These Days...

...the conference I am organizing (with Ali Vogt and folks from the Grassroots Fundraising Journal) is taking up much of my time, so blogging is very low on the priority list.

I hope to be able to write about what this conference is all about soon, though, hopefully sometim before the actual conference itself (this Friday and Saturday). Why have I been spending several hours a day or week working on this gathering? Why is it to important to me and the 400 other paricipants that will be coming from all over the country (as well as Canada, Brazil, Korea and possibly Africa?).

Tune in soon to find out.

Real Heat

The heatwave that's hit the Bay Area over the past week or so has been blistering, dry, supremely uncomfortable. It's hard to do anything (unless you're in an air conditioned car, mall or office) and not be reminded constantly of the heat.

But this is not 'real' heat. I keep thinking of the heat radiating from buildings that are blown up from US-provided bombs, flown by planes run on US-supplied fuel. I think of Lebanese and Palestinian people and the heat they are feeling, the real heat, on a daily basis, of bombing and fire and death. I think of the innocent children that are dying everyday. Jan in SanFran posts an important reminder in the form of a letter from her friend Tina in Lebanon:

"If you live in the San Francisco Bay Area: imagine an earthquake happening everyday.

Imagine yourself with Oakland Airport destroyed. and next day with the Bay Bridge down again. and then the San Mateo Bridge and then the Golden Gate. and then the San Francisco airport. And then the phone lines falling silent, one neighborhood at a time. Imagine a power plant having its fuel tanks bombed, burning and going up smoke.

Around you, every day, more houses are flattened.

You can't go north. You can't go east. You can't go south. You are trapped."

But the US and other mainstream media continue to paint the suffering in the Middle East in very Israeli-focused terms, as if the lives of Arab people (and Arab people are Christian and Muslim and Jewish, especially in Lebanon) are not really worth as much, as if we don't need to see their suffering, as if their suffering is only an unfortuante consequence. As if these people are not being massacred.

Remember: over 10 times as many Lebanese people than Israelis (mostly civilians) have died in the past several days.

Remember: the messages are skewed.

Remember: these images from Electronic Intifada, of Israeli children writing messages (one can only guess what the messages say) on bombs and bullets that will be used to kill other children in Gaza, in Lebanon.

Remember, we are not invincible, untouchable. We are only human, too. And we can all do something about this tragedy.

Insomnia, New Links and a Promise

I can't sleep thanks to a small late-night dose of caffeine that is keeping me too alert to relax, so I thought I'd kill time and brain energy on maintaining the blog. I've categorized my 'Big World' links and added several new links overall, including:

Nalo Hopkinson, because she's a dope Afro-Caribbean/Canadian SF writer who uses lots of Caribbean dialect and cultural references in her work. I've read her short story collection, Skin Folk, and have her first novel (published in 1997), Brown Girl in the Ring on my bookshelf waiting to be read.

Steven Barnes, a sort of SF renaissance man, who's written novels, for magazines, television, you name it. He's also the first blogger I found who'd written about Octavia Butler's death. Steven and his wife, fellow horror/SF writer Tananarive Due, were friends of Octavia's.

Samiya Bashir, an old college friend of mine whom I haven't seen in years but whose work I stumble across here and there in bookstores. A poet/writer and editor, Samiya edited Best Black Women's Erotica 2 anthology and was formerly an editor at Black Issues Book Review.

I've beefed up my new 'Politics and Power' list of links to include the Bay Area Immigrant Rights Coalition, which has been instrumental in pulling together local protests and other actions in response to the federal anti-immigrant legislation that is still pending in Congress. I've also added Filipino American Coalition for Environmental Solidarity (FACES), whose house party fundraiser I attended a few months ago, and Filipinos for Affirmative Action, one of the organizations where I cut my political teeth back in the mid-1990s. FAA also held a conference recently that I attended; a couple pics are on their homepage.

Also added several timely links relating to Palestine, Lebanon and Israel given the current war raging in the Middle East. One thing I'm struck by when I travel outside the US or meet people from other countries is how much more knowledgeable non-Americans are about world politics and current events. It's up to us to change that, and educating ourselves is the first step to helping change what our country is doing to (generally) mess up what other folks have been struggling hard to fix in their own countries. I've also added a couple links about Haiti, another place where the US has intervened even though it's none of our damn business and caused a lot of suffering.

And the promise is that I will write very soon about the conference I'm organizing, Raising Change: A Social Justice Fundraising Conference, which is taking place in Berkeley in just two weeks! I can't believe it. After more than a year working on this thing, it's hard to imagine that in a few weeks it'll be all over (the conference, at least; hopefully the post-conference buzz and movement-building will continue long past August). There's even been talk about a social justice fundraising blog being started out of this conference and continuing for as long as we can make it happen; keep an eye out for further developments.

Lebanon, Palestine, Israel

Because he is both more knowledgable and eloquent than I am in writing about these issues, I am sharing with you the words of my friend and comrade Max Elbaum, who has written for War Times and other publications, and is the author of Revolution in the Air.

It is at times like this that I am flabbergasted that anyone can take the American government seriously when it speaks for us and says it supports 'human rights' and 'democracy'. Who can blame anyone who equates the U.S. government with violence, imperialism and oppression?

Thanks Max, for allowing me to post this on my blog.

In Peace, Justice and Hope for an End to All War,
Rona

*********************

Dear family and friends,

Yesterday the Prime Minister of Lebanon pleaded with the conscience of the world to bring about an immediate internationally-sanctioned cease-fire, saying that Israel was acting to destroy "everything that allows Lebanon to stay alive".

This morning's New York Times reports that "the death toll has reached at least 230 Lebanese dead [up to 310 by noon today], most of them civilians, and 25 Israeli dead, 13 of them civilians. In Gaza, one Israeli soldier has died from his own army's fire, and 103 Palestinians have been killed."

Yet spokespeople for the Israeli military say their offensive may continue "for weeks" and the Bush administration openly approves.

Yes, there are many complexities to the situation, but the essence of it is quite simple: Israel, with the world's fouth most powerful military, is inflicting massive "collective punishment" on civilian populations - targeting power plants, villages, heavily populated urban neighborhoods and even a Lebanese dairy farm. And the world's sole superpower, in violation of this country's own Arms Export Control Act and Foreign Assistance Act, is supplying jet fuel, financing and political support for these violations of international law and crimes against humanity.

None of this would be possible without the blatant anti-Arab racism that treats Israeli killings of Palestinians and Lebanese as a normal "fact of life" like the day's weather: The sun also riseth; Israeli fire killed a Palestinian child today in the name of "security"; And the sun goeth down.

This is a moral outrage, a political disaster, and an affront to people of conscience of all backgrounds all across the planet. Even in 1623 John Donne wrote: "any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never
send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." With the most modern technology on the globe, Tel Aviv and Washington are taking the world back to the morality of the Middle Ages.

I urge all of you to raise your voice in protest as loudly and strongly as you possibly can.

Below are some possible ways to take action from a message sent out yesterday by the United for Peace and Justice Coalition. There are also a number of websites listed for more background information and analyses of all the complexities. If you would like me to send you particular articles I have found useful in understanding Israel's recent offensive, and how it fits Israel's historical pattern of choosing expansionism, colonizing, and war over peace and a society with equal rights for all, let me know and I will forward these to you.

Thank you. Peace,

Max

---
TAKE ACTION: Hold the Bush Administration to account for its backing of Israel's killing of civilians and destruction of civilian infrastructure in the Gaza Strip and Lebanon.

*Pressure the Bush Administration and Congress: Call the White House (202-456-1111), the U.S. State Department (202-647-4000), and the Congressional switchboard (202-224-3121), which will connect you to your Congressmembers' offices, to demand that the U.S. take immediate action. Organize delegations of peace advocates to Congressional offices. We need to end Bush's war policy in Iraq and in the Middle East.

*Send a letter to the editor at your local newspaper: People in your community need to hear from you. Your neighbors are probably as appalled by this as you are, and they need to see your words in print so they know they are not alone. Click here
to send a letter to the editor at your local paper: http://www.congress.org/congressorg/dbq/media/

*Find a protest in your area.

MORE RESOURCES
* American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee
* Electronic Intifada
* Gush Shalom (Israeli organization)
* Jewish Voice for Peace
* US Campaign to End the Israeli Occupation
* United for Peace and Justice

What is Hezbollah? Hamas?

These are the questions I fielded as best I could from H. last night, as we watched some grim reports on European news (yay Channel 26!) about the conflict and violence in Israel and Lebanon. It's a confusing, sickening, awful mess. Jan in SanFran gives her two cents here.

