Just because

TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY, DAMMIT! Write everyday. Blog everyday. Think everyday. Just make it happen. Just do it. Because why? Just because. To get into a rhythm may make future actions more possible. So this is the first time writing just because. This post means absolutely nothing besides just being a bookmark on the road towards routine. Day after day, post after post. One day I've gotta find a way...to write everyday.

Ridin' the Jingle Train

My friend Kitty is a blogger. I look forward to reading her musings as time unfolds. Here's a short post I figured I'd link to in her honor.

Check her out!!

Quote of the Day on the Jingle Train

Spiritually Transformed Firearm(s) of Jesus Christ

ABC News is reporting on military rifle scopes, made by Trijicon, Inc. of Wixom, MI, which appear to have references to bible verses stamped on the scopes themselves. While right-wing Christian voters and military personnel may be comforted that our soldiers and their guns are proselytizing to non-Christians, having bible verses stamped onto scopes used by the military violates General Order 1, which states, as item "k" under "Prohibited Activities":

proselytizing of any religion, faith, or practice.

For years, the US Military has received criticism that there is a covert mission in Afghanistan (and Iraq) besides just liberating the people: spreading the work and word of Jesus Christ.

If our constitution demands freedom of religion and at the same time a separation of church and state, then how is that our government and our army seem to be populated and run by right-wing Christian entities? Republicans often place blame on the "liberal bias" in the media and among pundits. However, one could argue to the fact that whatever "media bias" exists doesn't really matter when you consider that the decision makers in our country, the folks who hold in their hands the power to help the people or help the powers, are consistently working in the name of God.

Gaza Freedom March (b)

So there we were. Cairo, Egypt. Amidst a swarming sea of riot cops, Cairo was steeped in foreign activists: France, Italy, the US, Greece, Australia, Turkey, Canada all were represented on the Gaza Freedom March. Concerned citizens of 42 countries had converged on the Egyptian capital with hopes of gaining entry into Gaza, one of the most isolated places in the world, and the world's biggest jail. It was apt that in the morning of our first full day in Cairo we all hopped in cabs from the Sun, the Lotus, The Swiss, The Tulip, even the Hilton, to gather at the UN Agencies and World Trade Center on the highly-developed banks of the Nile River. After all, both the United Nations Security Council and General Assembly have issued resolution after resolution condemning Israel's treatment of Palestinians, Israel's decade-long refusal to grant right-of-return to Palestinian refugees, Israel's harassment of Palestinian fishermen and farmers, Israel's building of a "security wall", and Israel's deportation of Palestinians, just to name a few.

So we gathered on the plaza, peacefully demonstrating,
joyfully singing, meeting one another, sharing our stories, listening to each other's causes and stories. I met Ali, a graduate student from San Francisco who is studying women's issues in the Middle East, and we waxed Judaism and how it has impacted my current activism. I met Nuha, an undergraduate student from Berkeley (who would later that day be punched in the face by an Egyptian policeman) and she told me of actions she had organized on her campus back home. Hedy Epstein, an 85-year-old Holocaust survivor declared her hunger strike and was joined by about a dozen other individuals of all ages of all origins.

Within the hour we were joined, as was expected, by Egyptian riot police, though this time they had no shields or weapons. Towards the end of the afternoon Kelly snuck two of them "Gaza Freedom March" t-shirts. Their excitement clearly betraying their responsibility to keeping us intimidated, a boss quickly came over, confiscated the shirts, and returned them to us. To think that these young men were tasked with containing us, intimidating us, being a "presence" to keep us in line, yet many of them have no where else to turn for work, forced to follow orders which they themselves don't agree with and at the same time have sympathetic views for the Palestinian struggle. Egypt is called by many a police state. Local activists are often jailed for peacefully demonstrating and Hosni Mubarak has ruled with an iron fist for 28 years, essentially serving as dictator.

Throughout the afternoon a small group of organizers went upstairs to meet with UN officials. Included in this group were Medea Benjamin, co-founder of CodePink, and Walden Bello, a member of the House of Representatives in the Philippines. And throughout the afternoon the team would leave meetings without having received anything but bureaucratic maneuvers. It was just after the pair approached the megaphone aroun 4:00 pm, announcing that they had heard from the highest-up UN representative they had been given access to and had received no help at all, when they gave word that the Egyptian Police had given the dreaded 30-minutes-and-you-are-taking-a-risk-for-your-physical-well-being-if-you-don't-leave-by-then warning. Having made promises both to ourselves and our parents, we decided to leave (though five or six brave souls held the space through the cold, distressing night) unharmed, exhausted from shouting, filming, photographing, traveling, and experiencing life (and the pursuit of justice). "Tonight we'll finally get a good night of sleep." Tomorrow, after all, would be yet another day in paradise.

