Grrr....thoughts!

I have a barrage of stuff in my mind. As usual, I need to spill them before they explode in my brain.

1) Joy and comfort from hearing my parents' voice, even from afar.
The knowledge that this may not last forever.

2) Anger, deep anger and resentment of the nursing program.
Specifically, anger about the racism and classism within the program, including the obvious withholding of knowledge from CNAs in nursing homes. 1 quarter of being a nursing student, I feel I have more knowledge of my patients than 2 years of being a CNA. I am resentful. Also pissed about how nursing school is educating a whole generation of nurses to be punked on and to punk on CNAs. Reproducing the hierarchy of white supremacy, division of labor...etc etc

3) Sinking realization that industrialization and capitalist division of labor is primitive and backward. That a generation of industrial capitalists came up with an idea one day and disseminated it wholesale everywhere in a powerful way and this has changed our earth, our living, our bodies in ways unimaginable. In ways that made human life unworthy and equivalent to the products that we handle -- whether it be hogs, or cars, or in the case of caring labor, people with disabilities and the elderly. Industrialization and capitalist law of value dehumanizes in such a complete, unbelievable manner. I can't believe it. I rememeber not being able to believe when I was treated SO MUCH like shit, and again it's that whole feeling of incredulousness...

4) The pace of the movement -- D/OS, alongside being a student, a child to elderly parents, a friend etc - is unsustainable. Needing to rest, as I am right now, but also to figure out an involvement that is more sustainable. Understanding that this, is now, my new reality. Needing to figure out how to absorb this mentally, emotionally so every moment is not a crisis or a dilemma.

5) How to integrate all the energy from D/OS into workplace organizing -- or is workplace organizing obsolete at this point??

A Xmas day note

2011 is coming to an end.
Xmas day doesnt mean much to me except as a landmark. The week before the end of the year, a reminder that some things, tasks or mental notes, need time to wrap up for the new year's welcome.

I believe in new beginnings. Resolutions are a way to initiate them. I have collected lists of resolutions, and kept, only a mere few. Yet a mere few that has meant a lot to me.

The same time last year, I was not good. This same time this year, I am doing better. I would say much better except that I believe in jinxing myself. So, officially, I am doing slightly better :)

I feel like there's a lot in my head that needs to come out. Thats how I process and make real in my head the experiences my body takes me through.

Uncharted terrain

Writing has always brought me back to myself.

Since the Occupy movement has taken off, I have been gradually losing touch of myself. It is an irony, because it is precisely this moment of potential mass upheaval, the expansion of possibilities, that I feel that I, and many others around me, have sprung into, that coincides precisely with me losing a sense of myself. Where every work of creation begins with a work of destruction. It rings too true and I can't handle it.

I am afraid of the power that I simultaneously have and dont have. I am suddenly shocked by how much power this democracy offers me, and people around me. We have the power to make the powers that be, throw down their weight on us. We have the power to smash on their ideas. I have no illusion about the somewhat weak position we still are, and the challenges we confront. But for regular people like me, and everyone else around me, the sudden power we have is both beautiful and somewhat fearsome. I don't know if I have the mental, emotional resilience, stamina, and most importantly, the compassion of heart, to handle these moments.

I have felt myself become patient with emotions because, emotions are rough and tumble unpredictable things that throw me off my rocker. Does it build the revolution? No. It distracts me from the tasks I need to do. I know it's the wrong way to feel. It's a baggage of capitalism, a baggage that I have fought to resist, a baggage that my entire upbringing and schooling has trained me to be. But in moments of stress, I run auto-pilot and distance from that which destabilizes is wise.

And strange.

And strange because it has never been how I have seen myself. Strange because I have always been that emo kid who cried too easily about dolphins and laughed too loudly about inappropriate shits. I don't know. I just feel lost.

Or burned out.

I feel so nervous about the upcoming actions. the last time we organized something big like this, it flopped on us and all the relationships around us burned. Burned to a crisp that tore my heart, lost people whom I thought I loved. So, what now when this fails?

And the voice of the bureaucrats whom I had shut out for a while, relishing the new found joy, freedoms and sense of power that my community and I have struggled for, suddenly came back. Suddenly I heard their voices again that reminded me of  what we slide back into when this movement, if this movement, dies.

I fear my loss of inihibition. I love my loss of inhibition. I love the visions of a new world and I fear losing it and what awaits us if we do.

Days like this I realize that dreaming, actually, as cheesy as it sounds, takes a hell lot of strength, and super super thick skin.

Occupy Seattle...

Occupy Seattle is like a drug that I can't remove myself from even when it hurts.

