Juneteenth

    

 On June 19^th 1865, African American slaves in Galveston Texas learned that slavery had been abolished in the United States. The news of the end of slavery reached the Texan citizens last of all the states a whole two and a half years after the first slaves were freed. June 19^th came to be called Juneteenth and has since been celebrated in commemoration of African American freedom and emphasizes education and achievement. On the first day of celebration, citizens ran into the streets celebrating their freedom, they enjoyed picnics, and many pickup baseball games distinguished the event that marked the end of their time as slaves.

     While it is striking to me that up until only a few years ago, I had never heard of Juneteenth in a history class or in elementary school, what still shocks me most about Juneteenth is the ability for the slaves in Texas to have such important information withheld from them for such a long time. In the age of immediate communication, tweets, facebooks, texting, and dare I say the word, selfie, it is hard to imagine a world where information isn’t at our finger tips.

     But with greater reflection, I think some parallels can continue to be drawn. It is estimated that about 100 million Americans have no way of accessing internet at home. Whether it is a result of living in a rural area where access doesn’t exist, or the cost of a computer and internet service, being disconnected seems to be a function of being poor. And the implications of not having access to internet in our age are huge. Consider job applications, taking classes, or the amount of time the average person spends googling whatever small questions they may have (not to mention the fact that “googling” is a verb many of us feel comfortable with). The fact of the matter is, many of our most impoverished citizens live in a place where they are behind the rest of us in knowing what is going on in our world.

     This is not to say that the average person would have to wait two and a half years as they did in the 1860s but who are we kidding? Today two hours can be a life time. Our time is one defined by digital social movements and networking cites becoming platforms for reform. How is it that we have allowed the voiceless to remain muted when we know the repercussions? Bill Gates said, “the internet is becoming the town square for the global village of tomorrow” and I would go so far as to argue that by limiting that access to our most impoverished we have eliminated their say in participating in our town square. 

Nonfiction and Social Justice

     

We learn early in grade school that nonfiction means a true story while fiction is made up. But odds are, we have all read a memoir or a historical biography and come to realize that nonfiction really means that our stories are as true and accurate as possible for the author. In essence, it means that nonfiction is deeply concerned with matters of memory and perception as they reconstruct what they view as truth on the pages of a novel.

     After being stunned by Katherine Boo's beautiful first novel, Behind the Beautiful Forevers, a nonfiction narrative about the families in Mumbai, India and the cycle of poverty that prevents upward mobility, I began to think more about the impressive way that our perceptions can impact issues of social justice.
In the novel, Boo explains the intricate ways that the community of Annawadi is woven together. Like many novels of its kind, it comes back to themes of education, poverty, the justice system, and the role of women and children in impoverished families. In this way, Boo’s novel is able to bring a piece of reality that many of us will never understand personally and allows us to get to know pieces of it.

     Take for instance the challenges that have become public in Nigeria with Boko Haram terrorizing the women, children, and families that have been killed or lost loved ones. Unfortunately, we know that events like these are not outliers they are happening everywhere and at great costs. Truths as difficult as this, make me feel hopeless in reconciling the difficult terrors that people are facing and hopeless because I know that it is difficult for me to be a part of a solution that would be helpful for the many that are suffering.  

     However, Katherine Boo’s novel was a reminder to me that while I may not have any control over the events that happen across the globe, through writing and expressing in the most truthful way the events that many Americans may not know about, I can help promote justice. Katherine Boo has become an expert at weaving together the memories and perceptions of many people into one story that becomes a tangible piece for people thousands of miles away from where they occur. So while it is difficult to not feel hopeless about a change that may rectify the pain felt by so many, I will continue to live out my commitment to social justice by sharing people’s stories who may be voiceless with the utmost narrative truth that I can muster.

Little Prinz Book

The Little Prinz book is now available for purchase. All proceeds go to the children at Little Prinz. To learn more about the Children's Home, check out our website! The children are very proud of their pictures and are eager to share them all with you.

Familia ni Nyumbani "Family is Home" By: The Children of Little Prinz, Kenya 

Uncle Chris

Each morning as I press the snooze button to continue sleeping for a few minutes more, I know in the back of my mind that sleep will not come. Kanga, my 27 pound, inherited, feline cousin has been classically conditioned to Pavlovian standards—the alarm sounds, and Kanga comes running to the door meowing for breakfast. Likewise, when I return from work, before I can take off my shoes, Kanga begins circling my feet mewling incessantly. Most people would consider this obnoxious and trust me, there are early-morning moments when this is true for me as well but, for the most part, each time Kanga reminds me of his presence I feel a little warmer in my heart and I can’t help but smiling. This is because Kanga has been the very best gift to remember a gift that is no longer with us, my Uncle Chris.

