Friday, January 30, 2009

Clicking My Ruby Slippers Three Times

My husband and I have decided to go home. More accurately, my husband has to decided to stay there in the Philippines while I will fly back to Manila on May 5 (I arrive midnight, May 6, so I'll be there May 7-ish).

Beyond that, I don't think I really have to say anything more. I am aware that I don't owe anybody any explanation. But I take that back. What I mean is, I don't owe anybody any justification -- but for those of you, dear readers and friends, who have been patiently reading my mental farts and talking me through my quasi-existential dilemma, I offer this reason:

Happiness.

In high school, I had a teacher who actually gave a damn. I mean, she really cared about me and what I could do beyond my normally wonderful grades. Because of her and since then, I've always wanted to teach. When I took that leap of faith several years ago and left my cushy corporate job to go into teaching, it was all together frightening and exhilarating. I have never regretted that decision because when I was teaching, I was the happiest I had ever been. Sure the pay was less, the work hours were long, and the work load was amazingly heavy. But teaching has made me irrevocably convinced that this is what I was meant to do for the rest of my life, in one way or another.

So why not teach here? Simple: I want to teach my kababayans first and foremost. While I am not closing my doors to other future possibilities, I want to first and foremost be a teacher to my fellow Filipinos, make a significant dent on my own society, and instead of complaining about how Philippine society is slowly degrading from afar, I want to be there and be part of the solution. Idealistic much? You betcha. I'd much rather be faulted for believing too much than for believing too little. Credo quia absurdum, dude.

I realize that a lot of Filipinos (in the Philippines or elsewhere) may think that I am throwing away all sorts of opportunities by leaving the US. That may be true, but by not being in the Philippines, I am doing that, too. Frankly, the opportunities that I could have in the Philippines are the ones that I would much rather keep within arm's reach than the opportunities I could have here. I do not believe that staying here will be "better" -- especially because my definition of what is "better" may not necessarily fit the mold of many. "Better" is such a finicky, relative beast of a term.

As with almost everything in my life, whenever I feel like I'm heeding God's call, things just simply fall into place. This decision to go back home is no different. A friend offered to help me out with a ticket (amazingly, at the most perfect time). An uncle-in-law offered to help us with the arduous task of shipping our meager possessions back home. Another friend managed to tell me exactly what I needed to hear (and I find myself going back to what he said over and over again, especially when I am confronted with less-than-sensitive, er, admonitions from semi-friends). And so on and so forth. I know some of you come from different faiths, but I urge you to look beyond the default fatalism that is often attributed to Christians. For lack of a better explanation then: everything just feels right. I am giddy at the prospect of finally starting my happily ever after with my husband. I am beside myself with joy. As what my Nana keeps saying, "Ano pa ang hahanapin? (What else could I ask for?)"

On the flip side, I am heartbroken over the fact that I will be leaving very good friends behind. I must admit that I never thought I would make fantastic friends here -- especially because I was initially shielding myself from this very sadness I am now feeling. Despite best efforts, my husband and I have fallen completely in love with a wonderful group of people that are so difficult to leave behind. Aside from that, I am leaving behind friends from my girlhood that have been with me through many ups and downs and the distance that will separate us brings emotions that run even deeper than sadness. And aside from in-laws and distant relatives, I don't have family in the Philippines.

But if there's one thing I've learned from all these years of ping-ponging between the US and the Philippines, distance is dwarfed by the bonds we make. So while it is difficult to say good bye to the people here, I know that it will only be a matter of time till we will all be together again.

I started writing this entry last week. I waited this long because I was still angry over what someone (who is quasi-significant) said to me. He all but said that I was making a mistake for moving back to the Philippines. If it is a mistake, then I will gladly take the consequences -- but it will be in my own terms, not his. I don't remember giving out a memo that asked everybody else to drink my Kool Aid anyway ;-). So if it's cool with y'all, I'll just keep on being "weird" and embrace my "misplaced nationalism." (And that's the extent of my rant over that little kerfuffle. How's that for maturity? Take that, immaturity!)

Thankfully, the people whose opinions matter have all been supportive. They're hurting, but they're supportive. As I am hurting, but happy to be going back home anyway.

