Race

White people suck man. like really.

I feel like this semester has primarily served to floor me with the great sins of my forefathers. Between The Autobiography of Malcolm X (by the way, really not that revolutionary. definitely played up substantially by the media. kinda like Rev Wright’s statements have been as of late), Native Son (by Richard White), and learning about the Black Atlantic world in Literature of the African Diaspora, I am truly ashamed to be white. I don’t think this is the intention of any of my teachers, nor the point of any classes. Lies My Teacher Told Me has also been instrumental in helping me see the ways I have been truly kept ignorant. We talk about racism a lot in my Multicultural American Lit class. It fits in quite well, with just about everything in life.

Even on campus, I’ve been much more aware of it.

And even if it isn’t blatant racism, theres still a lot of racism in the system, or else we wouldn’t look the way we do. My theory behind racism is that you should be interacting so personally with all the people around you, no races should be excluded, and you’ll know that you have truly succeeded when it takes a survey to tell you that there are no differences in the white and non-white experience wherever you are. that you wouldn’t know off the top of your head when someone asked you, you’d have to think about it, and then not be completely sure…

I don’t really have any other profound thoughts.

oh. to add to my first paragraph list:

in LAD, we’ve learned a bit about colonization of the African coast (and the religious colonization as well), the trans-atlantic slave trade, slavery in the states (including black slave-owners), the oppression that comes from the double conciousness of the black experience all over the Americas (not just US), and now we’re moving to South Africa to deal with Apartheid. Fucking white people. At least the apartheid is less divided along racial lines. Granted I doubt there were many pro-apartheid Black or Coloured protests, but at least there was white participation in the anti-apartheid movement.

And then the situations of the black ghettos… truly break my heart. well. maybe not truly. because even from reading from multiple perspectives, i doubt i even begin to grasp the correct concepts. or the complexities of it all. or the desperation that must ensue from hopelessness. shit man. shit. if i was less lazy i’d pull out some of the books i’m reading as to grab quotes.

i’m ready for some fighting. some protest. some Cause. Don’t know where I’m going. Don’t know where I’ll end up. Don’t know what will sweep me off my feet. Or if I’ll slowly fade into NormalLife, find NiceGuy, and settle down. i’m sure i’ll be loving people. probably working with kids. but is that settling?

next possible post: GENDER (and why i hate being female/being defined by ovaries/breasts)

For now at least, I know.

I know that I have written this many times before. And I know that I will write this many times again. But I guess, my hope is, that in me writing it down this time, I will remember just a little longer, than I remembered the time before.

I want to go to Africa. I want to address inequalities.

Although I enjoy debates in my International Organizations class, and I am incensed by the racial inequalities in the country where I live now, nothing makes me cry like Africa.

I am very justice oriented. I do not think it is fair that I was born in an upper-middle class family and am now attending a private Christian college. I did nothing to deserve that. I am who I am, partly from my own striving to become who I want to be, but also partly because that is who society has shaped me to be, and partly because that’s who God needs me to be.

My best friend Gillian gave me a placard for Christmas this year that reads “She believed she could, so she did”. My aunt Tracy gave me a card when I left for school with a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson “Be not the slave of your own past- plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep and swim far, so you shall come back with self-respect, with new power, with an advanced experience, that shall explain and overlook the old.”

On and off, I’ve been enchanted with the idea of abandoning everything. Of joining a community in an impoverished part of a town, and just living there, loving people. It still sounds wonderful, but as much as certain policies piss me off in America, people don’t die by the thousands of preventable diseases daily here. Even in my proposed living area, I would not be surrounded by that drastic reality.

Shaine Claiborne is very convincing, and I still might follow his footsteps for a few years. Maybe a few months, just so that I will know.

But I do not think that my heart will let me live my life without also looking at Jena Lee. Without seeing Bono. Without reading Jeffrey Sachs. Sustainable development in third-world countries. Drinkable water for God’s sake. For God’s sake. That is really what its about. How Can I Not?

I don’t understand it. I don’t like it. It breaks my heart.

And this is how I know, for now at least, without any qualms or doubts. That I have to be a part of the solution.

In the meantime I will continue trying to save electricity, ride the city bus, recycle, and turn my printer off when its not in use. But I do that because its easy and theres no good reason not to. I do kinda want a world around in 20 years for me to continue saving. J

But until then, I will keep praying. And I will keep hoping. And I will keep loving. Because that is really all we can do without something bigger to hop onto.

Shaine Claiborne

Tonight, I left my Leadership Development in Ministry class early, well, we did as a large group, and we went to the packed multipurpose room in the HUB, to hear Shaine Claiborne speak. He was this amazing speaker. it just made you smile, listening to him. I love hearing passionate people speak, you can just hear it in their voices.

I almost wish i had taken notes, because sitting here, i’m at a loss at where to begin. or even exactly what he said. he talked about his time in Iraq. He went with a team of doctors, nurses, and other people, to tell Iraqis, that not all Americans support their lives being bombed. That some Americans believe in love, above “patriotism” and “freedom”. that love wins. They were in Baghdad, and the US would bomb every night. They would go to the sites the next morning, and just try to help out, and to love on people.

Wow. I really do want to go out and change the world even more now. I kinda also want to live in  a ghetto even more now. Just for a little. Or maybe the rest of my life.

I left this post half written, and i kinda lost my train of thought and inspiration…

so hopefully i will restart writing on this more.

i kinda just stopped there for a while.

dialogue with Lindsey, (with a little artistic license that comes from deeper reflection)

What do you want most in life? what does your heart yearn for?

