Family Visits Continue

Sometimes life seems like a series of hellos and goodbyes.

That’s a quote from one of my favorite priests who I grew up with in Ohio. And before you think I’m about to write a Hallmark sentiment to make up for the fact that Nick forgot that Saturday was Sweetest Day, I’m just marveling how quickly this weekend passed because of the goodness of family visiting.

Nick’s mom, brother (Keith) and, Kelly were here for three great days and the time slipped by us too quickly. We bar-hopped like wild college animals and we walked the city like true Bostonians. With Game 6 of the ALSC at Fenway; the Regatta/Head of the Charles (an enormous national rowing tournament that filled the Charles River all weekend); and the infamous Family Weekend scheduled for several colleges in a city that boasts 250,000 students in the greater Boston area – the city, needless to say, was busting at the seams.

Keith and Nick opted for an early Christmas gift to head to Fenway for Game 6 and watched the Sox stomp 12 runs out of the Indians. Benedict Nick rooted for the Sox and I, remaining true to my roots, cheered for Cleveland from bars in Harvard Square. It was a sport-filled weekend with a lot of celebration and catching up.

One of the things that is always fun about visitors is the opportunity to see the city from fresh eyes. The following is a collection of shots I have taken for the past few visits.

On deck for next weekend: my folks will be visiting!

This shot of Fenway was taken during a tour of the park last weekend.

To give you an idea of the busy-ness of the city, three weeks ago Nick and I woke up to the sound of a loud microphone voice booming, “GOOD MORNING BOSTON!” I glanced out the window to see 7,000 plus women registering for the Tufts Healthcare for Women 10K. (picture is taken from our living room window)

Just another morning in Beantown.

An autumn sunset on Beacon Street.

2nd Edition of Asian American Women…

Thanks to BFP for the this:

2ND EDITION OF ASIAN AMERICAN WOMEN ISSUES, CONCERNS, AND RESPONSIVE
HUMAN AND CIVIL RIGHTS ADVOCACY

Announcing the second edition of
Asian American Women: Issues, Concerns, and Responsive Human and Civil
Rights Advocacy

by NAPAWF Founding Sister, Lora Jo Foo
Published by iUniverse

Asian American Women: Issues, Concerns, and Responsive Human and Civil
Rights Advocacy reveals the struggles of Asian American women at the bottom
of the socio-economic ladder where hunger, illness, homelessness, sweatshop
labor and even involuntary servitude are everyday realities. The health and
lives of Asian American women of all socio-economic classes are endangered
due to prevalent, but inaccurate stereotypes which hide the appalling level
of human and civil rights violations against them. The book captures their
suffering and also the fighting spirit of Asian American women who have
waged social and economic justice campaigns and founded organizations to
right the wrongs against them.

We encourage you, fellow sisters, to meet with your chapters and discuss
your thoughts and ideas about the issues the book raises. Several of the
chapters of this second edition were updated by women activists and
advocates around the country. We encourage you to invite these courageous
women to your meetings so that they may share their experiences and help
facilitate active and productive discussion.

To thank you for your hard work and commitment to the movement, current paid
NAPAWF members may purchase the book at a discounted rate. Supplies are
limited so order your copy today! To place an order, please visit our
g%2FutviTF5Oj8> online store or email
aawbook@napawf.org. If
you aren’t a current paid member, sign up today so you can take advantage of
this special discount!
Paperback: $19.95 $15.00 NAPAWF Members Only!
Hardcover: $29.95 $25.00 NAPAWF Members Only!

Two RDs for the Price of One

Visitors galore!

Boots, Don, and Barb Cordonnier just passed through Boston last weekend and we’re gearing up for another fresh batch of family tomorrow night. Kay, Kelly, and Keith Borchers are flying in tomorrow and Nick is heading up to the airport to pick them up so I don’t miss one moment of Grey’s Anatomy.

Sometimes I forget that we live, as Don would say, DOWNTOWN. “Not just near downtown, but DOWNTOWN,” is how Don describes it. Unfortunately, our guests got a little too much a taste of city life when we watched the aftermath of a pedestrian get hit by a car right in front of our apartment complex. The drama doesn’t stop.