And of course, mainstream media coverage in the U.S. is woefully superficial and biased. How about talking to some ordinary, everyday Lebanese people? Or showing images of suffering on both sides of the conflict? I'd given up a long time ago on even the so-called 'liberal' opinion papers being more than propaganda machines for the Pentagon and Department of Defense, but it still makes my stomach turn to see how much of a failure the news media in our 'democracy' is.

Armchair/Laptop Traveler

My nostalgia for Rome and other points European is really just a longing for the carefree adventure of traveling, an activity that many of my fellow blogistas are currently engaged in, and blogging about.

Bino writes from Brazil about race, color, politics and Speedos. Yes, Speedos.

Recently-added bloggers Bumbler and Dwill, also known as Dennis Quirin and Vivian Chang, respectively, have just wrapped up a jaunt in Thailand. Mmm, more warm weather and beaches.

Seemingly-perpetual traveler Martin Perna writes of real desert storms in Mexico. I don't even really know where this guy is from. It seems like every time I check out his blog he is in a different city/state/country/continent.

Leny Strobel is heading off to the Philippines for a study tour. How cool! When I'm done with my gig at CFJ, which won't be for a while, I gotta figure out this getting-paid-to-travel-the-world-for-work thing.

Similarly, my blog-less friend A. is heading off to Italy (Roma!!) for ten days to manage the Savage Jazz Dance Company. Super fresh.

And although this is not really traveling for me, anyway, since I know many people come from out of town and make a beeline to the legendary Cody's Books on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley, Jeff Chang talks about his friend's effort to stage a last-minute rescue of the beleaguered (and now closed) bibliophilic institution. Nice try, Jeff and Adam.

More Reasons to Love France: The French World Cup Soccer Team

I'm watching the World Cup Final right now, and although I've heard through friends (including M., a French-Algerian expat who was thrilled when France defeated Brazil last week) about the tournament and its politics, I haven't watched it at all until today. And it wasn't until this past week that I realized how much racism the predominantly Black French team has endured.

It's ironic that my last post was such an ode to Rome, Italy, and how I wrote that I'd still rather live in Paris in racist Rome, given that France is now battling Italy for the World Cup championship title. Ironic, too, that the next European destination I have in my mind for a future trip is Spain (as well as Greece and other Mediterranean countries), given how racist Spanish fans were to the French team.

I'm convinced that Black people in France are going to continue to be a radical force for change (if they can continue to organize themselves) over the next decade or so, probably the one relatively new anti-racist social movement in the world that has been able to garner international attention, similar to the civil rights movement in the U.S. But only time will tell.

So who am I rooting for? Who do ya think? I didn't study French for five years for nothing. Et alors, comment ca veut dire, 'anti-racist' en francais?

Missing Rome, Two Months Later

Maybe it's because my life is so full of work work work right now that I miss Rome so much. Rome was the last stop on our Europe trip back in April. The only city I didn't blog about until now. But the city I think I enjoyed the most. Although I wouldn't live there--Paris would be my first choice, London a distant second, and Roma an even more distant third--I did love Rome.

The pale terra cotta-hued buildings, ancient and not-so-ancient, that seemed to absorb and transform afternoon sunlight into ethereal gold. The sounds of lilting, dipping, singsong Italiano. Stumbling upon the crumbling ruins of the Portico d'Ottavia while on quest to find a discount shoe store, of all things (see the picture above). So much history in one place, I felt I was breathing it in, walking in the footsteps of countless ancients. The warmth in the air on our first day there, so different than the chill winds in London and Paris.

And, of course, the food, so delicious and simply prepared. Quite rustic. A morning cappucino in a white porcelain cup almost the size of a thimble, but so rich and sweet you didn't want or need more. Pastries laced with a cinnamon-like flavor that was distinctly Italian. Pasta everyday, two meals a day. The best prosciutto I've ever eaten, savory but not too salty, never chewy; nothing like it here. Gelato everyday. That was heaven. And of course, everything washed down with mineral water or wine.

I think the reason I miss Rome is that I desperately wish I was on vacation right now. Things with work and the conference are spinning madly, and although I'm learning a lot and generally enjoy both jobs, there are days that I wish I could stop the spinning, just for a little while, and be back in Vatican City eating the best pizza in the world--thin-crusted Roman style square pizza, with a million toppings to choose from; I had broccoli, onion and tomato, and only $3!--then walking through a street market towards St. Peter's, then later topping off the afternoon by eating a wickedly rich and creamy chocolate gelato while sitting at a sidewalk table on some picturesque via.

And although my pictures from the trip (like the ones below--one of me in front of Bernini's famous 'Four Rivers' fountain in the Piazza Navona, the other of the Arch of Septimius Severus) give me some pleasure and comfort, I do wish I could eat a scrumptious, olive-oil drenched carciofo at a restaurant in the Campo de'Fiori right now.

Of course, Rome had its downsides: pretty racist overall, I have to say. H. got followed around in nearly every store we went into, and all the Black and Asian folks (South Asian and African immigrants) that lived there were either selling stuff in the street or working in the back of the restaurant. Never even got served by a waiter who wasn't 'white' Italian (I say 'white' in quotes because Italians are the darkest Europeans I've ever seen; Africa's not far away, after all). Got dissed by an Italian woman working the counter at McDonald's--yes, McDonald's--because I was a 'Cinese' (Chinese/Asian) who didn't speak Italian well. I wanted to yell, 'I'm a fucking American, you idiot!' The only reason she pissed me off so much was because a few days before I'd seen some frat-white-boy American types butcher italian just as much as I did at the same McDonald's, but the cashier just gazed up at them like they were younger clones of Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt. As much as I loved Rome, I was glad to leave after that experience.

But a vacation's a vacation, and our vacation in Rome was, overall, quite pleasant and memorable. And that's what I'll have to make do with right now--my memories--until I can make a proper getaway post-August 5th.

The True Patriots: Some Post-July-4th Musings

Coincidentally, I had already been contemplating doing a one-day fast tomorrow, and then I found out about this on Democracy Now. I hope some of you will join me.

Yesterday, I got an email from a colleague, who used to be an organizer at Asian Pacific Environmental Network, on whose board I'm currently serving. I thought his email summed up some of my own thoughts about July 4th/Independence Day, especially during this year of intense debate about immigration policy and what the 'real America' is all about.

Enjoy.

"Celebrating the Fourth, Remembering the Past"
by Son-Cheong Kuan

What comes to mind on Fourth of July, our Independence Day? Fireworks? Family vacationing? Outdoor BBQ? Big sales? It's true. Have we heard so many ads using holidays as big sales opportunities? Yes, our holidays have been over-commercialized, not only on July 4th, but also Memorial Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, etc. Have we wondered what the true meaning of our national holiday is?

As we celebrate July 4th, our northern neighbor, Canada, is also celebrating their Independence Day, July 1st, Canadian Day. This year Canadians have something to remember and to celebrate. The Canadian Prime Minister did the historically significant ceremonial action on behalf of Canada of apologizing to thousands and thousands of Chinese-Canadians for imposing the unjust "head tax" on Chinese laborers hundreds years ago.

Like our country, Canada also "imported" thousands of Chinese laborers to build railways across Canada. After they built the railways, they were required to pay the so-called "head tax", and barred from becoming citizens. Haven't we heard similar stories before? But, Canadians have learned their history, and righted the wrong this year.

With the latest debate over immigration reformed, I feel like it's "deju vu" all over again. We "brought" Latinos over to work on the farms. Now we want to bar them from becoming citizens or require them to "pay to play". Have we apologized to African Americans for slavery, Japanese Americans for internment camps, to Chinese Americans for the Chinese Exclusive Act, and many others--Filipino Americans, Vietnamese Americans and Korean Americans? As we claim to be defenders of human rights, haven't we learned from history that we need to make our policies more humane?

The Pendulum Swing of Life

Yesterday was all about community, celebration, healing, transition. And the pendulum swing between life and death, sadness and joy.

We first went to the memorial services and wake/reception for Dru aka DJ Domino, our young friend who was tragically killed last week in the Mission. What a beautiful outpouring of love and tears. Dru clearly had a strong, loving familia of many many people, blood-related or not. I left feeling uplifted and hopeful that community still exists in many pockets of this world, and that people are truly struggling to love each other the best they can. Siara sang two songs for Dru at the memorial, and many folks got up on the open mic at both the service and the reception to talk about their love for Dru, his obsession with DJ'ing, his irrepressible sense of humor. I think my favorite snippet was when one of his homeboys talked about having a friend in his car who was having a bad day, and then running into Dru on the street. The homeboy's friend didn't want to come out of the car, that's the kind of shit day he was having. Dru said to get him out here, then yelled, 'Pan dulce!' across the street, making the friend laugh and come out the car to chop it up. That was classic Dru.