As I stand at this precipice before I take yet another leap of faith, I do not see the depth of the jump. All around me I see the Lord's hands enveloping me and keeping me close...and having a wonderfully strong husband with me doesn't hurt either ;-). There is no vertigo, only excitement.

And so to those back home, as well as those I will be leaving behind...see you soon. :-)

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Must. Keep. This. In. Mind.

Read this again in the midst of doing research for work. Good to remember...trying to keep my sanity...trying, trying, trying...

Desiderata
(Max Ehrmann; 1920)

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

"Drawing on my fine command of the English language, I said nothing."

According to my Gmail Funny Quote for the day, that was said by Robert Benchley. I just found it funny and appropriate, especially because that's exactly how I feel today.

I've made the decision to go back home. I wrote this long entry to explain why and I found myself getting frustrated because the more I explained, the more I sounded like I was defending my decision. And I'm sick and tired of defending my decision -- like it was such an awful decision.

So no, I'm not going into it today. I'm sick and I'm in excruciating pain (no worries, this happens every month). So I don't trust that I shall be as, er, nice (?) if I start writing about it now. I feel as if I would be spewing out an unfortunate amount of vitriol -- and I wouldn't know if it would be because of certain individuals who think that their notion of happiness fits in with mine, or it would be just the pain (or the pain meds, hehe) talking.

So know only this for now: I'm going back home. I really don't want to talk about it right now. I just want to say it out loud so that it will become real and I can own the happiness that comes from this decision. My declaration of my intent to go home is my big "*bleep* you" to those who think they know how to live my life better than I. (And I know it's a little futile, since they won't be able to read this anyway, but it's the thought that counts, lol.)

More details to follow, I promise.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

I. Do. NOT. Want. To. Be. Here.

At all.

So I have to fill out these forms for my OPT (Optional Practical Training) which will allow me to stay another 365 days more after I graduate. And I am upset. Because (1) I *hate* filling out forms, (2) it's going to cost $340 to just file the friggin' thing, and most importantly, (3) I do not want to be here anyway. I am frustrated and angry and upset because I am exerting so much effort and I will be shelling out a lot of money to do something I don't want to do anyway!!!

Excuse me, I know I try not to cuss in my entries, pero t*ngina talaga e -- nakikita n'yo ba yung kabalintunaan dito? Then why am I doing this, you may ask?

Because life isn't just about me anymore. Life is about how my actions and decisions -- or decisions made for me -- will affect those around me. Because I am trapped in the mindset that being in the US is the best friggin' place to be, that the ultimate aspiration is to become a US citizen, that being here is a step towards eternal wealth, that working here is the only way I will ever be rich, that being rich is the way to go.

Who cares if I'm miserable in this godforsaken country? Who cares if every time I dream of the future, I am always -- ALWAYS -- back home? Who cares if the only time I was ever truly happy was when I was teaching back home? Who cares? Who the f*ck cares?!?!

I do.

And this is why I'm sorry, but I cannot be pleasant anymore. I cannot keep telling myself to keep looking at the friggin' silver lining. I cannot put on a smile to make you feel comfortable. I cannot pretend to be OK with everything just so you'll still be able to think that this is what is best for me.

I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE.

Excuse me while I cry and cuss and scream a little.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Yet Another Attack on Homosexuals -- Beyonce's Music: Extremely Gay

http://worldofalbert.multiply.com/reviews/item/118
I don't know how big this will become, but I cannot NOT say anything after reading this man's review.

I'm bracing myself. *sigh*

In case he decides to put down his review or limit access to it, here's what he said:

"Is it me or is Beyonce catering herself more and more to the gay community? It all started with her breakout hit "Crazy In Love." From its intro of "tan tanantantanan" to the opening lyrics of "uh oh uh oh oh oh oh," Crazy In Love has gay written all over it. Add to that, the disturbing sight of cross dressing baklitas imitating the Beyonce dance move of pumping their chests against each other while shaking their sexually-compromised asses. Then came the "To the left, to the left" song (the title of which slipped through my mind) which became a heavy favorite among the third sex.

Gays love songs with annoying high notes (birit) so Beyonce dished out her vocal acrobatics with "Listen" from the OST of Dream Girls, which is a very gay movie by the way.

