GUPS Palestinian Cultural Mural Inauguration

San Francisco State University's General Union of Palestine Students bring you...



Palestinian Mural Banner

Palestinian Cultural Mural
Honoring Dr. Edward Said
Inauguration November 2, 2007
10:30am Complimentary Brunch featuring Georges Lammam, violinist, Jack Adams Hall
12 pm Mural Inauguration Ceremony, North Plaza
featuring: Native American Dancers, Al-Juthoor Debka Troupe, poetry by Dina Omar, Professor of History from Birzeit University Sonia Nimr, Professor of Near Eastern and Ethnic Studies at UC Berkeley Hatem Bazian, Arab American hip-hop, and live classical Arabic Oud Instramental
2 pm Reception, Jack Adams Hall featuring Georges Lammam Ensemble
6 pm Social Hour, Knuth Hall Creative Arts Building
7 pm We Speak For Ourselves: Arab Voices, Knuth Hall Creative Arts Building
with Elmaz Abinader, Tony Khalifa, Fady Joudah, Deema Shehabi, Omar Khorsheed and Zaid Shlah
$10 for students - $20 non-students • Presale available, call ACCC for ticket purchases at (415) 664-2200 x15 • No one turned away for lack of funds

a semi-short fable about foundation funding. and the things we have to do to get it.

Today, I became a human slapstick metaphor for the fact that the revolution will NOT, in fact, be funded.

Yes, I am re-reading that book, including the essays I never read in the first place because they were too academic for college-student-me to handle in addition to my already large load of academic reading.
(The same book, which, by the way, fairly obviously deserves credit for inspiring the title of my blog)

So today:

I had to deliver a grant proposal to some foundation in another neighborhood in brooklyn (for those of you who are not NYers- Brooklyn is BIG. not small. its only small compared to Manhattan. its actually one of the biggest cities in the world (i'm not sure how many biggest cities there are, i just know bk is one of em).
So, I'm hand delivering the proposal, because it wasn't finished until the absolute deadline.
Also today- it was POURING rain. Think San Francisco winter-style pouring rain, but with a LOT more wind, so that umbrellas not only become useless because the rain is coming at you sideways from various directions, they also flip over so you have to get one arm completely soaked holding the umbrella in its umrella position.

So there's me...walking to the subway under my umbrella (okay and now i'm sure i've put that catchy rihanna song in all of your heads) with the grant proposal in my bag, ironically resting next to my book- the revolution will not be funded. and i am ironically excited that this unusual task of hand delivering a grant proposal means that i get to get out of the office for a second and even get to read my book on the subway! at this point, it's raining more of a San Francisco late-fall style (i.e. less) with less wind. I get on the subway. I read about the problematic aspects of foundations.

I get out of the subway. Still raining. Still not yet pouring. I walk to the address of the foundation. I arrive. Hmm...no foundation! Where is it? In its place is a HUGE dug-out hole in the ground which looks like it's going to be the foundation for a building (not the right kind of foundation to deliver grant proposals to)- There are all these bright blue thin wood walls semi-attached to the ground around this giant hole. With some big sign about development.
I start to think maybe this is some kind of symbolic dream. But it isn't
I go to the nearby store and ask them where #352 is. "It's gone. They tore it down." I ask if they know where the foundation went. They do, but they lost the paper they had it written down on. I call my office and they look it up on the internet (apparently no thought to do this beforehand?) and tell me where to go. It's an 18 minute walk, but the rain is temporarily lighter and the walk will be quicker than walking to the subway, waiting for the subway, and then walking from the subway to the place. They suggest that I walk. I agree to walk.

The light rain= totally an illusion. Within minutes, it is POURING. I am drenched. I run beneath the small tent cover of a food stand in a park and ask them for a plastic bag (so I can put the proposal in it and it won't get completely soaked)- they give me the plastic bag, and I reflect on the fact that this interaction, running for shelter from the rain and asking for what I needed, and recieving it just because people are occasionally nice, was much much much more human than the larger interaction that was taking place between my organization (not to mention my self) and this foundation.