And before the service the crowds from the funeral home drove through the city, stopping at every spot that was precious to Dru--Coleman Advocates, his families' homes, the clubs he loved DJ'ing at. We didn't drive with the procession but we saw the tail end of it at Embarcadero One, where the reception was being held. Throngs of young brown folks gettin' hyphee in the street, blasting reggaeton (Dru's music) through their car stereos, hangin' out they car windows, dancing, bumpin' and shoutin' for all of Frisco to see.

The community vibe kept on strong at a Lester House party last night, the first I'd been to in many moons, as W. was quick to remind me. 'You never come by anymore,' he chastised, which is his right to do. I been going to the Lester House for parties for 12 years now. It's nice to know there are places I can go and be considered family, to the point that I get called out when I don't come by enough. And I got to meet B.'s mom, who had cooked up a feast with W., complete with red rice, Guamanian-style adobo, beans, etc.

My baby DJ Hen10 got busy on the 1's and 2's, warming up the crowd with some classic hip hop (think late '80s early '90s), funk and soul. J. spun some salsa that H. and I got to groove to. Later, DJ Moreno tore it up with a sick Brazilian batucada set, driving the crowd (including me) into a frenzy. So much shakin' goin' on; whole house was moving. He even got on the mic and sang and chanted, pushing the crowd to go higher, higher. And then he played not just one, but TWO, long-ass merengue songs right after the Brazilian, back to back. I tried to hold out through both, but had to stop dancing after the second song started. I ain't as young as I used to be.

Jumoke and Greg Hodge were at the party, too, it's always good to see them. And I barely recognized their daughter Chinaka Hodge, whom I haven't seen in years. She somehow still recognized me, and is all grown up now (finished colllege, go girl!).

Speaking of pendulum swing, though, Greg told me about the recent, sudden passing of Akiyu Hatano, long-time Oakland schools activist, who had been struggling with a mysterious illness for month. I was shocked and saddened to hear the news, having met Akiyu less than a year ago; she was radiant and healthy. She was our program officer at the Walter and Elise Haas, Sr. Fund, and shared many of our values and visions for public schools. I couldn't believe that another one of our movement warriors had been taken from us so suddenly, and so young. She was only 39 years old.

But, as Greg said last night, "That's why we have to pray, and dance." To which I replied, "Or do both at the same time." Which is what some of my own dancing felt like last night.

I also got to meet some VONA folks, who'd just finished up their first week of workshops. My girl E. came through; it was good to hang out with her for a minute, and soak up their creative energy.

I'm sore and a little tired today (but not hung over, I realized a long time ago that alcohol makes me too tired to really enjoy the dancing), but in a good way. Much love and thanks to all the people that made yesterday happen, and who are spreading the love and good vibes far and wide.

Week From Hell

Okay, Efren, you asked for it. (He gave me the permission I needed to talk shit and not be so goodie-two-shoes on my blog.)

This week was a shit week. Don't get me wrong, it had it's bright spots: two friends loaned me money when I most needed it (and without me having to ask; I have serious issues about money, I've realized; ironic given that I'm a professional fundraiser); we got a few of the big grants we've been waiting on at work (woo-hoo!); my novel is coming along (I'm reading chapter seven right now); and H. and I are both healthy and happy, overall.

But the dark spots overshadowed the bright spots: work has felt like a goddamn smack-down, with four deadlines, one each week, for the past month (this Friday is my last one for a little while, thank Goddess). These deadlines (grant proposals and reports) take a lot out of me, I realize, because I must keep up with all the rest of my work while completing the various steps in the proposal/report process along the way. And there are lots of hoops foundations want us to jump through. Sheesh.

The sudden death of young Dru (see below), was the mid-week low. I'm still reeling, as are others who were even closer to Dru than I was. We had brunch today with two of the amazing people who've been helping his family through this crisis; tried to give them support too. The caretakers need caretakers, y'know?

And then a close friend of mine calls to tell me that he's been laid off, and for some shitty-ass reasons that I can't get into in a public space for fear of reprisals from some powerful people in government. No fucking kidding.

And to top it all off, I was premenstrual, and cranky, and dealing with the fact that my Palm Zire decided to freak out on me and stop working. I realized how dependent I am on that thing; I can barely function without it. It's a psychological and logistical security blanket; unfortunately, there's no way to deal with the situation but get a new PDA, which I really can't afford right now. Timing this week is just frickin' great.

So that was my week. I need to take up meditation again, for real. Ten minutes a day, ten minutes a day. That's my mantra.

Rest in Peace: Andrew "DJ Domino" Ele (1984-2006)

It hit me like a sucker punch to the gut tonite--an email from my friend A. stating that 22-year-old Dru 'DJ Domino' Ele had been shot and killed on 24th and Folsom Sts. last night in Frisco.

Too young to die, I can't stop thinking, too young.

I got to know Dru a little when he was working at YouthSpace and I was on the board, both of us working with other youth and adult allies to try and get a youth-run space opened in San Francisco, a place where young people could come from all over the city and put their beefs aside, have fun, pick up some new skills. Dru must have been about 20 back then. He had started up his DJ career, spending late nights gigging at 18-and-over clubs and youth dances. He always had some funny story or joke to share, and always made me smile and feel welcome.

After YouthSpace folded because of lack of funding, I would see Dru occasionally at events, festivals, parties, like community gatherings at Coleman Advocates, where he had worked with Youth Making a Change. Actually, the first time I met Dru was when I was Executive Director of the Youth Empowerment Center and he was there speaking on a panel about youth organizing as part of a national youth organizers' exchange.

H. and I just saw him a few weeks ago at Carnaval in the Mission. He was handing out flyers for a party that he was DJing, of course, the quintessential young entrepreneur.

I can't believe someone so young is already an ancestor. And I abhor the social and economic conditions that make too-early deaths like Dru's all too common in today's urban environments. But I know that Dru would want us all to keep on movin' forward, fighting the good fight until there ain't no fight left in us no more.

Rest in peace and power, brother Dru. We will miss you.

Donations to help Dru's family during this time are encouraged and can be sent to:
Dru Ele Memorial Fund
Mission Area Federal Credit Union
2940 16th St. - Suite 307
San Francisco, CA 94103
415.431.2268
account #: 7192

Finally! (Big Sigh) Ron Dellums is Mayor!

Yes, it's finally over. Ron Dellums is mayor of Oakland. Damn it feels good to win.

I freaked out a little today when I walked by Ignacio de la Fuente's campaign headquarters (on the ground floor of my office building, ironically--Oakland still has a small-town vibe sometimes) and saw tons of people in there. The place had been empty since the day after the election, as everyone waited with bated breath for the final vote tally. There was a camera crew in Ignacio's headquarters, people were smiling and laughing. My heart sank. I thought for sure this meant Dellums was going to have to face Ignacio in the run-off.

Maybe I'm just used to losing, as a progressive in this far-right-leaning, overly-zealously-Christian country (and keep in mind that France, one of the most Catholic nations in Europe, is far more progressive than we are). I thought as I walked home, 'Damn, we've gotta fight this guy for another four months.'

But I was, thankfully, wrong. Dellums is the big man now. And not a moment too soon.

Another bright spot on Oakland's future-horizon: Aimee Allison--a conscientious objector during the First Gulf War (and married to a Pinoy!) has made it to a run-off race with incumbent Pat Kernighan. A true progressive, Aimee would help even out the moderate-Democrat, pro-developer City Council a bit, and with Ron Dellums in office as mayor the progressive agenda in Oakland could actually move forward.

Ah, sigh. Of relief, happiness, hope, a little trepidation (electing progressive candidates, after all, doesn't change everything). BIG sigh. We've still got a long road ahead of us to create the Oakland that we want and need.

I Must Admit...Blogging's a Bore

At least right now. I find so many blogs that seem utterly self-indulgent to the nth degree, filled with self-important ramblings by self-centered people who somehow attract other self-centered people to validate what I think are utterly boring ideas, concepts, thoughts.

But I guess the fact that I have a blog makes me one of those self-important people?

I spend much of my work life doing things for others--raising money for organizations I care about, that work for the greater good of various 'communities'. And I love my work, don't get me wrong. But this blog is the one public space where I can spout my own f**king opinions, no matter what others think. Don't have to toe the party line, or be 'organizational', or courteous.

But of course, I am all those things. I am what some might call 'politically correct' (a term I abhor because it was actually created and spread by right wing think tanks). I am polite and socially considerate. I don't insult people (well, maybe right wingers, but do they really count? They are SO sensitive!). I don't talk shit about people. And believe me, I can talk shit. In my life outside of blogdom, I can talk massive loads of shit, although my Buddhist training has helped me cut back a bit.

