Shaken to my core

Here, in the Philippines, politics is something you can get killed over.

A woman went to file for her husband's name to be on a ballot, and she and at least 19 other women were raped and murdered.

I know I should describe it more, tell you more details, explain more about these events, but I can't. There are tears in my eyes. A rush of adrenaline in my veins. A streak of fear turning my blood to ice. I want to do something. I want to not be afraid. I want to convince myself that I am safe….But I can't even find the words to feel solace. I am shaken to my core.

Please read this article in the Philippine Star for more information.

 

Move over, Project Runway

The MSG Network (For non-locals, that's Madison Square Garden, not the bad stuff in Chinese take-out.) is conducting the most real reality show around. It's called NYC Soundtracks. Sixteen subway musicians compete for a music contract and the chance to perform at Radio City Music Hall and the Garden. Auditions were held, and through a weekly process of elimination, the viewers will vote for their favorite busker.

The first clip has interviews with a few of the buskers. Keep watching until you get to Gibron Soul, the orphan-turned-minster-turned-guitarist from Toledo, Ohio, and the Peabody Conservatory graduate from Baltimore who says, "Playing on the trains is a good way to get humiliated and get a girlfriend." (And possibly both at the same time, eh?) The second clip is a busker from West Africa who plays an instrument I've never seen before but makes a beautiful sound.

According to one subway busker, the most important question of your whole entire life is, "Do you like it, or do you love it? 'Cause if you just like it, then it's only a hobby. If you love it, it's in your soul, part of the energy that animates who you are." Amen, buddy. Puts a whole new spin on those weepy models who "want this more than, like, anything." This is real and it's raw. And if you've ever tried to "make it" in a field where the odds are stacked against you, you'll feel their passion and hunger in your bones.

If you don't get the channel, you can watch all of the episodes and vote here: http://www.msg.com/soundtracks/ .

 

The changing of our leaves

I have taken up some old hobbies I used to do when I first moved to New York City: walking while taking photographs. I think walking is one of the most relaxing, meditative things you can do.

Contrary to Yogi or Buddhist philosophies, I feel like, when I sit still and meditate, I am stagnant in my life and in my thoughts. Perhaps this is a discipline I have not yet achieved. However, for me, walking is way more effective. It is like writing, it shifts my thoughts, progresses them forward towards action, then initiates the transformation of these thoughts into becoming reality. It is these moments that I love to capture in photographs. A site or landmark will trigger positive thoughts of action or will inspire feelings of hope, happiness, or spiritual fulfillment.

This autumn, I have been reflecting on how everything changes, sometimes quickly, sometimes gradually. Like most people, I am afraid of change and do not always want to embrace it. Today, I am wondering what will happen if I do. Can I revel in the reality of change by allowing the beautiful colors of the leaves this fall to be a visual reflection of how I will never be alone in dealing with what I deem as positive or negative changes in my life? As the leaves fall, the moments pass, my life keeps moving forward on the journey into the future, closer and closer to my blissful destination. Yet, I am still paralyzed with fear. Time for a walk…

 

 

 

 

 

Make-up dress code

A classmate of mine used to work at a mall, and I asked him about this phenomenon. "Girls have to look pretty to sell things," he replied matter-of-factly.

I turned this phrase over in my mind and wondered about this blatant covering of truth. Not even in sex work or modeling, where looks are literally sold, are women required to come to work with a full, made-up face.

I asked about the salesmen, and was told that they need to be clean-shaven and their appearance must be tidy: hair cut, nails cut, tucked-in shirt, and pressed clothes. But they're not asked to augment the length of their lashes or emphasize the poutiness of their lips. They're not contracted into covering up characteristics about their physical appearance. They are not asked to wear masks. They are not made to believe that their true self unmasked and unhidden is substandard to beauty. They are not asked to keep their weight down and their waists slim.

Every time I go to a mall, I can't help but notice the unnatural colors that are painted onto these women. I wonder how many fuller women had interviewed for these jobs; I feel like they've dodged bullets. Saleswomen are asked to fit into a socially acceptable stereotype, and so they cover their dark skin with light foundation. They paint neon colors onto their eyelids. They glaze their lips with tacky-looking serums. And worst of all, they seem so lost in this get-up, so beaten by this perverse need to meet impossible standards, and so ready for something better.

Or perhaps I am merely projecting my feminist perspective onto these women, and they are content to acquiesce. Maybe they are actually happy spending their hard-earned cash on liquids and powders and gels and brushes and wands in order to appease the masses and keep their jobs.  Maybe, in this third-world country where all women are expected to  marry a man and have a brood of children, some women actually aspire to have the problems of salesgirls. There are so many layers of emotion and so many sides to consider, and honestly, I'll always have the superiority complex of a western-born-and-raised woman: I'll always feel like I know better than these women because I want more than they want. 

I was taught to accept my desires and, more importantly, I was given the freedom and opportunities to express these desires. That's all I want these saleswomen to have: the chance to be treated like women instead of as girls; to have options and be able to choose how they want to conduct themselves; to decide for themselves who they are and how they want to be perceived.