In addition to visitors, Nick and I are gearing up for our first autumn together in the city. The sheets are flannel, the jackets are out, and Nick’s Adidas pants are a near daily occurence. Living in a high rise residence hall continues to be full of surprises. About three weeks ago, a student accidentally burned a plate full of Tostino pizza rolls that sent the alarms off at 12:30am. As the RD (Resident Director) on duty, I helped evacuate the building and tried to keep traffic under control, I kept glancing at Nick to make sure he knew where to go.

Why was I worried? That worry proved unnecessary when I spotted him directing students across the street and cautioning them not to jaywalk. Sometimes, I swear, he wants my job. When it was time to go back in the building, I started wondering how 550 students were going to get back into the halls without their IDS, which is necessary for entrance. It took some time, but I managed to get a system going and it seemed to be going well. Then I felt a finger poking me in the shoulder. It’s Nick.

“Leese, there’s a kid trying to sneak in by using someone else’s ID. I stopped him and confiscated his card.” He held the card to my face and nodded emphatically several times in a quite official manner.

“Oh. Ok. Thanks. I’ll take care of it. You, uh, you know, don’t need to be confiscating cards or guarding the entrance. I have staff to take care of it.”

“I know, but I wanted to! Crap like that pisses me off! I told him to stand over there,” Nick points to a section of the lobby where a dismal student anxiously shifted his weight from side to side.

Though Nick is entirely happy to be studying his theology and ethics, I think it’s important to note that anytime my job requires my authoritative fist and Nick is around, he is more than happy to jump in and bust any student on any policy violation. We were resident assistants together in college, so I guess that still hasn’t died down in him just yet.

Burning Question for Presidential Candidate

I’ve always wanted to ask Hillary in private what she does for women of color, but the questions need to be set to an entire group.

Via Racialicious, if you want to send in a question that you want to ask a presidential candidate, here’s your chance. R. was chosen to be a question collecting station for us online nerds who write brilliant points but are never heard. Here’s your shot.

R. has got all the guidelines and rules. Go to it!

Simplicity Asks of Feminism

About seven years ago, I began attending a discussion group entitled, “Voluntary Simplicity,” that incorporated a slim book collection of writings about simple living. I only attended a few sessions, but the energy and lessons of those thrice attended meetings lingers today.

A few months ago, the connection between feminism and simplicity began to knock around in my head. Simplicity, often confused with “going-without” and “cheap” terms, concerns itself with the center of desire, determining what is most necessary for sustainability and advancement, and then choosing that exact thing. It’s about mining toward the gold – whatever that might be – and focusing on that, without frills or whistles.

The companion workbook is excellent. Several authors rouse the readers with essays on consumerism, satisfaction, human need, and fulfillment. It’s spiritual in its essence, but it’s anything but light. What does that have to do with feminism?

Plenty.

To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything is to succumb to violence. More than that, it is cooperation in violence. The frenzy of the activist neutralizes one’s work for peace.

The frenzy of the activist neutralizes one’s work for peace. The frenzy. The activist.

I have been meditating upon these ideas, these ions of brilliance and it leaves me wondering what kind of pupil for peace I have been. As a western-born North American, everything can easily become about production. More, more more, and better, better, better. Even in our strategizing for peace and equality, it soon becomes about awarding the most profound of the profound, recognizing the great art from the art, and advancing forward in our agendas.

The frenzy of the activist neutralizes one’s work for peace.

Choosing one, or a handful of commitments has stood next to impossible. Every time I read, my heart follows the author. In my mind I have been in raided factories with blood-stained walls, I have filled my mouth will soil to stifle my cries after my children were killed in front of me, I have wandered in the streests defeated by schizophrenia. How can an activist choose when there is so much that needs to be done, so many voices that need to be projected?

Then I think of my life, my one, singular solitary life in which I was given, like everyone else, only two hands, one heart, one voice. And like so many others, I am limited by circumstance, resources, and a culture of self-serving apathy regarding the poor and disenfranchised. To make up for what others do not care about, I become a promiscuous activist, wanting everything, but committing to nothing.

