Growing into Adulthood

Remember, when as a little kid, you could wake up one morning and announce to your parents that you'd decided you would one day be a firefighter, and it was just as enduring as it had been the week before when you were adamant about becoming a doctor?  This is normal.  Expected, really. And even still, there was nothing wrong with you choosing to nix both of these career paths to dream of living as an artist a month later.  I've always been a dreamer.  I like reflecting and wondering what I could become.  I enjoy the fluidity of aspiration.  It's the concept of finality, that this particular manner of dreaming in my life, at least in regards to a career path, is nearing its end that is so strange to me.

I know that there will be joy in finding a place to settle into.  It's just accepting this realization of moving into a new chapter of life adventures.

I suppose I'll grow into reality-- and what new dreams can be found beyond.

But until then...

“You seemed so far away," Miss Honey whispered, awestruck.

"Oh, I was. I was flying past the stars on silver wings," Matilda said. "It was wonderful.” 

― Roald Dahl, Matilda

May we never lose our ability to dream of something more.

Perspective Check

Sometimes, the hardest part of an experience is coming home.  There are, of course, the readjustment issues and the missing of places and people, but what I am really talking about it learning how to carry through and use what has been learned abroad once you are no longer immersed in the place and topic.  Sometimes it takes a harsh reminder to regain perspective, to be reminded what is important, and to not take our privilege for granted.

            I am back on a campus for the month of January for “J-term”, where I have one class that meets every day for three hours.  The topic of my course is “Reacting to the Past”.  It’s a bit complicated to describe, but essentially, we as a class are playing a “game” of sorts where we all take on the roles of different characters in Greenwich Village in 1913.  As our characters, we are debating between The Labor Movement and The Suffrage Movement, engaging in dialogue and reading and discussing pieces from the era.  Today, we voted on which faction would win—would we hold the Labor Party’s Pageant or attend the Suffragists’ parade?  We had some very strong personalities, and the debates were heated.  For me, as someone who abhors arguing, and usually has mild panic attacks in conjunction with public speaking, coming to class was something that caused a great deal of anxiety.  I was so wrapped up in making sure I could stand my own ground and not humiliate myself that I completely overlooked an extremely important character in the game.  This character may have been the most important one of all.

One student played the role of a 14-year-old Italian Immigrant.  As the setting for our simulation was a restaurant, her character worked as a waitress.  She shuffled about, replenishing snacks and cleaning up messes.  In the midst of our “great debates”, we inexcusably let her fall through the cracks.  It was revealed on the day of voting that her character had the power to award points (in the game, we are awarded points in conjunction with our activities, and they later influence our voting power) to other characters and factions based on how they interacted with and treated her.  Few points were distributed.  With just a few small exceptions, the rest of us all but ignored her.  We failed to acknowledge her presence- even though it was her identity, as a working female immigrant, that was discussed constantly in our debates.  My character in particular, was described as being strongly invested in fighting for the rights and empowerment of women immigrant workers.  But I never stepped forward.  We tossed about the words “immigrants”, and “workers”, and “women” incessantly.  We provided voices and opinions for these people we claimed to champion.  We assumed we knew best, but never did we ask what they wanted.  In the midst of the fight, we were blinded by our privilege.  This realization brought rushing back a semester of discussions, and field visits, and feelings.  I couldn’t believe I ignored this character.  I felt as if I had failed, not just the game, but the principles that I have claimed to stand for.

            I realize that this was a simulation, a game, and not real life.  But, it is a harsh reminder of what so many of us do everyday.  This could just as easily have happened today.  Whether we’re discussing the rights of immigrants in 2013, or advocating welfare laws, or even simply volunteering at a soup kitchen.  We make the same assumptions, all the time.  I think back to August, as I attended orientation before departing for India.  Our group spoke with a remarkable woman, Julia, who happened to have lived most of her life homeless.  She reiterated over and over again the importance of not talking for others.  She spoke of community organizations wanting to give out turkeys to the homeless for Thanksgiving, and how utterly ridiculous this was.  They didn’t turkeys— they wanted homes!  Did they ever even ask the people they were “helping” what they needed?  Never.  Just as it has happened time and time again, we constantly assume that we know what people need.  “We’re educated.  We’ve learned about the oppressed, we’ve volunteered, we’ve read about the inequalities in the world.  So obviously, as privileged members of white middleclass society, we know what’s best.  We’re here to help!”  We continue to speak for the oppressed, without ever taking time to listen to them.  We reduce people to labels and identities, and forget to interact with them as humans.  We provide voices for people who are capable of speaking for themselves. 