Her latest album entitled "I Am Sasha Pierce" (or is it "My Name is Sasha Pierce...whatever it is, what I'm sure of, it has a gay sounding title) sealed Beyonce's fate as the new gay icon. The album spawned two hits, "If I Were A Boy" and "Single Ladies."

Listening to If I Were A Boy could gravely demoralize the heart and soul of a young man. More so singing to it can severly compromise the testosterone level of a straight guy. Watching the music video of Single Ladies at MTV Philippines recently, with that choreography and bitchy gay facial expression, it almost led me to believe that Beyonce is a homosexual guy trapped in a woman's body.

On a final note, I have four words for you, Beyonce...

YOU ARE SO GAY!"


And this was my reply:

"I stumbled upon your review because you posted a portion of it in Pinoy Kami. While I certainly respect your opinion, I am uncomfortable with the automatic negativity that you equate with what you perceive to be "gay." And before you say that you have gay friends and so on, know that I am making this assumption because you gave a low rating (1 star) to what you say is "gay" about Beyonce's music. I would go on to say that you make several hasty generalizations that don't necessarily ring true for all homosexual individuals -- but I really want to limit myself to (a) disagreeing with your review, and (b) asking that you be a little more careful and sensitive with your words.

Again, I respect your opinion as it is your own. This is your own Web site after all. But you posted a portion of it in a public forum, and it was my assumption that you did not mind unwarranted reactions. My intent is not to offend -- nor start a debate, actually -- but perhaps shed some light into what I hope will be an intelligent discussion.

Pax."

Sunday, January 11, 2009

It's official...

...when you watch movie after movie after movie on the Lifetime Network, and you find yourself rooting for the mom and not the angsty teenager -- it's official: You're old.

Oi. I sooooo don't want to raise my kids in this country. :p

Friday, January 2, 2009

...because they will have funny looking sunglasses in 2010


This was an especially difficult year for a lot of reasons, but it also ushered in a lot of new friendships and the promise for a more hopeful beginning.

2009 is our make-or-break year. Big decisions will have to be made this year, decisions that will ultimately affect how the rest of our lives will pan out. Aside from starting the year without my husband by my side (sad!), I step into 2009 with a lot of trepidation, hope, and faith.

(Picture taken from here.)

1. Was 2008 good for you? Yes and no actually. It was a tough year to be in the US -- but we made such great friends this year and that definitely takes the sting out of a lot of things.

2. What was your favorite moment of the year? Whenever Chaddy and I went on date nights, the road trip to MD/NY and back, cooking a fantastic meal that a lot of people enjoy.

3. What was your worst moment of the year? Whenever I check on the balance of my checking account. LOL.

4. Where were you when 2008 began? At home with my family.

5. Who were you with? Parents, brother, and husband.

6. Where will you be when 2008 ends? I was with my family again, but Chaddy was back in the PI. :-(

7. Did you keep your New Year's resolution of 2008? No, I don't believe in making them for the year. I am a constant work in progress, each day presents itself with an opportunity to change.

8. Do you have a New Year's resolution for 2009? Nope. More of a bunch of hopes. 2009 will be a year for making huge life decisions.

9. Did you fall in love in 2008? Yes.

10. If yes, with who? With my husband, over and over again. :-)

11. Are you still in love? Yes.

12. Did you breakup with anyone in 2008? Yes, with my compulsive need to shop. I've definitely become more mature with my purchases, LOL! I am far from perfect (ugh, don't get me started with Amazon.com!) but I'm definitely working on it.

13. Did you make any new friends in 2008? Oh, most definitely. Really good friends, too.

14. Did you travel outside your home country in 2008? I don't live in my home country.

15. Did you miss anybody this year? Everybody back in my home country.

16. What was your favorite movie that you saw in 2008? Oh, man. There's no way I can pick just one. Lars and the Real Girl, Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist, Wall-E, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button...

17. What was your favorite song from 2008? It's not from 2008, but it definitely has been my anthem for the year. Cynthia Alexander's Comfort In Your Strangeness.