The last time I spent time with Uncle Chris was in October of 2013. I took the train to Montana to spend a few days with my Grandma Gail and the rest of my family that lives in Montana. For most of our visits, it embarrasses me to say that Uncle Chris went ignored. He was always loved and important to our family but in a lot of ways we took for granted his kindness and gentleness while we were busy with the more “complicated things in life”.

On this visit in October, I surprised Uncle Chris on Sunday as he didn’t know I would be visiting and sat right beside him at church. Being the friendly man he was, he quickly turned to me to welcome me to his church and introduce himself. As he realized we were more familiar than he had thought, a big smile flashed across his face and he began to laugh with excitement. His laugh is memorable broken into loud bursts of ha’s and head bent back as if he knew more than the rest of us how important it was to relish in the joy laughter brought along.

Later that day, my family went to lunch and my Uncle Chris shared his route to work as he walked under the tunnel and across the field to get to Lowe’s. He had pride in the things he did without considering what others might think of him. He simply lived to do his best and be proud of whatever that might look like. And how rare is that? I think this is perhaps the most admirable quality about my Uncle Chris.

Rather than the pride that most of us hold for achievements that we believe make us better than others or lofty goals that we have finally conquered, Uncle Chris celebrated the small achievements alongside the bigger ones. He would rest his elbow on my shoulder and celebrate that I made a good arm rest. He would sleep on the couch during every family reunion rather than the beds all the rest of us had and smile because he had a tv.  

In essence, Uncle Chris found joy everywhere he went. He found joy in the beautiful world that surrounded him, in his home, and he found joy in individuals. And wow! What a feeling when he found joy in me. He was present and engaged in whatever I had to share and he was eager to know more. There was never a phone in front of him while he texted and talked. There was never a worry that interrupted because the time he was spending with me was precious. Unfortunately, I didn’t really understand how precious my time with him was until I didn’t have him around.

My very last memory of Uncle Chris is just a noise. While Aunt Laura, Grandma, and I chatted upstairs, Uncle Chris had escaped to the basement to watch a Seahawks game. From two flights of stairs away we heard a loud and resounding roar of excitement.  Apparently, the Seahawks had done something pretty special. And in this moment of reflecting on the gentle man my Uncle was, I am reminded that perhaps Kanga’s meows in the early mornings are little reflections of the joy that Uncle Chris left behind with us. It is true, that my Uncle didn’t have a life that most people would deem esteemed. But the truth is, in the most unconventional ways, he reminded us all that having only the necessities, making the choice to be happy, loving unconditionally, and practicing kindness always are the true moments that we most meet love in life. 

Artists Bring Activism Alive

Yue Minjun

“I’m actually trying to make sense of the world. 
There’s nothing cynical or absurd in what I do.” 
-Yue Minjun

Most of us are familiar with the “tankman” that stood up to the Chinese tanks on June 5, 1989, the day after the Tiananmen Square Massacre. As we draw closer to a day to remember this man that has remained seemingly anonymous, I began to reflect on the immense power that the young activists had on China.

In China, June 4^th is referred to as the “June 4^th Incident” implying that the events that day were a chance occurrence. However, the “incident” could more accurately be referred to as the June 4^th Democracy Movement. University students began mourning the death of Hu Yaobang, a liberal reformer, by protesting in Tiananmen Square in May.  Students hoped to expose the corrupted government and argued for democratic ideals such as freedom of speech, press, and worker’s control over industry.  At the peak of the protest, it is estimated that a million people were assembled in the Square. It wasn’t long before this protest became a massacre. On June 4^th, Chinese militants used force to break up the protest killing many (because China banned foreign press we may never know how many died) students and innocent bystanders.

Execution, 1995

The Chinese government condemned the protests as a counter-revolutionary riot and continued to prohibit all forms of discussion or remembrance of the events since. And so, the responsibility of remembering, even in the face of imprisonment and threats has fallen upon the artists of China. Yue Minjun, a Beijing artist most commonly known for oil paintings and sculptures depicting himself frozen in time smiling painted Execution in 1995. By 2007, his painting had become the most expensive Chinese contemporary art work ever sold at 5.9 million US dollars.