So what fun can blogging be if I'm tiptoeing around so much? But at the same time, do I really want to make enemies in a virtual world that, truth be told, can be so involved with itself that it misses much of what's real and right in life?

Maybe I'll get inspired to blog again after hearing Lakshmi Chaudry speak at the Media Alliance event. The name of the event does intrigue me. And it's been a while since I chilled with the good folks at MA.

We'll see. Maybe I need to loosen up, stop being so prim and proper and prissy on my blog. Maybe I need to start talking shit.

Or maybe I need to stop blogging. We'll see.

The Insanity of Our World

I am outraged and saddened by the news that Lashaun Harris, a 23-year-old mother who killed her three small children after being 'instructed' by a voice of God to do so, is going to trial and may life in prison for the crime of being a mentally ill person. Even the county psychiatrist diagnosed Lashaun with schizophrenia, but the supposedly 'social justice'-minded San Francisco District Attorney, Kamala Harris, decided to try the woman anyway.

Does the fact that Lashaun Harris is a poor, African-American mother have anything to do with the trial? Does the fact that mentally ill people can often not gain access to the services that they need because they either do not have the money to access them or the services are not available have anything to do with this? I would answer yes and yes.

Like the death of Andrew Martinez, the 'Naked Guy' from my Cal Berkeley days, that I wrote of below, this tragedy is both a personal one for Lashuan, her poor children, and their family, but also a societal tragedy. For how could it be nothing short of a tragedy when the mentally ill--whom our country has decided to cast away while we prioritize our tax dollars for 'important' things like bombing Third World countries and subsidizing corrupt corporatation--are still held responsible for their actions in the same way that mentally healthy people are.

Ironic, then, that today I look forward to celebrating the 2nd birthday of a friend's adopted child, a little African-American girl with the bright, shining eyes that only children have, and a fire and wit in her demeanor that promises many more bright things in the future. This, then, is the paradox of the world we live in. And it reminds me that it's only the beautiful, light-filled things that make the darkness bearable.

Small Joys

Driving around pretty Lake Merritt today as joggers and strollers walked around it. Today a brilliant, perfect Oakland-sunny day, and I was blasting 'Oustanding' by the Gap Band on the car stereo.

Revising the second draft of my novel, all 491 pages of it!! I can't believe I wrote that many words for one project. It's pretty cool to see the different threads of the novel start to come together, and to start tying the ones together that are still running parallel on the page.

Knowing that we are almost at capacity for Raising Change: A Social Justice Fundraising Conference, which I'm staffing--so folks better get their registrations in today! It's the hottest ticket in fundraising right now, my friends.

Gettin' lots of (somewhat unexpected) requests for funding proposals at work. Now let's just hope some--or all--of them translate into checks.

The Enron execs were found guilty. It's a joy when some justice is finally done.

RIP Andrew (aka "The Naked Guy") Martinez

I used to live with Andrew--better known as "The Naked Guy" to the general public for his militant 'nude-in' behavior in and around the UC Berkeley campus--at Le Chateau, a wild and crazy party house where I lived for a whole year during my first year at Cal Berkeley. We did dishes together (the pic below actually shows Andrew in the Chateau kitchen), hung out intermittently. I didn't know him well. (And yes, when we did dishes together, he was frequently naked--although he usually wore athletic shoes). We all supported Andrew's one-man crusade to defy social control and assert his natural nakedness. He was actually a pretty good-looking guy, with a cut physique (a factor which definitely helped his cause).

I was saddened to read in the paper today that he has apparently committed suicide while in jail for assault. The San Jose Mercury News published a story here. I hadn't seen or heard about Andrew in years, so I'm shocked by the news. Apparently Andrew had struggled for years with mental illness without getting sufficient, comprehensive treatment from the system, which today's article in the Chronicle tells of. There are many more folks out there like Andrew who need mental health services and can't access them, or are kicked out on the streets. Andrew was smart and always wanted to talk philosophically. He was a real idealist who seemed--at least in the short time that I knew and lived with him--to live in the world of logic and ideas, and then manifest those ideas in his behavior. I admired his civil disobedient nudity--I got topless that first year at Cal at my first Gay Pride Parade in San Francisco--and learned a lot from his upbeat, positive, playful take on protest and politics.

Rest in peace, Andrew. We won't forget about you.

A Winner We Can Love

Not that I didn't love Naima, with her mohawk and edgy, racially ambiguous look. And of course I loved Eva the Diva (who, along with Toccara Jones, has helped drive many a reader to my blog via Google searches). But after the disaster of top prize winner (and boring, bland, sour-faced) Nicole from Cycle 5 of America's Next Top Model, I had vowed never to even watch the show again.

Well, H. was watching the second or third episode of this recently-ended cycle one night, and I got sucked back in, just like Michael Corleone in the Godfather Part III. And I'm glad I did. Because my faith in Tyra Banks' hit reality TV show that reveals the dirty, catty underbelly of the modeling industry while still keeping us hopelessly fascinated by its surreal glamour, has been duly restored by the victory of Danielle Evans as America's Next Top Model. Danielle was not only gorgeous and photogenic, but she had the proverbial heart of gold. She endured being followed around the house by Gina (the one Asian girl on the show, whom I really wanted to root for but was just too awful to put with in the end), and always had a smile on her face during moments of crisis. Like when she stumbled and sprained her big toe trying to do a runway strut in 6-inch platform stiletto heels. Her smile lit up the screen, making you forget that she had just taken a nasty, awkward tumble. Danielle also had the best personality of all the girls--she rarely complained, she always tried to improve, but she was determined not to lose herself in the chaos of the competition. She even deftly defied Tyra's demand that she close the wide gap in her teeth with oral surgery by reducing it a little, thus still keeping her signature physical trait but making herself more 'marketable.'

I would've been happy if the sweet and talented Joanie won, too, but the upset victory would've been a Jade-victory--she was the super-crazy girl who lived in her own reality. The won who talked back to the judges when they gave her critique, even after they warned her time and again that making excuses for her behavior just made them dislike her. Jade, to the end, was incorrigible. When the Thai judge, a designer for fab line Ishyu, critiqued her CoverGirl commercial, Jade shot back, "Well, it was my first commercial and I've never done acting before and blah blah blah" (which wasn't true because the girls had to do another TV commercial back in week 5 or 6). I knew she'd be cut right then and there.

Salon.com has a decent sum-up, which will have to suffice for you, dear reader, because as much as I love this show and Danielle, I have neither the time nor the inclination to spend another half-hour thinking or writing about them. I think spending an hour a week (sometimes more, if I watch the repeats) glued to the television for the past thirteen weeks has been quite enough. Now maybe I'll spend more time on my novel!

Hot, Hot, Hot

Went on a hike with some other women of color friends yesterday--an infrequent get-together that I pull together so I can spend some time with some fabulous women of color, and get fresh air, sunshine and exercise at the same time. We went to Briones Regional Park out near Orinda, a great place with lots of long, rolling trails and just enough people to make you feel un-alone, but not so many that you feel that you're still in the city. And it's just twenty minutes away from Central Oakland, but it feels like a world away.

I wish i'd brought my camera to take some pictures--there are some great views up there, and we saw at least a dozen hawks soaring and dipping on the hot air currents. On the not-so-great side, it was nearly 90 degrees out there, and we had little shade on the trail. We hiked for about 2 hours (a little less than half of that uphill), and T.'s dog nearly passed out from heatstroke a couple times, but thanks to full water bottles and some welcome breezes--and a well-timed stop at the top of a hill in the shade--we made it back without any real problems.

I threw out an idea that I recently thought up to my hiking compañeras--what about pulling together a people of color hiking crew? (You gotta call it a 'crew' and not a 'club', right?). They were all into the idea, and said they would sign up. After looking at some web sites of hiking groups in the Bay Area--all of which were disproportionately white--I realized that I might need to start my own thing in order to hike in nature with other people that I could relate to, and who may not be the hardcore outdoorsy types that I have a feeling populate many of the existing hiking groups (9 mile hikes? are you kidding me? maybe in a year or so, but not right now).

I also feel that people of color in urban areas often have an aversion to rural areas because of fears based on sheer inexperience, or that they think only white people go out there, or that they'll be treated badly (all fears I've shared myself). I find it rather sad that many urban folks of color are so out of touch with the nature that's in their own backyards, and that these beautiful outdoor, open spaces become simply playgrounds for wealthier white folks (the ones who can afford to live out there, etc.) instead of common spaces for everyone.

So keep an eye out for an email if you're in my POC network--and bust out those hiking shoes!

