How do you change the world?
Ask a handful of people this question, and you'll surely receive a diverse set of answers. Is it even possible?
I've been called a passionate person probably more times throughout my life than I have hairs on my head. It's true, I am passionate, but I've always translated my passion as common sense. Why wouldn't you be passionate about something you believe in, about something you care about? Isn't everyone passionate?Yes! But, passion about the uncomfortable tends to be assigned a category, and tends to be explained. It needs to be given an excuse.
Working to change and end an oppressive system aint easy, especially when I live, and often times thrive, in that same system that irks me so much. Trying to tell someone that the ideas and actions that they know so well, that are second nature to them, are oppressive and hateful; That the systems that are set up to protect and govern their lives are actually hurting us all, isn't a trip to the beach. What do you do to something that makes you uncomfortable? You reject it. Being an activist often sets you up for a level of rejection that you wouldn't believe. People are afraid to make eye contact with you, are afraid to speak to you. They write you off as a naive trouble maker. You feel as though the entire world is on a different page. You make enemies with strangers, and strangers of the people you love.
Okay, okay. Perhaps I'm being dramatic. But, it's true. Making a life and a profession out of social change is isolating, and exhausting, despite it's many perks.
But, hey. I'm fucking passionate about you. I give a shit what you say, and how you make people feel. I always have. When your ideas, or the way you express yourself makes others unsafe, or makes others feel lesser than you are, I turn into a monster. A loud, angry monster.
I'm physically weak. I could never climb the rope in 5th grade gym, and ask me to lift more than 50 pounds as a grown ass woman, would surely embarrass us all, but I can take someone down with my words and fury faster than I know what to do with.
As I age and become a more visible, and 'professional' activist, I have had to consider my passionate expression more than ever. I've had to grapple with where I fit in, what my role in the movement is, and how that affects my identity. I've had to work on changing what it looks like, and redefine it. What allows my voice to be most effective?
How the hell do I change the world?
I'm discovering that to change the system, you have to be a part of it. As a true 'punk rock anarchist' at heart, accepting this is challenging, and even sometimes heart breaking. I always pictured myself living in protests, and doing what I want, where I want to do it because it isn't hurting anyone, and because it's my fucking space too. Learning that this set me up for more isolation, and for more rigidity from the others took a lot of painful years, and a lot of painful lessons. In the end, I want people to listen, and to hear. I want my voice to be respected, and honestly, I deeply want to do the same for others.
I still don't know what it all means. I rack my brain and my heart on a daily basis to try to figure out the balance of working within in the system to change it, and with the piece of me that isn't afraid to say the hard things, no matter who you are. After all, it took me a long time to find the courage and strength to be comfortable in speaking out, in being a strong, visible, and assertive woman, because remember, the world doesn't quickly warm to those.
I'm thinking that with more patience and time, these things will become clearer and more developed, and I'm continually grateful for the things that allow it to be so.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Thursday, April 26, 2012
being
When I write because I have to,
My fingers freeze.
My brain asks me to let it breathe
My heart asks to let it be free
So I let them
I turn off the technical,
And I turn on the natural
An ant scurries across my keyboard
Oblivious to my intentions
I’m bigger than it
Or is it bigger than me?
I listen to my neighbor snore beyond our shared wall
Separated only by thin plaster,
But in our own space
[Even so]
His noise urges me on
Reminds me that I am alone
but
Not lonely
That I do my best
That I am good
That I am happy
As long as I just let me be
Sunday, March 4, 2012
The Battle of a Lifetime.
When I was 19 years old, I discovered that I had been lied to my entire life. No, life didn’t just consist of the cushy, secure walls of my home and my community, and actually, the privilege that I had was pretty rare. In fact, on closer examination, that cushion of a life that I had wasn’t even all that grand. I rudely, and suddenly had my eyes opened up to the truths of the world, and of my environment. I learned that the world is sick, rampant with injustices, corruption, and violence. Not everyone was the same, and not everything that I had be taught was true. I was angry. Why was I so sheltered and comfortable, when so many others weren’t?
