaza Decide to Stay- "We Will Not Leave."

2009-01-02T19:23:00.000-08:00

http://www.palsolidarity.org/main/2009/01/02/foreign-passport-holders-in-gaza-decide-to-stay-we-will-not-leave/
One more article, on human rights activists who have decided to stay in Gaza.
Of course, most Gazans don't have a choice, and this privilege granted only to international visitors is...well, there are no words to say how problematic, unfair, and absurd that is.
However, their decision to stay is one I find inspiring.
And for those of you who are currently grasping for home as I am, this is one place to find it.
Dedication to struggle. Dedication to a People. Dedication. Conviction. Love. One day, Liberation.

Some Blogs to Check Out...

2009-01-02T19:14:00.000-08:00

This is a link to the blog of one of the members of the Free Gaza Movement (you know, the one with the boats...) - -
http://talestotell.wordpress.com/
I just found this blog, and I'm very glad I did.

And this is the blog of Dr. Mona El-Farra who lives in Gaza and identifies as "a physician by training, a human rights and women's rights activist by practice, in the occupied Gaza Strip."
http://fromgaza.blogspot.com/
Her latest post (from 1/1/09) asks for contributions to MECA, for another shipment of medical aid to Gaza. You can donate to MECA here:
https://secure.groundspring.org/dn/index.php?aid=1171

I am finding many more blogs, but I will post them later, because I don't want this to be overwhelming...check out these for now.

Routine...and Ethnic Cleansing in Gaza

2009-01-02T09:59:00.001-08:00

I remember the last time I felt like this...
It was at the beginning of the Iraq war.
I used to look at images of broken people on the internet before I went to sleep. Sometimes I'd have nightmares. I'd wake up and check the news again. "Awake" began to blur with "Dreaming."
Why do I do it this way?
Why do I check the news every morning before I've even had a cup of coffee?
Maybe it's desperation, fear of what the news will say. Maybe I'm secretly hoping for a headline that I don't really (rationally) expect about how the bombing has stopped or at least they've let more aid in or something.
Maybe it's more like ripping off a band-aid: "If something even worse has happened tell me now. Do it fast."
Or maybe it's self-protection: before I've had my morning coffee, I'm never completely present. Maybe it's less painful that way.

My routine now:
Ma'an News
Al Jazeera
Facebook (people post news I haven't seen elsewhere)
Then, sometimes, New York Times (because it's good to know what other people are reading here in NY)
Then, sometimes Ha'aretz, because I want to know what the Israelis are reading (and it's the only Isreali paper I can stomach)
If I'm particularly angry after that, I'll go to YNET (which I refuse to link to) and leave vicious anti-Zionist comments on the most problematic posts.
Leaving comments on Ha'aretz is frustrating because among their "guidelines" (or your post is deleted) is one that says you're not allowed to accuse anyone of genocide or ethnic cleansing. WTF? You're also not allowed to compare anyone to the Nazis. Again...WTF?
Not that I generally do the second (unless I'm talking to specific Jews and it makes a specific, useful point) but I do tend to talk about ethnic cleansing and genocide a lot...

This story is posted somewhere on this blog already, but it was years ago, so I think it's time to tell it again:

When I was in Hebron, the soldiers would not allow us to walk on Shuhada Street. We asked one soldier "Why?" He told us that it was a "sanitized zone."
Who was allowed to walk there, we asked.
"Only --"
he didn't finish his sentence. we pushed and prompted. "Only who?"
"Only Jews."

"Sanitized." "Only Jews." But don't talk about ethnic cleansing.

One Israeli dies and they respond by killing over 400 Palestinians. Who are walled in on all sides, no escape. But no. Don't talk about ethnic cleansing.

Watch Al Jazeera Online

2009-01-01T15:37:00.000-08:00

For those of you frustrated with the U.S. media's blatantly biased coverage of the situation in Gaza, you can watch Al Jazeera online here:
http://www.livestation.com/channels/3-al_jazeera_english

You have to download something, but once you do, it actually comes in pretty well...significantly better (at least for me) than the regular "watch now" button on their site.

428

2009-01-01T13:14:00.000-08:00

428.

I can't possibly keep up with the death count on my blog, because I don't post nearly enough, but the latest is 428 (according to the director of Ambulance and Emergency Services in Gaza).
Every time I leave the house, I rush back to check...
Why? Is it so important to know the number? Is Israel worse because they killed 428 than they were when they had killed 400? ...I don't know what it is, though, but I need to check. Scroll through the pictures. Look at images of people whose heads and limbs have been shot off. Cry.
But that isn't helpful, is it? What does it do for me to cry?
So then I think, "I should pray."
Then I think, "So many people are already praying. Would it really matter if there were one more?"
Then I think, "I just need to go to the protest."
Then I think, "What does that do? Neither Israel nor the United States cares much about the opinions of 'the People.'"
I think of many things, and then I think how they won't help.
Then I think that this is exactly what Israel wants: to break the resistance in every way. To shatter our hope and make us afraid.
I don't want to let that happen.
Just now, I scanned the internet for profiles of some of the individuals killed. I could not find any. If anyone knows where to find this, please let me know.

Names

2008-12-31T10:06:00.000-08:00

The named victim receives a great deal more mourning than the unnamed one, or so I've heard...
So, here are some names, thanks to Ma'an News Agency.

The first 187 Palestinian victims were identified as:

Ibrahim Al-Jamaj
Isma’il Al-Husari
Isma’il Salem
Isma’il Ghneim
Eyman Natour
Eyhab Ash-Shaer
Ibrahim Mahfoudh
Abu Ali Ar-Rahhal
Ahmad Al-Halabi
Ahmad Al-Kurd
Ahmad Al-Lahham
Ahmad Al-Hums
Ahmad At-Talouli
Ahmad Zu’rub
Ahmad Abu Jazar
Ahmad Radwan
Ahmad ‘Udah
Ahmad Abu Mousa
Ahmad Tbeil
Adham Al-Areini
Osama Abu Ar-Rus
Osama Abu Ar-Reish
Osama Darweish
Ashraf Ash-Sharabasi
Ashraf Abu Suhweil
Amjad Abu Jazar
Ameen Az-Zarbatli
Anas Hamad
Anwar Al-Bardini
Anwar Al-Kurd
Ayman Abu Ammouna
Ayman An-Nahhal
Ibrahim Abu Ar-Rus
Basil Dababish
Bassam Makkawi
Bilal Omar
Bahaa Abu Zuhri
Tamir Qreinawi
Tamir Abu Afsha
Tawfiq Al-Fallit
Tawfiq Jabir
Thaer Madi
Jabir Jarbu’
Hatim Abu Sha’ira
Hamid Yasin
Husam Ayyash
Hasan Baraka
Hasan Abid Rabbo
Hasan Al-Majayda
Hussein Al-A’raj
Hussein Dawood
Hussein ‘Uroq
Hakam Abu Mansi
Hamada Abu Duqqa
Hamada Safi
Hamdan Abu Nu’eira
Haydar Hassuna
Khalid Zu’rub
Khalid Abu Hasna
Khalid An-Nashasi
Khalid Shaheen
Raed Dughmush
Rami Ash-Sheikh
Raafat Shamiyya
Riziq Salman
Rif’at Sa’da
Rafiq Na’im
Ramzi Al-Haddad
Ziyad Abu ‘Ubada
Sarah Al-Hawajiri
Salim Abu Shamla
Salim Qreinawi
Sa’id Hamada
Salim Al-Gharir
Suheil Tambura
Shadi Sbakhi
Shahada Quffa
Shahada Abd ar-Rahman
Sabir Al-Mabhouh
Suhayb Abu ‘Iffat
Suhayb Abd al-‘aal
Tal’at Salman
Tal’at Basal
‘Aasim Ash-Shaer
‘Aasim Abu Kamil
Abid Ad-Dahshan
Abd ar-Raziq Shahtu
Abd as-Sami’ An-Nashar
Abdul-Fattah Abu ‘Uteiwi
Abdul-Fattah Fadil
Abdullah Juneid
Abdullah Al-Ghafari
Abdullah Rantisi
Abdullah Wahbi
Arafat Farajallah
Azmi Abu Dalal
Isam Al-Ghirbawi
‘Alaa Al-Qatrawi
‘Alaa Al-Kahlout
‘Alaa ‘Uqeilan
‘Alaa Nasr Ar-Ra’i
Ali Awad
Imab Abu Al-Hajj
Omar Darawsha
Omran Ar-ran
Anan Ghaliya
Gharib Al-Assar
Fayiz Riyad Al-Madhoun
Fayiz Ayada Al-Madhoun
Fayiz Abu Al-Qumsan
Camellia Al-Bardini
Ma’moun Sleim
Mazin ‘Ulayyan
Muhammad Al-Ghimri
Muhammad Al-Halabi
Muhammad Asaliyya
Muhammad Az-Zatma
Muhammad Az-ahra
Muhammad Gaza
Muhammad An-Nuri
Muhammad Abu Sabra
Muhammad Abu ‘Amir
Muhammad Abu Libda
Muhammad Hboush
Muhammad Al-Mabhouh
Muhammad Sha’ban
Muhammad Abu ‘Abdo
Muhammad Salih
Muhammad Tabasha
Muhammad Al-Habeil
Muhammad Abdullah Aziz
Muhammad Abdul-Wahhab Aziz
Muhammad Awad
Muhammad Abd An-Nabi
Muhammad Salih
Muhammad An-Najari
Muhammad Hamad
Muhammad Barakat
Muhammad Muhanna
Mahmoud Al-Khalidi
Mahmoud Abu Harbeid
Mahmoud Abu Matar
Mahmoud Abu Tabour
Mahmoud Abu Nahla
Mustafa Al-Khateib
Mustafa As-Sabbak
Mu’ein Hamada
Mu’ein Al-Hasan
Mumtaz An- Najjar
Mansour Al-Gharra
Nasser Al-Gharra
Nahidh Abu Namous
Nabil Al-Breim
Nathir Al-Louqa
Ni’ma Al-Maghari
Na’im Kheit
Na’im Al-Kafarna
Na’im Al-Anzi
Nimir Amoum
Hisham Rantisi
Hisham Al-Masdar
Hisham Abu ‘Uda
Hisham ‘Uweida
Humam An-Najjar
Hanaa Al-Mabhouh
Haytham Hamdan
Haytham Ash-Sher
Wadei’ Al-Muzayyin
Wasim Azaza
Walid Abu Hein
Walid Jabir Abu Hein
Yasser Ash-Shaer
Yasser Al-Lahham
Yahya Al-Hayik
Yahya Sheikha
Yahya Mahmoud Sheikha
Yousif Thabit
Yousif Al-Jallad
Yousif Sha’ban
Yousif Diab
Yousif Al-Anani
Yousif An-Najjar
Younis Ad-Deiri

Please take a moment to mourn each of these people.

For Gaza

2008-12-30T17:47:00.000-08:00

Where do I start?
There are no words.
There are always numbers:
375 Palestinians killed in Gaza…and the death count continues to rise…
1,720 Palestinians have been injured

…and how is one to heal when they do not allow medical supplies or doctors through the border?…and when they're bombing the medical supply centers and pharmacies that do exist?…and the tunnels, that might have been used to bring in new supplies.

Part of me is afraid to say this. Negative thinking is not helpful. I should say "Israel will stop the bombing and everyone in Gaza will heal."

Yesterday, I tried to pray. I don't really know how, so I opted for creative visualization. It was hard to picture Gaza without war. I realized that I have never seen it portrayed, except in times of war. I thought about how sad this is. There was a battle of images within my brain: hope vs. the-current-reality. Hope eventually prevailed. If only this were true in real life.

In Bethlehem, they canceled Christmas to mourn the attacks. If you are Christian and you read my blog, please-please-please convey this powerful piece of information to your families. There are usually lights in front of the barn where Jesus was (according to Christian doctrine) born. This Christmas, they turned them off. In Palestine, Christians do not celebrate on the 25th of December but in the beginning of January…if I remember correctly, it's the 7th, but I could be off by a few days, I'm not sure. They plan to keep the lights off for the local Christmas celebration as well.