I keep walking. About a block later, my umbrella (which is not actually mine, but someone else's from my office...shhh) flips completely upside down. The rain starts coming at me like someone might as well be pointing a large amount of hoses at me, totally horizontally, directly in front of me, as well as vertically, from up above. Soon the puddles that form on the ground mean it's basically coming from below as well- and in NY, that is GROSS because this city has a lotta grit on the ground.
At this point- specifically, the moment the umbrella flips over- I start laughing out loud. I'm sure I looked crazy because people in NY do NOT laugh out loud when they're alone. But I couldn't help it. I had spent the last couple nights up late reading about how much non-profits bend over backwards and waste their time and compromise themselves to get foundation funding and then here I am, walking down the street in the pouring rain, 18 minutes (but actually longer b/c of the rain and lack of accurate directions) from the wrong location to the right location, my umbrella flipping over, my clothes and my bag completely soaking wet with only the grant proposal protected from the rain because the plastic bag is too small for me to put ALL my stuff in, my directions in my hand and falling apart because the paper is so wet, all for the sake of this grant.
And it's a weird 18 minutes too because the foundation turns out to be located almost directly under a bunch of bridges. totally totally surreal. again, for the sf parallel- imagine the soma district under about three bridges- and of course pouring rain. and a really loud subway underground that doesn't seem to have any entrances or exits anywhere nearby.

Finally, I get there. At this point, my pants are extremely heavy because they are soaked in water and grit from the brooklyn sidewalks and streets. I find it- I go in, afraid they are going to turn me away from the building and I'll never get the the office I need to go to, but they don't. They let me in, dripping wet, and a mess. I take the elevator. Knock on the door. "I'm here to deliver a grant proposal." They take it. They do not acknowledge that I am soaking wet. They do not acknowledge much at all. They also don't seem to be in any sort of rush, or bombarded with proposals, so I wonder about this supposed deadline...
I leave. Going to the subway, I'm no longer laughing because I'm too tired. My shoes are soaked through and I can feel the water on my toes, so I give up on jumping over puddles and just walk through them. On the subway I notice that the water has my hat sticking to my head so I take it off. Of course I end up forgetting my hat on the subway. I go into my office. And still no acknowledgement. Now I KNOW I am soaking wet- I know that I am literally dripping and my sneakers are squeaking LOUD. Their question "So did you get it there?"
Deep breaths, self. Deep breaths.
"Yes, but I lost my hat in the process and I'm literally soaking wet."
The development director apologizes profusely of course.
I look expectantly at my ED until she says I can go home. I mean seriously, she HAD to at least let me go home and change- but it took so long to deliver the proposal that I'd only have been able to come back for about 15 minutes before leaving again. Of course she still got to feel very benevolent about letting me go home an hour early.
How sweet.

And that, my friends, is the story of how I became a walking slapstick style metaphor (I wish I could capture on film that moment where my umbrella first flipped upside down and I hovered around the grant proposal and its plastic bag making sure IT didn't get wet, regardless of how wet I was getting)for the absurd measures non-profits go to get foundation funding, the ineffectiveness of these measures, the extreme amount of energy they drain us of, and the fact that the revolution will NOT, in fact, be funded.

The end.

blogging against racism

note of warning: i have terrible cramps today (yup, i'm broadcasting that on the internet!) and took a heavy duty painkiller. so this post will either be overly verbose (although that wouldn't be so different than my regular posts), overly hopeful (THAT would definitely be different than my regular posts), or just a little confusing.

that said...

similar to the world of real-life and real-people, i am finding that the world of blogs and bloggers is much bigger than i realized. It is more complicated than I knew and it has so much possibility and potential! although also similar to my experience in the real world, i feel like i'm not really sure how to tap in and connect to all that possibility.