            One of the strongest concepts I took away from my time in India was that we do not need to raise people up, but that we need to stand in solidarity with and support others as they work to empower themselves.  We do not know what other people need.  We can only reach out, listen, and work to support each other as humans.  Today’s experience in class was a reminder of that.  It’s far too easy to be caught up in the rush of everyday life.  To become so centered on our own success, that we tune out others.  The most important thing we can do to improve the world is to listen.  If we’re not willing to reach out beyond what’s comfortable and admit that we are wrong, we will never move forward. 

These reminders may sting, but they are increasingly important.  The semester I spent abroad may be behind me, but I must continue to carry forward its ideals and perspectives into my life at home. There is still so much to learn.

Peace,

            Zoë

You should also read one of the poems Julia, the wonderful woman I mentioned above, wrote.  It really hits home on how we lump people together, reduce them to labels, and fail to ask them what they want.

My Name is Not “Those People”

By Julia Dinsmore

My name is not "Those People".

I am a loving woman, a mother in pain,

Giving birth to the future, where my babies

Have the same chance to thrive as anyone. 

My name is not "Inadequate".

I did not make my husband leave us –

He chose to, and chooses not to pay child support.

Truth is though; there isn’t a job base

For all fathers to support their families.

While society turns its head, my children pay the price.

 My name is not "Problem and Case to Be Managed".

I am a capable human being and citizen, not just a client.

The social service system can never replace       

            the compassion and concern of loving grandparents, aunts,      

             uncles, fathers, cousins, community -       

            all the bonded people who need to be

But are not present to bring children forward to their potential. 

My name is not "Lazy, Dependent Welfare Mother".

If the unwaged work of parenting,          

            homemaking and community building was factored         

            into the gross domestic product,

My work would have untold value. And why is it that mothers whose

Husbands support them to stay home and raise children

Are glorified? And why they don’t get called lazy or dependent? 

My name is not "Ignorant, Dumb or Uneducated".

I got my PhD from the university of life, school of hard everything,

I live with an income of $621 with $169 in food stamps for three kids.

Rent is $585...That leaves $36 a month to live on.        

            I am such a genius at surviving,        

            I could balance the state budget in an hour.

Never mind that there's a lack of living-wage jobs.

Never mind that it's impossible to be the sole emotional, social,       

            Spiritual, and economic support to a family.

Never mind that parents are losing their children       

            to gangs, drugs, stealing, prostitution, the poverty industry,       

            social workers, kidnapping, the streets, the predator.

Forget about putting money into schools...       

            just build more prisons! 

My name is not "Lay Down and Die Quietly".

My love is powerful, and the urge to keep my children alive will never stop.

All children need homes and people who love them.

All children need safety

And the chance to be the people they were born to be.

The wind will stop before I allow my sons to become a statistic.

Before you give in to the urge to blame me,        

            the blames that lets us go blind and unknowing        

            into the isolation that disconnects         

            your humanity from mine,

 Take another look. Don't go away.

 For I am not the problem, but the solution.

And...my name is not "Those People".

(Source: http://doorwayproject.wordpress.com/2011/05/19/my-name-is-not-those-people-4/ )

I miss

Lately, I've found myself feeling a little bit homesick for India.  So, I've made a list of all the things I miss.  Some of them might not make any sense to anyone but myself, but I included them anyway.

I miss the rain.

I miss hearing “Ok, ok”

I miss masala dosa.

I miss the sound of rickshaw horns.

I miss the children waving on the sides of the streets.

I miss the walk from Visthar to Lulu’s grocery store.

I miss having tea breaks twice a day.

I miss the clotheslines.

I miss the bangles that lightly jingle from delicate wrists.

I miss Julie the cat.

I miss walking around barefooted.

I miss the colors.

I miss sleeping in a mosquito net.

I miss seeing women walking down the street in brightly colored saris.

I miss the loud music played on the streets.

I miss seeing goats on top of walls, and wondering how they got up there.