18. How many concerts or plays did you see in 2008? 2 plays and numerous choral concerts.

19. Did you have a favorite concert in 2008? The one in Calvin with the Capella and ACS.

20. What was your favorite book in 2008? I honestly don't know! Too many.

22. How many people did you sleep with in 2008? Just one. :-)

23. Did you do anything you are ashamed of this year? I can't even think of a year when I did NOT do anything I was ashamed of! LOL!

24. What was the biggest lie you told in 2008? "I'm OK."

25. Did you treat somebody badly in 2008? I came across a few pricks this year, so I honestly hope I did. ;p

26. Did somebody treat you badly in 2008? Yes, but it wasn't anybody that mattered.

27. What was your proudest moment of 2008? Lasting the year.

28. What was your most embarrassing moment of 2008? I'm not sure...

29. If you could go back to any moment of 2008 and change something, what would it be? Not putting aside more time to read. I bought several books this year that I haven't even begun to read!

30. Where did you work in 2008? Johnson Center for Philanthropy.

31. Favorite TV shows(s) of 2008? Grey's Anatomy, Brothers and Sisters, House, Jon and Kate Plus 8.

32. Favorite Band(s) of 2008? No bands, more of singer/songwriters.

33. Favorite Food in 2008? The cilantro rice I make. Yummmm.

34. Favorite Drink in 2008? Grey Goose and cranberry juice.

35. Favorite Place in 2008? "The Batcave." LOL.

36. Favorite person(s) to be with in 2008 aside from family? Our friends here.

37. Favorite person(s) to talk with in 2008? There was no single person, but a bunch of them.

38. Hardest thing you had to go through in 2008? Not having financial security. (This economy sucks.)

39. Most exciting moment(s) in 2008? Obama winning!!!

40. Funniest moment(s) in 2008? Daily banter with Chaddy.

41. A valuable life lesson you learned in 2008: "Be still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

No, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus.

By now, most of you have probably already heard about that poor Wal Mart worker who was trampled to death last (Black) Friday. In the midst of all the fingerpointing as to who should be held liable -- I dare say, or at least, I dare point my finger at those people who actually trampled on him. Que se joda to those who were driven by greed. Yes, I understand that times are tough, that's why people get like that in the face of a big sale. But the fact that you can still shop tells me that you are not in the brink of death due to poverty. If you're poor or "feeling the credit crunch" then how's this for size: DON'T SHOP. Save your money for something more important. Or if you must shop, remember what the real act of giving is all about. This isn't what Christmas is about. If I had known that somebody got me a gift this way, I'd eat it up and vomit it back out in front of them. This is how much this story disgusts me. What a senseless and sickening death. I am beyond livid.

The other day, my husband and I dropped by the local grocery to pick up a few things. There was a guy ahead of us in the check out line. He looked disshevelled, a little dirty, and he looked like he was going through a crunch or two (or ten.) In his hand, he had two items: a cheap 12.99 watch (that actually looked kinda pretty) and one of those scented lotion/shampoo/soap kits. When he was about to pay, he held out all the coupons he managed to gather before paying for the remainder of the total bill. It almost broke my heart because he looked like he didn't have a lot of money, but he still managed to get something pretty for two very lucky women in his life. This is what Christmas is about.

No, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus. There is no beatific, plump, white-haired dude up north ready to reward you for being good. (Yeah, I was that kid in grade school who made the other kids cry because I told them so.)

I look further up, beyond the North Pole, beyond the skies, beyond the stars. Jesus does not always reward me for being good (well, because I'm not always good...) because he doesn't work that way. He doesn't reward and punish based on our meager understanding of reward and punishment. But get this: he loves me despite the fact that I am not good. He died for me. This is my "reward" -- my undeserved reward.

This is what Christmas is about for me. You may have a different god from me, you may call him a different name, but I refuse to think that rabid shopping is what Christmas is all about.

No, no, no, no.

Monday, December 1, 2008

Happiness is a New Box of Crayons

It's that time of the semester again. Ugh. I'm actually doing good time, though. All I have left is one major paper to do, but it's a monster one. I have to make a 12-page theoretical criticism on how magic realism furthers post-colonial Philippine culture's attempt to redefine national identity. (Whew, that was the first time I actually wrote down my topic.) I know. Guh. Much as I would like to do otherwise, I don't have anyone to blame but myself because I thought of the topic myself, hehehe.