I feel desperate. Helpless. Hopefully not hopeless, because then what's the point?
I remember this feeling from the beginning of the Iraq war. I hope this one doesn't last as long. I really, really, hope it doesn't. I guess that means I'm not hopeless after all.
This is a good thing.
I'm glad I found one good thing.

obamathoughts

2008-12-19T11:46:00.000-08:00

The president-elect is not our lover. He is not a potential messiah. He's not going to save us.
And in my opinion, that's okay.

I know, I know, this might be considered blasphemy by Obama extremists on both sides of the spectrum. But why?

When Obama put the words "hope" and "change" under his picture on a poster did that really convince so many people that he represents all possibility of hope + change? Did we forget how to hope for change outside of electoral politics? In grassroots social movements and activism? In real community organizing?

I know I already blogged about "cautious optimism," and that's still how I feel about Obama...although I admit I'm getting increasingly cautious by the day. Yes, he appointed Rahm Emmanuel, whose father was a member of the Irgun (a Zionist terrorist group) and now he has this anti-gay, anti-choice pastor delivering the invocation at his inauguration. Of course I'm disappointed. But my hope doesn't lie in Obama so I'm not crushed, betrayed, devasted. These were bad decisions. He's the president of the United States. The president of the United States makes bad decisions, it's probably somewhere in the job description. But he might not declare war on hella countries like McCain probably would have. So I'm still glad about that. He's not Bush. Glad about that. He's got a new dialogue going about race by the mere fact that he's a Black president. I'm pretty happy about that dialogue too - it's great to see more (white) people acknowledge that race exists and, for a minute, forget to pretend that they're "colorblind." He made politics a lot more "hip" and I'm glad about that too- - it gets a lot more people aware and involved.

To some who identify as "more radical" this probably makes me a sellout, but I disagree. I'm not selling out and I'm not in love with the guy. But now he's in office and, unless your daddy owns an oil company and your brother is the governor of Florida, you can't change that. I just feel like hating Bush took a lot of energy from the progressive movement, and I don't want us to re-focus on tearing apart Obama...there are so many more productive things for us to focus on. And I know there were a lot of organizations dedicated specifically to hating (or impeaching or criticizing or whatever) Bush...what are they doing now? How can we re-allocate their resources and memberships? What happens next?

I'm never going to be a flag-waving patriot. Even if Obama were perfect, he's not powerful enough to reverse this nation's history of colonization, genocide, militarism, and capitalist greed. I'm not gonna say that that's okay, but it's true. I support hope but let's be reasonable, people. Let's hope for the future, let's hope for specific victories, and let's never let hope be represented by the flag of an imperialist nation.

So, those are my most recent obamathoughts. What are yours?

...Who would have thought? Me, the practical one? It feels weird.

cynical idealism or cautious optimism?

2008-11-18T20:16:00.000-08:00

I have often described myself as a cynical idealist.
In this article from Al Jazeera, I learned a new phrase that I just might prefer: "cautious optimist." I like it. And I think it sums up exactly what myself and others in my life are feeling about Obama. We're optimistic, even hopeful, but...I mean it's still the government, it's still the United States, this certainly doesn't make us patriots...he's far from perfect. But, I can't help but think that maybe we should look at the bright side. Because, for the first time in 8 years, I think there actually IS a bright side.
I don't know.
Thoughts?

8

2008-11-16T13:42:00.001-08:00

Alright, my turn.
I feel like I'm always running late on this blog thing...I mean, I missed the opportunity to mock Sarah Palin entirely...
I didn't once blog about Obama, hope, or the election...

But, here I am, back(ish). (for a minute, at least).
to talk about Prop 8.
by talk, i think that maybe I mean rant.

So, I'm a little fascinated with the crowd of people that seems to have suddenly realized they're oppressed.
I can see how they may not have noticed. The Castro in San Francisco is a prime example. I mean, these people have money, they have access to resources, they even have a neighborhood of bars, restaurants, and more all catering to them and their interests. If they rarely leave the area, of course they wouldn't notice that anything was wrong. I mean, unless they did something crazy like acknowledge their privilege...
But why would they do something like that?
Now, newly "politicized," these men are suddenly taking to the streets with the rest of us...
some of these men have even gone so far as to stick bumper stickers on their cars and lawn signs on their lawns (or in the windows of their apartments and condos, since the Castro doesn't have so many lawns)
they're talking politics on the sidewalks
i think i even heard one or two political conversations in bars!
Well...
welcome.
I'm glad you could finally make it.

See, the rest of us have been organizing this whole time. And by this whole time I don't mean when Prop 8 was put on the ballot, nor do I mean when some gay people decided they wanted to get married.
I mean the WHOLE time.
I mean, some of us have been working on issues of social, racial, and economic justice for YEARS.
I mean, some of us have been passionate about other issues, either because they affect us personally and/or because we're compassionate people who think it's worth getting up and out and into the streets when other people are being bombed, evicted, or denied healthcare...

I WANT to feel total solidarity with these people, I really do. And I AM excited to see them on the streets, to see them in offices making phone calls, to hear them talking politics, to see that politically-induced rage that leads to mass movements and can potentially lead to real change...But the thing is, as friendly as they are on the streets, when we're in Bar on Castro the next day, or trying to dance at the Cafe, they're still pushing me and my friends around (often literally), treating us like we don't have the right to exist, certainly not in THEIR space at THEIR bar.
So, tell me, why exactly should we trust them not to eventually decide that we also don't have a right to participate in or benefit from, well...THEIR issue ?
This might sound cynical, but I think they're questions and fears that the "movement" around No on 8 really does need to address.

And now, as the media tries to spin Prop 8 as a proposition created, advocated, and passed by People of Color (who are, apparently, all straight?!) what exactly are these self-proclaimed, self-appointed No on 8 leaders saying about it?
Not Enough.
Look: Gay is NOT the new Black.
That doesn't even make sense, because that saying is about fashion, not oppression.
The fact that Obama is elected certainly does NOT mean that racism is over.
And, one I haven't heard yet...YES, gay people supported Obama. They didn't do it because they were anti-racist. They did it because he was running against McCain, who would've hurt People of Color AND gay people AND low-income communities AND women AND the list goes on. I mean, seriously, gay participation in the Obama campaign was often as self-centered as gay prioritization of No on 8 over basically everything else. And maybe self-centered is sometimes okay but not when it's used to fuel racism and hate while simultaneously patting yourself on the back for all the good work you've done and criticizing everyone else for their lack of involvement in the campaign.

Ok, rant over.
And now, I am hesitating to press "publish post," because I don't want to contribute to this divisive way of thinking.
Then again, I'm not sure anyone who would actually disagree would ever read my blog...
Nope, probably not.

Okay. Here we go....

another rant about the NPIC

2008-09-26T13:56:00.000-07:00

...guess who has a new job?

yes, once again, my life has changed drastically, but this time, I know it's only for a month.

What am I doing, you ask? ...This: http://www.girlsforachange.org
In other (my) words, I am driving a giant billboard across the country for a corporation that's masquerading as a non-profit. Or, for a non-profit that's even more entangled in the corporate world than usual, since apparently that's possible. Who knew? Ready for Exhibit A? We have a CEO. Exhibit B? We're in the middle of a "National Expansion Tour." That's right. Not movement building. Not outreach. Not organizing. Expansion.

That said, the organization does some pretty awesome workshops in schools. That seems to be a theme with org's that support education - - the educators are awesome, the workshops are great, and the rest of the organization is...well...doing more to maintain the status quo than they are to make the changes we claim to advocate.

Anyway, if you want to see my kinder, gentler blog go to htpp://www.girlsforachangeactionnetwork.com
(What? I can be kind and gentle!)
I have to blog about our "Action Zones" as a part of my job....Our action zones are where we go to Sephora stores (You know, the people who sell expensive make-up?) and ask people what they want to change in the world for women and girls. So far "education" and "body image" are the most popular. Today, we're doing one in Beverly Hills. Seriously. Do those people want to change anything about the world? We will see...

Okay, okay, enough cynicism.
It's actually pretty exciting to see how people's answers change as we travel across the country...Texas, for example. What will that be like?

Guess we'll all just have to wait and see....

unravelling my monday...

2008-06-23T18:54:00.001-07:00

since i left work, i have been unravelling the layers of this story one of my students told me today, while waiting for her parents to pick her up:
This girl, we'll call her S, was born in the u.s, not far from san jose. Her family, however, is from India, and most of them still live there. "When I was born, my skin was white," she explained, then added that actually, it was "kind of a pinkish color." Then, she went to India. She went a few times, for months at a time, and after a series of these trips, the sun in India turned her skin brown, little by little, till it transformed into the color it is now, and she said proudly "that's why my skin is brown," and looked at her arm, smiling.

***

Another transformative moment during the actual class:
Another child (also Indian) today told the whole class how NOT to mispronounce his name: "It's not chimney, chimpanzee, etc," he said, and listed a variety of unwanted nicknames he'd received throughout his life. He then pronounced his name clearly, so that everyone knew, and would remember what it was.
Of course the rest of the kids responded by calling him everything he'd asked them not to. Eventually I asked them to stop - gently - and told them that it was important that we all feel safe and trust each other, and that means being respectful. This boy had specifically requested that his name be pronounced correctly and not mocked, and we all had to honor that request. "We can all make requests that are important to us, and everyone should honor those."
And after that?
...they stopped.
Not because I threatened them, but, it seems at least, because they understood that it was important to be respectful. And more importantly, because he had asked them in the first place.

Respectful children make me smile.
Empowered children make me hopeful.
Strong, respectful, and empowered children inspire me to be a better teacher and a better person.

thoughts, all jumbled and rambling

2008-06-21T23:05:00.000-07:00

thoughts:

not enough time for errands & resting & fun on the weekends. im tired.

race, class, gender in the classroom:
….WOW.
observations from this week –
power & privilege play out so MUCH, but it's hard to call them out, because (1) there's another level where I, as the teacher, actually have the most power so "calling out" is not the same as it is with peers and (2) we'd have to go waaay back to some kind of beginning/baseline, because i'm pretty sure these kids, unlike the ones I worked with in SF, don't talk daily about racism, classism, and sexism with their principals and other school leaders.
anyway, if anyone has any ideas about how to address this with a group of 7-14 year olds, please pass them my way.

oil:
if we use it all up, do you think that would make the war in iraq stop? 'cause i'm thinking maybe that should be our new strategy. i mean it's set to run out in 2012. …what difference is a couple of years gonna make?
and by the way, it's set to run out in 2012. it's 2008. why do people still talk about this like it's way in the future?

traffic:
ARGH

normal sleep hours:
i miss you

weekend:
please don't end after tomorrow, i'm not ready to leave you yet

violence:
is it true what they say about violence in the media getting into these young kids' minds and changing the way they see the world and conceptualize violence? their stories are scary. especially scary: when i had them writing to various songs (trying to match their style with the rhythm, although they all just matched it with the words, so i went with that) and i played a nancy ajram song their words got even more violent. this only happened after they asked what language it was, and i told them it was arabic.

libraries:
what a brilliant idea. actually, almost a little socialist... i mean a building full of books the government pays for, that you get to borrow and then return, instead of always trying to buy your own? shh, don't tell anybody, 'cause i'm sure as soon as they notice, they'll privatize 'em.
just got an oakland library card today. yay!

my neighbor's crying baby or possibly meowing cat:
either way, glad it isn't mine

what don't we want? grammar!