I then learned of the injustices that I faced, as well; that they perhaps looked different from others, but that they were still there. I recalled being sexually harassed by a boy in the 7th grade. Even though it was just words, I still remember how terrifying that was for me, and how sick it still makes me to think of almost 20 years later. I remembered being shamed for having trouble learning math. How even though it was apparent that I struggled, it wasn’t addressed by my school, or my teachers. Backs were turned on me. I was shamed, yet it was acceptable, almost expected. At 19, I realized that many of the worst memories of my life, were directly, or indirectly, linked to my gender.
I became angrier.
With my anger, passion was born. With that passion, I sought out knowledge, and sought out ways to actively work to combat these injustices, both in my professional and personal life.
I’ve grown up. I realized that my perceptions and my experiences are unique, that the power of intersectionalities is profound.
I’ve learned that there is more to life than being liked. That even though I may make things uncomfortable by speaking out about them, or by working to have active conversations about them, it’s the right thing to do. That there is nothing more important than addressing, and ending the many injustices that we all face.
I’ve also learned that there is a balance. There is a right place, and a right time for everything. That relationships with people, even if you think they are wrong, are still important. You can’t change minds, or make progress, when there is so much disdain. I’m still working on that balance, and I feel that it is likely one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do, that relates to my own character.
Perhaps, that struggle means that I have arrived, or maybe it just means that I’m getting closer. But then again, there might not be any destination at all. Maybe that’s exactly the point. It might just be a battle that I’ve fought my entire life, while not always being aware of it.
I then learned of the injustices that I faced, as well; that they perhaps looked different from others, but that they were still there. I recalled being sexually harassed by a boy in the 7th grade. Even though it was just words, I still remember how terrifying that was for me, and how sick it still makes me to think of almost 20 years later. I remembered being shamed for having trouble learning math. How even though it was apparent that I struggled, it wasn’t addressed by my school, or my teachers. Backs were turned on me. I was shamed, yet it was acceptable, almost expected. At 19, I realized that many of the worst memories of my life, were directly, or indirectly, linked to my gender.
I became angrier.
With my anger, passion was born. With that passion, I sought out knowledge, and sought out ways to actively work to combat these injustices, both in my professional and personal life.
I’ve grown up. I realized that my perceptions and my experiences are unique, that the power of intersectionalities is profound.
I’ve learned that there is more to life than being liked. That even though I may make things uncomfortable by speaking out about them, or by working to have active conversations about them, it’s the right thing to do. That there is nothing more important than addressing, and ending the many injustices that we all face.
I’ve also learned that there is a balance. There is a right place, and a right time for everything. That relationships with people, even if you think they are wrong, are still important. You can’t change minds, or make progress, when there is so much disdain. I’m still working on that balance, and I feel that it is likely one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do, that relates to my own character.
Perhaps, that struggle means that I have arrived, or maybe it just means that I’m getting closer. But then again, there might not be any destination at all. Maybe that’s exactly the point. It might just be a battle that I’ve fought my entire life, while not always being aware of it.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Waking Up
I woke up today (2-10-12), and the first line I read was, “the more you know about people, the more you realize that the things people do are rarely about you”. I’ve held onto it all day. As people surrounded by other people, and ultimately being self-absorbed, we can unnecessarily, and inaccurately, take so much offense to one another’s daily livings.
The world is vast. So vast, that we forget we aren’t the center. It’s a self-preservation thing I’m guessing, because if we remembered that we aren’t the center, then where would the pleasure be, the pleasure of living our lives as if the world was made for us?
Perhaps, we make the universe. We create it by the relationships we keep, and the relationships we don’t keep. The choices we make, and the choices we don’t make. The things we find meaningful and valuable, and the things we don’t.
The universe is personal.
Be good, be kind, be true.
The world is vast. So vast, that we forget we aren’t the center. It’s a self-preservation thing I’m guessing, because if we remembered that we aren’t the center, then where would the pleasure be, the pleasure of living our lives as if the world was made for us?