Anyhoo, I just wanted to make a quick post because in the midst of all the stress, I managed to find one "weeeee!" moment (ala Liesl Von Trapp when she had her first kiss). I had to submit a project inside an envelope that looks like a house for one of my classes (don't ask, it's too convoluted to explain.) I found myself, on my second to the last semester in grad school, needing crayons to finish a project that looks like something I would assign to my students.

Oh, I can't tell you how excited I was to buy my new crayons! There were so many kinds to choose from! (Do you know that apparently, you can roll them up ala lipstick now so that they won't break or you won't have to peel the paper off when they get stubby??? I know, right?!?!). But I went back to my roots and went old school -- my only concession to high-tech-ness is the now-un-high-tech sharpener attachment.

But -- there really is a certain magic in opening a new box of crayons. All the pretty colors, all of them still clean, all in a neat row...happiness. :-)

So I share my fleeting moment of happiness with all of you. I'll allow myself to work like a madwoman starting tomorrow, but for now, I'd like to be babaw and just enjoy this moment. Enjoy it with me. :-)


P.S. I know I'm too old for stuffed toys, but I can't let go of about 5 of them. These two, Mumble and Grover, are especially dear to me since my then-boyfriend-now-husband gave them to me in a really awesome way. They add an extra dose of happiness. :-)

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Principle vs. Principal

OK, I've tried to calm down. I took a shower. I'm a little calmer. I'm more frustrated now than mad.

I have a class this semester that is driving me nuts. Theoretically, it sounds super. It's called Teaching Writing, and we talk about the different strategies to effectively teach our students to write well. Nice, diba? The problem is, my classmates are idiots. OK, not all of them are idiots. Some of them are just lazy buffoons and I have no idea why they're even teaching.

Breathe. Breathe. I'm resorting to name calling, I know this. Must. Be. Rational. Must qualify these angry feelings with logical reasons. (Must. Stop. Talking. Like Captain Kirk.)

So anyway, unlike my other Educ and Lit classes, all my classmates here are also English teachers. I had high hopes that I would engage in lively debates and discussions regarding the different paradigms we adopt in our classrooms. But alas -- oh, alack! -- my classmates are idiots severely uninformed. No, that's not it. If that were so, then I'd pity them. No, they're amazingly lazy. They're lazy thinkers, that's what.

OK, OK, back to the story: Our professor gave us a bunch of sentences to look over. The sentences were from past New York Times articles. Apparently, some of those sentences had not-so-obvious errors, and they were able to make it to the published version of the newspaper. Our task, then, was to spot those errors and correct them. (Yes, I will post those sentences in another blog post. Maybe tomorrow.) English nerds like me just love this stuff, so I pounced on those sentences with glee.

After going through those sentences on our own, we all discussed the changes we made. One of the sentences was this one:

She said that the jury had been told the principle purpose of the enterprise, as the indictment charged, was to generate money for the detectives, through legal and illegal activities.

The error in the sentence was the word "principle" -- instead, it should have been "principAL." We went on to the next sentence...when all of a sudden, one of my classmates (henceforth called she-who-started-it-all) said,

"Wait. There was nothing wrong in that sentence!"

"I know! I think there's an error with the error," said another classmate (who thought she was being oh-so-witty -- OK, I shall stop with the sarcastic name calling...).

*Mild laughter from the class.*

"No, it really should be 'principal' -- with an 'A-L,' " said the teacher.

"But they weren't even talking about a school, so how could there be a principal?" said she-who-started-it-all.

***At this point, I would like to pause to eject expletives off air. Cue the elevator music.***

Dude, pare, chong naman o...Grabe, diba??? Diba? DIBA?

DIBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA???

"Principle is like a belief, like you what you believe in," my teacher said calmly. (Really, I didn't know how she remained so calm. I'd be sputtering my words in disbelief at this point.)

"Yeah, but principal is like, the head of the school!" said another classmate.

ANUBAAAAAH. PANGINOON, KUNIN N'YO NA PO AKO!!!