2008-06-16T22:23:00.000-07:00

*yawn,* except not as much as i should be.

i got a job!

i'm teaching writing here: http://www.lekhapublishers.com/

so far, interesting.

today i decided that teaching my students about picketing was more valuable than teaching them about nouns, verbs, and adjectives, so when one girl made a sign on a piece of folded up looseleaf paper that said "no more grammar," i took the opportunity to explain (and pantomime) a picket. they agreed that they were, in fact, picketing grammar (once they learned what a picket was) and we decided to write stories instead.
it was fun.
i have fantasies about them attempting to use this strategy in their regular classrooms and starting some kind of uprising when an oppressive teacher refuses to cave to their demands.

these kids though, are really into violence/war/weapons. it's intense. "ak-47" seemed to be their favorite "noun," and they wrote collective stories about a man who started a war with the world, and then the universe (i mean they do have dubya as their "leader", so i guess we shouldnt expect any different).

as plain as day

2008-06-11T00:45:00.000-07:00

a lot of writers dislike the cliché.
they say things like "never use the words soul, love, or heart in a poem."
even words like "liberation," "justice," etc, they want you to describe it.
ok, well when we're all liberated, i'll tell you how it feels in metaphor and simile. till then, it's just an idea, and i can't say what it tastes/feels/smells/looks/sounds like 'cause the truth is, none of us know.

anyway this isn't supposed to be a rant as much as a reflection

about how in moments of extreme emotion, it's the cliches that suddenly make a lot of sense.

boiling anger, for example...
absolutely. it isn't cliché as much as a pure and simple description. no one ever said the 'blue sky,' is cliché. so then neither is boiling anger. it boils, it feels hot, like it's rising, and haven't we all wondered if one day it's going to rise up right out of us…
maybe it does. maybe that's what our activism is.

and the heart as the location for intense emotion,
you know,
they were onto something. they really were.
i remember the first time i ever realized that,
i was surprised, because i'd never really felt my heart before,
and suddenly, there it was, burning. even breaking.
that was years ago, of course.

elitist writers bother me. like they think they're not just better at writing, but better at feeling than everything else, like their anger doesn't boil, like when they're crushing on someone, or loving them, or hurt by them, they don't feel it in their heart. well, if that's what makes a real writer, then let me just say that i'm not one. 'cause mine does. and i do.

of course they don't all make sense…

crystal, for example…not particularly clear, since it reflects light, and shines colors all over the place.
and, just personally, no matter how nervous i've been, it's never actually made my feet feel cold. but hey, that's just my experience.

2008-06-05T23:34:00.000-07:00

this poem has so much truth in. never heard so much truth in just one poem. can't sum it up, but i guess that's the point, right? if what a poet had to say could be written in a sentence, then they'd just write a sentence. right?
anyway, just listen to it.

you know, i feel weird that i haven't written for so long, and especially that i didn't write on the 60th anniversary of the nakba. i guess it's like suheir says, sometimes you don't have the language...

i'm still trying to swallow this concept of time, and the idea that 60 years is long (not that it seems short, it's just hard to even conceive of so many years when you've only been alive for less than half that time...), and the idea that the occupation of this land (the u.s.) has been a LOT longer.
maybe part of it, is it's hard for me to write just one poem or just one piece or even just one blog entry on the anniversary of something- not that i don't think commemoration is important. but mourning on that one day isn't enough. feeling on that one day isn't enough. it's a tool, like anything else, to draw attention to a situation. but the mourning, for something like this (the colonization of palestine)- so many people, so much land, so much life stolen - that can't fit itself into one little day.

annnd speaking of palestine, come ON obama...i wanna like you, wanna get into this groundswell of enthusiasm everyone's feeling, but that whole 'jerusalem belongs to israel,' speech, did you have to? and still use language like "the audacity to hope" - well, obama, how 'bout you give us a reason to hope, and then we'll have the audacity? how 'bout that.
not saying i'm not gonna vote to him, not saying i'm not glad he won over clinton. but still.

sorry for the bitterness. i'm actually in a really good space right now, personally. found an awesome new roommate, getting a bunch of writing done lately, just had a bunch of friends over for dinner which i haven't done in awhile...

now if only we could just get rid of all this imperialism (& gentrification, it's local manifestation), racism, heteronormativity, etc...then i wouldn't be so bitter. let's get on that. oh wait, we already are...

sexual violence and militarization of the border in the ny times

2008-03-22T13:06:00.000-07:00

This article is reposted from the NY Times website, where you have to have an account (it's free, but still) to read it - - I wanted to link to it in my g-chat message today, and realized that I couldn't link directly to the article, only to a page asking people to sign in...so here it is -
Of course, it takes them all the way to page 3 (in the online ny times version) to get to the part where they mention that it's systemic, and even there they don't link it to other manifestations of sexual violence as a tool/aspect of militarization...
but still worth reading, i thought.

An Agent, a Green Card, and a Demand for Sex
By NINA BERNSTEIN
Published: March 21, 2008

No problems so far, the immigration agent told the American citizen and his 22-year-old Colombian wife at her green card interview in December. After he stapled one of their wedding photos to her application for legal permanent residency, he had just one more question: What was her cellphone number?

The calls from the agent started three days later. He hinted, she said, at his power to derail her life and deport her relatives, alluding to a brush she had with the law before her marriage. He summoned her to a private meeting. And at noon on Dec. 21, in a parked car on Queens Boulevard, he named his price — not realizing that she was recording everything on the cellphone in her purse.

“I want sex,” he said on the recording. “One or two times. That’s all. You get your green card. You won’t have to see me anymore.”

She reluctantly agreed to a future meeting. But when she tried to leave his car, he demanded oral sex “now,” to “know that you’re serious.” And despite her protests, she said, he got his way.

The 16-minute recording, which the woman first took to The New York Times and then to the Queens district attorney, suggests the vast power of low-level immigration law enforcers, and a growing desperation on the part of immigrants seeking legal status. The aftermath, which included the arrest of an immigration agent last week, underscores the difficulty and danger of making a complaint, even in the rare case when abuse of power may have been caught on tape.

No one knows how widespread sexual blackmail is, but the case echoes other instances of sexual coercion that have surfaced in recent years, including agents criminally charged in Atlanta, Miami and Santa Ana, Calif. And it raises broader questions about the system’s vulnerability to corruption at a time when millions of noncitizens live in a kind of legal no-man’s land, increasingly fearful of seeking the law’s protection.

The agent arrested last week, Isaac R. Baichu, 46, himself an immigrant from Guyana, handled some 8,000 green card applications during his three years as an adjudicator in the Garden City, N.Y., office of United States Citizenship and Immigration Services, part of the federal Department of Homeland Security. He pleaded not guilty to felony and misdemeanor charges of coercing the young woman to perform oral sex, and of promising to help her secure immigration papers in exchange for further sexual favors. If convicted, he will face up to seven years in prison.

His agency has suspended him with pay, and the inspector general of Homeland Security is reviewing his other cases, a spokesman said Wednesday. Prosecutors, who say they recorded a meeting between Mr. Baichu and the woman on March 11 at which he made similar demands for sex, urge any other victims to come forward.

Money, not sex, is the more common currency of corruption in immigration, but according to Congressional testimony in 2006 by Michael Maxwell, former director of the agency’s internal investigations, more than 3,000 backlogged complaints of employee misconduct had gone uninvestigated for lack of staff, including 528 involving criminal allegations.

The agency says it has tripled its investigative staff since then, and counts only 165 serious complaints pending. But it stopped posting an e-mail address and phone number for such complaints last year, said Jan Lane, chief of security and integrity, because it lacks the staff to cull the thousands of mostly irrelevant messages that resulted. Immigrants, she advised, should report wrongdoing to any law enforcement agency they trust.

The young woman in Queens, whose name is being withheld because the authorities consider her the victim of a sex crime, did not even tell her husband what had happened. Two weeks after the meeting in the car, finding no way to make a confidential complaint to the immigration agency and afraid to go to the police, she and two older female relatives took the recording to The Times.

Reasons to Worry

A slim, shy woman who looks like a teenager, she said she had spent recent months baby-sitting for relatives in Queens, crying over the deaths of her two brothers back in Cali, Colombia, and longing for the right stamp in her passport — one that would let her return to the United States if she visited her family. She came to the United States on a tourist visa in 2004 and overstayed. When she married an American citizen a year ago, the law allowed her to apply to “adjust” her illegal status. But unless her green card application was approved, she could not visit her parents or her brothers’ graves and then legally re-enter the United States. And if her application was denied, she would face deportation.

She had another reason to be fearful, and not only for herself. About 15 months ago, she said, an acquaintance hired her and two female relatives in New York to carry $12,000 in cash to the bank. The three women, all living in the country illegally, were arrested on the street by customs officers apparently acting on a tip in a money-laundering investigation. After determining that the women had no useful information, the officers released them.

But the closed investigation file had showed up in the computer when she applied for a green card, Mr. Baichu told her in December; until he obtained the file and dealt with it, her application would not be approved. If she defied him, she feared, he could summon immigration enforcement agents to take her relatives to detention.

So instead of calling the police, she turned on the video recorder in her cellphone, put the phone in her purse and walked to meet the agent. Two family members said they watched anxiously from their parked car as she disappeared behind the tinted windows of his red Lexus.

“We were worried that the guy would take off, take her away and do something to her,” the woman’s widowed sister-in-law said in Spanish.

As the recorder captured the agent’s words and a lilting Guyanese accent, he laid out his terms in an easy, almost paternal style. He would not ask too much, he said: sex “once or twice,” visits to his home in the Bronx, perhaps a link to other Colombians who needed his help with their immigration problems.

In shaky English, the woman expressed reluctance, and questioned how she could be sure he would keep his word.

“If I do it, it’s like very hard for me, because I have my husband, and I really fall in love with him,” she said.

The agent insisted that she had to trust him. “I wouldn’t ask you to do something for me if I can’t do something for you, right?” he said, and reasoned, “Nobody going to help you for nothing,” noting that she had no money.

He described himself as the single father of a 10-year-old daughter, telling her, “I need love, too,” and predicting, “You will get to like me because I’m a nice guy.”

Repeatedly, she responded “O.K.,” without conviction. At one point he thanked her for showing up, saying, “I know you feel very scared.”

Finally, she tried to leave. “Let me go because I tell my husband I come home,” she said.

His reply, the recording shows, was a blunt demand for oral sex.

“Right now? No!” she protested. “No, no, right now I can’t.”

He insisted, cajoled, even empathized. “I came from a different country, too,” he said. “I got my green card just like you.”

Then, she said, he grabbed her. During the speechless minute that follows on the recording, she said she yielded to his demand out of fear that he would use his authority against her.

How Much Corruption?

The charges against Mr. Baichu, who became a United States citizen in 1991 and earns roughly $50,000 a year, appear to be part of a larger pattern, according to government records and interviews.

Mr. Maxwell, the immigration agency’s former chief investigator, told Congress in 2006 that internal corruption was “rampant,” and that employees faced constant temptations to commit crime.

“It is only a small step from granting a discretionary waiver of an eligibility rule to asking for a favor or taking a bribe in exchange for granting that waiver,” he contended. “Once an employee learns he can get away with low-level corruption and still advance up the ranks, he or she becomes more brazen.” Mr. Maxwell’s own deputy, Lloyd W. Miner, 49, of Hyattsville, Md., turned out to be an example. He was sentenced March 7 to a year in prison for inducing a 21-year-old Mongolian woman to stay in the country illegally, and harboring her in his house.

Other cases include that of a 60-year-old immigration adjudicator in Santa Ana, Calif., who was charged with demanding sexual favors from a 29-year-old Vietnamese woman in exchange for approving her citizenship application. The agent, Eddie Romualdo Miranda, was acquitted of a felony sexual battery charge last August, but pleaded guilty to misdemeanor battery and was sentenced to probation.

In Atlanta, another adjudicator, Kelvin R. Owens, was convicted in 2005 of sexually assaulting a 45-year-old woman during her citizenship interview in the federal building, and sentenced to weekends in jail for six months. And a Miami agent of Immigration and Customs Enforcement responsible for transporting a Haitian woman to detention is awaiting trial on charges that he took her to his home and raped her.

“Despite our best efforts there are always people ready to use their position for personal gain or personal pleasure,” said Chris Bentley, a spokesman for Citizenship and Immigration Services. “Our responsibility is to ferret them out.”

When the Queens woman came to The Times with her recording on Jan. 3, she was afraid of retaliation from the agent, and uncertain about making a criminal complaint, though she had an appointment the next day at the Queens district attorney’s office.

She followed through, however, and Carmencita Gutierrez, an assistant district attorney, began monitoring phone calls between the agent and the young woman, a spokesman said. When Mr. Baichu arranged to meet the woman on March 11 at the Flagship Restaurant on Queens Boulevard, investigators were ready.

