writing a piece together with marÃa,
on feminist standpoint thinking and Antigone
many hours later…
and yes, we managed to finish it this weekend…
(and i got very happy today with a new hat,
yes!! finally le machiniste du train)
Author: sarah
american appalling
tonight down in LA natascha and friends are launching their calender that leashes out to the ads by American Apparel, the LA clothing company that prides itself to be sweat-shop-free. a blurb from the project:
“Horizontally Conceptualized Marketing. American Appalling is an art project and parodic critique of American Apparel, a clothing store geared at a young, hip, and politically conscious audience. While the ‘sweat-shop-free’ aspect promises an economically guilt-free shopping pleasure, the campaign style does not fall short of sexism and gendered racism. Over the course of several months, we shot 12 different models, celebrating all which we do not see in commercial photography: the awkward, the exaggerated, the queer.”
for more on the project: nataschaunkart.com/americanappaling
grand coeur tient la main du petit coeur poilu
posing with redwoods
redwoods (henry cowell state park) with harrisson, who has a way of making marÃa and me pose in most flattering pictures with redwoods… a lousy tourist guide one with us besides a piece of a (more than 2000 years old) dead framed species, and a bad horror film one with us inside the trunk of a giant living species… allé, on s’amuse ici…
fast food nation
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my favorite scene by far. the activists just managed to make a hole in the iron fence that contains cows in captivity. it’s dark and they’re nervous, looking out for the security or law enforcement that for sure will turn up soon enough. if only there’s enough time for the cows to escape, en masse preferably… (the press release is ready.) but cows don’t run. they’re freightened, they recoil. a concerned activist starts a conversation with a cow: “what’s the matter? don’t you want to be free?” |
deer revolution
stumbling over deer again on my way to the office (just in front of Café Revolucion, about which i have to write more one day).
and running into sweet Lili again on the bus on my way home. she tells me stories about how they celebrated Thanksgiving together with a bunch of Brown Berets. they went to Alcatraz to join the Native American Unthanksgiving ceremony that has been taking place since the 1970s. (in 1969 a small group of Native Americans occupied the island of Alcatraz, during 18 months, and claimed it for native people. the action was the symbolic beginning of a civil rights movement for Native Americans.) and this thursday, she enthousiastically announces, we’ll have a full picture report from the Brown Beret’s visit to la otra campana in Tijuana. when i’ve been out of the routines of my life in santa cruz for a while, and going to the Brown Berets meetings always requires an effort, there is Lili to draw me in.
flying back
(war, by the way, in between)Â
the morning light is beautiful. while yesterday the Washington bridge was disappearing in the fog and pouring rain, this morning the sky and the sun were just so bright. it is very early when we leave the house. a man at the subway entrance distributes newspapers, announcing good deals and sales. i forgot, this is black friday, christmas shopping should begin. i enjoy the busride to La Guardia, Queens, the ride through Harlem, the beautiful views on the city once we cross the water. and some time later, breathtaking views on the city from the sky.
i booked this ticket quite late; what made it affordable was travelling on the friday after Thanksgiving, a time when obviously many people are taking a long weekend. but i discover that there was more that kept the price down – two overlays: New York – Chicago – San Diego – San Jose. in the clear sky and with window seats all along the way, i was all happy again to cross this country and watch it with a bird’s eye. the new part was flying all the way down to San Diego – a different landscape, i caught a glimpse of Mexico. the last stretch, from San Diego to San Jose, is amazing. the whole of Southren California, the ocean, the entire coastline. i saw Big Sur. the very last part of the journey moves me: i recognize Monterey Bay with its small towns of Monterey, Salinas, Watsonville, Santa Cruz. by the time we fly over the Santa Cruz mountains, the sun has set behind us and we fly into a maze of lights – the south end of Silicon Valley and the city of San Jose. i already felt it went it left for this trip – this piece of earth is starting to feel familiar.
thanksgiving
be careful what you wish for. after much complaints, sighs of disbelief and exclamations of not-so-friendly things about americans, we end up having two thanksgiving dinners with everything-as-it-should be. the point was: we wanted a dinner with turkey and stuffing and gravy and potatoes and pumpkin pie and all that it should have. we were not willing to cede – the idea of a potluck, with sahar making tahchin, a most decilious iranian dish, was not acceptable (after all the occassions over the past year in which sahar made tahchin for new friends in the new country). we wanted to get invited to a traditional american dinner, nothing more or nothing less. when sahar’s resistance had perhaps started to crumble just a tiny bit, i was still ranting. yesterday in a supermarket in Jackson Heights, Queens, it struck me that we should just get a turkey. sahar insisted on checking with the friend who had invited us – he convinced her not to buy the turkey. but perhaps the point was clear enough. when this evening we arrived at his place, everything what we wished for, and more (including setting up the christmas tree, which turned out to be the queerest christmas tree ever), was there for us. and after one party there was still a second one to go (sahar had really been checking out the scene…) to, hosted by lebanese friends, with… turkey and stuffing and gravy and potatoes and pumpkin pie… too much of a good thing.