At that point, I calmly (I swear, I tried to be calm, even my seatmate, who knew how pissed I was, said she was impressed) said, "Principal means lead, head, or foremost. That's why the principal is called the principal, because he or she is the head of the school."

"Oh, I didn't know that," said she-who-started-it-all. "Well aren't you a Ms. Snooty Know-It-All?" she said half-jokingly. (See, she started with the name calling...)

*More laughter from the class.*

Breathe, just breathe. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...Oh screw it.

It's no use...here it is, folks. Brace yourselves:
No, I wasn't being snooty. I was being frikken' CORRECT. I refuse to feel bad because I was correct. I didn't tell you that you were a dumb broad and that you shouldn't be in a classroom -- although I should have. well, maybe not in those terms -- so don't call me snooty, biatch. Who do you think you are??? Why am I being called out for something that we should know! We're English teachers for crying out loud! I'd understand if there were, I dunno, Math teachers in the room. (But I'm willing to bet that my other Math teacher friends would know the difference anyway.) But this...THIS?!?! It's not like pondering on the exact value of mfing pi!!! (Wait, does such a value exist? I dunno, I'm not a Math teacher...which brings me to my point...GAAAAAH!!!)

I can't believe that people like you teach!!! And I can't believe that I was in a room full of English teachers and not a single person backed me up!!! Didn't anybody else know of this??? Am I -- the minority, the one who did not grow up in America, the one whose first language is NOT English
-- am I the only one who knew this???

The fact that you are teaching and my husband cannnot is beyond unfair!!! My husband is far more intelligent, compassionate, and appreciative of our vocations as teachers!!! And he can't teach because he has no papers, but YOU can??? You awful, turdish, ludicrous woman!!! We've been in this country for so long and we can't find work because people like you are the ones these schools prefer??? ARE YOU FRIKKEN' KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!?!


My friends (McCain mode...), I apologize for my tirade. And no, I didn't say these things to her. I just tried to swallow my anger as best I could, and proceeded to yell in the car, on the way home.

But as you can see, this goes beyond her idiocy. I am angry at what she represents: I am angry at the school system, I am angry at the fact that my poor husband has been out of work all this time because of this. THIS. THIS.

I miss home. I miss my school. I miss my co-workers. I miss the gazebo. I miss my friends. I miss my friends in the gazebo who would understand my frustration and not think that I was overreacting (well, maybe they would, but they know that's how I am and they'll love me anyway). I miss my girl friends who would share my frustration, who would see that this is pain speaking, not anger. This is the pain that comes from seeing my husband being rejected over, and over, and over again because no school wants to sponsor him ("We can't at this time." BOVINE POOP.) This the pain that comes from him feeling bad when it's really not his fault. This is the pain that comes from seeing him trying to keep it together for me. And this is the pain that comes from trying to keep it together for him.

Peace out, folks. I'm too upset to close this rant with a witty remark. I'm spent. Don't worry, I'll feel better tomorrow. I just needed to let it out.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Good, and Now Back to Work: Avoiding Cynicism and Overconfidence in the Age of Obama by Tim Wise

Another entry from Tim Wise's blog.

. . . . .

Good, and Now Back to Work: Avoiding Cynicism and Overconfidence in the Age of Obama
by Tim Wise

Tonight, after Barack Obama was confirmed as the nation's president-elect, I looked in on my children, as they lay sleeping. Though they are about as politically astute as kids can be, having reached only the ages of 7 and 5, there is no way they will be able to truly appreciate what has just happened in the land they call home. They do not possess the sense of history, or indeed, even a clear understanding of what history means, so as to adequately process what happened this evening, as they slumbered. Even as our oldest cast her first grade vote for Obama in school today, and even as our youngest has become somewhat notorious for pointing to pictures of Sarah Palin on magazines and saying, "There's that crazy lady who hates polar bears," they remain, still, naive as to the nation they have inherited. They do not really understand the tortured history of this place, especially as regards race. Oh they know more than most--to live as my children makes it hard not to--but still, the magnitude of this occasion will likely not catch up to them until Barack Obama is finishing at least his first, if not his second term as president.

But that's OK. Because I know what it means, and will make sure to tell them.