In the conversation recorded there, according to the criminal complaint, Mr. Baichu told her he expected her to do “just like the last time,” and offered to take her to a garage or the bathroom of a friend’s real estate business so she would be “more comfortable doing it” there.

Mr. Baichu was arrested as he emerged from the diner and headed to his car, wearing much gold and diamond jewelry, prosecutors said. Later released on $15,000 bail, Mr. Baichu referred calls for comment to his lawyer, Sally Attia, who said he did not have authority to grant or deny green card petitions without his supervisor’s approval.

The young woman’s ordeal is not over. Her husband overheard her speaking about it to a cousin about a month ago, and she had to tell him the whole story, she said.

“He was so mad at me, he left my house,” she said, near tears. “I don’t know if he’s going to come back.”

The green card has not come through. “I’m still hoping,” she said.

still marching...

2008-03-20T00:33:00.002-07:00

today, the san francisco skyline cloaked itself in fog, like it was trying to hide behind its thickness from the bleakness of today's reality:
the fifth "anniversary" of the u.s. invasion of iraq.

this morning, i wrote of the fog,
"rain that never quite falls
like the tears we don't quite cry anymore
they didn't help last year anyway,
we just hold them like a cloud in our memory

when will the rain fall
hard enough to stop bullets and bombs?"

i wasn't trying to write a poem…just get a hold on my emotions…
all day, i was cynical, questioning whether or not i even wanted to go to the antiwar march – and rightly so, i think, because each year it feels more like an annual political get-together, and less like the passionate expression of outrage i remember from the past.

i also wrote:

"i still remember the first year,
we thought if we brought enough breathing bodies into the streets with signs that asked for peace we could stop this war,
i remember the first tears
as the war was announced, standing outside the white house, "chant loud enough to make them hear us!" we yelled into the ten dollar megaphone,
people stopped us on the street and thanked us, as though they too thought a ten dollar megaphone could amplify our voices loud enough to make anyone listen."

…and it's true, I really do remember. those days we thought we could stop the war from happening at all. the outrage when bush got on tv for the first time, announced "shock and awe," and cautioned everyone in iraq "whatever you do, don't attack the oil wells." (don't quote me on that, it's not a direct quote, but it's close)

Then, in an attempt to invoke that hope I used to hold onto, I searched for my older poems, the ones I wrote in 03 and 04 and even 05, the ones before this cynicism - -

2003
"the unified song of an impassioned people ignites the air
and calls upon the swiftly setting sun to climb again over pink mountains and lyrical
oceans, serenading us with her emphatic presence."

2003
"She sat Rhapsodizing a new world while the sun set,
sun set,
receding to a new home beneath the horizon of dignity
Sun set,
because its light was swallowed by the brighter light of bursting bombs
Bombs that burst in the air and gave proof through the night that the war was still there"
[addendum 2008:
and the war was still there.]

and back to 2008
To anyone I saw today, I apologize for my intense cynicism. I think all day I was waiting for that one idealistic person, just one, to respond to my cynicism with something hopeful. And all day, it didn't happen. I've seen articles and heard news anchors say that people in the US are losing interest in the war, becoming more apathetic. I don't think that's what it is. I'm no expert – but I think it's more a loss of hope than a loss of interest. We need to inspire ourselves and each other…maybe a piece of that is not waiting till March 19th each year to get out there and do something about this war that, surprise surprise, doesn't actually just affect Iraqis (or the economy for that matter) on the anniversary of the day it started, but every day since it started.
But i'm not trying to strategize…just process. and mourn. you know, maybe that's where this cynicism is coming from…i'm tired of playful protests, creative direct actions, "die-ins," where we outline bodies in colorful chalk and walk away. i don't feel playful, or creative (not in that way), or colorful. after five years, these symbolic protests feel like a time for mourning, not dancing and partying in the streets. those tactics were for the times we thought our voices might actually make a difference.

i seem unable to find my usual hopeful ending right now, so i just keep writing and writing…
i think we'll just have to hope for a more hopeful ending the next time i blog…
and hope that next year, we won't be marching in mourning again. hope that next year we'll have a real reason to dance and party in the streets.

i didn't write this, but i read it

2008-02-28T11:39:00.004-08:00

I came across this article on the Colorlines blog...titled, here (at the link) "Queer Dead and Nobody Cares," but it drew my attention because the Colorlines headline is "Black Queer Hate Crimes Ignored" (not sure why they use the term 'crimes,' rather than violence, since "crime" lets the State define it...maybe because 'crime' sounds more extreme...hmm, what does it mean that 'crime' (defined by the state, often arbitrary, includes non-violent drug abuses as well as self defense, etc) sounds more 'extreme' and even 'threatening' than violence which is, well...violent. this sounds likea good topic for a future post...but i don't want to do it now, because i want you to click on this link and read this article instead):

http://www.theroot.com/id/44971

last night's nightmare

2008-02-25T22:23:00.004-08:00

Last night I had a nightmare:

It was set in some university classroom.

The Cast of Characters: me, some white-male-zionist professor, this dude i knew in college freshman year, a friend i grew up with, and a bunch of other students that i'm pretty sure weren't based on anyone from real life.

The Basic Script of the nightmare goes...

nightmare-zionist-prof: ramblerambleramble offensivezionistcomment ramblerambleramble equationofjudaismwithzionism rambleramble.
me: attempt at revolutionary anti-zionist palestine liberation statement and statement about how he is wrong
nightmare-zionist-prof: blatant attempt to silence dissent
me: blatant attempt to tell him and everyone else that he's trying to silence dissent
nightmare-zionist-prof: really obnoxious statement about how students are young, and should not have opinions because we will soon get old and cynical
me: something along the lines of "you're supposed to be trying to empower students not silence us" but that sounded a little less rhetoric-y and also less articulate (you'd think i could be more articulate in my dreams...i mean they're dreams...)

Okay except the other detail I'm leaving out is that every time i spoke, my voice got really quiet, like someone was observing the scene and turning down my volume. AND every time i spoke, everyone else's voices - all the chatter and background sound- got way louder. So I couldn't be heard.

So okay my analysis:
we had the professor who was blatantly trying to silence dissent
and then we had the existence of this unidentifiable force that was also trying to silence dissent, and that wasn't letting me challenge the professor effectively on what he was doing...

so there are those who blatantly try to silence dissent around zionism and also a larger force that sometimes feels very intangible that's doing the same? brilliant observation, right...?
hey, i never said my dreams were deep. just hella frustrating! and totally the type of thing that would've happened in real life...in fact, if you just scroll down a few posts, back to my college days....yeah.

i say "silence dissent" rather than "silence me" because that's what it felt like - and because i did go to sleep very frustrated with certain other people who seem to want to silence dissent around zionism and aren't willing to own up to that fact....
again...i never said my dreams were deep.
i tend to have the deep, meaningful, analytical/metaphorical/symbolic thoughts when i'm awake. my dreams, unless they're reallyreally significant, are pretty straightforward most of the time. it's good, because that way when they aren't, i know i need to really focus on them.
this one i don't need to focus on.
just complain about in a blog.

strong

2008-02-23T18:04:00.003-08:00

"like it wasn't enough they are stealing your land, they had to also steal your things," i typed into the "g-chat" box on the corner of my screen.

like it wasnt enough they are stealing your land.
they had to steal your things.

i repeat this to myself.

they are setting up a youth center in al xhaleel- more specifically in tel rumeida. you can find information about tel rumeida in past entries of this blog, because it's where i spent most of my time when i was in palestine last winter. the short version: tel rumeida is the "borderlands" of al xhaleel and the surrounding, encroaching settlements. it’s the borderlands of hebron (indigenous, arab) and "hebron" (settlers, jewish, colonized)…
part of hebron is officially under palestinian control- now don't get me wrong- it's still occupied, it's still got checkpoints, it's still got soldiers, and it still gets attacked. but palestinians have some rights like, you know, um…driving cars. being there. rights like that. then there's the other section that's under 'israeli' control – that's where the settlements are. except this piece of tell rumeida, where palestinians live. there they don't get to drive cars. they don't get to have guests who are from the other area of hebron. they are subject to constant searches and checks for "id" and they need to pass a checkpoint to get anywhere…there are roads they cannot walk on because they are 'settler' roads…etc. here, in this part of tel rumeida, they are building a youth center. and they are re-building and re-building and re-building this youth center because the settlers keep destroying it!
the youth center hosts a summer program and some really awesome dedicated folks in palestine (with some international help) are developing more year round programs for young people. all of it is very exciting. except for when it's very depressing:
F: but today we went to issa's house to make a demo about gaza
but we found that the settler break the house and stole alot of stuff from the inside"

me: i don't understand how people can do things like that. like it wasn't enough they are stealing your land
they had to also steal your things.

Right??

It is at times like this that my blood boils in shame and rebellion…
because their blood, the settlers blood, it is somehow related to mine…
and that makes me nauseous.

and because this youth center is a space for resistance. it needs to exist. it is just beginning to exist. it needs to keep existing. like palestine needs to keep existing. it all needs to keep existing. it all will keep existing. it will.

me: these things make me so angry.
you are so strong to keep on fighting it.
F: well
hamdellah we r strong

yes. hamdellah you are strong.
i wish we were all so strong. because if we were then maybe it could move beyond survival, towards liberation. maybe. if we were all so strong. i'm even not sure who i mean by "we."

breathe

2008-02-21T21:54:00.004-08:00

I'm looking at images of phoenixes now, on google...amazing the ways we will use what we have to search for hope...sometimes quite literally!
If only I could find a way to accompany these images of phoenixes (I have such a fascination with phoenixes...it is SO revolutionarily beautiful that they rise up from the flames and/or the ashes to create something far more exquisite) with the sound of the ocean, the scent of sage and lavendar, the feel of sunlight on my back and cool water on my toes…
sounds like i should go to the beach (and bring some sage and lavendar)…
but instead, i'll try again to ground myself in the space that i'm in.
healing is hard work. it is so much easier to run from the past, feel comfortable with disjointed memories and missing pieces of the story, call fear "anger," and just run, run away. not that anger isn't a valid emotion; but it usually doesn't travel alone…it has a necessary accompaniment…fear…sometimes politics…outrage…etc.
i keep reminding myself to breathe. my breath tends to get shallow when i get nervous, and it's only when i give it my full attention that i realize i'm barely inhaling…
breathe…. deep... breathe….
because somewhere in this air, there is hope and resilience.
and this is the oxygen we need to go on living.

total eclipse

2008-02-20T20:46:00.004-08:00

tonight was a complete lunar eclipse...seen in the Americas, in Europe, & in Africa, according to some website I read. in a lunar eclipse, the earth's shadow travels over the moon's surface, so the earth blocks the sun's rays from hitting the moon. for this to happen, the earth, the moon, and the sun must all be perfectly aligned.

Hours prior to the eclipse- which, by the way, I had no idea about at the time- I began to feel like time was being slightly shuffled about. I faced this onslaught of emotions I thought were long gone, about issues I thought were not on my mind...at least not really. From this, I felt inexplicable anxiety...As I sat curled around a pillow, wondering what was going on, my mother knocked on the door (of my bedroom in her house, where I am at the moment), and said to me "Come see the eclipse."

Aha!

Initially I glanced out the window, and saw the moon, which was fading, but not into darkness; it was fading into another shade of light, one that was reddish-brown and almost glittery. Apparently, that is the dust that generally curves towards the moon during an eclipse, and can be a variety of colors, depending on what is around the moon at that time. Overwhelmed with a desire to be closer such a magical experience, and with more-than-a-little hope that if I connected with this eclipse, which had, seemingly, caused the previously inexplicable anxiety and anger, the eclipse would, maybe, pull me out of that space...or at least give me some perspective on it. I wrapped myself in a coat, a scarf, a hat, and a blanket, and walked outside to sit and watch the sky. I watched the land as well; the trees at least. They were bright beneath the fading light of the moon and the glow of the red dust. The branches looked like they were dark black and shining white at the same time. In addition, I marveled for a moment at the way in which each branch held its self so solidly, like it was so sure of itself and its right to be in that shape, no matter what gust of wind blew it in other directions, it held so strong to what it was. The glowing absence of a moon made me feel small, but also strong, insignificant, but also spiritual. It felt like certain worlds were merging. Take that as you will...metaphor or reality...I think it can be read as either. But it felt like whatever boundaries generally regulate things like time and space were lessened, blurring a little.