If This Happened in the U.S., We Would Want It To End

Another reason to support full withdrawal from Iraq:
1,100 Iraqis found dead in Baghdad in the last month, victims of sectarian assassinations and torture, prompted in part by the ongoing occupation of Iraq and the political chaos it has caused there.

What if violence on this scale was happening in a major U.S. city? I wonder where compassion has gone, if even liberals in this country have the ability to put themselves in the shoes of their Iraqi brothers on the other side of the world, if we can envision the horror that we are contributing to each day we stay in Iraq.

Movement Moment? Only Time Will Tell...

Asian-Pacific Islanders (APIs) protest in Texas against HR 4437 anti-immigrant legislation on May 1, 2006.

I'm sure that there are forces already at work trying to undermine the burgeoning immigrant rights movement that has surged forward in the last couple months. Not that I'm a conspiracy-theorist, I just know how the US government and others powers that be work, and they can be very threatened by large mobilizations of people who were formally unorganized and had little voice in the public dialogue, like undocumented immigrants.

I also know how the liberal-left elements in our society work--they often fight with each other over crumbs while the Right remains fairly united and chips away slowly and steadily at our civil and human rights, and at the social-democrat ideology that is at the root of some of these rights.

Efren rants about the flaws of both the current US immigration policies and what he broadly calls 'immigration activists'. He bemoans the fact that the largely Latino-focused mobilizations and organizations that have been so visible in recent days have not reached out to API constituents. It's an argument I've heard from other APIs who are feeling, I think, a little bitter at yet another example of our invisibility in this society. We APIs are very much affected by HR 4437, the legislation that these protests are responding to, although the issue is still a divisive one in our very heterogenous racial group (in terms of class, nationality, language, culture AND immigration status). But we still haven't turned out in large numbers in the streets--at least not in California. Why not?

The answer to this, really, is quite simple, and can be reflected in this chart that I found via a news article posted on another blog.


And in California, the number of Latinos is roughly three times the population of Asians, according to the 2000 Census. Of course, this count probably excludes many 'illegals' of both Latino and Asian background because of folks' fears of being caught and deported, but it's probably safe to say that the number of Latinos in California and in the US far exceeds that of APIs. Also, in 2003, the Census bureau reported that Latinos had surpassed African-Americans as the largest minority in the US. So in terms of sheer numbers, it makes sense that Latinos would be present in large numbers during these protests.

I think it's interesting that API activists are saying that these 'Latino organizations' (which I doubt many of these activists could name but are quick to blame for the lack of API presence) should reach out to APIs, when in fact many immigrant rights groups (a good listing can be found on the National Network for Immigrant and Refugee Rights web site, have an API component or have relationships with API constituencies.

Efren and others have also questioned the effectiveness of boycotts as a strategy to make change. On some counts, I agree with them. After all, HR 4437 is still alive, and could still pass into law. Boycotts, though, are just one tactic in a larger strategy that many groups are participating in that includes lobbying of Senators and Congresspeople through letter-writing, phone calls, emails, etc. And those forms of civic participation are equally important and necessary to actually win the policy victories that we need to change the concrete conditions (police repression, INS harassment, mass deportations, etc.) in this society.

But boycotts and strikes--especially of the May Day variety, which were fairly spontaneous and organic, and involved hundreds of thousands if not millions of people in mass action--can be extremely effective in conveying to policymakers the number of people that feel strongly on an issue. Especially in this day and age, with the Left-liberal elements of the US political landscape having so little hold on mainstream media, these large mobilizations are very effective at at least calling attention to the issue, however briefly, and forcing the mainstream media to give us air time.

My two cents. But yes, boycotts and strikes are part of a larger strategy, and are not the solutions in and of themselves. Which is one thing I'm already hearing that this burgeoning immigrant-rights movement is already debating amongst themselves. This sentiment was encapsulated perfectly for me in my favorite chant from the May Day march in San Francisco: "Hoy Marchamos, Mañana Votamos!"--Today We March, Tomorrow We Vote.

Quick Thoughts on 'A Day Without Immigrants' / Dia Sin Inmigrantes

The May Day march heads down International Blvd. in Oakland.

So much has been burning and flashing through my brain the last few days, in preparation for, through participation in, and in reflection of the huge immigrant rights mobilizations that happened across the country yesterday, May 1st. May Day. International Workers' Day. A few of the burning flashes:

'Immigrant' communities (e.g. Asian-American/Pacific Islander, Latino/a, etc.) are deeply divided on the issues of immigration. Well, maybe APIs are more divided than Latinos. After all, I found a quite heated debate happening over at Sepia Mutiny, a South Asian blog I found while searching for API voices on the immigration reform debate. I posted a couple items there as 'RF' that seemed to draw both praise and heckles from the crowd.

I find it intriguing and outrageous that virtually none of the (progressive, I think) Pin@y bloggers in my immediate network wrote about the "Day Without an Immigrant" protests. What, did we Fil-Ams and recent transplants already forget that we are immigrants? Do we see this only as a Latino issue? Do we have no clue what's going on?

Tonight at Trader Joe's, many of the shelves were half-empty, not fully stocked. It was just a mild irritation, but a noticeable event. I overheard two other customers ask workers there why the shelves were so empty. "The strike yesterday," they both answered. "We get our inventory from a warehouse where most of the workers took the day off." Shit, really? In the US? A one-day strike that wasn't organized by any single union, that was a truly grassroots movement event, was actually felt by regular people at the grocery store? It made me smile.

The two bright spots of hope: an almost desperate plea for interracial solidarity from radical activists in Los Angeles; and the Filipinos for Affirmative Action 'Social Justice' conference this coming Saturday, which will feature some speakers and program content dealing with immigration issues. Should be an intersting dialogue.

Found this article about Irish 'illegal' immigrants, and huge protests that included white Eastern European immigrants in Chicago, as well as a human chain formed in New York City's Chinatown, showed the diverse faces of the immigrant sector of our society.

I was out in the streets in San Francisco and Oakand marching with thousands of (mostly Latino) protesters, and it was a great feeling. Great to be in the midst of so many brown folks, many of whom have probably been too frightened by the very real threat of deportation to speak up in the past. I was walking next to a Latino family with three kids, the smallest of whom, a boy who could be no more than five years old, was marching happily with a picket size that was nearly twice his size in his hands. I marched behind high school youth who had walked out of their classrooms (or just decided not to show up at school at all), mostly youth of color who are virtually given up on in their schools and communities.

I saw Jan Adams, veteran activist and one of the people responsible for recruting me into the movement. I saw a few face in the crowd that I recognized from my own activist work. But I saw many, many faces that I didn't know at all, and there were thousands of them. But, I also saw less than half a dozen API faces in the crowd. If even that many. I saw more Black folks at the protests than APIs, and supposedly immigration issues are a hot-button topic in the African-American community.

What the hell is going on? I know that the issue of 'border crossing' is not as deeply felt for APIs as Latinos (after all, the 'border' we have to cross to get here is a vast ocean), but I can't believe that at least progressive, American-born APIs are this apathetic and willing to be so invisible on this issue. Even the march yesterday from 98th Avenue and International Blvd to downtown Oakland was supposed to be met by a rally at the Federal Building organized by the East Bay Asian Consortium, a liberal/progressive API Coalition. But when I got to the Federal Building at almost 1pm, I was the only API face in sight. What happened?

Please, anyone, enlighten me with your thoughts.

Excited but still confused,
Rona

All Out For Immigrants Rights

My mother came here on a tourist visa (read: temporary visa) in the mid-1960s, accompanied by my aunt and uncle, college-educated professionals who were recruited to work for US-based companies during the 'brain drain' that saw so many professionals leave Asia and come to the US.

My mother never left. She was an 'illegal' (even if she will never admit that she was, and shows an incredible disdain for undocumented immigrants). She eventually became a naturalized citizen, but she did not come through the 'proper chanels' to get here. Her story is not an uncommon one. She, like most other immigrants that come to the U.S. (legally or illegally), came here to chase the American dream, to be able to send her children to college, and to create a better life for herself. My mother and I, and my cousins that have immigrated to the states, send money back to the Phiippines to help pay for my grandmother's health care costs and my cousin's schooling. This global economy and First World v. Third World conditions forces us to have to stay here (even though some of us don't want to) because this is where the money can be made. This is where some modicum of economic opportunity exists.

That's why I'm marching in the streets tomorrow, May 1st, May Day, International Worker Day. That's why I support the call for "A Day Without an Immigrant." And even though the large mobilizations that took place in early April were mostly of Latinos, I hope that Asian, African and Middle-Eastern and other immigrant groups (I mean, unless you're Native American you're an immigran) get out in the streets too. We need to be there, otherwise the Right is going to continue to try and divide and conquer us (like the sickening example of the Border militia group the Minutemen Project making a public statement that illegal immigrants are taking jobs and 'hurting Blacks in the inner city the most'. The Minutement don't give a s**t about Black people in the inner city.)

