revolutionary love is more…

…than a catch phrase

woohoo!  we got books!  and love!

Because Thaura Distro values radical, revolutionary love and we believe that revolutionary love requires action, we announce a fundraiser in support of Stacey “CripChick” and Mia Mingus. Stacey and Mia, two of our favorite compañeras, are making a massive journey. Both literally and figuratively they will be merging homes. You can read about their plans HERE, and find out about another wonderful fundraiser another friend of ours is putting together in their support HERE.

We have decided to put together our own fundraiser to support Stacey & Mia. Aaminah has culled thru her personal library and is selling books!

(Of course, if you aren’t interested in any of the books offered but still would like to donate, simply follow the donation instructions below and we will still send you a special gift.)

Books are available for a donation. Minimum donation per book is $1, but of course more is appreciated! Thaura Distro will take care of the postage, so you don’t need to factor that into price and can be assured that 100% of your donation will go straight to Stacey & Mia. We will also send you a small gift to express our gratitude for your support.

new dharma

via angel Kyodo williams

with each upside-down turn of events, my heart has broken further and has threatened to take my mind with it because my mind wants to make sense of something that my heart knows full well it cannot.

and should not.

what i can do instead is try to sort out what is real and what is not. that’s an illusion of sorts too, i know, but this is what i came up with:

Nine Things Real and Not Real

1. we, the People, are divided by fear, lack of vision and imagination is real.
2. the so-called border that divides this land from the people we took it from by force is not real
3. the horrific show of how deep this country’s racism runs, masking itself as it’s very own Party of hatred, is real.
4. the idea that a President of any race, color, gender or creed can rise above and act beyond a corrupted system that put them there to begin with is not real.
5. the toxic waste hemorrhaging onto the land from 5000 feel under the sea—laying waste to the life in its path—is real.
6. the will to stop feeding off of “ancient hours of sunlight” and converting fossils into a fuel that drives death and destruction worldwide is not real.
7. the cordoning off of nearly 1.5 million people like so much cattle that amounts to a New Millenium Apartheid is real.
8. the resolve of America and the world to stop financing state-sanctioned war crimes and now international law breaches is not real.
9. the deep divisions of our society, people and planet, based on the peculiar illusory constructs of race, class, privilege, supremacy and superiority is real. and for this, we will all pay.

the least of it

when i first joined the ngo to work in palestine, one of the questions that they asked me was: do you have a support community.

i answered honestly: yes.  i had founded a community art space that had brought a mix of folks from our local community as well as out-of-towners together.  vietnam vets, homeless, punks, hippies, preps, hipsters, college kids, dj’s, mc’s, performance poets, visual artists, musicians, etc. we were about multi media work, stretching the boundaries of what was expected and accepted in that conservative southern va town.  it was fun work.  it was, for better or worse, my community.

it wasnt until the end of my training that i realized that when they asked if i had a ‘support community’ they werent asking are there a group of people who love you and your work.  who come to your shows. who donate art to your space. who hang show posters in restaurants in their spare time. who pass out flyers. who make sure to introduce you to artists they think you will dig.who let me use their internet or their shower. who believe in what you do.

they were asking if there were a group of folks who would send money every month to the organization.  or at least off set some of the cost of my living, since my meager stipend was not going to cover my basic needs.

oh. well, im not sure if you caught the cadre of folks who i considered community, but for the most part these werent folks with extra cash.  i mean i guess i could have asked someone to spange up 20 bucks, but frankly i would have rather they used that money to buy a few beers.

anything else but money, they didnt consider to be ‘real support’.

stranger still this was an organization that claimed to support communities under the threat of violence, but was adamant about not being an ‘aid organization’. we didnt give money. at all. we supported communities in other ways, through connecting them with other ngo’s, through acting as a liason betw the community and governments, by accompanying the community, by doing media work for/with the community, etc.

and the…artist statement

and here is the artist statement:

Growing up, I wrote, illustrated, and performed stories of far off lands to survive the violence around me.  I weave birth/death/re-birth images and art is my path of survival; I create beauty in the midst of abuse.  My interactive digtal media holds sacred space for our pain while confronting the powers-that-be’s genocide against us.   With photographs, drawings, found materials, writings, and performance art I document my nomadic life, my fight for the people I love and the power of mothers and communities in the face of annihilation. I am a fairy, a mermaid, a spirit huntress, a human animal.

ha ha ha…so i meant to set this on privacy settings while i worked on it. but it turns out that didnt happen.  so here, is the–for now–final version of my artist statement.

