Access Granted!

Hey gang,

I finally have been able to access the blog after several error messages telling me this blog does not exist or that my access has been denied. I'm trying to catch up by reading all the posts and it's great to be able to read each others work and ideas. As for the Earth Day project I just wonder due to time constraints if it wouldn't be easier to work with a group already doing something instead of coming up with a project from scratch. Although I do think getting NYU to turn it's lights off in a similar vain to the "Earth Hour" that happened a few weeks ago would be pretty cool. I also agree with Annelle that getting our "hands dirty" which I took to mean as planting something would also be fun!
We have class in a few hours and I'm sure we will be discussing this.

I just want to also plug "Body of War" and "Trouble the Water" which are films that have been mentioned by several people. They are both challenging and thought provoking films that deserve an audience and I strongly encourage everyone to see them. I also saw a film at a festival in North Carolina called "Full Battle Rattle." It's about the military's Iraq simulation camps that Aura was telling us about. Basically the final stop for soldiers before deployment to Iraq is a place in the middle of the Mojave Desert that looks like a Hollywood version of Iraq. The film shows how soldiers carry out fake missions and some even play the roll of Iraqis in order to "understand the mindset of the insurgents." There is no word yet on the theatrical release of the film but I'll let you know if I hear of anything.

Below is a piece I was asked to post. It came out of our identity and politics assignment as well as an overall need to get things off my chest.