 

 

More than one billion people are hungry

 

This is unacceptable and a serious black smear on the face of humanity. The world cannot sit still while 17,000 children die every day, yes every DAY, because they don't have enough to eat.

If you are reading this post, please do your part to end world hunger. Here is what you can doeasy simple steps to save the starving children.

  • Donate to Feeding America: "Feeding America is the nation's leading domestic hunger-relief charity. Our mission is to feed America's hungry through a nationwide network of member food banks and engage our country in the fight to end hunge."
  • You can also donate through SOS Children's Villages, which benefits orphans and abandoned children. Children are often time the ones most affected by lack of food.Your donation can help a child here at home or in another country.
  • And if you are really willing to go the extra mile, then organize a food drive in your local community, school, workplace or church, and donate the collections to local food bank.

This Thanksgiving, please be generous and do your part to end world hunger.

 

Lost and found?

I hold you in hopes that you recognize me
From a time and place that now have no space
Seen, obscured, I often wonder
Will we ever truly remember
How we embraced
Now we are incongruently comfortable
Seeking the oh so magical breath
Of happiness, delight
Of nothing
An unknowing
Of time or space

 

Earthlings unite!

 

It was the first time that I thought to feel any disdain for the use of the title "The State of Blacks in America."  Unfortunately, the fact is, we are in a "state."  Secondly, how sad it is that we are still not considered an inseparable part of the American tapestry.  However it is stated: Black in America, Black America, etc., it is still a distinguishing mark that separates a people from their land.  And yes, this is my land: America.  Whether I want it to be or not.  Before traveling abroad, I experienced a love-ambivalent relationship with this country.  I now feel more closely tied to the United States.  Just as an abused child, you still have love and a connection that can never be denied.  For better or worse, you are your family.  Just the same, I am my country.

As I grew older, I began to notice other communities that had been ravaged, raped, stolen from, murdered.  These communities in many ways are thriving.  Much more than my own community.  I began to think and say, "We should be more like the Jews (for example)", or "Why haven't we been able to come together as they [insert most any other ethnic group living in the U.S.]?" 

Not until the other day, when I was reading a fiction book, did it come to me.  Okay, let's take the Asian population.  They are divided among many, many, many nationalities, dialects, regions, religious beliefs, etc.  Do we see them banding together for a common good in the U.S.?  No, not really.  They, like other ethnic groups, joined, divided, and conquered based on a shared set of beliefs that have been ingrained over centuries Korean Americans, Japanese Americans, Filipino Americans, etc.  I'm not pretending that every group of people likes every person of their kind or is so cohesive that nothing can break them.  Not at all. I'm saying that it gives them a fighting chance and a strong enough diving board to make a clean splash.  So we, the descendants of African people, Blacks in America, if you will, are just that Black American.  We are, in many ways, a new race of people.  Our histories were stolen, our legacies ripped from the scrolls.  We were taken from many countries, tribes, dialects, and faith systems, brought to this country, made to suffer a type of cultural amnesia that as a people made us children.  

So, when I or others raise the question, "Why can't we get it together like they have?" it must be placed into that context.  We are still maturing and developing into who we will become.  Moreover, we, the descendants of African slaves, are still recovering.   Does this sound like an excuse?  Maybe.  Or does it explain the difficulty of Blacks in America to bond and truly overcome?  On the other hand, African immigrants seem to have a more similar experience to other adoptive citizens in their unity as well as their aversion to American Blacks.  Case in point: Ethiopians.  They are a very close-knit group of people.  They, like several other African people, have a distaste for Black Americans.  I don't know why exactly.  I never had the conversation.  I have my own theories that range from the fact that we are soiled, that we are still sick and in recovery, that we have not banded together.  But think of it sharing one thing in common and being made to fight against a dominant, mostly cohesive society what would that impact bear?  Wouldn't that make a people sick?  Angry?  Depressed?  Volatile?  Disheartened? 

Here's another example hopefully a fictional one, but consider this:  An alien invasion takes place, the G8 has secret meetings with the alien leadership and they negotiate, the G8 giving people in exchange for the aliens giving a new technology.  The deed is done and a collection of people from the various countries are selected.  The only criteria being those who only speak their native tongue are included in the trade making it difficult for them to communicate among each other.  So, now these people are taken to The Planet.  They are enslaved, abused, discarded when thought of as useless.  Some try to escape and are killed or die trying to get away.  Some ingratiate themselves to their masters to save themselves and others.  Some are taken as mistresses and reproduce.  They are taught a new language.  New belief system.  How long does it take for this new group of people, these Earthlings, to bond?  How long does it take for the the Planetarians to fully accept them as brothers and sisters or qualified, respected leaders? How easy is it for the Earthlings to trust each other?  How long does it take to build unity?  It seems that the most successful Earthlings are those who are able to make friends with the Planeterians.  The Planetarians distrust the Earthlings when they congregate or suggest a way for everyone to live cohesively.  The people back on Earth have no way of contacting their people in the far, far away place that they've been taken.  After generations have passed, the folks on Earth realize that they have nothing in common with this new group of people.  The only thing connecting them is the knowledge of a shared history.