And before detailing what I perceive that meaning to be (both its expansiveness and limitations) let me say this, to some of those on the left--some of my friends and longtime compatriots in the struggle for social justice--who yet insist that there is no difference between Obama and McCain, between Democrats and Republicans, between Biden and Palin: Screw you.

If you are incapable of mustering pride in this moment, and if you cannot appreciate how meaningful this day is for millions of black folks who stood in lines for up to seven hours to vote, then your cynicism has become such an encumbrance as to render you all but useless to the liberation movement. Indeed, those who cannot appreciate what has just transpired are so eaten up with nihilistic rage and hopelessness that I cannot but think that they are a waste of carbon, and actively thieving oxygen that could be put to better use by others.

This election does indeed matter. No, it is not the same as victory against the forces of injustice, and yes, Obama is a heavily compromised candidate, and yes, we will have to work hard to hold him accountable. But it matters nonetheless that he, and not the bloodthirsty bomber McCain, or the Christo-fascist, Palin, managed to emerge victorious.

Those who say it doesn't matter weren't with me on the south side of Chicago this past week, surrounded by a collection of amazing community organizers who go out and do the hard work every day of trying to help create a way out of no way for the marginalized. All of them know that an election is but a part of the solution, a tactic really, in a larger struggle of which they are a daily part; and none of them are so naive as to think that their jobs are now to become a cakewalk because of the election of Barack Obama. But all of them were looking forward to this moment. They haven't the luxury of believing in the quixotic campaigns of Dennis Kucinich, or waiting around for the Green Party to get its act together and become something other than a pathetic caricature, symbolized by the utterly irrelevant and increasingly narcissistic presence of Ralph Nader on the electoral scene. And while Cynthia McKinney remains a pivotal figure in the struggle, the party to which she was tethered this year shows no more ability to sustain movement activity than it was eight years ago, and most everyone working in oppressed communities in this nation knows it.

It's like this y'all: Jesse Jackson was weeping openly on national television. This is a man who was with Dr. King when he was murdered and he was bawling like a baby. So don't tell me this doesn't matter.

John Lewis--who had his head cracked open, has been arrested more times, and has probably spilled far more blood for the cause of justice than all the white, dreadlocked, self-proclaimed anarchists in this country combined--couldn't be more thrilled at what has happened. If he can see it, then frankly, who the hell are we not to?

Those who say this election means nothing, who insist that Obama, because he cozied up to Wall Street, or big business, is just another kind of evil no different than any other, are in serious risk of political self-immolation, and it is a burning they will richly deserve. That the victorious presidential candidate is actually a capitalist (contrary to the fevered imaginations of the right) is no more newsworthy than the fact that rain falls down and grass grows skyward. It is to be properly placed in the "no shit Sherlock," file. That anyone would think it possible for someone who didn't raise hundreds of millions of dollars to win--at this time in our history at least--only suggests that some on the left would prefer to engage politics from a place of aspirational innocence, rather than in the real world, where battles are won or lost.

So let us be clear as to what tonight meant:

It was a defeat for the right-wing echo chamber and its rhetorical stormtroopers, foremost among them Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity and Glenn Beck.

It was a defeat for the crazed mobs ever-present at McCain/Palin rallies, what with their venomous libels against Obama, their hate-addled brains spewing forth one after another racist and religiously chauvinistic calumny upon his head and those of his supporters.

It was a defeat for the internet rumor-pimps who insisted to all they could reach with a functioning e-mail address that Obama was not really a citizen. Or perhaps he was, but he was a Muslim, or perhaps not a Muslim, but probably a black supremacist, or maybe not that either, but surely the anti-christ, and most definitely a baby-killer.

It was a defeat for those who believed McCain and Palin would be delivered the victory by the hand of almighty God, because their theological and eschatological vacuity so regularly gets in the way of their ability to think. As such, it was a setback for the religious fascists in the far-right Christian community whose belief that God is on their side has always made them especially dangerous. Now, having lost, perhaps at least some of these will be forced to ponder what went wrong. If we're lucky, perhaps some will suffer the kind of crisis of faith that often prefaces a complete nervous breakdown. Either way, it's nice just to ruin their Young-Earth-Creationist-I-Have-an-Angel-on-My-Shoulder day.