When I looked up lunar eclipses on "google" I found a few things, first, one sentence I wished I'd read prior to my anxiety attacks earlier today:
"Pay attention to detail on this day and be open to sacred time versus linear time, so you can minimize frustration. "
Hmm.

Some other things I found:

"This moon will assist you to get in touch with your deeper self, your wisdom and the feelings that desire to be acknowledged, honored and respected. Expect to experience some releases emotionally as this eclipse supports clearing and detoxifying mental, emotional and physical issues in support of body, mind and spirit aligning with and embodying more of your soul's Light."

"Many are apt to experience heightened awareness as it pertains to identifying flaws in thinking or within a certain system within their lives. Through taking an inventory at this time you can apply your wisdom practically in support of navigating more consciously through some issue within your life."

Maybe this will apply to other peoples' lives as well...

I feel slightly obligated to write an "apology" now, in which I explain that I know maybe it's silly for me to talk about the moon like it's something spiritual, followed by a reassurance that my politics are the same as they always were. I'm going to resist that urge. I'm not going to apologize for this post. if you take it as nothing else, take it as a metaphor, and a chance to reflect...what does it mean when a shadow of the reality we know most intimately travels over another surface, making that other, smaller surface become hidden for a moment. what does it mean that that surface is never really hidden, but instead becomes a reflection of the dust particles around it - and those dust particles are a direct result of what has recently occurred in that location- the red is usually from some kind of volcanic explosion. what does it mean that after this shadow attempts for a moment, to vanish the smaller surface from our sight, the smaller surface (that's the moon, in case you're no longer following) shines brighter than it did before...or at least, it looks that way.
You see?
Everything is a metaphor.

bridging blogs

2008-02-19T14:29:00.004-08:00

In the spirit of reconciliation and healing, I think it's time to reconcile my two selves...so, this is a link to my "personal" blog, which, due to the hazy 'boundary' between 'the personal' and 'the political,' which many times is not a boundary at all, is mostly about the organizing i've done in the united states...while this blog, previously, was about my time in Palestine.

I decided to combine the blogs today, when reading this article at NarcoNews: Nogales Residents Say US is Building Border Wall on Mexico's Land
and this report about indigenous self determination in the Americas

I thought, "why separate my experiences challenging one apartheid state from my experiences challenging another?"
and of course, not only is it all connected, but a great deal of the work is actually challenging both- take, for example, Adalah-NY's campaign against Lev Leviev, israeli billionaire who is (1) building settlements in the west bank, (2) building settlements- um, er, i mean, "developing" in low-income communities in Brooklyn, and (3) involved in some other shady dealings in Angola ALL of which you can learn more about here: www.mideastjustice.org

So, please see my other blog here for what you may have missed (if anyone even reads this blog anymore...) and keep reading this one for new posts...

rant about a class

2007-02-21T09:20:00.001-08:00

In my Jewish Literature class this semester we just finished reading a book called "Mestizo." The book is a murder mystery, about a Jewish man who loses his memory after he sees the murder of his Palestinian neighbor, and is on a quest to get his memory back and also to figure out who is responsible for the murder and and whether or not he is responsible for helping the victim. It takes place in Argentina.
During the discussion in class yesterday we were talking about obligation, a theme in the novel, both Jewish and otherwise. I waited for the appropriate moment to bring up Palestine. There was no appropriate moment...the professor talked about obligation, obligation to victims in general, how it applied to el Proceso in Argentina, etc...I kept waiting. No moment.
I finally raised my hand. Clearly the professor was not going to make room for this conversation so I was just going to take room for it.
I began talking specifically about the text..."This is clearly a call to action, this discussion of obligation with inspirational language, etc etc" (I still hadn't mentioned Palestine.)

Here is what I was going to say:
"It's not a coincidence that the murdered woman is Palestinian. We're glossing over it as though it is, but a Jew doesn't just put a Palestinian in his novel without that being significant. I think it's a metaphor. The main character sees a Palestinian woman murdered and loses his memory. This is about loss of memory in the Jewish community. Loss of memory of values which were once central to a lot of Jewish communities, specifically secular ones...values which included constant debate and questioning, constant discussion, and, usually, siding with the "victim" (survivor?). Now through Zionism, many Jewish communities get lost in the politics of power. Suddenly, Jewish children are no longer encouraged to question everything, because that would include questioning the existence and the actions of "Israel." Suddenly, facts and details which we once sought out in all cases, are hidden and concealed, and we as a community all recreate and rewrite our memory when it comes to the murder of Palestinians and their situation both in Palestine and in the Diaspora- such as in Argentina. The experience that David (the main character) is going through is similar to the experience a lot of Jews have once they acknowledge the atrocities committed both past and present, by Israel- they see this, and suddenly, their entire memory is shaken, everything they were always told by people they trusted turns out to be a lie and they have to recreate everything, from their identity, to their memory, to their politics, to the action they choose, or do not choose to take...."
I was also going to mention that I was told by a Jewish Studies Professor the other day (seriously) that there is something of an unspoken policy in the Jewish Studies Department not to talk about Palestine. And how that is a perfect example of how Zionism eliminates the Jewish tradition that once existed, of questioning and discussing all the time. Now there is something we are not supposed to discuss or debate.

What was actually said (roughly, I don't remember word for word):
ME: "This is clearly a call to action, etc etc...it's not just about Jews in Argentina, it's about Jews everywhere, and people everywhere, and what our respnosibility is. But then, if it's a call to action we have to think about what action it is calling us to...I think that it's not a coincidence that the main character is Palestinian...even though it takes place in Argentina, the author is clearly trying to bring in the situation in Palestine by making her Palestinian. I think it is a metaphor. I think it is trying to say that Jews everywhere have a responsibility not just to "victims" in general but specifically to the victims in Palestine ---"
My Professor: "I'm going to have to cut you off there. We don't have time for this discussion."
She called on more students.

I sat there, feeling completely silenced and cut off. I mean, I was cut off. I thought about the irony of the fact that she silenced discussion so that I was unable to talk about how Jews refuse to talk about Palestine. She did exactly what I was talking about.
I talked to her for about an hour after class, in a conversation I began by saying "I feel a little cut off right now."
In that conversation she told me
1. Not to speak from experience, because speaking from experience is "not the same as critical analysis," and that's not what we're doing here.
2. that she thinks that professors who teach Latin American Literature in "other departments" (ie ethnic studies) are not really qualified to teach it, because they are trained in sociology or social sciences rather than literature and they do not approach it as literature, so I should disregard anything I've been told in those classrooms about authors who intentionally put politics in their work.
3. that she will not allow students to talk about "current political situations" in her classroom, and that if someone started promoting "extreme right wing Zionism" she would have cut them off as well. (So apparently it's also "extreme" to suggest that Jews might have some responsibility for the situation in Palestine...? huh....)
4. That, "Just because it fits your political, activist agenda to interpret this book as being about Palestine that doesn't mean that was the author's intention"

My radical "political activist agenda," which includes speaking from my experience about injustice in the world and our responsibility to work for change.
What about her agenda to shut down conversation about a topic we have no right to be avoiding...?
But it's never an "agenda," when it goes along with the "mainstream" view/approach to a situation right?

Argh.

Hebron quieter on Day 5 of IOF invasions into H1

2007-02-11T23:45:00.000-08:00

Go to the link above to read this article on the ISM website

You know, I just went a few days without checking the ISM website. I'm trying hard to be present here, where I am, because what is the use of leaving my heart and half my mind so many many miles away from here? It is hard to do effective work when split in two, and there are important things going on here, and I know this. But when I check back again, this is what I see. It negates all the attempts I've made to push aside that pull towards Palestine that I've been feeling since I've been back- reading it, I think again "I should be there..." Why, I don't know. What would I do? There are some internationals there of course, that is who is writing these posts. Still...it feels wrong to get too comfortable. Things should not be comfortable here if they are not comfortable there. And when are they ever comfortable there?

February 11th, 2007 | Posted in Reports, Hebron Region, Photos

by ISM Hebron, February 11th

Today IOF soldiers occupied the roofs of three high buildings overlooking the Bab al-Zawiyya market area in Palestinian controlled Hebron (H1). For the fifth day in a row soldiers have been entering this busy commercial part of the southern West Bank town. Their presence in the past few days has sparked clashes with local Palestinian youth resulting in arrests and injuries due to tear gas and rubber bullets.

At around 4 pm a group of six soldiers used one of the buildings at the top of King Hussein Street and al-Adel street to shoot teargas at groups of young Palestinians.

They also threw down sound bombs and pointed their guns towards the public. Local youth started to throw stones , fireworks and petrol bombs towards checkpoint 56, leading to the Tel Rumeida area. Another group of six soldiers went through the checkpoint and took firing positions behind concrete blocks.

After all Palestinians had fled from the market area the soldiers retreated into Tel Rumeida.

home invasions and arrests

2007-01-23T21:07:00.000-08:00

Reading about these things while I'm back in the U.S. makes me so angry. It sounds like it's getting worse by the day and I'm all the way over here...
After being there though, I can't just stop reading the news about what happens there. I have to pay attention. I hope that those of you who have been reading my blog feel at least a little bit of that attachment. I hope you are wondering and concerned about what is happening to these people...I hope you keep reading about it even though I am no longer there.

http://www.palsolidarity.org/main/2007/01/23/tr-ball-arrest/

in the news

2007-01-20T19:26:00.000-08:00

Here's a news article about what's been going on in Hebron/Tel Rumeida.

http://english.aljazeera.net/NR/exeres/9CA581D6-E308-4D05-A2D3-8EA8011A164A.htm

Back in San Francisco

2007-01-18T22:15:00.000-08:00

I got back to San Francisco the day before yesterday.

Getting through the airport wasn't as terrible as I thought it might be. But, after going through security, I sat down to eat some pizza which I reluctantly bought (I didn't want to support Israeli business, especially overpriced business at the Tel Aviv airport, but I realized I was extremely hungry, because I'd kind of forgotten to eat in all the hectic-ness of getting ready to leave). I looked across the food court to another restaurant called "Cumin: A Taste of Israel." There were pictures of shawarma and falafel sandwiches on the sign. The name was written in English in the middle and in Hebrew on either side. I don't know why, but the sign triggered all the anger I think I must have been repressing during the trip. It began simply as anger at cultural appropriation- how dare they call this a taste of Israel? Falafel and Shewarma are Palestinian, not Israeli. I thought "A taste of Israel" would have been a sign better suited to the checkpoint on the way into the airport, or one of the two stations where they search you on the way in (once before you get your ticket from the ticket counter and once again afterwards). As I let myself dwell on these thoughts which I'd been pushing away for most of my trip in order to stay in the moment and be as effective as possible, the anger expanded. I was angry at the people around me for speaking Hebrew. I was angry at them for being Israeli. I was angry at myself for being angry at the people around me, because I knew it wasn't their fault, and that my anger should be channeled towards the State of Israel, not its people, and not its language. Anger at individuals speaking the language they were raised to speak is not productive. I knew this. Yet I couldn't stop the feelings. I sat and ate my pizza as the occasional tear slid down my face. All the metaphors often used to describe anger: boiling, hot, explosive (metaphor, remember, metaphor) -- they suddenly all made sense to me. I gathered myself together and went to the gate. The anger subsided to an extent, but it was still resting in the back of my mind. As the plane took off, it was overshadowed for a moment by the feeling that I was leaving, and I wasn't ready. I was not done there.

I got home exhausted, and immediately took a nap.