I miss the song that the water filter played.

I miss the collective groan that you would hear from everyone when the power went out.

I miss seeing cows in the middle of the streets.

I miss the families on motorcycles.

I miss hearing the call to prayer.

I miss the smiles of the people.

I miss hearing the greeting Nama Skara.

I miss the sound of the broom as the cleaning women swept the floors.

I miss the geckos.

I miss sitting in a circle on the floor of someone’s house while drinking tea, and listening to their stories.

I miss the colorful temples.

I miss the open fields.

I miss hearing the men who sell tea calling, "Chai, Chai, Chai."

I miss the bright flowers.

I miss laughing every time a platter of papaya was brought out for lunch.

I miss eating with my hands.

I miss washing my own dishes.

I miss Biju’s pigeons.

I (kind of) miss taking bucket showers.

I miss the sound of that obnoxious bird. Starting out slowly, then getting faster and louder, like some sort of alarm.

I miss the slamming of screen doors.

I miss the people, and their kindness.

I miss the red dirt roads.

I miss the trains.

I miss the unexpectedness of everything.

I miss running on “India time.” (8:00?  More like 8:30.)

I miss running from Dwayne, that mangy mutt.

I miss the cookies served with tea.

I miss sitting on the rooftop, staring out into the fields.

I miss sitting and talking about social justice while drinking black tea until after midnight in Wayanad.

I miss parle g’s.

I miss how the trashcans were called dustbins, and were often labeled “use me”.

I miss walls with phrases like “Stick no Bills” or “No Urinating Here” painted on them.

I miss the tiny metal cups with no handles.
I miss watching weekly documentaries. 

I miss Ricky the dog, and how he waited for us at the gate.

I miss our "candle of social justice" (even if it was cheesy) 

I miss my SJPD family. 

I'm a bit Behind...

So... I guess I did not keep the promise I made in my last post-  three weeks and I still have yet to update.  Sorry!  Life has been hectic as of late.  We just completed our first course, Globalization and the Ethics of Development, and had a busy week of paper writing and presentations.  Then last week, we spent time at Visthar's other campus in Koppal exploring issues of women, children, and labor regulations as we begin our next course, Identity, Resistance, and Liberation.  I'm working on an post overviewing the past few weeks, so you will be soon be updated on life in India!  Until then, here is a reflection I wrote for my last course as a preview to some of the things I have been thinking about.
Peace,
Zoë
_________________________________________________________________________________

Fighting for Feelings

I am a strong believer in the interconnected nature of all humans, that we all share common needs, experiences, and sentiments.  Though we may hold a wide range of ideals or follow differing cultural practices, there are certain unifying elements and emotions that bind us together.  This unified nature applies to the right for all human beings to be able to freely live their lives with dignity.

John F. Kennedy once said, "In giving rights to others which belong to them, we give rights to ourselves and our Country.”  Though this particular quote was meant to be applied in the context of the United States, I feel that the general point it brings can be considered on a global scale as well.  There is something about empowering and enabling others that speaks to our connection as humans, and transcends all borders and barriers.  When we fight oppression for one person, we are in turn fighting for all human beings, and the shared rights that our existence demands. 

However, the challenge we face in advocating for certain global human rights lies with the risk of perpetuating ethnocentrism.  How do we keep from viewing all situations we encounter through the lens that we were raised to see the world?  Coming to India from the United States, I have often felt a twinge of guilt— what right do I have to assume that all humans desire the same liberties?  Separating what should be labeled as a fundamental right, and what is a part of my Western upbringing has proven to— and will no doubt continue to – be a struggle.  The experiences of this trip, however, are helping me come closer in my understanding of “universal human rights”, and all of the implications this term carries.

It is easy to generalize and make assumptions about groups of people we are not apart of.  Far too often, individuals decide what a group needs without even stopping to consider whether or not it is truly desired.  As was so poignantly conveyed by Julia, a woman we met during our orientation in Minneapolis and who has lived the majority of her life homeless, it is important to listen.  We do not need to be a voice for the powerless, but instead listen to their voices.  This is a vital point to consider when examining injustices.  I have often felt that I need to “do something”, but felt at a loss as to what course of action to employ.  What I am realizing, through time spent in India, is that action— though important – is not something that is always appropriate for me to take.  Sometimes, it is more constructive for me to work to recognize injustices, and then simply listen.  It is not necessarily my place to make suggestions regarding liberation, or for me to impose my experiences.  Rather, I need to be supportive of the needs and emotions people express, work to make others aware of this, and help promote a level of consciousness in society.  If we take time to listen rather than constantly make suggestions, the emphasis of a movement moves from the ideology that one person is right and the other is wrong, to simply focusing on human emotion.  It is not always promoting the specific rights that we think should be recognized, so much as considering universal feelings that should be emphasized.