A Cappella

From the perspective of both a music lover and music player, the art of a cappella has always fascinated me. The human voice has such range, such possibility of expression. With the addition of music as a backing voice, vocal stylings have a certain way of climbing to the very apex of one's soul. Leaving the music at the door, however, one is left with just the sound of the voice. A cappella is a tapestry of such voices, layered one on top of another. I've never been in an a cappella band. Never been in a barbershop quartet either, though it's always been a dream of mine. There is something magical about the way voices can fit with each other. May I present a few of my favorites:


Great compilation of the making of Ben Folds' a cappella tribute album (and what inspired this new a cappella kick):
Ben Folds Presents: University A Cappella! The Documentary

Back to life

Today I head back to work. After such an inspiring and life-altering experience in Cairo and Gaza, it's hard to imagine getting back to the daily grind. Fortunately, I happen to have a fantastic job, working with fantastic people and for fantastic bosses, working across the street from my home, earning a very decent wage which allows me rent, the ability to feed myself with quality wholesome food, and a bit extra. I am blessed.

But today, I'll go in, to what for most is a normal ordinary Thursday, but for me is my first day back after traveling to Gaza, being detained by riot police, having to negotiate with Hamas, being interviewed by Press TV, when I mentioned that I am Jewish while surrounded by 600 Palestinians, and so much more. It's hard to have that experience and then go back to normal life. It's hard to justify this life, full of success and joy, considering the devastation and oppression I witnessed and lived through just two weeks ago. That said, I am a white, privileged, college-educated American. I have a wonderful life. It may sound callous, but I will probably not know such suffering. Again, I am blessed.

These were thoughts I was having after leaving New Orleans and Common Ground Relief. I didn't know how one would operate in the "real world" after such a revolutionary experience. But you move on. You have the experiences, participate in what a friend called "baring radical witness", and continue, however you can, fighting the good, and absolutely vital, fight.

This fight continues to this day. This fight will continue to my last day.

Gaza Freedom March (a)

I traveled to Cairo with 1,361 other committed persons in order to voice my opposition to the blockade of the Gaza Strip, the illegal occupation of the West Bank, the terrible humanitarian crisis in Gaza, currently in it's third year, the stealing of land in the West Bank and Palestine, the harassment of the Palestinian population in Palestine, and so many other unfair and racist policies of Israel (with the help and complicity of Egypt and the United States). We traveled preaching Peace. We traveled preaching Freedom. After all, it is our very freedom that allowed us to travel to Cairo in the first place, something Palestinians in Palestine and abroad don't necessarily have. I, as an American citizen, have a golden ticket to the world, in the form of my US Passport. It enables me to travel anywhere I want, at any time, without having to pay unnecessary bribes and fees to "expedite" the process of obtaining a visa. This is a privilege that we often times take for granted. In Egypt, we got a small taste of what the marginalized Palestinian population has to endure on an almost daily basis. For me it was shocking, but miniscule in comparison. We were, after all was said and done, after we protested, after we were detained, after we were beaten, able to return to our country of origin to continue in our lives of privilege.

Immediately, the mood in Cairo was electric. Upon arriving at around 10 pm on December 27, we had a wonderful taxi ride from the airport with Phil Weiss, founder and editor and contributer to Mondoweiss, a great site on Middle-Eastern politics which I had coincidentally discovered just a few days earlier. We waxed Judaism and its involvement in my current activism and I left decidedly upbeat about the mission at hand and the continued fight after our time in Cairo and, hopefully, Gaza. The Egyptian government, after all, had said that we were not allowed to continue on to Gaza, that we would have to stay in Cairo, that we would have to yell, protest, and demonstrate in a city in which none of us really wanted to be. A city which, in honor of our visit, had invited hundreds of riot cops.

A quick stop at our hotel to drop bags and check-in with organizers and we were off to the French Embassy, where about 150-200 activists from the French delegation were literally camped out in protest of their not being allowed to enter Gaza. Within about 30 minutes of our arrival we were surrounded by approximately 100 riot police. It was clear that Egypt was uncomfortable with our presence and so they decided to shut us down. Control our movements. Smoke us out, so to speak. This was my first experience with riot cops and let me just say I was nervous. I didn't know what they were capable of and certainly didn't know what the people I was with (who I didn't know) were capable of either. Plus we had literally just arrived in Cairo. We hadn't even gotten our bearings and already we were confronted with opposition. Kelly and I, plus a French activist, tried to leave, only to be turned back with promises of a taxi if we stayed "just 10 more minutes". Turns out, shocker, he was lying. Negotiating with the Egyptian police was the French Ambassador, who no doubt was awoken on the word that hundreds of his fellow French men and women were being detained outside his office. He convinced the police to let us go since we were American, not French, and with a parting of the sea of cops we left in a police-hired taxi. As we drove away, I turned to look at the group of peaceful protesters, entirely overwhelmed and surrounded by riot police, and began to realize the journey that we had embarked on. The journey that was waiting to unfold for us in this place. It would be the last time I would see the French Embassy, though international activists would continue to go there in solidarity with the French delegation. They would bring food, water, cigarettes, journalists, support. They would do this for four or five more days, and the French would still be camped out, surrounded the entire time with two or three rows of riot cops, showing their displeasure for not being allowed into Gaza.

Finally returning to the hotel to sleep, I was excited at what awaited us and already overwhelmed at what we'd witnessed. At 5:30, morning call to prayer rang through the streets and into the window of our room. And so ended the first day of the Gaza Freedom March.