When I woke up in San Francisco, my first response was something like denial. I really felt like if I left the house and went around the corner, I would be down the road from, say, the international house in Tel Rumeida.
Each time I did leave the house, I was almost surprised not to have to go through a checkpoint, and not to see any soldiers on the streets. It's amazing how quickly things like that become normalized. Suddenly it felt like a privilege to be able to move freely when going from my house, to the market to buy vegetables, and back again. Compared to life in Palestine, it is a privilege. But it shouldn't be.
It took about a day and a half before the reverse culture shock started to hit me. I was standing in line at Trader Joe's, and I'm not sure if it was the massive amounts of people, the over-abundance of stuff for sale all in one place, or just a random coincidence of timing, but suddenly, I felt an intense wave of anger come over me. It was different than the anger I felt at the airport, because I felt removed. I felt far away from the source of my anger. Again, there was a rational voice in my head telling me that I wasn't far away at all, because Israel relies on funding from the United States for its army and thus for its existence. But I wanted to be back there. I am torn between exhaustion and wanting to rest, and frustration, wanting to keep acting and resisting.
I haven't been able to talk about much other than Palestine since I've been back. I didn't realize while I was there exactly how much I had learned about the daily realities of the occupation. I've spent a lot of time so far describing checkpoints and other restrictions on movement for Palestinians, explaining all sorts of absurd Israeli laws, the Wall, everything. People are shocked. I think a lot of people here don't realize the realities over there, even if they are "aware" of the issues. I'm glad people want to listen, because as I said, I haven't been able to stop talking about it.
Now I'm trying to collect my thoughts, make a plan for returning when I have the money, figure out the details of the video work i want to do when I go back...

I don't know if anyone will keep reading this since I am no longer in Palestine, but I hope to type up something more detailed about the situation in Tel Rumeida and elsewhere in Palestine, since I realized I never actually did that, I just started talking about my personal experiences with things, and my observations.
Also, some of the kids' drawings from Tel Rumeida are going to be displayed at a bookstore in San Francisco. I will post that when it happens as well.

Demo at Huwarra Checkpoint

2007-01-14T06:00:00.000-08:00

Today, around 11am, a group of almost 100 people gathered at Huwarra checkpoint as a part of 30 Days Against Borders, organized by the Palestinian Body for Peace, Dialogue and Equality (HASM ) and other organizations. Some Palestinians, mostly children, dressed as Native Americans in order to draw parallels between U.S. genocide against Native Americans and Israeli genocide against Palestinians. Demonstrators carried signs including one which said "Checkpoints destroy Palestinian Life." Other signs were addressed to Condoleeza Rice, who is currently in the region, including one which said "The Indian wars are not over Mrs RICE….We are still here too!!" Palestinians, Internationals, and Israelis chanted and demonstrated for about an hour in front of the checkpoint, where many people were waiting to cross.

The parallel with Native Americans is interesting. I think it's an important parallel to make, although I admit I have questions about the way people decided to make it (the outfits were definitely based on stereotypes, not reality).

The checkpoint itself was unlike any I have seen before, even the one in Bethlehem, which was really extreme. People were packed in, waiting for permission to pass. The soldiers would open the gate, let a few people out, then close it again. And for what?
I have met various other anti-Zionist Jews who said that there first time seeing a checkpoint like this they were reminded immediately of photos they'd seen of the Holocaust, where people waited behind walls and bars, packed in like cattle, glancing out, wishing for freedom. I don't know if that would have been my response had I not already heard this parallel made, but I too was struck by the similarity.

It makes me so angry. Sometimes, it feels as though the Jews took notes from their oppressors, from the people who tried to kill them, in order to use the same techniques in the ethnic cleansing of another people. How? How do they not see what they have become? Or do they see? Do they just not care? Where are the rest of the dissident Jewish voices? There is no excuse for this. There is no excuse for not speaking out against it, with all the voice we have.

There is an organization here, Israeli Committee Against House Demolitions with a slogan : "Don't say we did not know."

Demo at Huwarra Checkpoint

Jenin

2007-01-14T05:56:00.000-08:00

Jenin

Here are some photos of Jenin...

During the bbq, which there are pictures of (click on the link!), a family member of the friends I was staying with was arrested by the IOF. We only found out later, when we were talking about the situation over tea and arguila....
He was arrested for being a member of Hamas.

Someone told me when I first arrived that every day, you think you're seeing the worst of it, and the next day, you see something worse.

I don't think I've seen the worst of it. But here, you can be arrested just for being involved in a political organization. One of the people I spent time with in Jenin spent three years in an Israeli prison just for contacting a leftist political organization. I don't think this needs any words of reflection. I think it speaks for itself. A lot of the events here speak for themselves.

Bethlehem

2007-01-14T05:55:00.000-08:00

Bethlehem

photos photos photos

2007-01-14T05:54:00.000-08:00

More pictures of Tel Rumeida...

we have fun here too, walla...

2007-01-14T05:53:00.000-08:00

Some photos of fun, most of which involves arguila....

fun in Tel Rumeida & Al Quds

community alternatives

2007-01-14T05:33:00.000-08:00

I'm waiting for my photos to upload right now and I wanted to take this time to reflect on something I've been thinking about while I've been here.

In the U.S. I talk with people a lot about how to deal with violence within communities, without relying on the State, prisons, or police. Usually I talk about this in terms of sexual violence but I think it applies to other acts of violence as well. Here in Palestine, I have seen some very concrete manifestations of such alternatives which have taught me a lot.

In Tel Rumeida, there is no Palestinian police force. The only official "authorities" are the Israeli police (border police and regular) and the IOF (the soldiers). Of course the Palestinians cannot rely on any of these forces for protection. Yet Tel Rumeida is a community, and this sense of community extends to the rest of al Xhaleel (Hebron) as well.

One international woman arrived one evening in Al Xhaleel from Al Quds by herself. Her bag was stolen from her. Not knowing what to do, she called a couple of our Palestinian friends from the region. They arrived immediately and asked around, according to the description of the person who had stolen this woman's bag. They were able to figure out who it was almost immediately. They called his family and explained that this woman, who was here in solidarity with the Palestinian people, was like family to them, and that anything anyone did to her was like doing it to their own families. The family of the thief was extremely apologetic and promised to have the bag back to her with all of its contents within 2 minutes. Our Palestinian friends brought this woman to the house of this family where she retrieved her bag- with every cent and everything else still inside. All of this happened in less than two hours.
I have never heard of a police force as effective as this.

I have more examples if anyone wants to talk to me about it, but since they're more personal (not for me, but for friends) I don't feel like it's okay to post them here. In general though, I think that the examples prove that community systems of holding one another accountable can work incredibly well and are much more effective at this than any State based solution I have ever seen.

a few more days

2007-01-12T12:29:00.001-08:00

I keep saying that I need to send out updates more often so they don't have to be as long, and then I keep not doing it. Now I only have a few more days here.

I'm in Ramallah now. Have been many places in the past few days.

The day before I left Tel Rumeida there was an action on Shuhada Street. Shuhada Street was once a part of the main market area in Tel Rumeida, but the shops on that road were shut down because of the settlement. For six years, soldiers told Palestinians it was forbidden to walk on
Shuhada Street. Recently, it was discovered that according to a military court order, it is actually not forbidden. About a week ago, a couple of Palestinians walked down the street and were able, because of the order, to convince the soldiers to accompany them (in order to
avoid "trouble," or really, attacks from the settlers) rather than prevent them from walking. This seemed like a victory at the time, but immediately afterwards, the very next day, soldiers began - again- to forbid Palestinians from walking down Shuhada Street, despite the court order, claiming that there was a new court order, or that they had never heard of such an order, etc.
On Monday, a group of Palestinians decided to walk down Shuhada Street again, holding photocopies of the court order allowing them to pass, accompanied by members of the Israeli press and a few israeli activists.
Internationals documented the event. Despite the press coverage and a rather large presence of internationals and israelis, the Palestinians were not allowed to walk down their own street. Of course it is not over, and they will try again. I guess this is the issue of hope again.
While the Palestinians and their allies stood, waiting to walk, blocked by multiple army and police jeeps and lines of soldiers, a group of settlers walked out of one of the buildings and walked, down the middle of the road, until they were out of sight.

This sight made it very clear exactly what the soldiers were there to do, and whose rights they were trying to protect. One settler man came up and started yelling at and threatening the Palestinians. One of the Palestinian women said to this settler man, as he told the Palestinians they were all terrorists, that if he would come in peace, he was welcome to come to her house. "I just want peace," she said, and she met his threats with an invitation. It was a powerful conversation. I think I have footage of it which I can share with folks when I come home, which is soon. This struggle over Shuhada Street might seem very small. It is just one street. Yet it is significant. Small steps. One street can mean a lot to the people whose street it is.

After Tel Rumeida, I stopped in Al Quds and then headed to Jenin to visit friends of a friend. It felt incredibly luxurious to be sleeping in a bed which was not just a foam mattress on the floor,
under blankets which were actually clean. These people took amazing care of us (my friend and I). They fed us wonderful food and gave us lots of coffee and tea, and showed us around town. And of course, the conversations here are always extremely interesting. People who hesitate at first, worrying that their English is not good, will ramble on and on about their political beliefs once you start asking questions. Of course I love this. I have never spent so much time listening and not speaking, and I have never learned so much.

Today I came back to Ramallah and went to the protest in Bil'in against the wall. Less tear gas this time, which was good. People tried to block the soldiers from driving their jeeps into the town, which they sometimes like to do after the protests, by sitting down in the road.
Again, this gains meaning when you take a step back for a moment. It is their village. What they were doing was sitting on their road. The soldiers started beating people and injured some.
(I'm fine, don't worry). The jeeps drove by and the other soldiers kept trying to push us further back away from the wall and into the village. Sometimes it really feels like a battle over territory. Over land. Of course, only one side is armed, so it is nothing like an equal battle.

Yet, here is a note of hope. A friend told me this story, it happened to her. She was with a family in a rural village and a woman picked up something (my friend did not know what it was) covered in many layers of thorns and sharp skin. The woman peeled away the layers of thorns and inside was a delicious fruit.
She said to my friend, "This is why they will never defeat us. They don't know the land like we do." And it is true:

The Israelis do not know how to find fruit inside of thorns. Because of this, the land will never really belong to them.

Things here are always incredibly simple and incredibly complex at exactly the same time.

listen to the children

2007-01-07T14:36:00.000-08:00

A woman from ISM is teaching weekly art classes to the children of Tel Rumeida. These children have spent their whole lives in an occupied city, with soldiers and tanks constantly in the streets, and with settlers across the road, who often throw rocks and eggs at them. Most have suffered violence from either soldiers, settlers, or both. The children's assignment on this day was to draw a picture about their life in Tel Rumeida...take a look. I think the pictures speak for themselves. Or rather, I think the children speak quite poignantly through their drawings.

Tel Rumeida Children's Art

hope and resistance

2007-01-06T13:13:00.000-08:00

Still in Tel Rumeida. The weather is terrible, but it's supposed to be better tomorrow. And on a positive note, it keeps the settlers inside so they are slightly less violent towards the Palestinians, which is good.

Watching peoples' lives here, I've been thinking a lot about hope- how important it is, and how people here always seem to have some left over, no matter what happens. I think maybe it is because here there is no time to lose hope. You can't. It's not just like you can't because then life would be too miserable- it's that here, hope, and living, and resistance are all intertwined and to give up one you must also give up the others. And you can't give up living, so you can't give up the others.

At the same time, I am starting to understand the desperation of people here on a different level. And how desperation and hope are not opposites, but really, to have desperation, you need to have hope, because you are desperate, hoping, for things to be different. I mean daily life for Palestinians includes checkpoints, getting asked where they're going when they're just leaving their house to go to the market, being held while an occupying force checks their ids, in the rain...the way it's standard to handcuff and blindfold people who are being detained, not even arrested, just detained...the soldiers and tanks in the streets. Doing interviews, everyone knows someone who has experienced violence from the settlers and the soldiers, if they haven't experienced any themselves, which they probably have. And then, on top of all this, they invade Ramallah. I know I already wrote about this, but this is a reflection rather than a report. On top of all this daily harassment, there is an invasion. They bulldozed cars and shops in the central square for no reason at all. And killed 4 people. And injured more. On top of it all. And then when life goes back to normal, it is not really normal at all.