I'm thrilled to see major news outlets like CNN are covering this historic moment. Millions may walk out of school and refuse to go to work to march in the streets, stop 'business as usual' and stand up for not just immigrant rights, but human rights.

Be a part of history. I'll be there.

May Day in the Bay

London Highlights and Lowlights

Let's get the bad stuff out of the way first:

FOOD: Terrible. I had heard that fresh veggies and good food were hard to find in London, but I thought that the fact that it's a world-class city would prove the critics wrong on both counts. Nope.

The only decent food we found was Indian and Thai, and even that was only passable (the Indian food was good, but honestly I don't think what we had was any better than Indian food we could get back in the Bay. Of course, we only had time to go to one Indian restaurant while we were there). And veggies? I think potatoes were the only vegetable we could find on a consistent basis, and the other veggies we had weren't very fresh or tasty. Fish and chips, however, were pretty yummy. And English tea, of course, was quite delicious (don't drink the coffee, opt for the tea for your caffeine fix instead). We brought a few boxes back from bling-bling department store Harrods (see picture below of their amazing Food Hall).





















Now on to the good stuff:

FREE MUSEUMS: Which are pretty much all the major ones. They're all free free free, all the time. We saw this cool installation at the Tate Modern, made up of hundreds of white plastic boxes piled high in the huge, post-industrial warehouse space behind the lobby.





We also went to the British Museum, which holds miles (literally) of antiquities from all over the world (yes, the British were major plunderers). We mostly focused our time on the beautiful, round National Library (first picture), where Karl Marx completed Capital, and the Egyptian collection. That second picture with H. is of the fist of a huge statue of the Egyptian Pharoah Ramses. We also saw the Rosetta Stone, which was pretty frickin' cool.








FASHION: I looked around everywhere we went (mostly in Central London, which is where the major sites are and where we were staying), and I swear, EVERYONE had a 'look' in London. Whether it was casual-preppy, high-fashion couture, punk-rocker girl, hip hop b-boy or whatever, everyone was sporting a very distinct and put-together 'fit that made me feel quite shabby in my used, slightly generic Seven for All Mankind jeans and boring-beige Ann Taylor Loft raincoat. And there is TONS of fashion shopping to do in London--it seemed that on every corner there was some kind of clothing store (although not as much as in Rome), catering to every income level and fashion taste. We spent the most time in Oxford Circus and on Knightsbridge (where Harrods and one of the H&M's are, as well as Zara and other big stores). Unfortunately, the British pound was worth almost twice the US dollar while we were there, so I didn't have much disposable cash to clothes-shop with. Boo-hoo.

SOCIALIZED HEALTH CARE: I actually got sick (a bad bout of food poisoning) while I was in the UK, and got treated speedily and cheerily in a small hospital outside London near Luton airport (Luton's a suburb that seemed to have a much higher population of people of color than central London). And all I had to pay for was the meds they gave me (rehydration salts and some anti-nausea medication). They didn't even ask to see my passport. I couldn't believe it. The US is so behind the rest of the industrialized world when it comes to health care, it's pathetic.

All in all, if there is any US city I'd compare to London, it would have to be New York. The constant crush of people, the multi-culti, high-fashion consciousness of the general populace, the late-night buzz on the streets (even though many pubs close around midnight, which is unheard of in the states, especially in New York), all reminded me of my trips to the Big Apple. There were lots of people of color in London, too, and we even saw a crew of Filipino men working and hanging out at a casino (I'm not even kidding) in Bayswater.

It's also an expensive city, like New York, but as a tourist you can see quite a bit without having to spend too much, thanks to the free admission at museums and such. And of course, there are just amazing layers upon layers of history in London, as in Europe overall, that are interesting to examine close-up, in churches or the architecture around the city, which you can see plenty of just wandering around the streets.


H. standing before Tower Bridge. We didn't get go inside the Tower of London, which is right next to the bridge, but I really wanted to. We ran out of time and it's quite expensive (around $30 I believe) but any history-buff would be crazy to not go take a look from the oustide at least (see picture below). This is, after all, the place where executions took place, where royal heads were lopped off (e.g. Ann Bolyn and other of Henry VIII's unfortunate, son-less wives) and royal prisoners were kept. Now it houses the crown jewels and is a big attraction for kids, if you can believe that.





This is Westminster Abbey, a nearly thousand-year-old church where all English coronations have taken place over the last nine centuries. We saw the tombs of King Edward the Confessor and Queens Mary and Elizabeth I here as well, not to mention the graves of other luminaries such as Sir Issac Newton, Oscar Wilde and Charles Darwin (yes, Darwin is buried in a church). These people never seemed real to me, since I'd only read about them or seen period movies about them that seemed more fiction than fact. But after seeing their graves, I left with a real sense of their mortality and their impact on the world. And of course, Prince Charles and Princess Diana were married in Westminster Abbey. It's quite a beautiful, awe-inspiring place. If you go, pay the extra 4 quid (pounds) and go on a verger-guided tour.

Strikes in Paris, Strikes in Oakland

When we were in Paris, we stayed with very kind hosts, friends of a friend who hadn't even met us before they welcomed us into their home. They lived in a small, top-floor apartment in Belleville, a neighborhood-in-transition not entirely different than the Oakland neighborhood I live in here. Lots of immigrants, mostly Asian but also African and Middle Eastern, lived in the neighborhood, along with white Parisians. (Dat Lan, an amazing Vietnamese-Chinese restaurant, was a couple blocks away).



















One of our hosts, a high school teacher in Paris, had been on strike as part of the city-wide general strike in, the day before we arrived. A GENERAL strike. The concept is virtually unheard-of here in the states, even in the progressive hotbed of the Bay Area. This is a strike when EVERYONE stays home and doesn't go to work. Where 'business as usual' stops for a day, a week, however long the unions, the student groups, whoever is organizing the people, decide. The Metro (subway) doesn't run, there are no schools open, the post office shuts down, etc. Everyday life comes to a standstill, and politicians and policy makers and corporate CEOs have no choice but to wring their hands, try to make backroom deals, and hope that the workers will come back soon. A general strike gives everyday, working people a huge amount of leverage in negotiations around things like the new labor law (CPE) that students and workers were protesting in France (the workers and students won, by the way).





































Today, Oakland Unified School District teachers (of whom I count several close friends) had planned to go on strike, since the district (run by the bulldozer known as State Administrator Randolph Ward) had refused to give them a good deal on health care (a major issue that has come up in other labor struggles recently, such as the Safeway/VONS strike, etc.). And then, as reported to me by my downstairs neighbor, who teaches at an OUSD school, the district pulled a fast one at the last minute: ten minutes before school let out yesterday, the district sent notices to all students and parents, saying that the next day (the day teachers had planned to strike) would be a 'student free day' but a mandatory work day for teachers. A smooth, manipulative way to try to take the punch out of the teachers' strike. If no students show up to school at the district's behest, is it really a strike, after all?




But it seems that the teachers' union and the district have reached an agreement, in the end. Still no details on it yet in the news, but union reps seem to be happy with it. Of course, it's not over yet. Union members still have to vote to ratify the contract, and there's no telling what they may think of it. Is it a real, livable contract with good health care conditions for Oakland's overworked teachers? Or is it a last-minute ditch-out/sell-out compromise that will weaken teachers' positions (and slim down their pocketbooks)?

Unfortunately, this is not Paris, and although the teachers' union was possibly going to be joined in their strike by school staff (secretaries, janitors, and the like), I didn't hear of any AC Transit bus drivers or UPS workers in Oakland striking in solidarity. We are a long ways off from having the kinds of mass-scale social movement that exists in France and other more industrialized nations, that's for damn sure.

But it is beautiful to see community members band together in response to the 'free day' / strike whatever it is. Oakland recreation centers will be staying open later to help take care of children who have no where to go since school isn't in session. My friend M. reports that her son's school, a progressive charter school in the Fruitvale district, had a parents' meeting recently to notify them of the status of the possible strike and help them make alternative childcare arrangements. And my organization has offered students a place to hang out in our offices if they have no where to go so that they don't get targeted by cops for truancy.

At this point, it's a wait and see game. Wait and see. And hope that, no matter what, the students will be the ones to win out in the end.

Back to the Grind and a Picture from Paris

Heading back to work today for the first time after my vacation. I actually managed to check work email only twice during these past two weeks, and I didn't respond to anything, just checked to make sure any emergencies were being dealt with. That's a big deal for me, miss Type-A borderline workaholic.