I want most, to live in a world, where there is no more hurt. Where I could walk out to the front door, peer out on an endless savannah, valley, ocean, or plain, and smile inside, because I would know that there was nothing out there in the world that would make my heart break any more. I want most to live in a world where people’s hearts aren’t breaking. Where children are living. Where parents aren’t being separated by an affair, a lack of mutual interest, or a deadly disease. Where kids can play and laugh and smile, without fear of anything. Where there is enough food for everyone, and no one has enough to make them hoarde more. The kingdom of heaven is now, and here, and i want it. the potential for it at least is here. I want to seek it. I want to know it.

I want to live in a house full of love and joy. Of bright vibrant colors. Of books. Of art. Of things other than plastics. I want children around, lots of them. They don’t need to all be mine, in fact I would prefer not having to give birth ten times, they can be neighbors. they can be friends. but they must be running and giggling and laughing and playing. I want them to put on plays with silly costumes. I want them to make me great artistic masterpieces. I want them to journey to far off lands and come home for dinner to tell me all about it.

I want my world to be whole. But I don’t want to live in a cocoon. I don’t want to ignore the pain and suffering that makes me cry when I see it. I cry so much more for the world around me than for myself. I think two nights ago was the first time I’ve cried for me since Christmas. I cry for poverty. I cry for broken families. I cry for African slums in pictures. I cry for injustice. I don’t cry for death. I cry for the living.

I want my life to be a garden. I want our lives to be the garden.

There has to be something that I can do. It cannot be enough for me to be happy. can it?

what do you want in a husband? do you want someone who shares your passion? or someone who stands to the side and admires it?

I want. I want.. I don’t know what I want. I want to be in control. I don’t like losing control ever. If there is not someone whom I trust implicitly watching out for me, and keeping me safe from the world but also myself, then I will revert to being in control, and guarded. I want my heart to be free because I know that it is safe. I want my husband to protect my heart, but lets it still beat, and lets it still feel, even if it hurts. I help heal through empathy. When you hurt, and you come to me, the best thing I can do for you, is empathize, and take some of your pain upon me. And sometimes it does physically hurt inside. But that is how I heal. I am a wounded healer after the heart of Donald Miller in To Own a Dragon. If we are both equally passionate, then I don’t know that I can trust him to watch over both our hearts. I want him to know my passions, and know why they are my passions, and share in them that way, yes. but i also would like him to be constant, and steady, and always trustworthy.

If you guys did end up breaking up, what would you do?

I don’t know. I really don’t know. And I don’t know who or what kind of guy I would date next. I don’t know all that many Christian men that I would want myself to marry. I don’t really trust them I don’t think. (another legacy of my father)  who would be strong enough to let me be me? who would be strong enough to protect me without being authoritarian? who would be strong enough that he wouldn’t need the “well, I’m the man in this relationship, so you should submit to me”? (sidenote-If I trusted you, then I would submit to you because I wanted your help or advice. I know I’m emotional and passionate and don’t always think things through, but that doesn’t mean that I’m stupid or unable to make intelligent decisions.) It seems like most everyone (male) that I’ve seen living or attempting to live as good little Christians, have just been boys. And the men in my life… the best Men that I have known have been blasphemous ex-marines. The worst examples? have been in the church. Barry, you don’t count for this really, because I didn’t really see you around Erin all that much, but I’ve heard you say things that proved your love for her a thousand times over. But I don’t really know how you guys work. And I dunno, I think you kinda kept the girls at arms length in Turnpike, and i never was quite sure why. Honestly, I’m more scared of a “religious” marriage, a “religious” husband, than living as an unwed mother or marrying (gasp, God forbid!) a Unitarian.

I’m not afraid of work. I’m not afraid of being poor. I’m not even afraid of being alone. I’m not afraid of living. I am afraid of forgetting. I am afraid of choosing wrong. I am afraid of being trapped.

so maybe lindsey was just the catalyst… seeing as I didn’t say most of this to her…

unknown source

I feel kind of weird writing on this blog, seeing as barry is the only person that really knows about it. at least on xanga and myspace, I had random people who were in fact reading it, or who used to read it, so I felt less like I was talking to a great abyss. I really want to start writing more regularly though, so maybe its better if I just write, and not consider who is or isn’t reading what I write.

I really should be researching slavery right now for my class. I’ve been watching Arrested Development for most of the afternoon. But then again, I also had coffee with Brian, and talked to Kelsey, so I’ve been good on my social end. I also had a good walk with Lindsay yesterday, where we both confessed to each other that we are in fact, white, and really are never going to be any other race/culture than what we are, as much as we may wish it. I wish I was African. Or South American.

Did anyone know that the US has forces in Somalia now??? Because i didn’t. I just read it offhandedly mentioned in an article on Iran. Is anyone (theoretically, of course, because no one reads this) else worried that our oh so great and mighty nation might be getting itself into a position of having FOUR wars going on. FOUR!!!!!!! in FOUR different countries, for really, FOUR different rationales. Actually they all fall under the same banner of saving the world from global terrorism.

which of course it needs so much saving from.

my favorite quotable fact: twice as many people die of AIDS every day in Africa alone, than died on September 11th.

which leads me back to the fact that I really don’t want to live in America. At all. In fact, I’m pretty sure the only way that I would concievably stay here past graduation, would be if I moved to a low-income area, and was involved in either education, education reform, or community development. Which I guess is possible, but I much prefer the idea of leaving the country permanently.

and now.

back to slavery.