The other day on Shuhada Street, the street which Palestinians walked on about a week ago for the first time in years, we tried to go through on our way back from a tour of the old city with someone's mom. Our Palestinian friend asked the soldiers if we could pass through Shuhada Street, which was the direct route from where we were to our flat.
Soldier "Where are you from?"
Friend "I'm from here"
"So you're Palestinian?"
"Yes, I'm Palestinian. But they are from U.S., Austria, South Africa, Spain..."
"South Africa? I'm from South Africa."
"She is from South Africa."
"I don't know her."
"So can we pass?"
"You are Palestinian?"
"Yes, I'm from here."
"Palestinians cannot pass on Shuhada Street."
"Can they pass?"
"Yes, they all can pass."
Of course we all turned around and went back, the long way, the way we came. Everyone can walk on this road except Palestinians. And it is their road.

I should send out more updates so they are shorter.

A couple of Israeli activists stayed here right now. Israeli anarchists to be more specific. One of them was what people refer to as a "lifesteyle anarchist." She was talking about activism, and how she thought people shouldn't be expected to be involved in active resistance, and that living "without hurting anyone," (i.e. being vegan, farming organically, etc) is enough. I've heard this argument before in the U.S., and it frustrates me, but this was different. She started talking about her family. Saying, "we are farmers, my parents just take care of their land, they are good people" talking about her friends who "live outside society" and farm "their" land on a kibbutz. At the end she says "I don't think it's fair to expect people to all be activists, these people aren't hurting anybody, they're just taking care of their land---" I interrupt "But it's not their land!" Tension rises. "Where are they supposed to go?" "I don't know where they should go. But no it is not enough for them to farm this land. Farming stolen land is not a form of resistance." But, the U.S. is also stolen land. So I think this logic can be extended.

I've been thinking a lot about that. Comparisons with the U.S. Here, colonization is just at a different point. It is towards the beginning and it is more directly militarized. But it is the same process. And it has the same goals.

Alright, that is all for now. Back to smoking narguila (hookah)....citrus flavor, mmm....

"enemy countries"

2007-01-06T12:46:00.000-08:00

A friend who I'm with got here through "birth right" (the program that
pays for Jewish people to go to "Israel" for free). She came planning
to do ISM, but did birthright in order to get here for free. She got
a cell phone through a company called Israel phones while on her trip.
When we got to Hebron, her phone stopped working and she called the
company to find out why.

R (my friend): Why did my phone get shut off?
Phone Operator: I don't know. Did you make any calls to Jordan?
R: no.
Phone Operator: Egypt?
R: no.
Phone Operator: Saudi Arabia?
R: no.
Phone Operator: Well, what about Ramallah?
R: Yes, I've probably made calls to Ramallah....
Phone Operator: Oh, well then that's why.
R: What's why?
Phone Operator: Your phone got shut off because you called Ramallah.
R: Why?
Phone Operator: Because you're not allowed to call Ramallah.
R: Why?
Phone Operator: Because, you know...you cant make calls to
uhhh...enemy countries.

Wow. Well, at least the phone operator acknowledged Palestinian
Statehood, right?

That's all for now.

photos

2007-01-04T01:36:00.000-08:00

Click here to see photos:

Palestine Week 1

slightly longer post from a room with a heater in ramallah

2006-12-30T13:16:00.000-08:00

I'm in the ISM media office in Ramallah right now, where there is a heater and insulation that actually works, so I can type without feeling like my fingers are going to freeze and fall off! So here comes a slightly longer update...

First, a few things I wanted to touch on before but kept forgetting to write --

When I first got to Hebron and told someone that I was from San Francisco, he responded by asking me why men on the buses in San Francisco always yell things out at women, and the proceeded to do something like an impression of obnoxious men yelling things at women. I laughed, and told him I had no idea, and he said something like "it's not good," and I said something like "I agree." It struck me though, because people in the U.S. always talk about how "Arab & Muslim women are so oppressed," as though patriarchy isn't alive and well over there as well...and then here I was in Palestine and was hearing a Palestinian man talk to me about how terrible it was for women in San Francisco! And of course I agreed....anyway, just food for thought....

Also in Hebron, I don't remember if I mentioned this already or not, but me and some other Internationals arranged a meeting with the headmistress of the boys school there. She talked to us about a lot of things, including how the situation has gotten significantly better since the arrival of groups of internationals, including ISM. It was amazing to hear that, and to feel like what we are doing really is effective, even though it seems to go so slowly and step by step. I have realized that contrary to what I might have thought instinctually, organizing in the most desperate and the most urgent situations takes an incredible amount of patience.

Oh! And the other day in Hebron, when I wasn't there because I was in Bil'in (which I will talk about shortly), the Palestinians marched down a street which had been closed off to them for six years due to the Tel Rumeida settlement! Quite a breakthrough, and very exciting.

So, Bil'in - On Friday, M & I went to the protest against the wall in Bil'in, a village near Ramallah. Bil'in is an amazing village. The land itself is beautiful, and there are all these amazing olive and cyprus trees. The people are incredibly welcoming of course, and also incredibly organized. They have a "popular committee" which has worked closely with ISM and has planned amazing actions in order to resist the building of the apartheid wall in their village. Every Friday there is a protest against the wall, where Palestinians, internationals, and some Israeli anarchists (which, by the way, I was impressed with, it would be great if anarchists in The States would be involved in such good solidarity work with oppressed communities!) march to the wall, which is currently just a bunch of fences all in a row, try to cross, etc. Apparently, the Supreme Court or its equivalent here will soon make a decision as to whether or not they are going to build the wall right through the village as planned. It looks like they are going to move the location of the wall closer to the line it was originally intended to go along -- and also legalize a nearby settlement in the same court agreement, so it's some sort of "compromise." But still, the wall might not be built through the village, and that is definitely a positive thing. As Neta pointed out to us the other day, it's a victory -- certainly not justice -- but a victory.
The protest in Bil'in was good - intense, but not as intense as I thought it might be. I've never been tear gassed so much in my life, but tear gas is only a temporary inconvenience, and after a shower later that day I felt fine, and happy to have participated in such an amazing form of resistance. I know a lot of people in the U.S. who consider themselves radical and really throw around words like "grassroots" and "community." I think that a lot of people who use these words don't really understand the depth of what they actually mean. In Bil'in, what is happening really is grassroots, community resistance. And it is a beautiful thing.
We also interviewed a couple of kids in Bil'in about the situation there. A 12 or so year old boy and a 13 or 14 year old girl (I forgot the exact ages, but they're on the tape) talked to us about their feelings and experiences of the Occupation in their village as well as their hopes for the future. I was so impressed. They were both so articulate! And they both seemed to know more about politics- including U.S. politics- than the average U.S. adult. Amazing. And hopeful. Which is always good and important.

Then on Saturday, M & I headed back to Hebron/Tel Rumeida, because Saturdays are the days the settlers there are most violent. They come out of synagogue, where they hear all about how all this land was promised to them by God, and some of the kids, with their parents' encouragement, routinely decide that it's God's will for them to throw stones along with insults at the Palestinian children and sometimes the Palestinian adults. I've heard that the newest trend is for them to throw eggs at them, but I haven't seen that yet. Today was especially extreme, I think, because it was also Eid (I have no idea how to spell this, because I have only heard it spoken), a huge feast for Muslims which corresponds to the hajj people are making at the same time to Mecca. So we had a bunch of settlers walking around (they are religious so they don't drive cars on Saturdays and thus they walk everywhere- but apparently, while they are not allowed to drive a car, it's perfectly okay for them to walk around with guns slung over their shoulder) and also a lot of Palestinians walking around, because for Eid, they all go around and visit lots of the other families in the community. Within about 15 minutes of arriving from Ramallah, where we had spent the night, back in Hebron, we went outside our house to discover the soldiers holding a large group of people, mostly men, but also some women, trying to go visit their family for the holiday. Because the settlement was built in such a way that Palestinian houses fall in its same district, those Palestinians were "not allowed" to have visitors for the holiday- eventually, they let the "blood relatives" through, but still refused to let most of them go by. A lot of the groups of Palestinians who came and tried to get through to visit those families in the "Israeli military controlled" district just eventually gave up and went to visit other families instead. Here, this is just how life works. A bunch of us internationals stationed ourselves outside right near our house all day, where a bunch of soldiers were standing - usually there are only two, but this time they had a lot, probably a combination of Saturday and Eid. When they weren't temporarily detaining people, they were standing there asking the Palestinians where they were going (as though they didn't know) and asking to see their passports. This wasn't even at the actual checkpoint, where they also usually have to show their passports, it was just at the soldiers station at the top of the hill. It was incredibly frustrating to watch them ask the Palestinians for their passports fairly consistently, and then just say "shabbat shalom" to the settlers as they walked by, or just nod hello to them, without asking them to see anything. It was also frustrating to watch the actual checkpoint, the way they would stop a lot of the young men and search them with their metal detector wand and make them take off their belts and empty their pockets, and open their jackets, etc...it seemed so wrong and invasive- I mean, these "young men" were really kids, some of them young teenagers- - but yet we couldn't do anything about it, because it's legal for them to do it. Frustrating. Very frustrating.

The same day, some settler children hid on the side of the road and attacked one of the men- one of the ones from the family the group we saw in the morning had been trying to visit- with stones, while he was on his way home. The parents were there, but they did nothing and did not even pretend to be telling the children to stop. The police and the soldiers actually responded to the situation and got the settlers to stop eventually, but not before they managed to break down part of the fence between the settlement and this man's house. Supposedly the soldiers are going to fix the fence tomorrow. While I don't know how trustworthy they are, it seems that one thing they are good at is building walls and fences, so maybe they'll actually do it. Besides, even though the fence really serves primarily to protect this family from the settlers, I think the soldiers and the settlers see it as a security necessity for themselves.

So this, then, is Occupation. I don't claim to understand what it is like to live like people do here, or claim to understand how they survive and resist and even thrive despite what they are facing, but right now I have the privilege of bearing witness to this survival and learning from this resistance. And it is amazing!

I'm exhausted, so that's it for now...the next few days should be pretty calm because I'm back in Ramallah for the ISM training which I haven't actually had yet...so more updates to come later, and for now, maa'salaama.

thoughts from tel rumeida

2006-12-27T08:36:00.000-08:00

don't wanna spend too much time on the computer right now, because people are talking and drinking tea and also it is much warmer by the heater than at the computer, which is near the door.

you know how in my last email/blog i mentioned how it doesn't snow in Jerusalem on Christmas? Well, today it snowed!

I'm not in Jerusalem anymore I'm in Hebron, by the Tel Rumeida settlement. I didn't realize until I got here that the settlements are literally across the street from Palestinian neighborhoods. So one side of the street is Palestinian and the other is under Israeli control...which means that the Palestinians can be arrested for "trespassing" (ironic, isn't it?) on Israeli land when they are just walking down the street to their house, if the soldiers decide that the part of the street they're on is Israeli.

When I have more time I want to write about the interesections of privilege and time for processing. Those of you with time on your hands right now, think about it...

I will send more details later, but for now a few short thoughts....

people here are incredibly hospitable. i have been welcomed here so many times i can't even count.

because we're working sort of on the border of Hebron and Tel Rumeida settlement, there is a checkpoint literally around the corner from the international house here. and their are soldiers stationed basically across the street. to people here, this is normal. to me, it is incredibly strange, and kind of scary.

also right outside, a star of david is spraypainted on the wall. on the cement. it is not so different from the way i have seen swastikas spraypainted in nazi germany or other places...i heard that this happened here, but it is different to actually see it.

"i heard that this happened here, but it is different to actually see it" could probably sum up the majority of my experiences here so far.

i've met a bunch of people so far who are from south africa. i interviewed one of them today about the comparisons between apartheid there and the situation here. he had a lot to say, and i will bring the footage home with me, but he ended on an incredibly hopeful note about how nelson mandela was once seen as a terrorist and then became a nationally recognized hero and leader.

i have so much more to say but don't feel like i have time to say it..later, i promise. in general, i'm doing fine, meeting amazing people, and drinking a lot of coffee and tea.