It’s a frenzy alright. A carousel of passion, fury, pain, and exhilaration. Activism, however, should not be a carousel, it should be walk. A never-ending walk of life that adapts to the speeds and slows of my life, of who I am. The frenzy can burn you out. The frenzy can haze and distort you. What I fear the most of frenzy, is what it can take from you. It takes away hope, potential, and the exchange of ideas.

There is nothing, nothing more sacred to activism than the safe exchange of ideas and honesty.

Simplicity, as outlined by Voluntary Simplicity, questions our human need to hoard and settle. It questions our constantly gathering arms full of berries, shoes, books, lamps, and shoestrings. It wonders aloud, “What do you need?” It asks this of our spiritual, psychological, and material worlds. It prefers a choice that endures through time and mood. Little to do with price, simplicity guides the Conscience to answer to the earth, the environment, the less fortunate, our neighbors. Money, time, technology, farming are all related in our quest for contentment.

As a Feminist Simplicist or a Simplistically Feminist writer, I question my choices. I question my inability to choose. I have taken second and third glances at how many frivolous news and reports ruffle my feathers and I allow myself to be taken away once again, by the carousel. I hve chosen, on numerous occassions, to minimially understand ten issues instead of mindfully engaging in one. There has never been a time where I considered myself to truly know and be known to one thing. Why is that? Am I afraid? If I am, what of?

Last night, I attended a lecture by Vandana Shiva, a stunning author from India who has written dozens of books about the mass food production, corporate globalization, and its impact on the farmers, women, children, the poor, and all of our health. Her latest book (which I have not yet read), Manifestos on the Future of Food and Seed, is the most current tool in digging up the truth of where our food comes from, why it tastes the way that it does, and discovering who is growing our seeds. From the earth, into our mouths, Shiva delivers bone-quivering truths about the business practices of our leading nations, and the cost to our bodies.

She teaches, “To get rid of immoral laws you must creat moral laws. You must create laws of equality, law of stability. You must create laws that celebrate the eco-friendly and non-violating methods.”

I listened, pondering again, simplicity, the art of choice, the expense of peace and non-violence.

“It’s like Starbucks Chai Tea. ‘Chai’ means ‘tea.’ They just put words together to make it sound exotic. When you order, all you’re really saying is ‘Tea Tea.'”

The crowd murmurs. No doubt the Starbucks down the street will go down in profit this week.

Some other points Shiva’s lecture included is to get rid of convenience; understand the real price of things; ask where the farms have gone; get rid of convenience; question why you eat seasonal vegetables year round; support local growers; get rid of convenience; eat from your community and natural regional harvest. Get rid of convenience.

Somewhere in my path as a feminist activist, confusion of identity and placement clouded my vision. How often have I let myself get swept away by cheaper things like shoes and bananas; how much more often, however, have I let myself get swept away by ideologies that I do not agree with but do not engage in debate? Who have I let grow my feminist food? Who have I taken information from? Whose agenda have I swallowed and what has it done to my body? How many times have I forgotten what I, I want to work for instead of what the world insists is important? Even among, or rather, especially among, feminist circles, how have I supported and expanded my own feminism to be more inclusive, more deliberate, and more relevant? How many times have I stepped aside instead of stepping up because of my inability to reign in my emotions? Passion and emotion are two distinct, and necessary, qualities, but allowing the latter to run free distills the potency of the former.

Frenzy, no more.

No to More.

ABC is Trying to Go Brown, Sorta

H/T to Angry Asian Man

So, apparently, ABC is trying to get more Flips on its network to try and make some positive strides after their huge-ass blow up on Desperate Housewives where they managed to insult the Filipino people, specifically the medical professional field, both here in the States and in the Homeland. They apologized.

I still say, ABC can suck my big toe.

But, they’re trying.

Which is more than I can say for a lot of other folks who think an apology makes perfect amends.

As long as they don’t follow the casting habits of The OC, a now-terminated prime soap. One episode I caught, a Pinay domestic worker was mistaken for a Latina and corrected one fo the main characters by saying, “I’m from the Philippines.”