I am not necessarily arguing for the imposition of a universal set of rights, but more for the acknowledgement of a universal set of emotions.  With variances found in different cultures and communities, it is unrealistic and insensitive to expect all of the world to operate in the same manner. Rather, we should focus on reaching a universal set of feelings— a universal sense of dignity.  No one should ever have to exist in a manner that forces them to feel inferior, or to live in fear.  During my home stay experience a couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to spend time with several young Muslim women.  Seeing them live their daily lives as influenced by their faith was beautiful.  For several, choosing to wear hijab was their choice, and an act that illustrated their faith and love in God.  I respect their decisions.  However, there was one moment when one of these women experienced fear.  Growing up with the ideals of her faith and culture, she admitted that she did not often speak to men outside of her family.  When faced with a hostile and confrontational man, she was filled with fear not only at his behavior, but in the level of inferiority she felt in her position.  In this moment, her dignity as a woman— a human being – was challenged, and she was living with negative emotions.  Here, her feelings were compromised.  When the feelings and emotions we as humans share being are harmed, it is our responsibility to acknowledge the unjustness of the situation.  No one should ever have to live in fear.  These are the feelings we must address. 

The measure of whether an act is oppressive or merely a societal practice should not be examined through one culture’s ways or set of ideologies, but whether or not an individual feels valued and comfortable in their community.  It is not constructive to deem one set of values or manner of living as correct.  Instead, we should consider how a person feels.  If I feel that something is oppressive or demeaning simply because my culture labels it so, then I do not really have the right challenge it.  If a person living in a way that I would find unappealing is happy and has freely chosen to exist in this manner, then I need to respect their choice.  However, if an individual feels fear, discomfort, inferiority, or is being forced to follow a practice unwillingly, than it is important to listen.  When the emotions we share and the dignity we deserve is compromised, we are not sharing the rights that our connection as humans requires us to give. 

All in all, we must consider emotion.  We must consider the universality in the sentiments experienced by the human race.  In fighting for the dignity of others, the objective is not to promote one way of living, but a universal way of feeling.  We all deserve to feel safe, happy, and at peace.  Perhaps, instead of working for the rights of others, we should be working for their feelings.  Fighting for the emotions of humanity, and the freedom to openly feel.

Adventures in Food

Part I: My Most Important Relationship

I have spent the past couple of weeks experimenting. I am fully aware that when the word experiment falls from the lips of a nineteen-year-old, this can be greeted by some raised eyebrows from the more mature members of our society. Now before you go on speculating, let me assure you that I am not trying to find myself at the bottom of a bottle of liqueur, delving into hard drugs, falling into unconventional relationships, or even contemplating where I would like to tattoo the name of some brief fling onto my body. It is something that is both more personal and rewarding. It is an experiment that I should have undertaken much sooner, for it has in turn opened my eyes to one of the most important, and at times most neglected, relationships I have in my life. I’m taking a hard look at the dynamics between me and one of my closest friends- food.

This relationship has always been a very intimate and cherished one in my life. I LOVE to eat. I come from a family where food is the center of, well, everything. You absolutely cannot have a proper gathering with out a well thought out meal. From casual dinners, to holidays, to celebrations, food is key. And of course, it wouldn’t be a trip to Grandma’s if you didn’t leave feeling as if you had gained ten pounds. As a culture, food is central to all that we feel. How often, after committing a triumph, have you been congratulated with the honor of selecting that evening’s meal? Or, how many times have you discussed important life changes over a cup of coffee? In a society where heartbroken girls find solace in a pint of ice cream, where the loss of a loved one is met with a parade of sympathetic casseroles, and the first thing a college student looks forward to when on break is a home cooked meal, it is more than obvious that food is central not only to all that we do, but all that we feel.