Soethby’s, a global art business that serves “the most discerning clients” (i.e. wealthy art collectors) stated that Yue’s Execution is “among the most historically important paintings of the Chinese avant-garde ever to appear at auction”. While Yue has stated that the painting should not be viewed as depicting what happened at Tiananmen Square, most critics argue that because of the politically sensitive nature of his work, he has no choice but to deny its strong inevitable connection with the Massacre of 1989. In addition, Yue’s classification as a cynical realist-an artist that describes the living status with a cynicism and mocking ridicule art attitude, using self-opinion to understand political and commercial realms-again places him in the activist’s seat as an artist.

This is not the first time activism has fallen into the hands of artists. As a book-worm, I am more familiar with authors that have woven activism between their lines. Poets like Thoreau, and authors of the Harlem Renaissance, the Bloomsbury Group, and even in present day, Junot Diaz all wrote/write about the injustices they observed around them. However, more foreign to me, are the painters and sculptors that made similar stands. When I began to research Yue Minjun’s role in activism, I found that there were a few other paintings that were eerie in similarities.

El tres de Mayo de 1808

In Francisco Goya’s painting, El tres de mayo de 1808 en Madrid, Goya depicts Napoleon’s armies during the occupation of 1808 in the Peninsular War. Just as Yue’s painting shows the victims as powerless, terrorized, and peaceful, Goya shows the innocent dead in a heap as the others have no defense to the raised guns of the French. In the late 1800's, Edouard Manet painted a series of paintings titled, The Execution of Emperor Maximilian. Again, there is an unnerving similarity between the paintings of Minjun and Goya. The firing squad, positioned almost identically to Goya and Minjun’s militants aims at the short-lived emperor.

The Execution of Emperor Maximilian

With no claims to be an art critic, I was most struck by similarities between the paintings but also, the courage of the artists behind them. Despite political ridicule and the sensitive subjects they were tackling, these artists forged on because they believed that sharing the image was more important than remaining silent. If nothing else, this seems to be a symbolic truth: as individuals we know far too much to remain silent. I believe we must all find our own mediums whether it be a paint brush, a pen, or profession and break the silence of injustice. 

Yuri Kochiyama

     

Yuri Kochiyama, the first time I heard her name was in BlueScholar’s song which gives tribute to her legacy. After last week’s loss due to the death of Dr. Maya Angleou, losing another courageous heroine of our time has reignited my passion for social justice and the dedication to dignifying every human being.

      It seems like the articles published about Yuri throughout the day have done a good job at summarizing her biographical information. She was born in 1921 and spent most of her life in San Pedro, California. However, when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and fear overwhelmed logic in the United States, Yuri, her family, and about 100,000 Japanese-Americans were forced to relocate to internment camps. Yuri’s family’s experience was particularly traumatic because her father was jailed by the FBI and was so sick when he was returned to his family that he died the very next day. While in the internment camp, Yuri met her husband who eventually served in the 442^nd Regimental Combat Team (worth reading about).

     The young couple was married after WWII and started their family in NYC in the projects surrounded by other low-income families (and most minorities as well). There, she began holding weekly open houses for activists to engage and contribute to social justice. Her advocacy became even more radical as she became involved in the Black Panthers where she fought for the Civil Rights Movement. And perhaps the achievement she is most known for was when her and her husband pushed for reparations and a formal government apology for Japanese-American internees through the Civil Liberties Act.

     So here we have a woman that fought for what she knew was right and waited for the rest of the world to catch up with her. The majority of reports I have read today have been quick to acknowledge her involvement with Malcom X, and her time at the internment camp, but I would argue that by focusing on these small pieces of the person that made her the heroine she was, they’ve missed the mark.

     To me, Yuri Kochiyama’s legacy will live on because not only was she a minority woman that was treated inhumanely and with cruelty but also the simple truth that she was a woman and still knew she had a voice. Not only that, she was a mother that taught her children that they had a voice. She was energized by the hope for the future and she didn’t ruminate on the hatred that surrounded her and those she supported. In short, despite being at the bottom of the totem pole, she was resilient and her resiliency was able to be the torch that lit the fire for millions of others to follow in lighting their candle toward racial and gender equality.

     A piece of our history has been missing from the text books since the time history began. Minority populations, the  marginalized, the women, the “other”. To me, Yuri took that history book and exposed its faults. Her living example is proof that one person with compassion, a critical understanding of the systems that most accept, and a zest for life can change the world in incredible ways. So today I pay tribute to a woman that regardless of her involvement with the Black Panthers, or having been in an internment camp, was courageous, radical, and did the world good in her own right. I hope her and Dr. Angelou are looking down on the future activists of our world with kind eyes and hope for our future.