Seinfeld. The OC. Desperate Housewives.
Suck all my toes.

Katherine Heigl’s Sister, Anti-Asian Sentiments

Gossip blogs can suck my big toe.

The anti-asian sentiments found in gossip blogs are appalling, racist, sexist, and downright infuriating. I never link to sites that I don’t read, but apparently some gossip blog (Idon’tlikeyouinthatwaydotcom) has some choice words to describe the surprise that Katherine Heigl was a bridesmaid for her sister and the bride is of asian-descent.

OH MY GOSH. WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO? HOW CAN KATHERINE GREYSMULTICULTURALANATOMY STAR HAVE A HAPA SISTER?

I guess we could ignore logical steps in ascertaining how and why Heigl’s sister is of a different racial and ethnic make-up. Mhm, second marriages, adoption, bi-racial identities…no? Of course, we can always just pander to the lowest common denominator and resort to racist and sexist commentary.

Thanks to Jen for bringing this ugly out into the open.

Confronting Split Women

Confronting Split Women:
Using Asian Feminist Theology as a

Lens for Bi-Cultured, First Generation F/Peminists

Immigration
The Filipino people are the second largest Asian population and one of the three fastest growing demographics in the United States.1 Despite being second in number only to the Chinese, this population remains largely unknown and virtually invisible in the media and public eye. With is history of colonialism, the Filipino people have struggled to sustain its distinct identity, which is influenced, but not determined by Spanish culture and the United States’ long-term military presence.

The story of Filipino women, Filipinas, or Pinays, is richly unique and diverse. Women of Filipino blood face different forms of hardship and discrimination on separate continents, but demonstrate trademark resilience and strength in times of struggle. Under the suffocating blanket of extreme economic poverty, women living in the Philippines are highly susceptible to fall prey to the international migration of female labor – to become nannies, domestic workers, and sex workers around the globe.2 These women go to such measures for the survival of their families or to escape the economic oppression and lack of employment. On the opposite spectrum, other women who migrate to the United States do so for similar reasons, but under drastically different conditions.

The Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 brought waves of educated and highlight skilled Filipinas to the United States. For whatever winds that brought them to North America, there are cultural characteristics embedded in Filipinas that become implanted in the soil of their new homes. Religion is one of them. Unlike other Asian countries which have various religions and practices, the Philippines is 85% Roman Catholic.3 For of Filipinos, religion is closely tied to cultural roots and practices – praying novenas and rosaries, and creating makeshift altars in their homes. For many immigrant Filipinas, their spirituality can be a source of strength and comfort as they face discrimination, sexism, isolation and a longing for community.4 Certain Filipino spiritual values, especially establishing a close community and extending and accepting hospitality, can assist Filipinas in dealing with these issues that stem from painful immigration, reports Thelma B. Burgonio-Watson, the first Filipina to be ordained as a Minister of the Word in the Presbyterian Church. These values can help Filipinas deal with “the more individualistic lifestyle of the mainstream American culture” as they strive to form their own identity.

First Generation, Bi-culturalism
Today, one in five Americans is either foreign-born or first-generation, the highest level in the history of the United States. 5 As Filipina immigrants have brought or continue to birth Filipina American children in the US, a new era of cultural fusion has begun. First generation,6 bi-cultural children are growing up in a world of schizophrenic messages and conflict of upbringing.

Due to the influx of Filipinos after the Immigration and Nationality Act, more Filipinas are being born on American soil with Philippine-born parents. This is the first generation of bi-cultured individuals inculcated with both eastern and western influenced lifestyles. These women vary in terms of geography, language, and class. As Filipinos remain a largely hidden people in the United States, and because Filipinos are subject to the same patriarchal oppression as the rest of the world, Filipino women and their complexity remain mysteriously unknown.

Isolation plays a large factor in their invisibility. This population of women and their families are isolated for numerous reasons. As the Immigration and Nationality Act encouraged highly skilled and educated immigrants, especially medical professionals, to work in the United States, the children of these immigrants were quickly moved into middle to high class neighborhoods. Unlike some ethnic communities who face socioeconomic hardship and live in close proximity for support and/or necessity, Filipino families, products of Immigration and Nationality Act that brought highly-skilled professionals to the middle to upper class of the United States, are often left isolated and are left to assimilate or survive on their own. Thus, a two fold problem occurs.