I can attest to this emotional connection. Many of my memories are held in conjunction with food. I may not be able to relay every single detail of a trip I’ve taken, but-even years later- I can remember nearly all of the meals that I have eaten while on a vacation. And of course, I would be the first to assure you that chocolate does indeed hold healing powers. All of this is proof enough that food holds a strong part in all of our lives. It not only fulfills perhaps one of our most basic human needs, it on some level meets a deeper desire. It is more than just something on which we are able to survive, but something that we are able to live for.

Knowing that this is perhaps the most important relationship we share in our life, how is it that we have become so careless? In a nation where we have an entire channel dedicated to food, we in turn have a population where nearly one-third of adults and 17% of children are obese (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention) . Is it that we love too ardently, or that we simply don’t think enough?

Let us now return to my experiment. Since about the age of ten, I have toyed with the idea of vegetarianism. What began as a feeling of horror regarding the consumption of what I considered to be loveable barnyard animals later grew into concerns about the environment and curiosity surrounding the health benefits of a meatless diet. On top of this all, I have never especially enjoyed the taste of meat. I can recall an evening eating dinner in the cafeteria at school, when I announced that I was finished with my meal. Sitting upon my plate was a rather hefty serving of chicken, missing only a few bites. A friend jokingly commented in a mock maternal voice, “Zoë, why haven’t you eaten your meat?” Frankly, I thought to myself, I don’t find it especially appetizing. Over the course of the year, I have tried more vegetarian options. Finding that I liked these meals, I decided to take things a step further. As I have been slowly contemplating the removal of meat from my diet, I have been thinking a great deal about what I eat. Does this meal have enough protein? Will I be hungry later? Is this food a good source of iron? Through this experiment, I have actually taken time to stop and think about what exactly it is that I am shoving into my mouth three times a day. It has been eye opening. You hear about people turning their lives upside down with impossible, and often dangerous, diets. In reality, what we really need to do to be healthy is stop and think about what we eat. It is important to consider balance, portion, and nutrition. Even more than this, it is vital to consider how food is making you feel. I can certainly say that I felt exponentially better after eating the fresh peach I selected for a snack a few days ago in comparison to the time that I chose to down nearly an entire can of Pringles on my own (It was during finals...I was stressed?). But most important of all, is having a connection with your food. This may sound corny (no pun intended), but eating veggies fresh from the farm is so much more delicious than the alternative of swallowing those sad kernels from a can. Eating food in its purest form is one of the best things you can do for yourself, and I have taken a keen interest in doing so. Even more than this, I love knowing where my food has come from. Knowing that the strawberry you’re eating was lovingly grown in the most natural way possible somehow makes it taste all the sweeter.

I have yet to decide if I will pursue vegetarianism full time or not. But whether I choose to eliminate only red meats, remove the food group entirely, or suddenly decide that I would actually prefer to be a full-out carnivore, I know that my interest in and careful attention to what I choose to eat is here to stay. After all, this is a relationship that it is here for a lifetime- and I intend to get to know my food very well.

When did killing people become American?

Sunday evening descended upon us like any other. I was spending my time unassumingly folding laundry when the news was broken. My roommate and I quickly flipped on the TV to find the breaking news that would prove to ignite the feelings of our nation- Osama Bin Laden was dead. This information took a minute to process, but what set in afterwards was a mixture of sentiments that were difficult to grasp.

I fell asleep with uncertain feelings. Across our nation, people were joining together in celebration. The national anthem was being sung, fireworks were being set off, and the pledge of allegiance was recited. In this moment, it seemed that our nation had joined together. I heard countless individuals professing their love for their country, stating how proud they were of America. People are dancing and celebrating because someone is dead. And it feels wrong.

I question just what we are celebrating. In his address to the nation, Obama eloquently stated, “…Justice has been done.” But has it? Is the death of this man truly going to bring us justice? I know I will never fully understand the damage he did to so many. I will never feel the pain fueled by loss. I will never experience the gaping hole left behind by a missing loved one. I will never have to live in a house, knowing that there are empty spaces that a family member once filled. But I know that I will never forget the images of that day. The sight of the explosions, the thick black smoke, and the screams as the towers tumbled to the ground will forever be imprinted into my memory. Since that day, we have grown stronger as a nation, proving that we truly “never will forget”.