I'm actually looking forward to it. I'm one of those rare people that actually loves my dayjob/ work. Which doesn't always mean good news for my writing, but it is fulfilling to know that you are doing good work every day and that the people you work with appreciate you and your work.

Only 16 more weeks until the conference!! It sounds like a long time but I know it's gonna fly by. I'm coordinating the program and fundraising components (the revolution WILL be funded, dammit!), so I'll be a busy bee.

Haven't gotten a chance to upload all my photos on flickr, but here's one pic for you to enjoy, from Paris. This is the Arc de Triomphe, built on Napoleon's command to commemorate his Imperialistic military victories in Europe, built in the self-aggrandizing style of the ancient Roman Emperors' triumphant arches (I know because I saw those in Rome, too!), but actually not finished until well after his armies' defeat at the Battle of Waterloo. Hitler also marched his occupying forces through this Arc and down the Champs Elysees during World War II. So much history in Europe, so much to see and touch and experience with your own senses.

No Place Like Home

As much as I enjoyed my Europe trip (on the last night in Rome, I truly didn't want to leave, wanted to spend at least a few more days in the Eternal City), I am so glad to be home.

I get homesick rather easily, which is why I was pleasantly surprised to not feel much homesickness on this trip. Maybe once or twice, I longed for the creature comforts of my very American lifestyle (ah, hot water and good water pressure, and toilet seats!!) or the wildly diverse range of cheap ethnic foods one can indulge in in the Bay Area ("shall we have Ethiopian, Indian, Filipino or Japanese tonight, babe?"). But overall, I was totally immersed in and enjoying my European experience. (Well, there was one negative experience with a xenophobic Italian woman at the end of the trip that made me wish I could click my ruby-slippered heels three times and be back home, but I'll get into that later).

It's the little (or maybe they're not so little) things that make one appreciate home more than any other place on earth: The way the light shines in my apartment, with its white walls and clean, shiny hard wood floor. The feel of the cool wood under my bare feet, familiar yet somehow strange and new after two weeks of living in hotels and strangers' homes. A hot shower in your own bathroom after a long, long day (we were in the air and on the road for almost 24 hours yesterday). The comforting smells of home--clean sheets, clothes, blankets--the scents you take for granted when you are here and that you forget when you are away.

The time change from Rome to the Bay was 9 hours (right now it's nearly 4pm in Italy) so my body is a little disoriented, but I'm feeling simultaneously refreshed, exhilirated and body-fatigued to be home right now. I feel that I am back in my own place, where I belong.

Quick Update from Roma

I wish I had more time to blog while I'm here in Europe, but I don't have my beloved laptop and Internet cafes are time-sucks away from my precious sightseeing excursions, so I'll be brief.

I'm very excited to read in a Nation email today that the CPE (the awful proposed law in France that would have eliminated the little job security young French people have) has been repealed by Jacques Chirac in response to all the pressure from students mostly and also labor (University campus shut-downs, strikes, rallies, marches, etc.--at least one general strike our host in France, a school teacher, took part in). And in Italy, a new left-leaning President has been elected, booting out the rival incumbent, who was a staunch ally of Bush's vis a vis the war in Iraq. There are political posters up everywhere in Rome, including Green (Verdi) party and Reformed Communist party posters. We even passed a Communist party office the other day where a bunch of people were gathered in the street outside watching the exit poll results of the Italian Presidential race. The Nation reports that the election of this new President shows that Italian voters want out of Iraq.

Yesterday H. and I strolled around in awe in the Roman Forum, Palatine Hill and Colosseo (Coliseum). Of course we've been eating a lot of delicious Romano food and drinking some off-the-hook coffee everyday too. Now we're off to see our last big site of the trip: the Vatian Museums and the Sistine Chapel.

More updates and pictures of my trip--which, in short, has been amazing amazing amazing--when I return back home (and to my laptop and wifi :-)).

London Calling, Paris Burning?

Arrived safely yesterday morning in London. Had a bit of a challenge getting to the hotel in Bayswater (very close to Kensington Gardens, home of the mansion where Princess Di once lived) from Heathrow, but it all turned out fine in the end, and we were even able to check-in to our hotel room early so we could nap. But this only after we had our first full English breakfast, which reminded me a lot of Filipino breakfast (garlic fried rice, fried egg, and some kind of meat), only in London they give you toast instead of rice, of course. Pretty flavorful stuff, not bad. They even gave us a nice grilled tomato on the side.

The weather here is much like it is in the San Francisco Bay Area right now--partly cloudly, intermittent showers, a bit chilly. The sun was shining bright and beautiful for much of yesterday morning, however, making me feel as if the city was welcoming us with open arms.

Jet lag is a bitch, I have to say. We took a red eye out of Boston to London, arriving around 8am, and didn't get too much sleep on the flight. Who can sleep for more than hour sitting up in a space the size of a tiny closet? And then when we got here the sun was just rising over the horizon, the city just waking up to a surprisingly busy morning commute. Tourists, I'm guessing, and locals making their way to shops, a home decorating show that was going on in the city. We took a couple naps yesterday to try and compensate for the lag, but my body's still on Pacific daylight savings time, which right now would be 4:20am!

Went to the Tate Modern museum yesterday, a brilliant place (do I sound British yet? ;-)). All the big museums' main collections have free admission--ah, to be governed by a much-less-than-perfect Labour party still has its advantages--which is great since H. and I don't have a lot of money to spend on sightseeing (especially given the fact that the pound is worth roughly twice as much as the dollar right now). The Tate is housed in an old industrial factory in a seemingly desolate part of town, one that I'm guessing is in the throes of gentrification. All the signs are there--fashionably gritty industrial warehouses, a random fancy restaurant or two, a tiny black box theater tucked away in between--and the Tate I'm sure is helping to rapidly advance that trend.

The museum itself was stunning--a giant box of a space with a very phallic tower rising from its middle, topped by a strange purple-blue-lit observation deck (I think, we didn't get to go all the way up there). We saw a Pollack, a Picasso, a Matisse, some Calder mobiles in the 'Abstract Expressionism' section, an interesting installation of a giant concave, spoon-like sculpture that you can stand within, its reflective dark-red surface making you feel dizzy and claustrophobic and stimulated at the same time.

I've observed some interesting things about the British--well, maybe Europeans is a more accurate term, since there are so many German and French tourists here. Personal space is a very different thing here than in the U.S. (or California, at least). More than once I experienced a little discomfort because people (all white, but I really don't think that was the only reason for their ease at taking up space) would walk very close to me, or nearly collide with me, despite my best efforts to avoid doing so, and they didn't seem to mind, it seemed to them only a matter of course, that we were all in a space together, and that bumping into each other was bound to happen. For example, a British woman on the Underground brushed heavily against H.'s legs as he was sitting and she was walking past him. She mumbled 'Sorry' but it wasn't resentful, and she didn't pull away as quickly as she could (which is what would happen back home), as if his touch were burning her. She just kept moving along at the same pace.

For some reason this really strikes me, because I think this lack of obsession with personal space (relative to what I observe amongst my fellow Americans back home in the states) say something. Does it point to a greater sense of collective belonging? Of more ease within one's own bodies? Of less fear of others? Of none or all of these? All I can say for sure is that while it's jarring, it's also somewhat comforting, that I don't have to expend as much energy as I normally do back home avoiding any and all physical contact with the strangers (and friends) that may be close by.

Lastly, been following the news about the ongoing protests in Paris, because last week the protests grounded a third of the flights coming out of the city. Protests have turned violent, I read, although I wonder how much of that is property destruction, how much is fighting with the police, etc. Supposedly, no tourists have been injured. But I'm such a cynical reader that I have to find three stories to corrobate something before I'll begin to think of it as 'true'. Especially when the stories about protests.

There are demonstrations being called for Tuesday, April 4, the day we are supposed to fly into Charles de Gaulle. And while I support the protesting students, I am beginning to fret a little that our travel plans--both to Paris and to Rome, since we were to fly out of Paris--will be disrupted. The U.S. Embassy is warnings its citizens traveling in Paris to avoid large gatherings, as Paris police have been using tear gas to quell protests. (And me without my water-soaked bandanna, damn.)When I told him that I was both worried and excited about traveling to Paris during such intense movement activity, my boss joked that H. would have to be my personal line monitor/security person--to hold me back from jumping into the fray.

No matter what hpapens, if I've learned one thing so far on this trip, it's that part of the beauty of traveling is letting go, of being open to and experiencing a given moment for what it is, and learning something from it. The exact kind of thing that is easy to avoid being back home in our comfortable, sheltered environments. What will be ironic, I'm guessing, is that so much protest is happening around me (back home in California, mostly Latino students continue to walkout in protest of a horrid anti-immigrant bill being debated in Congress) but I will most likely not take part in it. It's where my life is at right now, as much as the young radical within me wants to be a part of the action.