Then, you have another group of people, we'll call them Plutoidians.  The Plutoidians come to The Planet because they are seeking a better way of life than they experience in their own home.  They come collectively with all that makes them strong: their history, their language, their mores, their belief system.  They set up shop and aren't welcomed necessarily, but also not torn apart from each other.  They begin to build and make a place for themselves within the larger society.

Where is the line drawn between excuse and explanation?  Something to think about, isn't it?

 

Rep. Bart Stupak of Michigan: Slamming women’s health

 

 Kansas City Star says

Stupak’s amendment prohibits any public health insurance option from offering abortion coverage except for cases of rape, incest and the life of the mother. It also prohibits individuals from using tax credits and subsidies to buy private insurance with abortion coverage from companies taking part in new health insurance exchanges.

I am a pro-life mom but don't agree with the language here. Why shouldn't a woman be allowed to choose when she is not asking the government for help? I mean, women don't have the right to buy health insurance of their choice? Tax credits and subsidies are NOT handouts; you don't get them for nothing. So what right does the government have to dictate how a person can use these?

This is yet another example of how the "establishment" views women and their health. I bet if men were designed by nature to give birth, then abortion and reproductive health would be covered by ALL health plans, no exceptions. Because society sees women as meek beings, they think it is OK to boss us around and, yes, use religion to scare us.

I hope female members of Senate and House of Reps stand up against the Stupak Amendment. This attack against a woman's right to choose has to stop.

 

 

Everything I know about NYC, I learned from SATC

"New York City."

She remains friendly but apparently less impressed than most of our classmates, who usually promise their first born in return for taking them back to the Big Apple. "So you're a transferee?"

I nod, glad that I've found someone who'll treat me like a real person, instead of some celebrity.

"From what school?"

"Brooklyn College."

Her eyes grow wide with enthusiasm so that I think they'll bulge right out of their sockets and pop her glasses off her head. "They say that Brooklyn is the next Manhattan!" she squeals. "Is that true?"

"Sure it is," I say, suddenly uneasily. "I'm just surprised that you know it, all the way in the Philippines."

"Well, of course," she huffs as she adjusts her glasses in a dignified manner. "I watch Sex and the City."

 

Since when were there four Rs?

There's no way of getting around it. At the teacher's discretion, classes will start with a prayer. (Most of the time, it's "The Lord's Prayer.") There is a statue of the Virgin Mary holding Jesus in the main corridor of the school. We are mandated to take several classes in values, where we explore the evils of abortion, amongst other things.

And yet, I can't help but feel like this closeness between academia and religion is somehow romantic, like the wild yet pure moors of Wuthering Heights or the emo underpinnings of gothic  rock. In this country, there's something out of place yet essential about the appearance of religion in the classroom.  Maybe, like ill-fated lovers, romance makes nonsensical things suddenly make sense. Or maybe, like the quakes of pleasure caused by sordid affairs, romance is just a convenient reason for doing something that's wrong.

They say that love is the answer, and even if that's true, romance can only ever be an excuse. I don't agree with mixing religion and academics, and I can't understand it, but I can't deny that it moves me. And in this place where I don't plan to stay permanently, I'll take that excuse, if only to experience something new, exciting, and temporary.

 

 

Project musical theatre madness

 

For the month of October, I was involved in a musical theatre writing lab in New York City (produced by Michael Roderick of Small Pond Entertainment), where book writers, composers, and lyricists were asked to randomly pick two names out of a hat to collaborate on the writing of two ten-minute musicals. Within three weeks, we were to present our work in an industry showcase reading at Chelsea Studios. In our meetings that led up to this, we were enlightened by panels of seasoned Off-Broadway composers and book writers that gave us tips and advice about the business and our collaborative process.

From the moment we started, I was frantically swept into a whirlwind writing frenzy of this "Project Runway-esk" musical theatre challenge, coming up with lines, story, and lyrics ideas, usually spinning in my mind at around 3 a.m. I was fortunate enough to be paired with two very talented composer-singer-songwriters, Allison Tartalia and Anne Mironchik. My first piece with Allison was the beginning of a rock and pop musical with dark and sexy overtones. The second piece with Anne was a swinging cocktail of authentic jazz and modern art.

When it came time to showcase all the musicals, Heidi Klum would have had a hard time proclaiming who was in and who was out. From the clever and catchy stories of Seth Bisen-Hersh and Michael DiGaetano, to Melanie Weinstein's hilarious one-woman show, to Michael Roderick and Mark Weiser's poignant educational theatre piece, no one would have had to pack up their knives or clean up their work stations. Tim Gunn and Tom Colicchio would have been proud. Stay tuned and look out for the names of these talented musical theatre artistscoming soon to an Off-Off, Off, or Broadway theatre near you.

 

Seeing double

Q. What do you get when you combine 10 sets of twins, random New Yorkers, and the 6 train?

A. One of those fun sociology experiments that shows how New Yorkers have a completely unique response system.

Check out this experiement by the group ImprovEverywhere.