Immigrants themselves are forced to navigate the cultural conflicts with transitions while their children are silently marked cultural hybrids and are forced to find answers for themselves. In the privacy of their homes, Filipino ethos – collectivism, religion – are enforced. Outside the home, in school, or with peers, they may experience feelings of being ostracized, racial discrimination, or their heritage is ignored altogether.7 Ultimately, bicultured Filipinos may grow to resent or deny their own ethnic identity because it causes so much confusion and pain.

Problems of Verbal Identity:
Pinayism/F/Peminism vs. “Asian American”

The benign nature of the term “Asian American” often generalizes and blurs the very distinct lines that exist between Asian cultures, especially Filipino culture. The term “Asian,” conjures up the more popular and familiar races of Asia: Chinese, Japanese, and Korean. For Filipino Americans, when swept under the term “Asian American,” they experience difficultly in maintaining an authentic identity, especially when the label nonchalantly groups varying peoples and practices under one unifying and non-specific label. When navigating the “Asian” and the “American” components of the label, it might be more accurate and appropriate to insert a hyphen between the two, to represent the merging of two worlds, two distinct globes full of historical roots, practices, and expectation.

Another semantic challenge exists even within cultural vernacular. Filipinas must confront challenge in identifying themselves in their chosen speech when using the letters “F” of “P.” In the seven major dialects of the Philippines, there is no letter “F” in the alphabet.8 This has led to an increasing debate as to whether identify as Filipina/o or Pilipina/o. With over 300 years of Spanish colonization in its history,9 to use the native “P” sound is an avenue of phonetic dissent to challenge the colonizer’s use of the “F” sound.10 Even in simple name, Filipinas must decide how they want to identify.

Pinay is slang in Tagalog, the main dialect of the Philippines, for a Filipina woman; to describe a woman with Filipino descent. This empowering word has evolved to mean many things, but in more contemporary times, it is used to affirm the Filipnas living in the United States.11 Pinayism is one of the first efforts to theorize the contemporary Filipina experience.
As feminism is largely thought to be consumed by White, liberal, middle-class agendas, many individuals across other races, religions, and ethnicity do not identify with the word “feminism” because of its assuming history of speaking for all women’s experiences and western political affiliation. As other critical voices, such as bell hooks who speaks about African American women, have emerged to widen the scope of women’s experiences, Peminism rises. In the echoes of third world feminist theory, peminism resonates with Gloria Anzaldua who advocates for “mestiza consciousness,” which calls for individuals to “[develop] a tolerance for contradictions, a tolerance for ambiguity…She learns to juggle cultures. She has a plural personality, she operates in pluralistic mode. Not only does she sustain contradiction, she turns the ambivalence into something else.” This is particularly appropriate for first generation, bicultured Pinays who experience split lives in their daily existence.

Another strand of separation for Pinays stems from the mainstream, western feminist thought that has segregated the pivotal role and significance of spirituality from the conversation of feminism. A Filipina must seek out alternative tools to deconstruct and find meaning in her bi-cultured identity, which not only includes, but is heavily linked to her religious and spiritual experiences.

Asian Feminist Theology
“There is no one way to do Asian Feminist Theology, and Asian feminist theologians in recent years have increasingly paid attention to their differences, not just their commonalities.”12 This main tenant of Asian Feminist Theology stands as a critical feature for first generation Filipinas negotiating their spirituality, identity, and religious practice in the context of the United States. Asian Feminist Theology is based upon the Asian women’s perspective, but that perspective comes from all over the world, including Asians who have never been to Asia or their mother country.

In one vein, identifying with Asian Feminist Theology, with the forethought that it must come from women living in or having lived in Asia, could be problematic for first generation, bi-cultured Pinays who face discrimination for not being “Filipino enough” (speaking the language, regular visits to the Philippines) or completely American. Some first generation Pinays may not have ever seen land beyond their own state or country, let alone the Philippines or Asia as a continent.