Perhaps, we make the universe. We create it by the relationships we keep, and the relationships we don’t keep. The choices we make, and the choices we don’t make. The things we find meaningful and valuable, and the things we don’t.
The universe is personal.
Be good, be kind, be true.
Friday, August 19, 2011
i delight in you.
We were laying in bed, intertwined. We fit so well together, you and me. Emotionally, physically. Like when you're working on a puzzle, looking for what seems like hours for the right spot, and then you finally find it! It was always there, the perfect fit. The only fit. Snug and tight, right.
I told you that I sometimes wished that I had never met you, so that I never had to lose you. You said that once we are old and senile, it wouldn't matter, because we wouldn't remember one another anyway.
Not true. Our bodies would remember. Our bodies would remember, and they would still ache for one another.
I fear that ache.
But, you've always been the brave one, looking at the world dead in the face. Taking it on with humor, and delight.
I delight in you.
I'll breathe in your warm, soft smell. Listen to your even, calm voice. Watch your kind, handsome face.
Understand your heart.
And know that if I really had never met you, I'd miss you anyway.
I told you that I sometimes wished that I had never met you, so that I never had to lose you. You said that once we are old and senile, it wouldn't matter, because we wouldn't remember one another anyway.
Not true. Our bodies would remember. Our bodies would remember, and they would still ache for one another.
I fear that ache.
But, you've always been the brave one, looking at the world dead in the face. Taking it on with humor, and delight.
I delight in you.
I'll breathe in your warm, soft smell. Listen to your even, calm voice. Watch your kind, handsome face.
Understand your heart.
And know that if I really had never met you, I'd miss you anyway.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Love.
I was asked by a dear, dear friend to read a poem at her wedding. I searched the internet endlessly for a poem that was about, well, love. The perfect love poem. Not too sappy, not too depressing, not too intimate. Funny, but warm-hearted. I mean, love is all of those things, right? So, why then was finding a perfect poem to read so damn difficult?
Looking back, I realize that it was pretty inevitable that my search would lead me to think about my own love. I am undoubtedly deeply, and madly in love. However, I don’t wake up every morning with the sounds of canaries in my ears, or catch myself audibly sighing with a soft grin on my face. Hell, I don’t even usually get butterflies in my stomach when I kiss him. So, what is love then?
I think love is more than just the physical feeling you get with someone. I love Chris because I can say the most outlandish and absurd thing, whether I believe it or not, and he doesn’t judge me. He knows what I’m really saying. I love Chris because I can pee on myself drunk while camping, and he is there to help me change. No shame. I love Chris because just smelling him, or hearing his voice is stronger than any anti-anxiety pill. I love Chris because I quite literally never bore of him, which means a lot if I feel the need to change the arrangement of my furniture practically every month. I love Chris because he constantly challenges me, grows with me.
Yeah, I could live without Chris. Of course I could. Do I want to? Hell no. Not for a minute. Not even for a millisecond.
Love is having that person be a part of you. An emotional, spiritual maybe, part of you.
I also realize that what Chris and I have is extremely rare. For that, I am grateful.
But, I have to question: Do we expect too much out of love? Does society’s endless movies, poems, and fictional books give us too many expectations? Do we spend too much time trying to define love, and to find our perfect, one true love? Maybe, or maybe not. I don’t know. I doubt anyone does. Perhaps I’m just lucky.
Here is the poem I chose to read for those who are interested:
http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.com/2001/02/true-love-wislawa-szymborska.html
Looking back, I realize that it was pretty inevitable that my search would lead me to think about my own love. I am undoubtedly deeply, and madly in love. However, I don’t wake up every morning with the sounds of canaries in my ears, or catch myself audibly sighing with a soft grin on my face. Hell, I don’t even usually get butterflies in my stomach when I kiss him. So, what is love then?