secret life of bees
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i sit all cuddled up at the table in sahar’s kitchen. witnessing a very rare event – sahar sound asleep throughout the entire morning, into noon, after that pleasant party at murat’s place. time feels still this morning, and silent. i’m reading the last chapters of The Secret Life of Bees, the book that found its way into our house when i arrived back in this country in autumn, and then disappeared on morning, i had to chase it. its story touches me a lot, i’m enchanted by it but also disturbed. tears fall on the kitchen table, a meager reflection of the rain that is pouring down on New York. |
Honeybees depend not only on phyiscal contact with the colony, but also require its social companionship and support. Isolate a honeybee from her sisters and she will soon die. (The Queen Must Die: And Other affairs of Bees and Men)
The whole frabric of honey bee society depends on communication – on an innate ability to send and receive messages, to encode and decode information. (The Honey Bee)
christians
two morning sessions of conference before nadia and jeanette and friends have their session. i actually start going to one of the sessions, on Lebanon. but i don’t make it through the first paper, time to escape again. there’s not much time though, and so it happens that i jump on one of these Old Town Trolleys that stop in front of the hotel and do a tour of the city. many places that i visisted yesterday, but also the harbor and Charlestown (US Constitution, Bunker Hill,..). heroic “cradle of liberty” stories alternated with trivia of various kinds.
i share the trolley with what on first sight seems a model hollywood family. very blond. and very loud – the woman has one of these high pitched voices that is difficult on the human ear. they display a great interest in what the driver/guide tells us, encourage the children to take it in and comment what a shame it is that this history is not taught in school in this country – the reason why their kids attend a Christian school, so that they would know about the history and values that found this country. at almost every stop the trolley makes they check with the driver if there is a McDonalds close by, despite him assuring them he would let them know.
it began with the driver making an allusion to me in relation to a piece of his narrative taking place in Europe. we had been talking before the family got on the trolley and he had wanted to know where i was from. the woman’s attention got fixed on me – where was i from, what was i doing in Boston. a conference, i reply, in middle eastern studies. in a split second i see her adopting a particular determined and complacent posture.
– “well sarah you must understand that when we go there, it is to spread the democracy and freedom that we have to places that don’t have it.”
i couldn’t think of an appropriate respons, baffled as i was, and it just somehow came out:
– “well it isn’t really working, is it… it seems that this country is good in making a big mess of many people’s lives.”
– “but you have to understand it is with the best of intentions. sometimes it’s difficult over there, you can’t always predict how things go. but you must keep confidence that good intentions will win in the end. that’s what built up this country.”
with every sentence we trap ourselves in continuing the conversation. soon we’re on the topic of the greatness and superiority of the U.S., “the best nation on earth” as she puts it. i challenge her. for some reason we get into education – i remember feeling i wanted to move on to health care – and i’m pulling together the evidence of how classist (no, don’t worry, i’ve learned, i didn’t actually use the word) it is. from all the things i list, she picks out the tuition fees.
– “but do you know why we have such high tuition fees? because we have all these international students coming here.”
with a nice and open and smiling face. i have a moment of just shaking my head which apparently she takes as a sign to continue:
– “and why do we have all the foreigners coming here? because our education is the best. everybody in the whole world knows it, and everybody wants it. they all want to get education in America.”
this conversation deterioriates at an amazing speed. some minutes later (in which we came back from standards of education, like levels of illiteracy, to the war in Iraq) i tell her i don’t want to have this conversation. yet the determination doesn’t suffice to break it off immediately. “okay,” she responds, “but take your time to discover our country and ask any American and he would tell you the same.” “how funny that you should mention that,” i reply, “as i just come from this conference with more than 2000 Americans and i can assure you their views are very different from yours. and given that they are actually informed about the Middle East, those views make much more sense than yours.”
sigh, another senseless conversation (10 more of these and i might start sounding like juan cole…). i’m actually saved by McDonalds, priorities are priorities, satisfied by some nuggets of independence history it is time for big burgers. from the corner of my eye i see the woman scribbling busily. before she gets off the trolley, she gives me a card – “please take this. i’ll pray for you.”
curiosity wins, as usual. (fieldwork material, as nadia says) the card reads:
We are believers in the faith that was the foundation of this most accomplished (for our age) nation on the planet. Our bravery, generosity and true love for all peoples has benefitted every nation on earth. God bless you.
they are from Riverside, California.