It was a defeat for the demagogues who tried in so many ways to push the buttons of white racism--the old-fashioned kind, or what I call Racism 1.0--by using thinly-veiled racialized language throughout the campaign. Appeals to Joe Six-Pack, "values voters," blue-collar voters, or hockey moms, though never explicitly racialized, were transparent to all but the most obtuse, as were terms like "terrorist" when used to describe Obama. Likewise, the attempt to race-bait the economic crisis by blaming it on loans to poor folks of color through the Community Reinvestment Act, or community activists like the folks at ACORN, failed, and this matters. No, it doesn't mean that white America has rejected racism. Indeed, I have been quite deliberate for months about pointing out the way that racism 1.0 may be traded in only to be replaced by racism 2.0 (which allows whites to still view most folks of color negatively but carve out exceptions for those few who make us feel comfortable and who we see as "different"). And yet, that tonight was a drubbing for that 1.0 version of racism still matters.

And tonight was a victory for a few things too.

It was a victory for youth, and their social and political sensibilities. It was the young, casting away the politics of their parents and even grandparents, and turning the corner to a new day, perhaps naively, and too optimistic about the road from here, but nonetheless in a way that has historically almost always been good for the country. Much as youth were inspired by a relatively moderate John F. Kennedy (who was, on balance, far less progressive than Obama in many ways), and much as they then formed the frontline troops for so much of the social justice activism of the following fifteen years, so too can such a thing be forseen now. That Kennedy may have been quite restrained in his social justice sensibilities did not matter: the young people whose energy he helped unleash took things in their own direction and outgrew him rather quickly in their progression to the left.

Tonight was also a victory for the possibility of greater cross-racial alliance building. Although Obama failed to win most white votes, and although it is no doubt true that many of the whites who did vote for him nonetheless hold to any number of negative and racist stereotypes about the larger black and brown communities of this nation, it it still the case that black, brown and white worked together in this effort as they have rarely done before. And many whites who worked for Obama, precisely because they got to see, and hear, and feel the racist vitriol still animating far too many of our nation's people, will now be wiser for the experience when it comes to understanding how much more work remains to be done on the racial justice front. Let us build on that newfound knowledge, and that newfound energy, and create real white allyship with community-based leaders of color as we move forward in the years to come.

But now for the other side of things.

First and foremost, please know that none of these victories will amount to much unless we do that which needs to be done so as to turn a singular event about one man, into a true social movement (which, despite what some claim, it is not yet and has never been).

And so it is back to work. Oh yes, we can savor the moment for a while, for a few days, perhaps a week. But well before inauguration day we will need to be back on the job, in the community, in the streets, where democracy is made, demanding equity and justice in places where it hasn't been seen in decades, if ever. Because for all the talk of hope and change, there is nothing--absolutely, positively nothing--about real change that is inevitable. And hope, absent real pressure and forward motion to actualize one's dreams, is sterile and even dangerous. Hope, absent commitment is the enemy of change, capable of translating to a giving away of one's agency, to a relinquishing of the need to do more than just show up every few years and push a button or pull a lever.

This means hooking up now with the grass roots organizations in the communities where we live, prioritizing their struggles, joining and serving with their constituents, following leaders grounded in the community who are accountable not to Barack Obama, but the people who helped elect him. Let Obama follow, while the people lead, in other words.

For we who are white it means going back into our white spaces and challenging our brothers and sisters, parents, neighbors, colleagues and friends--and ourselves--on the racial biases that still too often permeate their and our lives, and making sure they know that the success of one man of color does not equate to the eradication of systemic racial inequity.

So are we ready for the heavy lifting? This was, after all, merely the warmup exercise, somewhat akin to stretching before a really long run. Or perhaps it was the first lap, but either way, now the baton has been handed to you, to us. We must not, cannot, afford to drop it. There is too much at stake.

The worst thing that could happen now would be for us to go back to sleep; to allow the cool poise of Obama's prose to lull us into slumber like the cool on the underside of the pillow. For in the light of day, when fully awake, it becomes impossible not to see the incompleteness of the task so far.

So let us begin.