i googled "white women, women of Color, anti-violence movement, accountability" and about six other variations on that, looking for articles and advice on how to deal with some of what's going on at my organization- trying to figure out how to use the privileges i have in order to work towards change in some way, even if that way is just internally within my own organization...
i keep rushing home after these incidents and flipping through "the color of violence" (incite) or "conquest" (andrea smith) or even "sister outsider" (audre lorde)- looking for answers.
and in those books and essays and insights, i find comparable stories and reassurance that i am not "over-reacting" or being too critical, because other people have also found these things to be problems.
but i don't really want to be reassured. because all the reassurance really points to is that the problems at my organizations are BIG problems that have been around for along time and that are ingrained in many aspects and parts of the "anti-violence" movement. so while i personally get to feel slightly validated and less "crazy-angry-bitchy" for complaining about this stuff, it's actually more depressing.
also in the past week or so, i've also been flipping through "uprooting racism," by paul kivel. it's basically a tutorial for white people on how to be anti-racist allies. it's got a lot of really good stuff (although it bothers me that at the end when he talks about the specifics of being allies to specific races and cultures, he doesn't have a section about Arabs or Arab-americans, because he's jewish, and i feel like jews have a particular responsibility to Arabs and Arab-americans...but that would be a whole other blog post so i wontt elaborate on that right now) - it goes from pretty basic definitions of racism and explanations of how racism and white supremacy work, to analyses of typical responses/defense mechanisms white people have to talking about racism and why those aren't valid, to some really good detail on the questions white anti-racists should be asking ourselves about how racism plays out in our communities.
what i've been wanting to read is "uprooting racism" specifically for white women working within the "anti-violence" movement. (my boss is one of the people who is making the necessity of a book like this feel very clear to me right now- when i call her out, she is generally pretty receptive- not always, but often- but she NEVER seems to see this stuff for herself. like she's pretty blind to incidents of racism...and to her own racism...but she does think it's a problem if someone else points it out). what paul kivel does, is he explores what white people need to actually DO to be accountable to communities of Color. reading books and essays is a part of that, but there's more, and he talks about that. the thing is that it's "general," and what "general" means in mainstream society is straight-white-male. and that's fine (well that's not fine but i mean that the book is addressed to that audience is fine) because it's really important that straight white males, and others who just know how to read books that are unspokenly written for a straight white male audience (which most of us do because we kind of have to in order to read most things), read and explore these issues. but what about those of us who aren't straight white males? there are more issues that are specific to the "feminist communities," "queer communities," and "anti-violence communities" that we need to explore, in the same way paul kivel explores those issues from a straight male perspective. And by the way, all those "communities" are in quotation marks intentionally. Just to point that out.
Anyway I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be a white anti-racist ally specifically within the anti-violence movement. I've also been reflecting on the fact that as far as I can find, nobody seems to have written about that specifically. Please correct me if I'm wrong. But it seems like there's a lot of work to be done in that area...i feel like we need to go beyond reading Incite's books and lending them to all our white friends, family, and co-workers (although that seems to work well as a first step). we need to identify how we can really be allies to women of color, how we can challenge our white co-workers, friends, and family to expand their analysis of "violence against women" to include women of Color (and i really mean HOW we can challenge them- because i think a lot of us know we should challenge them, but the way we do this has a lot to do with how it ultimately plays out and whether or not we are successful), how we can continue to challenge ourselves, how we can make sure we are accountable as allies, ...and more. so, where IS this book?
and thus we return to my original statement about the blogging world...
as far as i can tell, this "book," is on the internet, in a not-at-all-connected series of blogs, blog "comments," etc, written by white feminists who momentarily consider that the racism within the "anti-violence movement" is a problem. most of these bloggers seem to write one posting, which is followed by about a month long discussion, and then forget they had that moment of clarity...but still, it's there, instead of in print.
in addition, a lot of these white feminist bloggers who are momentarily struck with the fucked-up-reality of racism then proceed to read blogs by women of color to gain insight into their own racism, without having to read (okay maybe this is projecting but i don't think so) highly academic articles and essays. it's like a big conversation on racism (complete with white people then thinking it's their place to comment on the women of Color blogs and ask women of color bloggers to give them all the answers OR to argue with women of Color bloggers on what it means to be their allies...) happening over lots of time, on the internet.
and i'm totally excited to explore the possibilities of this world!
and i also don't really get how.
how do multi-author blogs work? how does one become a member of these online blog communities? is there a difference between multi-author blogs and those other things where a bunch of bloggers with different blogger-names seem to post...? in other words...HUH? The techy part of this is leaving me baffled but the political part of it is really intriguing...
so, in the spirit of blogging, i welcome comments on all of this.

alright, this is definitely just a little piece of a long-term conversation. within myself, with friends, and on the internet. and it's a little piece written, like i said, on heavy-duty painkillers, so it may not even make sense. but i wanted to get some of these thoughts out there in some way, because they're kind of pounding on my head telling me to let them out into the world.

and now i will go read more blogs...