However, an individual will soon come to understand that Asian Feminist Theology is an open invitation that pushes beyond sweeping terms; it is an arena that intentionally seeks a “multivocal” conversation.13 This conversation can withstand and even welcomes the differences of generation and citizenship. Identity encapsulates much more than birthright. It includes the overlapping layers of family history and migration. For split Filipinas who struggle between the individualistic western culture and the culture that promotes the centrality of family and community, Asian Feminist Theology remedies the notion that Filipinas must be one or the other.

There is no one true identity for first generation Filipinas. They exist on the peripheral, translating their own lives at the connecting door of two worlds. They are not just Asian or just American. They are both and more. Asian Feminist Theology may very well be the most hopeful space a bi-cultured Filipina may find in her efforts to find a place that can hold the natural tension of her duality.

In the effort of bi-cultured Pinays to sift through their catholic upbringing in the United States, Asian Feminist Theology stands as a flexible and essential body of re-examination. “Asian feminist theologians find that they have to reinterpret sin and redemption anew in the contemporary context. The traditional emphasis on the individual and spiritual dimension of sin proves to be less than helpful for women. Women are not just sinners; they are the sinned against too.”14

Even though many Filipinas must painfully co-exist with Catholicism and f/peminism, fleeing the Catholic Church is often not a viable or desirable answer. Theologian Rachel Bundang reflects, “I cannot help but see Allan Figueroa Deck’s characterization of Latino theology as similar to my own stance and project. He writes, ‘Among Latinos the unity of the Church does not revolve around the resolution of differences of creed or doctrine…the commitment out of which they write and teach is not so much the confessional…as much as the cultural and social class commitment of their communities, their gente, their pueblos.’”15

F/Peminist theologians must be able to find a place that can hold the exchange, where the goal is not sameness or resolution; where peace is the space that can withstand the action of living in friction. Rachel Bundang asserts, “Theologies and the study of Asian Americans’ religious experiences in the United States are not yet a point where they can even deal with trying to settle on a name like womanist, mujerista, or teologia de conjuto (collaborative Hispanic Protestant theology)…I do not think that naming, in this case, is as important as the struggle to articulate what is yet unspoken, unseen, unknown.”16

Moving the Unknown Forward
What is unspoken, unseen, and unknown is the contemporary spiritual Filipina experience. The American and European feminist movement in the 1970s called for the expansion of the women’s experience by expressing in the written, narrative form. As the attempt to validate Women Studies in the academic realm continues, many have suggested a cease to the narrative, or at least a decrease in using the narrative as a tool for credibility. The narrative, some feminists argue, does not offer empirical data for Women Studies to be deepened or theorized.
The bi-cultured Filipina has yet to be heard, or even asked about her experience. The limited space in which women of color have had for their stories is an outrage and a disservice to all those working on behalf of women’s liberation. Chung Hyun Kyung, an Asian woman theologian, writes, “Throughout my eleven years of theological training, I have written countless term papers and theological essays for highly educated people who were my teachers…I no longer want to write so-called ‘comprehensive’ theology seeking to answer question of privileged Europeans. I want to do theology in solidarity with and in love for my mother so as to resurrect crucified persons – like her – by giving voice to their hurts and pains.”17

According to theologian Rebecca Chop, ‘knowledge is itself always historical, always related to power and interests, and is open to change and transformation.’18 Asian Feminist Theologians argue that because their experiences have been left out of the theological reflection, they must do their own theology.19 For Asian Feminist Theology to advance the narrative cannot be over; it is just beginning.

For bi-cultured Filipinas to become a part of the theological conversation and to fight their own cultural and systematic oppression, they must put their own life stories forward and speak from the marginalized places in which they reside. They must distinguish themselves and affirm their rights to “do theology” by deeply contemplating and offering their split lives as theological testimony and join the Asian Feminist Theology movement to magnify the pieces of their brokenness and strength.