I think love is more than just the physical feeling you get with someone. I love Chris because I can say the most outlandish and absurd thing, whether I believe it or not, and he doesn’t judge me. He knows what I’m really saying. I love Chris because I can pee on myself drunk while camping, and he is there to help me change. No shame. I love Chris because just smelling him, or hearing his voice is stronger than any anti-anxiety pill. I love Chris because I quite literally never bore of him, which means a lot if I feel the need to change the arrangement of my furniture practically every month. I love Chris because he constantly challenges me, grows with me.
Yeah, I could live without Chris. Of course I could. Do I want to? Hell no. Not for a minute. Not even for a millisecond.
Love is having that person be a part of you. An emotional, spiritual maybe, part of you.
I also realize that what Chris and I have is extremely rare. For that, I am grateful.
But, I have to question: Do we expect too much out of love? Does society’s endless movies, poems, and fictional books give us too many expectations? Do we spend too much time trying to define love, and to find our perfect, one true love? Maybe, or maybe not. I don’t know. I doubt anyone does. Perhaps I’m just lucky.
Here is the poem I chose to read for those who are interested:
http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.com/2001/02/true-love-wislawa-szymborska.html
Monday, February 21, 2011
My Open Letter to the Jolly Pumpkin
Dear Jolly Pumpkin,
I am a vegan, and as a vegan, it is often very difficult to find a nice and fun place to eat. Although Ann Arbor is conveniently pretty "veg friendly", I am still constantly searching for delicious vegan food. I thought Jolly Pumpkin was one of the few places that offered a wide selection of vegan choices, until today. I was heart broken today. Let me tell you about it...
We began visiting Jolly Pumpkin as soon as the Ann Arbor location was open. We are HUGE lovers of beer, and your beer is honestly delicious. The restaurant ambiance is lovely, and the service is always friendly. Being vegan, I tried all of the 2 sandwiches that could easily be made vegan, and honestly i wasn't extremely impressed. Next, I tried a salad, and let me tell you, it is such a bummer (and almost offensive) for a vegan to be offered a SALAD for dinner. I like more than a plate of lettuce for dinner.
I brought this up to a server several months ago, and he mentioned the soy cheese options for the pizza. I told him that not all soy cheeses were vegan (in fact, most aren't) and he ASSURED me that it was. He told our table several stories to assure us, including one about a customer asking about gluten free bread and being paranoid about it even when he assured them, AND about the owner of Jolly Pumpkin being vegan, so OF COURSE the soy cheese was vegan. I WAS ELATED!! Especially upon consuming the pizza and finding it delicious. I craved it. I couldn't believe what i was eating, especially being a food snob and a passionate cook. I tried to create it at home, and never could. I even asked where the cheese was from, and was told a local market in Detroit. I asked a few more times upon going to Jolly Pumpkin, just to make sure. I was reassured 2 more times that the soy cheese was in fact vegan. Magic. I was an addict. Jolly Pumpkin was in our plans at least once a week (no joke).
Until today. Remember when I said I was heart broken? When ordering, I was told that the soy cheese WASN'T VEGAN. CRUSHED. I told our server how disappointing that was, especially since I asked several times in the past, and was continually reassured. She apologized and offered some of the other sub par vegan selections (as previously explained) and I picked the pita and dip for an appetizer (minus the edamame which as you know isn't vegan but also very misleading since soy beans are always a safe go to for vegans). I felt like walking out. I really did. I almost did, even. I felt betrayed and disappointed.
But, this story has a happy ending. Our server, Holly, was lovely. She apologized several times, and then took all of our food off of our bill, leaving the delicious beers. I was happy to pay for the beers, of course, and left the restaurant in a much better mood. At least Holly understood how crappy of a situation that was for me.
I won't come back to Jolly Pumpkin for food. :( It makes me sad to say that, but I would rather spend the money on real vegan food, like at Sevas, Jazzy Veggie, or Earthen Jar. I'll come back for the beer of course, but not as frequently. Just trying to be honest here.