What's Going On

Been getting ready for my first-ever trip to Europe. So exciting! Everything's booked--hotel, inter-city travel, etc.--and we're staying with friends of friends in Paris. I'm both distressed and intrigued by the recent Left Bank riots there, which occured, supposedly, because a breakaway faction of the student protest against new job laws (of which I'm still trying to learn) started setting cars on fire, breaking windows, fighting against the cops, etc. I gather that this set of rioting is quite separate from the banlieu (suburb)-based rioting by mostly children of North African immigrants in the areas north of Paris, but I'm not entirely sure. I definitely see a distinct whiteness in the pictures of the students protesting at the Sorbonne, as opposed to the darker-skinned young folks rising up in the banlieues. It's so interesting how different urban areas in different countries operate--in the U.S., the 'inner city' is associated with Black folks, crime, poverty, etc. In Paris it's the 'suburbs', the outlying areas of the city, that 'threaten' the fortress-like central metropolis.

Another interesting thing I've noted is the more common use of property destruction by leftists in these riots, as opposed to the 'peaceful' (and some might say complacent) protests here in the U.S. Not that I romanticize or encourage property destruction for political purposes, but I am baffled at how people in the US equate property destruction with violence against human beings. It says a lot about our political system and who controls it (corporations and other monied interests) that, here, smashing in a Neiman Marcus window is almost considered the moral equivalent of hitting an innocent bystander in the face.

So, to balance out both the mainstream media's sensationalist take on the riots with a more historical perspective, I've been reading a first-hand account of the Paris student rebellion of May 1968. I'd like to not be a stereotypical 'dumb American' when I travel to Paris so that I can have half-way intelligent conversations with the locals.

Went to the Octavia Butler tribute at Barnes & Noble (although I would've preferred to be at an independent bookstore for this kind of thing, but haven't heard of a similar event at Marcus Books, for example), which was nourishing to my soul. Chatted with Gloria Yamato and Russell Gonzaga, among others. Made some good connections with folks, and was glad to hear that others felt a similar kindred (pun intended) to the other folks in the room. The event organizers are encouraging people to rejoin periodically to read Octavia's work, to share our writing, etc. The room was nearly all people of color, mostly African-American folks, which was refreshing. When I attended Octavia's reading at Marcus Books a few months ago, the crowd's demographics were similar.

Taking a novel writing class, which has been good. And of course, work work work. Always work. Trying to finish up a bunch of stuff before I leave for Europe. But feeling pretty good about it. It's all going to be fine.

State of Emergency

I had an anxiety dream about this the other night, imagining that people I knew were going to be arrested randomly, for no reason. I'm glad that Priscilla has returned safely from the Philippines, but I am worried, nervous, stressed-out about the escalating drama that continues there.

Gura posts about it, as does Chatelaine. I've found some cool posts via Blogger, like this one, and feeling grateful for technology and independent media. I've been checking the The Philippine Daily Inquirer every few hours for the latest updates. It's a messy, violent, confusing situation out there. My homegirl M. is getting updates from the provinces that things are still calm, that in Manila is where the turmoil is. Right-wingers, leftist militants, poor folks, students, workers--it seems like everyone, anyone is the target for GMA's cold wrath.

And then I remember that I had planned to go to the Philippines for the first time ever this coming December, and I think, "Will I ever get to go?" But even if I haven't been there, I feel like a part of me is there, itching to march in the streets, daring the dictator to shut down the will of the people.

And it doesn't help that there won't be a new Octavia Butler book again, ever.

Moody blue,
Rona

Death of a Master

I am in shock. I just heard from a friend (and fellow fan) that Octavia Butler, one of my favorite writers, has just died. She fell outside her home and suffered a fatal concussion, possibly during a stroke.

This is too much. I am breathing, just trying to take it in, letting myself weep. I just saw her read a few months ago at Marcus Books in Oakland. She was promoting her new book, Fledgling, about a genetically engineered Black female vampire. It's her first book in seven years, her first book since the highly acclaimed and successful 'Parable' series.

I had only discovered her work a couple years ago, on the suggestion of many people who are much bigger sci-fi/fantasy fans than I am. I can't believe she's gone. She was only 58 years old.

For any rumor-hounds out there who think this may be a hoax (I thought it might be one, too, a cruel one) one of the writers from the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America called the King County coroner's office to confirm the unofficial report. It's true. One of the greatest science fiction writers of all time is gone.

If anyone who reads this has any news of a memorial for Octavia in the Bay Area, please post a comment and let me know. I'm sure I won't be alone in wanting to honor this amazing woman.

Rest in peace and power, ancestor Octavia. We will miss you dearly.

A Grim Report

News of the mudslide in Leyte, in the Philippines. I'm struck again at how natural disasters in the Third World are often so much more devastating than they are in the First because of poverty and lack of infrastructure. And how there is still a 'Third World Within' the First world, as witnessed during the Katrina catastrophe.

Warming Our Home and Other Post-Valentine's Day Thoughts

On Sunday, H. and I held our housewarming for our not-so-new apartment (some loyal readers will recall that we moved way back in July!). But before that, we had our friend L., who's a spiritual healer, come and cleanse and bless our home on Saturday, effectively chasing away any negative energies and bad spirits (well, except the noisy neighbors, although she was able to get the little kid downstairs to stop crying so much, miraculously). The apartment felt lighter and more 'ours' afterwards, and we spent most of Saturday cleaning, decorating, moving furniture (some of it new from the Ikea aisles) and setting up for the party. I was so excited I couldn't hardly sleep all night.

The housewarming was a brunch with a Valentine's day theme. I was thrilled that people took to it so readily--some guests showed up wearing pink and red (not a requirement by any means), several people brought us flowers, and most people went along (some more enthusiatically than others) with my wacky idea of writing valentines for each other. I got a whole bunch of those store-bought ones--Star Wars, Spongebob Squarepants, Hello Kitty, and the old-school Dr. Seuss Cat in the Hat (the most popular ones by far)--and people sat around writing valentines to each other after gorging themselves on homefries, turkey sausage, lumpia, zucchini frittata (I made all the hot food), homemade chocolate truffles (my Kumareng M.'s over-the-top contribution), rum cake (courtesy of Efren and Howard) and various other sweets and savories.

The last few years--starting when I found myself single in 2000 after a four-year relationship/engagement--I've been thinking of Valentine's Day as more of a time to celebrate friendship or non-'romantic' love versus the gushy, lovey-dovey, couple-y kind of love that it's known for. Not that I'm not a big fan of the latter--H. and I are both big fans of romance and are very affectionate with each other--but I just felt that we, as a society, don't spend enough time celebrating and honoring our friendships. And after having a few friends whom I thought would be there for me for the long haul ditch out of my life (all, ironically, because of some strange hangups/weirdness about relationships with men--mine or theirs), I found the need to ritualize my honoring of my real friends especially important. True friends are, I've found out the hard way, a rarity indeed. And on Sunday I realized that I am blessed with many of them.

Back to the party, which went fabulously well. Gura and Tatang Retong attended, as did about thirty other friends/well-wishers, including my godson, K., and his friend S., both about two years old, who entertained the crowd by dancing to Joe Bataan/s "Nuevo Jala Jala", one of my favorite songs. Funny, K.'s Filipino and S. is Black--I guess Joe's energy resonated for both of them.

When everyone left---our last guest stayed 'til almost 10:30pm, which made it a record 10-hour marathon party for me--H. and I sat in the afterglow of so much love being brought into our home and shared with us and everyone else, between friends who were glad to see each other, between strangers who wrote each other valentines anyway, and realized that we were home, our home. It finally felt right. The most precioius feeling in the world.

What Would the Buddha Do?

I think someone should start making buttons, bumper stickers, necklace pendants, T-shirts, etc. with this slogan. WWTBD for short. It's a lot more relevant and interesting than the 'What Would Jesus Do?' slogan.

I've been trying to reflect on the Buddha's teachings more often lately, reading some Thich Nhat Hanh before I go to bed, trying to do sitting meditation for at least a few minutes every few days. It helps. It really does. It keeps me from screaming at my neighbors, who virtually live in a cloud of pot-smoke that annoys me to no end. It keeps me from breaking down when I'm too tired to cry, laugh or be angry because I'm working so much and wish I could stop. It keeps me from falling apart. It keeps me sane, even happy at times.

I also went to a people of color sit/sangha that is happening every first Sunday of the month at the San Francisco Buddhist Center. Funny, how we have to make plans to sit and do nothing. And to breathe.

But it's what the Buddha would do, right?