1 United States Census Bureau, 2000.
2 Ehrenreich, Barbara and Horchschild, Arlie Russell. Global Women: Nannies, Maids and Sex Workers in the New Economy. Henry Holt and Company, LLC. Hochschild. 2002.
3 Root, Maria P. Filipino Americans: Transforming and Identity. Sage Publications. Thousand Oaks. 1997.
4 Root, pg 328.
5 Fountas, Angela Jane. Waking Up American: Coming of Age Biculturally. Seal Press. Emeryville. 2005.
6 The term “first generation” has been used to describe both immigrants and also those whose parents are immigrants. For consistency, the term “first generation” is used exclusively to refer or describe individuals who are born in the United States, whose parents emigrated from another country.
7 Root, pg 198.
8 Jesus, Melinda L. de. Pinay Power, Peminst Critical Theory: Theorizing the Filipina/American Experience. Routledge. New York. 2005.
9 Jesus, pg 14.
10 The Spanish colonizers named the islands “lasIslas Filipinas: after Philip of Spain. In 1898, with the American Takeover, the “F” sound was further enforced.
11 Root, pg 14.
12 Pui-lan, Kwok. Introducing Asian Feminist Theology. The Pilgrim Press. Cleveland. 2000.
13 Pui-lan, pg 10.
14 Pui-lan, 80.
15 Pui-lan, 66.
16 Pui-lan, 67.
17 Pui-lan, 28.
18 Pui-lan, 39.
19 Pui-lan, 39.

One more chord for the violinist…

I’ve been dreaming a lot. I’ve also been aging a lot.

After a while, one has got to win and the other must forfeit. Lately, I’ve been letting age win, but that doesn’t mean that dreaming has stopped.

Since I was a little girl, I wanted to be a writer. Writing was never about anything but a wind that only I could feel. Writing was never about capability, punctuation, or approval. It was about perfection; finding the combination of words, sounds, expressives that most perfectly fit to convey a thought in my own mind. Perfection. The urge itself was poetry, a streamlined unconscious effort to love myself into art.

Writing, as a child, was pure. Completely uncensored, I wrote about crushes, injustice, poverty, Lent, and fear. Writing, then, was simple with no hunches of my own shoulders, no computer screens, or query letters. Writing was as private as it was sacred. My own life, recorded, by my own hand.

I’ve recently moved forward in my writing. This blog, this conglomeration of stories, news, identity, and links has morphed into something that I ponder. It’s information, but it’s not my writing.

Writing on my stomach on the hardwood floors of my bedroom was peace. Writing about confusion at 13 was so honest, probably more honest than my confusion at 28. At 28, on a blog, you wonder how it will be read. I didn’t used to care. For some reason, now, I care more. That confession deflates me.

There is more to my life than my confessions. There is more to me than my relationship to my husband. There is more to me than being a woman of color. I am. I am. I am so much more than this blog, more than one blog will ever allow.

The world doesn’t care about non-identified people and the world doesn’t care to hear if you’re not credible. In the middle of the night, on any given night, I ask myself what, then, does the world need me for?

I’m finding I care more about what the world thinks of my words than what I think of them myself. I care more about what publishers, and noteable women, and loud men, and stat counters have to tell me than the sound of my own voice. How did I come to that? More importantly, how do I get out?

Knowing full well that this is not true, I think the world is moving forward without me. All around me, everywhere, friends are beginning families, going back to degree programs, publishing their work, saving money for a home, deepening their spirituality, and finding themselves in very uplifting, very evidence-rich ways. In a room, alone, with one lamp as my witness, all I have are quiet nights and drafts unedited.

The dreams inch into darker corners and the devils come out to dance around me. I begin to wish I had wings. I wish I wasn’t alone.

The pain of rejection and self-doubt redistributes all that you thought you achieved in life. The shares in your pockets are smaller, the rations of perseverance discouraging. The soundtrack of my life was drums, guitar, flute, and sax. And now, one line of a violinist.

I’m pretty self-indulgent right now and I think that’s what happens when one questions the validity of our own dreams. That girl, that honest girl with handwritten cursive and pen marks on her cheek – I’d like to see her tonight and remember that she isn’t that far away from who I have grown into.