"anti-violence"? anti what kind of violence?

so i don't even know who reads this, but if you're reading, i really welcome thoughts on this one...seriously...add a comment or drop an email...

today at work, a woman called about classes- not much of a surprise, since registering students for classes is a large part of the work that i do during the day. the difference was, this woman only spoke spanish. i was able to have an initial conversation with her- and i told her a little about our classes and also told her- reluctantly but i wasn't going to mislead her- that we don't currently have any spanish teachers but that we might in the future. that's a big "might." but...i couldn't bring myself to say it without that. i guess that part was misleading. but you know when sometimes you know what you're "supposed" to say and you just can't make your mouth make the words happen? Yea...
Anyway, I asked if I could take her number and call her later- or have someone who spoke better spanish call her later. This was when she said something I didn't understand...I understood some words...words like "abuso domestica"...and that she couldn't give me her phone number. So I could guess. But I didn't really know. After a few minutes of struggling to understand each other we both apologized (though she obviously had nothing to apologize for!) and hung up the phone.
Afterwards, I immediately blamed myself- why did I not know those words? why did i not think to ask her to say the same thing in different words? i could have said that...why did i not think to ask for an email address or another way to contact her or ask her to call back at a specific time...?
Then, after some help from a certain person on gchat (thank you) I realized more and more that while yes, I may have made a mistake, the ultimate mistake wasn't mine- it was my organization's.
And the thing is, it's not the first time this has come up. There was another time a social worker called asking if we had classes in spanish and i heard T (the e.d.) tell the intern (who had picked up the phone) "just tell her no." The woman in my self defense class who only spoke spanish was advised to bring a friend with her who could translate. Seriously. She had to find her own translater if she wanted to take the class. And then this. And this woman's sentence is still haunting me. I didn't even have any resources to give her. T said, "well aren't there resources on the website?" at which point i assumed there were, and figured again, my fault. no. there aren't. T at least supported my idea that we get them together. A, the old
executive director and current progam director didn't even support that. "Well if they're calling here they're probably looking for self defense and there just aren't any resources for that." As I kept pushing the issue, she kept repeating that claim. Like it wasn't a crisis. Like I couldn't hear that specific quality to a woman's voice, that specific energy that comes through the phone lines, like I didn't know what I was talking about. And more importantly, like it didn't matter.
If I hadn't already told them I was going to leave, I think I would have done it then and there. It was very declarative: we teach self defense classes. we are not about healing, we are not about empowering, when it comes down to it it's self defense. IF you can speak english If not, good luck out there in the world. We got the skills, we just don't wanna bother sharing em with you. FUCK. (Am I allowed to write that on a blog or is this thing censored?)
I'm not sure where to go from here. I brought it up immediately...then I went to lunch...came back...there was a heavy awkwardness in the office the rest of the day, especially around A and me. I lost respect for her. I think she knows that. I hope she knows that.
And I know that the anti-violence movement is not exactly known for its anti-racist tendencies...I know this shit is common. But it feels different to experience it firsthand. It feels different to have to be the one to tell someone that the services you offer can't be offered to them because they don't speak english.

I don't know why this moment is ripping me apart- I think it's because I could really feel in that moment my lack of ability to help- and when I placed it in a context, it isn't just me, but something a lot bigger. Something I know happens often. This idea that "violence against women" means violence against white women. That racism is not something we need to deal with because that's not our issue. And then, now, that tendency to put "anti-racist" in our mission statement and not follow up with it. I know, because I saw the document, that we claimed in a request for funding that since 9/11 we have been doing workshops for free for Arab organizations because of the violence those communities faced. NOT TRUE. They did one workshop for one organization years ago...now in 2007, when I was sending out our outreach materials, that organization was no longer even on the list to receive our information. I had to add them. And they called the NEXT DAY to request a workshop. So it's obviously not for lack of interest.

...Anyway the part I want advice on is the first part of this blog....I know it's not articulate as I usually am. Not poetic or pretty at all. I just needed to get this all down and out there...and to figure out what to do. Plus, I'm halfway through a glass of whiskey.

Thanks for reading.

Glug-Glug

after being asked recently why i haven't been blogging i realized something: i haven't been blogging. at all.
so here i am.
and "blogging" is a weird sounding word. it sounds like a fish going glug-glug through the water with its gills. except i guess that would be glugging not blogging. almost the same thing.

i'm not sure where to start.