Who am I? A question that I am continually asked, a question that makes me nervous, it’s complicated I answer. Oh ok, well where are you from? Well you see, I begin, I was born in Washington D.C. but I grew up in Kenya. I’m American but I don’t have a hometown, I moved around a lot. I was loosely raised Catholic but dropped out of Confirmation classes when I was 13 because I don’t believe I should be made to feel unworthy of anything, let alone a tasteless wafer. I go to church with my family at Christmas because it makes my mom happy. I’m white. I’m female. I like men. How do I identify you ask? I identify as a human I guess, someone who cares about the world. I’m privileged but I try to fight it. Money makes me uncomfortable. I’m embarrassed by the size of my parent’s house. Some days I consider myself an activist but on others I acknowledge I am lazy. I used to be on this campaign that I needed to convince people to care about the things I care about. For example, I care about AIDS, it’s one of my “causes” if you will. I used to think, why doesn’t everyone care about AIDS? How do I make them care? Then it occurred to me I don’t want to make anyone do anything they don’t want to, I don’t want to be those people that make others feel bad about themselves for not “caring.” I consider myself a very non-judgmental person. Well maybe if I just educate people, I decided, then they could choose for themselves what they cared about. I want to be a teacher. Do those motives sounds selfish? Wow, I never thought about that, maybe I’m selfish, fuck. There are many more reasons for why I want to be a teacher though. I do get frustrated, very frustrated. Today in class a peer of mine says that she lives in her own bubble and doesn’t care what is happening outside of it because she only wants to focus on her self. And, that’s more or less a direct quote, not me distilling it, she only cares about her self. She removed her self from the group conversation about race, gender, history, power and Krzysztof Wodiczko’s definitions of the “victors” and the “vanquished.” I’ll admit the conversation was all over the place but to me it made perfect sense and finally, I thought, a conversation that I was longing for. I see how it all connects. To her race in this country is a mute point. She said she was bored and didn’t understand what the point was. I told her life was the point! I think I came off as a crazy…something, I don’t know, I think my class might label me as an activist and thus I am crazy. I went on a rant today because I said I felt vanquished because these are the things I want to talk about but my fellow students don’t want to. I feel oppressed because I feel voiceless in a country where our first amendment is freedom of speech. I feel like I cannot speak in class without hurting someone’s feelings, or without people rolling their eyes. Having a voice has been systematically removed from our lives. If you speak out, sound passionate, act like you care, you become a crazy political activist and people turn off from you. I cannot tell you how many times people start sentences with, “I’m sorry…” We have been told that to be passionate is not normal and we should be embarrassed. We apologize for speaking out of turn, for raising our voices, for saying something that is not PC. I feel smothered and I get nervous speaking. I can hear my voice wavering. I don’t want to speak if people don’t want to listen and I feel people aren’t listening. They say they are bored and roll their eyes, slouch down in their chairs and cross their arms across their chest. I’m stubborn too. It’s hard because I simply don’t understand. Why don’t people care? The draft was mentioned. If there were a draft the war would end because it would affect people directly. I don’t understand because I already feel directly affected. If my country is at war and people on both sides are dying then I feel affected. Maybe I don’t know who is dying but I still cry. It’s hard for me to talk about the war without crying. I say I don’t know why when people ask, or I don’t respond. But I do know why. Its because its really fucking sad. All I have to do is think of the children who have lost parents. The injuries, the lost arms, legs, and sight make my eyes well up and I picture a 24 year old who is paralyzed from the chest down. And I can’t handle it. And that’s just the surface, the people violently affected. Ideologically this war makes me sick and it makes me cry to think that this is the state of the world right now. I get that living in the bubble is easy, to sit down and shut up is what we have been taught to do, and I get that. I understand the government and the media’s role and how if you have a comfortable life, what else do you need to worry about. Maybe its just because I have had experiences in life that other people haven’t that makes me think and feel this way but even that I question. I get lost here because that means people have to see something to care about it. People have to see with their own eyes a bloated belly or the aftermath of a toxic sludge spill. But why? Whether or not you can personally see a starving person doesn’t mean they don’t exist and you shouldn’t care about them. Images and words are not enough I guess and yet that’s why I want to teach media, because I still think words and images can be enough. Tell me about race you ask. Finally someone is asking. Obama did it, or at least he lit the fuse. I have a problem being white. It’s a personal struggle I have yet to get over. I feel uncomfortable in my skin and what the world defines it as. I want to be proud of my skin color and nationality but I hate the person I am perceived to be. But how can I be proud? What Reverend Jeremiah Wright said is true. I’ve never been afraid of being pulled over by the cops because of my skin color. Although cops still make me nervous. But I also know I can smile my way out of situations if need be and I’m not that afraid. I hate that I don’t like walking down the street late at night in my neighborhood. I just want to talk about these things with people because I know other people must be thinking it to, well maybe not the bubble people. But I have to believe that not everyone is in a bubble. I see my professors and they are so passionate and so engaging but little response comes from my peers and I’m embarrassed. Lately I’ve been feeling disconnected from my peers. It’s like a first date and you don’t know what to talk about. I think I come off as someone who doesn’t care what others think about me but it’s becoming obvious that I do. Maybe not caring what other people think is an ideal that cannot be reached. I don’t know it all. I might have the foundation but I don’t know the rest of the story. I want to know history. Why don’t we learn history in our schools? Why is black history something that begins with slavery and ends with civil rights with nothing before, in between, or after? And why is there no history besides European and black? Where does everyone else fit in? I don’t know where I fit into the world and I feel like I’m figuring it out on my own and I really wish I had someone who was helping me out. I’m reminded of Ishmael, on page two, “TEACHER seeks pupil. Must have an earnest desire to save the world.” I HAVE AN EARNEST DESIRE! Don’t worry, I haven’t given up hope, I just want to yell it out sometimes. I’m picky with who I associate with. I know you might think that sounds bad, like I’m arrogant, but its true. I struggle being around self-serving people who “care about a cause” because it’s trendy or because they have some spare time to donate but not enough to really dig deep and open their eyes and ears. I don’t like liars but even I lie. I don’t like talking in circles but I’ve come to terms with the fact it cannot be avoided. I guess to answer your question, this is how I identify, as a white young woman who wants something to be proud of, who doesn’t like liars, and has been a nomad for 22 years and while she claims this is the life she wants to continue, deep down she would like to know what that hometown feel feels like. I’m confused and frustrated, can I identify as that? I’m a human who cares about the world. But where do I fit in, what’s my plan or my goal you ask? In short, I like to think that the world is a puzzle and someplace there is an Erin sized hole waiting for me to find it.