Abstract Chatter

Cut Me, and I Will Bleed. So Will She. So Will He.
January 12, 2009, 10:57 pm
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It’s difficult to look deep within one’s self and be honest in a way that allows for self-criticism without any inhibitions. For a moment I had to swallow my pride and shed my relentless ego. Regardless of how agonizing growing pains may be, it’s this type of self evaluation that allows for personal growth. In this specific case, I wouldn’t have recognized my weakness had it not been for him (who was pretty fly for a white guy).

I’m reminded of a quote that states how people enter into our lives for a reason, season or a lifetime. It was through this particular person– through our interactions, our conversation and mutual understanding, that I was able to see the reason that he came into my life– which in turn, allowed me to see and correct my faults. Posted below is an email which explains the remaining story:

Don’t judge me, but…
1) Before being introduced to you, I never really saw white people. What I saw were a group of faces unrelated to myself — maybe even a race who perceived to be superior to others. Ultimately my lenses were tainted (through personal experience), where all I saw was a blurred mass of collectives whom I had no intention of understanding.

So here lies the irony. At times, I’ve felt the need to actively respond within my capacity to even the most minute injustices around me. I saw pain and struggle. But only for People of Color. And for whatever reason, that understanding, sympathy, empathy and ability to recognize pain did not transcend into all races. How could I want a collectively better society, if I myself was entrenched in biases that prevented me from achieving any level of progress? How could I provide a positive influence in my surrounding environments if my heart and mind was itself juxtaposed with both apathy towards one group but sympathy towards all others? It’s clearly not possible, and I feel ashamed to say that those were some of my unrecognized thoughts.

As time has passed, I’ve attempted to overcome my prejudices and grapple with these biases. I’m able to say that I can now make out individual faces. We’re all people, all human beings- be it white or black -that are on the grind, and in our own way overcoming individual struggles. As the lyrics of Jill Scott says, “we stand and fight, we’ll walk by faith and not by sight// we’re all the same color when you turn off the lights…” I can’t explain how much wider my eyes have become, and how I am now able to see the world in a way that I had never seen before. It’s refreshing to know that my mind and spirit are not stagnant, and that perpetual development and progress still continues.

So thank you.


I Killed a Palestinian– Wait No, I Killed 700
January 8, 2009, 5:47 am
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Maybe just this once, pictures will be able to speak louder than words. Forget food and water– Palestinians don’t have enough white cloth to bury the dead. 700 Lives. Gone. You do the math.



With Each Day I Pray for the Pain to Go Away
January 2, 2009, 4:28 pm
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gazaDay 1:
Bombs drop over Palestine. Children cry for help, but their cries remain silent as we watch Israeli military tanks commit endless war crimes. Each non-American life is worth less than the change jingling in our pockets – less than that of a mere dime.

Day 2:
The United Nation shouts through their nonexistent loudspeaker concerning Their human rights violation. Apparently, the strikes have only just begun. And so the acts of vicious  murder continue– acts that can no longer be undone.

But the (Arab) world remains silent.

Day 3:
In our minute attempt to join the struggle, we organize and plan—we make all attempts to boycott McDonalds and Starbucks—maybe this time we can stick it to the Man. We paint our diverse faces with multicolored shades of makeup —

complementing the Palestinian flag of red, green and white. Maybe tonight will be the night that Their plight will be shining in the spotlight.

Wanting to stay warm in the negative 10-degree weather (and to demonstrate a symbolic motion of solidarity)–

We wrap our shivering necks with a “made in Taiwan” checkered-like kefiyah with utmost sincerity.

In unison we shout “no justice no peace”, from Los Angeles to D.C. – our shouts become a hum – ultimately a miniscule silent plea.

We march our privileged bodies down to the rallies and protests insisting that our subtle voices move our nonchalant and spineless Senators and House Members to act with some level of righteousness. But it seems the lobbyists have done their duties and our elected officials could care less.


Day 4:
Cupping our hands closer to our ears, eyeing the white house– we hope for a statement of condemnation.

Yet all you hear is silence from our Administration. The land and people remain held under occupation.

Maybe they have the People—the Joe Sixpack — exactly where they want us. Like pawns in a game of chess, they leave us satisfied enough and content enough – so that a revolution is yet to be. So that even our screams become silent- and this continues the war between the Lexus and Olive Tree.