Ok, short version: I'm quitting my job with the non-profit industrial complex, wandering around for a minute, and then going to Palestine to work on setting up a youth center in Al Xhaleel (aka Hebron)with a friend of mine/some people i met when i was there last. during the wandering period and the time before i quit my job (i've already told 'em, but i'm giving 'em time to find someone new, etc) i'm working on fundraising for said youth center (that's said like, i said it earlier, not said like edward said...just to be clear). and i'm working on various other things...including divestment & support for khalil gibran international academy- the dual language arabic-english school that just opened in brooklyn. before it opened, however, due to right-wing pressure, the principal was overwhelmed with public/media pressure and had to resign. the new principal: a jewish, non-arabic speaking Zionist. Yup. Seriously. So i'm workin on that a lot.

Oh. Another thing- you remember how i'm kind of loud? some might say...overwhelming? the other day, i was hanging out with folks after a jfrej meeting (jews for racial & economic justice- that's who i've been doing a lot of the khalil gibran academy support work with- i mean, i've been working with a coalition, that includes a lot of org's including arab women in arts and media, people from the school design team, first unitarian church, n more... but jfrej is a part of the coalition and so i've been one of their rep's...) and I actually had to struggle to be loud enough (literally, volume-wise) to be heard and I actually felt overwhelmed. It was great! :-) Haha.

Oh, and speaking of loudness...myy little cousins are adorable (and loud) (because they're kids). I have one who's 11 and one who's about 6. SO cute. The 11 year old is totally a person now, and I love it. The 6 year old likes to play and cuddle. And has the softest hair in the world. And calls herself a "princess," but also likes to play baseball (even though she can never remember which direction to run). The 11 year old knows how to play baseball, is an avid Mets fan and hates the Yankees with an equal passion. She's just discovering the world of fashion and shopping for the first time (with a bunch of grown ups who say "You know you can get brand names at Marshalls and Kohls for cheap!") but also still complaining about the boys who flirt with her and are "annoying." And also, she cried when Bush got re-elected. Oh, and you know those calendars that count down till Bush's last day? Yea, the 6 year old wants one o' those. Haha. See, they're great!

That said (again, not Edward), I am SERIOUSLY considering moving back to the bay after I come back from Palestine....Just to put that out there. Wanna convince me? Okay, ready, go! convince...i'm waiting.

creativity

i think inspiration in this world is like one giant process, or web...
someone creates something...whether it is a project, a painting, a poem, or just something they say...someone else (or many other people, hence the web, rather than just a sequence) absorbs that...kind of inhales it...then exhales another breath that is just as inspirational to others, that takes another form- another project, poem, painting, sentence, question, chant, etc...

just a thought.

a reflection

I wrote this this morning when my internet wasn't working, so I'm posting it now.


I’m one page into Gloria Anzaldua’s “Borderlands,” and I already had to put down the book to write down a thought. I think that’s the sign of a good writer. No, of an amazing writer. A good writer entertains, and even provokes thought, but an amazing writer inspires. A good book, you can’t put down, and an amazing book, you have to put down, because you can’t possibly absorb it all at once, nevermind allow it to do with you what it will and what it must, generate thoughts and responses and emotions. I think a good book is more like an experience than just something to read.


I’m thinking about land and nature and spirituality. What does it mean for me to feel spiritual in a nature which is not mine? In Palestine, it was very clear that to feel this way was wrong. I felt intensely uncomfortable when I was in Jenin and Kameel and Salem were showing me their beautiful city. The trees there were beautiful symbols and sources of growth and the rolling hills felt incredibly soothing, despite the occasional checkpoints scattered across them. I felt so good breathing in the land there, and that felt wrong. It wasn’t mine. Like did I really have a right to love it and absorb it and let it make me feel healthy and alive? I rarely think about that when I love being in nature here in the U.S., but I should. Earlier this week I went to the park and wrote poetry on my lunch break. The trees made me feel invigorated and as the words flowed out of my pen and into my journal I felt like I was finally awake and encountering the world again, like I used to be. But is that okay? I mean, this land is stolen just as much as Palestine is, and the idea that “that’s all in the past,” is obviously absurd and offensive. And when I feel at home in Brooklyn, because my family has been in New York for generations, and I live only one neighborhood(ish) over from where my grandmother grew up, is that any more “right” or “okay” or “not-fucked-up” than it would be for me to feel “at home” and happy in Palestine?

On another note, I'm currently listening to Suheir Hammad. Can I tell you my favorite line ever in a poem. From her poem "critical resistance," "A woman will tell you/ every home she has ever inhabited has been broken into/ starting with her body." Maybe that's why I love poetry. What takes most people essays or books to say, a good poet can say in one line.