let me now what you think…does it work…?

on living in a police state

(picture of collage of a tree and flowers and chains. it reads: border home lands)

so arizona decided to become a police state.  i have to minds about this.

on the one hand.  this is so fucked.  and if you are reading this blog im sure you dont need me to run down the list of reasons that this is so so so fucked.

on the other hand.  im kinda like–meh.  i mean, a police state is fucked.  dont get me wrong.  its just not unusual or abnormal.  ten years ago when i was living in nyc there was a law (maybe it still exists?) that you had to have your id on you at all times.  and the police could ask for your id at any given time.  and you would be charged if you didnt produce it.

and a couple of years ago in dc, the police roped off an entire section of the city, and created summer checkpoints and the law was  that if you didnt have proof that you lived there, or had a good reason for being there, you would be turned away.

and of course palestinians inside of israel as well as in the west bank and gaza have lived under a police state for decades.

oh yeah, and so do we, here in egypt.

excerpt of an open letter to mubarak

Open Letter to H.E. the Egyptian President, Mr. Hosni Mubarak,

April 20, 2010.

Your Excellency,

I wish to submit this open letter to Your Excellency with the hope and belief that you would give the important issue of international human rights an urgent and positive consideration. Specifically, my appeal to you is concerned with Egypt’s shoot-to-kill policy applied on poor Ethiopian and Eritrean refugees crossing over from Egypt to Israel.

THE EVIDENCE

Here is what was reported by Reuters only last February, 2010:

“Egypt Police Kill Migrant At Israel Border

EL-ARISH, Egypt (Reuters) – Egyptian police shot and killed an Ethiopian migrant Tuesday, injured two others and arrested 10 as they tried to cross the Egyptian-Israeli border, medical and security sources said.”

Here is another similar report by AFP on March 27, 2010:

‘ “Egypt police kill two Eritrean migrants at Israel border

AFP – Egyptian police shot dead two Eritreans on Saturday as the would-be migrants tried to cross the border illegally into Israel, a security official told AFP. Four people were also wounded during the shooting, including one who was in a critical condition, and another person was arrested. “

Mr. President:

The above murders are only examples of the inhumanity perpetrated by your government at the Israeli/Egyptian border. It should be noted that according to reliable sources, the refugees were shot in the back as they were fleeing from the Egyptian soldiers. What does this indicate about the humanity, let alone the bravery, of the soldiers?

It is time, Mr. President, that you put an immediate and a complete stop to your soldiers’ travesty, an international crime by any standards.

THE IRONY

There are a number of tragic and, at the same time, ironic aspects to the situation occurring at the Egyptian side of the border with Israel. An amazing one is the fact that Egyptians who are members of the African Union are killing other Africans from entering, of all places, Israel! The Israeli government, on the other hand, applies civilized and humane standards that avoid mistreating, let alone killing refugees. The other irony is that Egypt thrives on the water (86%) cascading from Ethiopia free of charge. The soil that produces food in Egypt came from Ethiopia. But Egypt murders Ethiopian refugees at the Israeli border with impunity. A further irony is the fact that Egypt claims to be in compliance with international human rights declarations but its soldiers commit murders in open day light! In addition, the Egyptian government mercilessly loads refugees on airplanes and drops them back to Eritrea, for example, and only the Almighty knows what may have happened to the unfortunate human beings.

when we were in israeli prison this was the story.  the africans, more than a dozen, were grateful to be in israeli prison.  because that meant they had made it over the egyptian desert border where they would have been shot on sight.

the strange thing about this letter is this: The Israeli government, on the other hand, applies civilized and humane standards that avoid mistreating, let alone killing refugees.

not true.  simply. not. true.  the israeli government treatment of non-jewish, and esp. non-jewish african refugees is deplorable.  ppl are tortured in prison.  those detention centers are neither civilized nor humane.

the privilege of traveling

i have been thinking  about writing this post for a while.  in part i have not done so because i do have lots of privilege and have been able to travel.  and i felt awkward, felt like i was making myself vulnerable to criticism if i wrote this.  but then i figured, fuck it.

i had one of those conversations that i seem to have every few months with someone new about how i do not take into account how privileged i am to be able to travel and live abroad.  and how privileged i was to be partnered. when i talk about my experience of being a mother.

privilege.  privilege. privilege.

1. i do take how much privileged i am into account.  actually in some ways i am more aware of certain types of privilege because i travel.  for instance, the power of my US citizenship comes into stark relief when i am abroad.

2. and i know that it is a privilege to be in a happy partnership, both of us dedicated to loving aza and each other.