However, I am still not convinced that our nation has responded to Bin Laden’s death with the best conduct. As much pain as he caused, I do not feel that celebrating one man’s death is just retribution for all the people he killed. I acknowledge the hard work and sacrifices made by the members of our military and their families, but what I am trying to bring attention to is something bigger. Where do we draw the line for justice? When is it acceptable to take another human’s life? Is this one man’s death- a man who has not been a direct threat for some eight years- going to correct the damage? I like to think that we had already served justice. On 9/11, the terrorists’ intent was to tear our country apart. We did not let that happen. Isn’t coming together as a nation, proving that we are a community that cannot be broken, justice enough? In proving them wrong, we were in the right, and justice was truly served.

Another point to consider is the different places we come from. When we began to fight “the war on terror”, it was dubbed by some as an act of patriotism. Stop to consider these terrorist groups. No matter how immoral we feel their actions are, to them they are acting in accordance to their beliefs, fighting for what they feel is just. In some situations these groups are fueled by religious doctrine, in others they feel that our country has harmed them. Whatever the case, it is evident these individuals- whether we agree with them or not- are acting in pursuit of what they deem to be justice. As much as I disagree with them, as much as I hate the harm and fear they place upon others, I realize that we share different perspectives. They come from a different place, have had different experiences, and hold a different set of ideals that I may never understand. Would it not be hypocritical for me to say that my people are right in fighting for what they believe to be patriotism, but this group of people is not? These people are living by their moral principles- who am I to stop them? Though the majority of the population may not agree with their actions, they have the right to live by their own beliefs, just as we are. With so many conflicting opinions, it is often difficult to allow others to simply act in pursuit of their principles. In his writing “On the Duty of Civil Disobedience”, Thoreau stated, “…when an acorn and a chestnut fall side by side, the one does not remain inert to make way for the other, but both obey their own laws, and spring and grow and flourish the best they can, till one, perchance, overshadows and destroys the other. If a plant cannot live according to its nature, it dies; and so does a man.” It no doubt causes conflict and poses great risks, but I believe that we all should have equal rights to live and act in accordance to our own principles- whether we like the outcome or not. I am by no means saying that the manner in which terrorist groups behave is moral and right, I am merely stating that there are some inherent differences between our cultures and belief systems, and this is something we cannot ignore.

I am also struck by the similarities in our reaction to Bin Laden’s death, and how some groups around the world- the Middle East in particular- reacted to the attacks on 9/11. Many celebrated what they viewed as a victory. While we mourned the loss of human life, many rejoiced. From our perspective, they were cruel, heartless, and perhaps even barbaric. What about us? Here we are, celebrating the loss of a human. The roles have been reversed. I find it unsettling that we can label a behavior as immoral, and then turn around and act in the same manner, but think nothing of it.

Whether or not you view execution as a moral way to seek justice is not the main point I seek to address here (I will save that for another blog). I do however feel that we need to reevaluate our behavior. Think of our country. How does the rest of the world view our reaction to this death? Perception is a powerful thing, and we need to be careful. I think that we need to take a hard look at our values as Americans. The closing line of our Pledge of Allegiance states, “…one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” Has justice been served? I realize I have said it many times, but I truly think we need to reconsider how we serve justice. Osama Bin Laden was a terrible man, and hurt people not just in our country, but terrorized groups across the Middle East and beyond. I do not disagree that the world will be a better place without him, but I beg you to consider your reaction, consider what justice means to you, and consider whether or not this is the way that we should be responding to a death.

I acknowledge the sentiments felt by many at this time, but feel that they would be better applied to other endeavors. Instead, let us focus on the power of togetherness. Instead of celebrating death, let us take time as a country to remember those who were lost nearly a decade ago. Let us take pride not in the fact that we have taken a life, but in the strength and unity we have as a nation.

Think back to Sunday night. Has anything really changed? Certainly, Osama Bin Laden is gone- but there will continue to be pain and terrorism in the world. Many feel that those lost on 9/11 have finally found justice, but as hard as it is to admit, the death of a thousand terrorists will neither bring them back or erase the memory of that day. In retrospect, not much has changed. However, we do have the power to change our behavior. This is the time for us to come together as a nation, and truly consider what is means to be American.