no end in sight

i'm numb.


i just finished watching a brilliant film called 'no end in sight' about the american occupation of iraq and subsequent insurgency. the film presents a bleak portrait of america's involvement and the current situation based on interviews with soldiers, military leaders, journalists, iraqis, and high-ranking government officials.

the film is difficult to watch. i found myself repeatedly shocked over events and situations that i either had not heard, or had not pieced together. the lack of planning, consultation, communication between our 'leaders' in washington and people on the ground is mind-blowing. the united states had no plans after dismantling saddam. nothing. i've been told these things before, but somehow partnered with the images and sounds of iraq and put together with a compelling narrative; it struck the most powerful chord i've seen so far. there is complete lawlessness in iraq. what has our history taught us? the rise of al sadr mirrors the rise of strong men and fundamentalism throughout history that people gravitate towards when there is no stability or security. the mistakes and incompetence of our government is astounding, and the american public at large couldn't seem to care less.

it's very easy to pretend like the war is not happening. despite our upcoming election, the war in iraq has played a small role compared to 'the election' itself. america is committing some seriously fucked up atrocities and human rights violations as it occupies as iraq. the carelessness can only be explained by the prevailing notion of occupiers and colonists that those we seek to 'save' are less than human, that their lives are worthless, that they couldn't possibly participate in a true democracy, that america is certainly not there for them.

and it will be our generation that will have to live with the repercussions of this war and the blood on our hands. america has been wearing the scarlet letter of violence for so long-- think of how many we've lost to it....it might be a long time before it's gone.


"so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

What Social Justice Means to Me OR The Myth of Choosing a Career

My mother recently asked me what I would like to do with my life. What my plans are for the future, so to speak. My mother’s question is not a new one. It is a question that has been repeated over and over again with varying answers for years. This is a difficult question for me on one had because there are many things I see myself doing happily. I am still young and inexperienced and these ‘careers’ that appeal to me in theory might wind up being a whole different story in reality. From my experiences so far, this is how everything turns out. You’re attracted to something (in my case many, many somethings), you build them up in your mind, place it at the center of a fantasy, and if you’re lucky, you get a taste of that fantasy. And because the mind is such a powerful force of nature, holiness, and wonder, the reality never lives up to the fantasy. And that’s OK. Maybe it’s even a good thing. I thought nothing in the world could touch public radio until I spent a summer interning at a local station and realized that many of my hours were spent on a phone or in front of a computer screen, not at all concerned about who was listening to our program. So much for my dream of working at a ‘community’ radio station.
On the other hand, this is a very easy question to answer. The question is only difficult based on how we are expected to respond. As an educated, privileged child of a 2nd/3rd wave feminist, I’m expected to channel all of my hopes, desires, goals, dreams of greatness into a ‘career,’ to be a ‘career woman.’ But this too is its own fantasy or myth. It falls into the wife, mother, daughter, sister, lover, friend, ‘career professional’ myth of American femininity. That women can be all of these things happily, with an exceptional sense of poise and balance, all while parading down the street in 6-inch heels, not a trace of B.O., flawless skin, and not a gray hair in sight.
I tell my mom that I ultimately want to work towards my life’s passion of social justice. This passion truly began as a high school students thanks to some exceptional teachers and continued through college, and beyond to Baltimore, where I see my job as a political act, almost. My aim is to confront the forces that work to segregate, separate, and maintain inequalities based on differences such as race, class, gender, religion, sexuality, age, etc. Many people have blindfolds over their eyes based on ignorance, or the discomfort associated with confronting the realities of our unequal society. I have seen firsthand the differences that power and privilege make in education, and since education forms the basis of our civilization, inequalities in education lead to disparities elsewhere.
So when I am asked what I want to do with my life, and I say that I want to work to eliminate inequalities based on differences and the response is, ‘well, how does that fit into a career?’ it seems to be a fitting evidence in support of the myth of the career. We should be guided in our lives by principals and values, not by a cookie-cutter idea of a ‘career.’ My values and beliefs are above a job description. I do not work for an individual. I work for my students, and the higher purpose of social justice. Like anything meaningful, being good at this will take years of practice, but the ultimate goal is to confront people with the reality that many choose to ignore or feel that they cannot change. We all have an obligation to challenge, discuss, debate, question, remedy, and transcend the status quo.

So that is my plan. I think it will keep me busy for some time.

Citizen Journalism

Fascinating and informative video on citizen journalism:





more to come!

A struggle against silence

I recently read about yet another journalist who died in Iraq. This time the slain journalist is a female, 35, who was shot to death on Sunday as she was coming home from work in Mosul. She is the second female journalist killed in Mosul in the past 30 days. Her name was Zeena Shakir Mahmoud, and she wrote about women's affairs for a newspaper that was associated with the Kurdistan Democratic Party. According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, at least 109 journalists have been killed since the Iraq war began in March 2003. Mahmoud, ironically, died on "Journalist's Day."

Upon hearing of Mahmoud's death, I immediately thought of the death of Anna Politkovskaya in October of 2006. Both female, both striving relentlessly to tell the stories that otherwise wouldn't be heard, both troubled by the circumstances facing their countries, and who aimed to use writing to speak for the dead, the silenced, and the powerless. Yet despite these lofty goals, both died violent deaths, shot by cowards who ultimately know the power of words, and who believe that fear will stop those who aim to expose the powerful with blood on their hands.

News is news, and it will ultimately be reported by few, read by some, and forgotten by many. There will always be something new to read and hear about. But I cannot forget these women, even though I read neither of their work before their deaths. I strive to write in the memory of Anna Politkovskaya, Zeena Shakir Mahmoud, and every other writer and journalist who has ever died, or who will die by using their words to spread truth.

As Carlos Fuentes said, "writing is a struggle against silence," and as long as people continue to write in the pursuit of truth, who refuse to let fear cripple and deaden their senses, the voices of slain writers will never be silenced.

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