Sorry for the long email. I felt like i needed my betrayal to be heard. It's a good thing being vegan is a moral issue for me, and not a health one, because this story could have been a lot different for the both of us.
I plead with you to get some vegan cheese for the pizzas. I think it would be delicious. Until then, at least train every server to be as in-tuned to vegan lifestyles as Holly so that they ask questions when ordering, and are able to properly answer customer questions. Maybe label menus better too, so that it is more clear for us vegan folk. Also, more vegan options would be swell. Vegans like beer and fun too, you know.
Thanks for listening, Jolly Pumpkin. I still love you, just not as much.
Oh, and say thanks again to Holly for me.
I am a vegan, and as a vegan, it is often very difficult to find a nice and fun place to eat. Although Ann Arbor is conveniently pretty "veg friendly", I am still constantly searching for delicious vegan food. I thought Jolly Pumpkin was one of the few places that offered a wide selection of vegan choices, until today. I was heart broken today. Let me tell you about it...
We began visiting Jolly Pumpkin as soon as the Ann Arbor location was open. We are HUGE lovers of beer, and your beer is honestly delicious. The restaurant ambiance is lovely, and the service is always friendly. Being vegan, I tried all of the 2 sandwiches that could easily be made vegan, and honestly i wasn't extremely impressed. Next, I tried a salad, and let me tell you, it is such a bummer (and almost offensive) for a vegan to be offered a SALAD for dinner. I like more than a plate of lettuce for dinner.
I brought this up to a server several months ago, and he mentioned the soy cheese options for the pizza. I told him that not all soy cheeses were vegan (in fact, most aren't) and he ASSURED me that it was. He told our table several stories to assure us, including one about a customer asking about gluten free bread and being paranoid about it even when he assured them, AND about the owner of Jolly Pumpkin being vegan, so OF COURSE the soy cheese was vegan. I WAS ELATED!! Especially upon consuming the pizza and finding it delicious. I craved it. I couldn't believe what i was eating, especially being a food snob and a passionate cook. I tried to create it at home, and never could. I even asked where the cheese was from, and was told a local market in Detroit. I asked a few more times upon going to Jolly Pumpkin, just to make sure. I was reassured 2 more times that the soy cheese was in fact vegan. Magic. I was an addict. Jolly Pumpkin was in our plans at least once a week (no joke).
Until today. Remember when I said I was heart broken? When ordering, I was told that the soy cheese WASN'T VEGAN. CRUSHED. I told our server how disappointing that was, especially since I asked several times in the past, and was continually reassured. She apologized and offered some of the other sub par vegan selections (as previously explained) and I picked the pita and dip for an appetizer (minus the edamame which as you know isn't vegan but also very misleading since soy beans are always a safe go to for vegans). I felt like walking out. I really did. I almost did, even. I felt betrayed and disappointed.
But, this story has a happy ending. Our server, Holly, was lovely. She apologized several times, and then took all of our food off of our bill, leaving the delicious beers. I was happy to pay for the beers, of course, and left the restaurant in a much better mood. At least Holly understood how crappy of a situation that was for me.
I won't come back to Jolly Pumpkin for food. :( It makes me sad to say that, but I would rather spend the money on real vegan food, like at Sevas, Jazzy Veggie, or Earthen Jar. I'll come back for the beer of course, but not as frequently. Just trying to be honest here.
Sorry for the long email. I felt like i needed my betrayal to be heard. It's a good thing being vegan is a moral issue for me, and not a health one, because this story could have been a lot different for the both of us.
I plead with you to get some vegan cheese for the pizzas. I think it would be delicious. Until then, at least train every server to be as in-tuned to vegan lifestyles as Holly so that they ask questions when ordering, and are able to properly answer customer questions. Maybe label menus better too, so that it is more clear for us vegan folk. Also, more vegan options would be swell. Vegans like beer and fun too, you know.
Thanks for listening, Jolly Pumpkin. I still love you, just not as much.
Oh, and say thanks again to Holly for me.
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