3. but i also know that traveling and being partnered is not in and of itself simply privileged.

MOTHERS TRAVELING

let me see if i can put it this way:

through out history.  as long as there have been wars.  mothers have traveled with their children.  they have to survive.  they become refugees.  they become slaves.  they travel to find a safe place to live and create a life with their families.  they leave home to flee abusive husbands, or advancing troops, to find doctors, to find lost family, to take care of sick family, to find work, to find food, to find peace.

yes it can be a privilege to travel.

but it can also be a privilege to stay home.

sketches of whiteness overseas

1. went out last night.  met new people.  had a great time.  woke up this morning with a realization.  in white culture it is okay to talk about race, ie arab culture, sudanese culture, african culture, etc.  but if you talk about white culture or racism (which is the definition of white culture) then your intent is obviously to make white folks feel uncomfortable.  you could not just be some one interested in culture.  especially in white culture which is fascinating in the fact that white culture’s existance is about domination.  just on a theoretical level.

2. like if i ask: how did you overcome your racism…to a white person….they think i am serious.  they dont know i am joking.  i dont expect them to have.  and still be white.  white folks are so weird.

3. like i get in the elevator to go home.  and there is this white guy there who has been sitting with us for a couple of hours.  and seriously i thought he was cool.  but he’s not.  he is aryan nation boy #2.  (aryan nation boy #1 is the kid who looked like i had attacked him because he had a degree in war studies and i was like: what kind of war did you study?  then i asked him a bunch of other questions. including: how did you overcome your racism.  considering that most wars happen in brown and black people parts of the world.  and basically discovered that the kid was all theory no practice and not very interesting to boot) anyways aryan nation boy #2 is in the elevator with habibi and i and says: you bring up race in inappropriate moments.

wtf?

for little light

i think.  i think we are building a philosophy of radical love.  it is here. it is there. it is in and out.

we are writing a new bible of love and war.

how could i have forgotten this for a second.  of course of course i have read this.

it is this:

Here’s what they’re on about: they live in a world where we are monsters. They live in a world that trembles daily, because we snake our faultlines through its foundations and each time we move more crumbles and falls over the yawning edge of the flattened sea. In their world, once near us, their children can be lost to them, and just seeing us represented fills them with the rage of people struck in the face and deprived of their birthrights.
That world needs to end, and we know it. That world will end, and they know it.

There’s a war on. Either we succeed, and their world ends; or they succeed, and ours does. Does it matter that we want them to go on living in our world, that our world has room for them to build cities and parks and futures? Not really. The very act of not getting to define everything for the rest of us is the end, for them. The fact that none of them would actually die, that their children would be fine and their blood unshed, is irrelevant. We can abhor and condemn violence and torture, and this too is an act of war. We can love them depthlessly as people and wish them no harm, but we cannot avoid the implications. If we are considered equals, their world is over. Our lives are the explosives that end it.

that’s it isnt it little light?  it is not just our lives but it is that we refuse to let them define us.  that is an act of war.  that is the rhetoric that matters to them.  and if they can’t define us they cant own us.  if they cant own us they cant control us.  and if they cant control us then they cant make us monstrous slaves in their system.  and if they dont have slaves to work for their benefit, then the whole system collapses.

dance class

my flatmate came in and told me this:

voice of america reports:

UN aid agencies strongly protest the expulsion of 13 leading non-governmental organizations from Sudan’s conflict-ridden province of Darfur. The agencies warn of catastrophic consequences if the government of Omar al-Bashir does not rescind this decision.

The United Nations calls the expulsion of 13 leading international non-governmental organizations from Darfur catastrophic. It says it will be impossible to administer humanitarian aid to millions of civilians in this strife-torn region without their assistance.

and then she said: it means that there are going to be alot more refugees coming here…alot more…

tomorrow i go teach dance to the kids.  this week.  it will be reggaeton.  their request.  which surprised me.  that they were so into reggaeton–a music i associate more with my time in southern mexico.  and the barrios of chicago.

but isnt that part of the post modern homogenized culture?  east african refugee boys who love reggaeton?  southern mexican boys who love west african rhythms?

this rush of bodies and loves out of a country that is starving them to death and here to this new country with a new, and hopefully less deadly, form of starvation?

and who am i in all this?  not just an observer.  but a participant with bloody hands.  tomorrow i am going to show some kids how my hands move.  and they will teach me how theirs move.  and we will make our own language.  a language that is dirty, sweaty, bloody, and alive.

alive.