A few stories for contemplation, from East Jerusalem

2006-12-26T01:50:00.000-08:00

I've been in East Jerusalem for the past couple of days. Hisham, the owner of the hostel M and I are staying at, had a birthday party last night, so we stayed an extra day here in order to go to that...M knows him from his last trip. There was music and dancing and cake. And lots of people who either lived here in Palestine or had stayed here at the hostel in the past and were doing all kinds of activist work all around the West Bank. It was great to get to talk to all of them and hear their stories and learn about their projects.
Yesterday was Christmas. It was interesting to realize that while this is where Jesus was (supposedly) born, and thus where Christianity began, all the images we get of Christmas in the States come from this totally European paradigm- M pointed this out to me actually-- snow, for example. Yesterday was cold at night, similar to SF weather, but there was no snow, and there were no pine trees, but palm trees instead! Another example of European hegemony being invisibilized I guess.

Some short stories for contemplation:

While wandering around the suuks (markets) in East Jerusalem, in the "Old City," M and I come across this one Palestinian man from near Hebron, whose name I think is Isaac, or something like that, who has a huge collection of what were basically Palestinian antiques. Turns out he used to be a professor, but now he is old and retired and is selling his own collection of things in order to put his son through college. He explains that he started collecting in 1947 or 1948, i don't remember which, because he "realized that eventually there would be nothing left" and he wants to preserve the memory, if nothing else. He has amazing things, old keys, beautiful dresses, mirrors with silk weaved into beautiful patterns...he tells us about them and his life. Two of the mirrors were from a refugee camp and had been made in 1948, right after the "nakba." He tells us that he wants us to buy them and then write the stories of where they came from next to them and hang them up in the States so people there will hear their stories.
As we are talking to him, two Israeli soldiers come by. Neither M nor I can understand their conversation, which I guess was probably in Hebrew. He talks "politely" with one of the soldiers and the other one just sort of stands there and looks at me and M suspiciously as though he is trying to figure us out. Then the soldiers leave.
Isaac goes right back to the conversation he'd been having with us before...he sells me a bag. I ask him about two strings of coins which are hanging up on the shelf, telling him there is no way I will be able to afford them, but I am curious if he doesn't mind explaining. He tells me they are Turkish and then takes out a book to show me a picture of people wearing the strings of coins.
As he does this, he leans closer.
"I was afraid of those soldiers," he says, his voice quieter than it was before, as though it were coming from a different person. A complete different tone.
I nod. "Yea," and I hope that the generic "look of understanding" from the States also translates from English to Arabic. From the response on his face, I am glad to see that it does.
"What did they want?" I ask.
"They wanted something to cut wood," he answers.
We look at each other for a moment. I want to hug him or run screaming after the soldiers or simply take his hands and say "I'm so sorry, this is so fucked up!" but I do not know if that would be culturally appropriate. So a shared look for a moment is enough.
He moves back to his original position with the book and continues telling me about the Turkish coins. His voice goes back to what it was before, strong, boisterous.
I realize that to him, this is normal. normalized.

Later on, M and I go to the Israeli post office to mail stuff to ourselves - we have to, because we can't take our Palestinian souvenirs back with us through the airport. On the way in, there is a guy who searches us. I beep because I have metal on my belt and coins in my bag. He asks "Do you have coins in your bag?" I say "Yes," and I begin to hand it to him. "Oh no, that's okay. Go ahead." He says. I am struck by the intense amount of privilege in this interaction. And I do not even live here. Fuck. I am angry. But I realize this is not the time to argue, as I do really want the packages to get to the States safe and sound. M and I speak in English loudly on the way in, no longer particularly concerned with being respectful. And also, we have to remember not to accidentally use our limited Arabic, and to say "thank you" instead of "shukran" when the guy behind the window gives us our change. They are disgustingly nice to us, and we realize why- - we are US Jews -- the Israelis want us to have a "great time" in "Israel," don't they? Damn. We have to write a return address on the packages we're sending. The guy behind the counter says to M, in something like broken English "Do you live or are you staying in Israel?" I wonder how M will answer. "I'm staying here," he says. I hear the "here" as emphatic (because "here" is not "Israel"), but M says it was just coincidence. Overanalyzing I guess. But everything here seems to take on so much meaning.

Now I need to get going because M and I are going to Tel Rumeida, which is near Hebron. We are going to stay with families there and help kids get to school, which is hard, because of all the settler violence. Mostly, Israeli kids throw rocks at the Palestinian kids, and the Israeli army looks on, nodding, saying "What harm can they be doing? They're just kids." Of course if a Palestinian kid throws a rock, the Israeli army sees it differently, says their a threat, sometimes even shoots. I forgot who it was, but someone who was telling us about the situation in Tel Rumeida, telling us how the Israeli kids throw rocks at the Palestinians on their way to school, said "The only good thing is, at least they aren't as good at it as the Palestinian kids." It is important to find the only good thing, the "at least," in a situation like this.Okay, I'm off to the West Bank.
Will report again soonish.

marhaba (hi!) from falastin

2006-12-24T04:03:00.000-08:00

Marhaba!

After a long flight, a layover in Amsterdam, and another, but shorter flight, here I am in East Jerusalem.

M & I are staying at the Faisal hostel tonight, where lots of activists, especially ISM-ers stay. Tomorrow we have a birthday party to go to- the owner of the hostel has a birthday on Christmas! We spent today wandering around, doing errands, and getting pulled into stores filled with interesting things and people persistant to sell them.

The computer keyboard that I'm using is really interesting, it has Arabic letters on it as well as "English letters" (what are they actually called?). Everything written in Arabic looks beautiful. It brings a whole new perspective to the idea of literature as a form of art, and literature as form-based in general, because in Arabic, it's not just that the sounds that the letters make can be beautiful, the letters themselves can look like art on a page. The letters English uses are so hard and boxy in comparison. And I can already tell that a cultural comparison might yield similar results. People have been so welcoming and kind here...when I was in a store buying some gifts for folks, and I glanced over at the food two of the owners were eating, they offered me some! It is amazing the way such simple things can feel like a huge embrace, or maybe it is the combination of a lot of simple things. I want to learn how to act so that I too will be giving that feeling of embrace to the people I interact with, not just here, but in my life in general. I think that is another level of solidarity.

Then there is the contrast with the fact that there are Israeli soldiers walking around on the street, who look like a bunch of young high school kids who got given guns for some reason. And the way this is totally normalized.

And I haven't even been to the West Bank yet, I'm just in East Jersalem, by way of Tel Aviv...

There's not much more to this update, except to let folks know that I got here okay, and I feel a lot more grounded than I did in the past few weeks. I am here, on the ground, literally, so maybe that is why.

Never Again What?: Perspective of an Anti-Zionist Jew

2006-12-18T19:38:00.001-08:00

I wrote this article in response to an email I got through the SFWAR (San Francisco Women Against Rape) listserve, requesting contributions to a blog, seeking to "foster understanding" between Jews and Persians in light of the recent Holocaust Conference in Iran and the events which took place there.

"Never Again What?": Perspective of an Anti-Zionist Jew

I am an Ashkenazi Jewish-American woman. On 12/22, I am going to Palestine with the International Solidarity Movement (www.palsolidarity.org). When I saw an email requesting contributions to this blog, I was confused and angered by the opening line "given the state of affairs between Jews and Persian and/or Israel and Iran…." This sentence reinforces the notion that Jews are, always and inherently, tied to the State of Israel. As an anti-Zionist Jew, I strongly disagree.

The question of Israel/Palestine is not one of religion. It is one of European colonization of non-European land. In 1948 alone, over 530 Palestinian villages were completely destroyed. To date, approximately six million Palestinian refugees cannot return to their homes and about 250,00 are live as second-class citizens in Israel but are also prevented from returning to their homes and villages (http://electronicintifada.net/bytopic/171.shtml). Israel is a racist, colonial, apartheid State. It does not speak for all Jewish people. Anti-Zionist and Anti-Occupation Jews have been saying for years that the equation of Jewish people with the State of Israel as well as the implication that anyone who speaks out against Israel is automatically "anti-Semitic" will eventually lead the term "anti-Semitism" to lose meaning, thus discrediting real instances of anti-Semitism in the world, past or present. In the president of Iran's denial of the Holocaust, we see this prediction coming to fruition.

Both the Israeli and the U.S. media bombard us with lies about Israeli self-defense against "Muslim and Arab terrorists" in the Middle East, and deny the real causes of the conflict: Occupation, denial of human rights, theft of land. The buzzword in the media, when it comes to the Palestine, is "terrorism.". So let's talk about terrorism. If terrorism means the use of violence to cause entire populations to live in fear then I can't think of any act of terrorism more extreme than military occupation. If we want to talk about terrorism in the Middle East, we should be talking about Israel's Occupation of Palestine, the constant presence of soldiers in the street, indiscriminate killing and arrest, torture in prisons, checkpoints, and denial of free speech and freedom of movement to Palestinians. Israel's Occupation of Palestine is terrorism. It is the worst kind of terrorism, because it is enforced by the fourth largest military in the world.

The European Holocaust was one atrocious example of genocide against a People. It is important that we remember this. Yet if we want to challenge the denial of the Holocaust in instances such as this, our goal should not be reconciliation between Israel and Iran. Is it even reasonable for us to expect other nations to acknowledge genocide against us while we continue to deny the current attempts at genocide and ethnic cleansing committed by the State of Israel against the Palestinian people? It is important for all people, but especially Jewish people, especially Jewish people in the United States, which gives $15,139,178 dollars in aid to Israel each day (www.ifamericansknew.org), to speak out against the racist policies of Israel and the media's attempt to silence all voices which resist those policies, calling them "anti-Semitic." As Jews, we have a unique place in this struggle, because simply by raising our dissident voices we disprove this accusation.

a poem...

2006-12-07T23:39:00.001-08:00

I want to start this blog off with the poem that inspired its title...

Another "Dayenu"

I wasn't there, but I remember
barbed wire fences. And in the shower,
my lungs tighten,
and I cry and gasp for air.
I wasn't there,
but I can see their faces,
because when they burned bodies in ovens,
the faces on those bodies etched themselves
in the minds of future generations
so the memory would never fade away
as the unborn had yet to remember
and thus they could not forget.
I wasn't there,
but the hands of the dead plead through the decades,
to touch my face,
pull tears from my eyes,
and when that is not enough
to paint images before them,
And at night when I cry,
they gather together and watch me
and I think they are thankful
that I wasn't there
but I remember.

And I remember the other story
the one to give us hope
once we were slaves, but now we are free
rocks against dynamite and poison gas
in a ghetto in Warsaw
and a pronouncement that
"the Jewish quarter of Warsaw no longer exists,"
but it wasn't true. we were still there.
Because a Prounouncement canNot erase a People
and neither can dynamite
or poison gas
or ovens
or bulldozers and checkpoints.

Once we were slaves, and now we are free
but
this is not a victory song.

To be free
Dayenu
It would have been enough.
Then why,
on this night,
do we build barbed wire fences
call bulldozers protection
and pour a sea of soldiers into the desert,
while another People fights with what they have
and wishes for someone to come
and part the sea
so they may pass through
and find liberation

why,

Even Pharoah responded to the killing of his first born son
but we dress our first born son in army green,
and tell him that at 18 he can have his first real gun
and yes, perhaps he will be killed,
but it will be in the name of justice.
But a death by any other name is still a death,
and a Holocaust by any other name is still
too much pain for words
and the name of justice loses meaning
and I struggle not to lose hope
or lose myself in shame
simply because if I am lost
I cannot speak up.

If I am lost
I cannot ask why
why on this night do we build barbed wire fences
and shoot those who try to cross them
even if they are children
and force women to give birth on jagged rocks
because the hospital is on the other side
of the checkpoint
and bulldoze homes
and sometimes people
if they are in the way
and why
don't we all remember
being on the other side
of barbed wire fences.

So I answer the hands
which plead through the decades
and tell them yes,
I will work to tear down the walls
because this time it is my people who build them
and when I tell them this
the hands
the eyes
the faces
let me be
to do my work.