Thursday, September 29, 2011

Don’t Accuse Anyone of Racism, Homophobia, Etc. Unless Ready to be Accused of the Same



cross-posted from my Tumblr
Inspired by this post on Feministing critiquing Gene Lyon's very problematic (and racially-tinged) piece on Salon that lambasts Professor Melissa Harris-Perry's article in The Nation lambasts Professor Melissa Harris-Perry [i.e. attacking the person and not the idea]. In the article she argues that white liberals hold Black politicians to a higher standard than white politicians.


We all have internalized racism (among other -isms, and -phobias). Lets not expect thateven the most socially conscious will readily understand or recognize every single way in which this will manifest for them. Lets not also expect that others who aren't as socially conscious [checking my own elitist framing] will be readily able to. do the same. But we all have the potential to eventually understand. We're all human, we understand compassion and we can empathize with what it is to hurt, feel inferior or experience humiliation. Lets all try to respect each other, and not accuse each other of being racist, homophobic or misogynistic unless you're ready to be accused of the same. This is counter-productive.
Realize that we don't live in a vacuum, but rather, we live and breathe in a multidimensional oppressive power structure. Patience and communicating in simple ways that anyone can understand to see our point, that's an effort worth making. At the same time it's worth remembering that because of the same oppressive power structure, many will very justifiably feel anger and feel themselves incapable or unwilling to do this. But remember: progress won't be made until we have mutual comprehension and acceptance as a starting point. Think of it in terms of backwards planning: envision what you want the world to be, and make small steps towards it.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

A Sunset Junction Native’s Rebuttal to Criticism of Community Members

This past weekend, my friend from NYC and I (both of us L.A. natives) had a long conversation about the differences between New York City and Los Angeles. Ultimately we both agreed that both cities are amazing and we mostly agreed with one another in terms of what was missing in Los Angeles (although I really emphasized the fact that this is due largely to the fact L.A. is still in the midst of urban maturation). My point in the whole conversation was, though I love and appreciate New York’s cohesion, that it is precisely what Los Angeles lacks that I love; no, not because it lacks an efficient, multimodal public transit system or a city government that heavily invests in community cultural and arts events (like it could do with the Sunset Junction street fair).


No. What I love about this city is the serious DIY culture that has been spurred by the infrastructural gaps we've historically had. I love that the city's amazingness and shortcomings together form a source of inspiration for the imagination. But more than anything, it leaves room to grow and to create sustainable urban development models, learning from the mistakes of cities like New York, Chicago and San Francisco.

What does this have to with the Sunset Junction Street Fair? The whole situation is valuable to explore as a case study because it can illuminate larger structural problems in the city of Los Angeles. How? In terms of the relationships between private and public institutions and their constituents. Who are the players involved? They include entrepreneurs, non-profit organizations, city government, neighborhood councils, and civically-engaged and not-civically engaged community members.

The Sunset Junction Street Fair: A Case Study Worth Exploring

Some of the criticism of community members and even the dismissal of our concerns is predicated on the intent behind some of the measures that that Michael McKinley implemented. I certainly understand the realities that organizers have to deal with. But it's just like when someone inadvertently offends you: you aren't excused just because your intentions weren't to offend. You take responsibility for it and you work to resolve it via mutual communication and effort.

Lets look at two different examples of actions, their intents, their impacts and the mechanisms (or lack thereof) implemented to mitigate negative impact.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

A Sunset Junction Native's Thoughts on L.A.'s Decision to Deny Permit to Sunset Junction Street Fair

In my mind, the Sunset Junction fair was cancelled when it started exploiting our community in its marketing to attract more outsiders, in the process excluding much of the community because of high prices and its almost exclusive catering to bourgeois tastes without regard to the diversity of interests in the neighborhood.

I've been a lifelong resident of the Sunset Junction (minus the years I lived in the San Gabriel Valley; and my permanent address was still here even when I was away at Berkeley). My family has a strong emotional connection to this neighborhood, as it’s where most on my mom’s side of the family settled when they fled from El Salvador in the 70s and 80s. And though true, that most have left, some (like my grandma, mom and I) are still here, and so the family connection to the neighborhood is as strong as ever.


Monday, May 2, 2011

My Thoughts on Bin Laden's Death in the Context of Trauma, Geopolitics and History

In September 2001, the American public was outraged when shown video of Muslims celebrating in the streets the death and destruction in NY. Now we do the same thing. NO, it's NOT different. People are celebrating a 'mission acomplished.' That 'mission' took the death of over a million Iraqis, Afghanis and Pakistanis to get Osama..."
-Ryan Nelson
I will mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that." -Anonymous (falsely attributed to MLK JR according to http://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2011/05/out-of-osamas-death-a-fake-quotation-is-born/238220/
The death of Osama Bin Laden has certainly elicited a lot of passionate feelings from many people. Truth be told I felt a slight sense of relief upon hearing the news, and it's very normal and to be expected--it's a historically very significant event! Osama was a reprehensible figure who wreaked havoc in many parts of the world.

I was among millions who felt scared post 9-11 (of course that might because I've suffered a traumatic event of my own that may have triggered my own traumas). As a survivor of a traumatic event, I do understand that Osama's death can provide closure for many who were A) in the NYC area during 9/11, or have ties to the NYC area and/or B) Lost a loved one during 9/11 or know someone who did-- because, yes, Osama is directly at fault. This is absolutely normal and I think we should all have compassion for people in this situation.

But 9/11 was not an isolated incident.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Family Tragedy

This is an adaptation of a piece I wrote for a Spanish class as a sophomore at Berkeley. It started out as a direct translation, but the piece quickly started to morph DRASTICALLY as I translated, reflecting my process of maturation of how I perceive myself today compared to when I originally wrote it. Back then, I both underestimated, or rather, was oblivious to how deeply this moment in my life impacted me forever. For my thoughts and feelings on it now, see this post. This is for my Creative Writing course at Los Angeles City College.
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At approximately 8:30 pm, I shut down the computer. I got out of my chair and headed towards my parents’ room. Walking by the wide open front door, I made a quick stop in the living room to chat with my older brother Andy and my cousin Wilbert. I was, strangely, in a decidedly good mood. In fact, that I had so suddenly changed my mind and eagerly decided to accompany my parents to the Laundromat was also odd since just an hour before I had said I wouldn’t.



I then sauntered over to my parents’ room. Upon entering, I cheerfully exclaimed, “I’m going with you guys!” They were indeed surprised, especially since the days where I’d go anywhere and everywhere with my parents had by that point been starting to fade into the infrequent.

BOOM! A strange noise, coming from the direction of the living room, startled us. “What was that?” we all wondered aloud. “One of the whoopee-cushions Victor brought must’ve exploded,” I offered as an explanation to reassure my parents and myself. Curious to pinpoint the source, I immediately left the room to see what was happening.

Walking along the dark hallway, I crept up slowly to the door frame that faced the living room. All of a sudden my vision turned blurry and my heart started racing—I panicked: I saw a man, of medium stature, carrying a red gas can in one hand and a gun in the other, shooting at my cousin Wilbert. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” my brother, tall and grown-up looking despite being only a 14-year-old boy, hauntingly yelled out in response.