OCCUPY, to END CAPITALISM

Hey all,
This is a piece that BOC, a group I am a part of, put out today. It was produced in a hurry given that we have all been heavily involved in Occupy Seattle. Check it out:

http://blackorchidcollective.wordpress.com/2011/10/16/occupy-to-end-capitalism/

Caring: A labor on stolen time

Care workers, feminists, labor militants, read this and share your thoughts!

You can email the Jennifer Ng here

caring: a labor of stolen time

pages from a CNA's notebook

*                             

The Machine endangers all we have made.

We allow it to rule instead of obey.

To build a house, cut the stone sharp and fast:
the carver's hand takes too long to feel its way.

The Machine never hesitates, or we might escape
and its factories subside into silence.
It thinks it's alive and does everything better.
With equal resolve it creates and destroys.

But life holds mystery for us yet. In a hundred places
we can still sense the source: a play of pure powers
that -- when you feel it -- brings you to your knees.

There are yet words that come near the unsayable,
and, from crumbling stones, a new music
to make a sacred dwelling in a place we cannot own.

Rilke (Translated by Joanna Macy)

                *                             

This piece is dedicated to all nursing home workers, residents and their family members.                                       Be patient with me, as I share our silenced stories.

All names have been changed to protect the identities of my coworkers and residents

*                             

I work in a place of death. People come here to die, and my coworkers and I care for them as they make their journeys.Sometimes these transitions take years or months. Other times they take weeks or some short days. I count the time in shifts, in scheduled state visits, in the sham monthly meetings I never attend, in the announcements of the “Employee of the Month” (code word for best ass-kisser of the month), in the yearly pay increment of 20 cents, and in the number of times I get called into the Human Resources office, counting down to the last one that would get me fired.

The nursing home residents also have their own rhythms. Their time is tracked by scheduled hospital visits; by the times when loved ones drop by to share a meal, to announce the arrival of a new grandchild, or to anxiously wait at their bedsides for heart-wrenching moments to pass.  Their time is measured by transitions from mechanical food to pureed food, textures that match their increasing susceptibility to dysphagia, their appetite changing with the decreasing sensitivity of their taste buds. Their transitions are also measured by the changes from underwear to pull ups and then to diapers. Even more than the loss of mobility, the use of diapers is often the most fearsome adaptation. For many people, lack of control over urinary functions and timing is the definitive, undoubted mark of the loss of independence to dementia.  

Many of the elderly I have worked with are, at least initially, aware of the transitions they undergo, and respond with a myriad of emotions such as shame, anger, depression, anxiety and fear. Theirs was the generation that survived the great depression, armed with fervent missions of world war. Aging, that mundane human process, was an anti-climatic twist to the purported grandeur and tumultuousness of their early 20th century youth.   

“I am afraid to die. I don’t know where I will go, Jennifer,” a resident named Lara once said to me, fear dilating her eyes.

“Lara, you will go to heaven. You will be happy.” I reply, holding the spoonful of pureed spinach to her lips.

“Tell me about your son, Tobias.”

And so Lara begins, the same story of Tobias, his obedience and intelligence, which I have heard over and over again for the past year.  The son whom she loves, whose teenage portrait stands by her bedside. The son who has never visited. The son whom I have never met, but whose name and memory calms Lara down.

*

Continue here

"Capitalism Destroys Us, Movements Heal Us"

"The body had to die,

 so labor power could live"

Silvia Federici 

Caliban and the Witch (141)

I am strongly influenced by Silvia Federici's "Caliban and the Witch." I read that book alongside Maryse Conde's "I, Tituba, Black Witch of Salem." Conde's book is also really amazing, and Federici's historical and theoretical ideas give another layer of meaning to the depth that is already there. I hope to do a more detailed write up of these books sometime down the road.

In the meantime, I want to share a talk that Federici recently gave in Philadelphia, entitled, "Capitalism Destroys Us, Movements Heal Us." The organizer has kindly uploaded the audio recording. Check it out. It's super helpful. I especially like the distinction between "sacrifice" and "suffering." The Buddhist instincts in me really like her acknowledgement and acceptance of aspects of life as suffering.

It's making me think alot about the importance of organization in helping maintain sustainable political lives. The 10% we can offer to political work while also studying, working, caring for family, self care, is small when it is alone. In fact, it becomes a small droplet that gets lost in the midst of a gazillion other things. But when many people pool their 10%, 5% - s together, then our joint (small) forces become bigger and more meaningful political activities.

I have been to meetings where people spend the only 2 hours of the week they have to spare, nearly dozing off because the work is not engaging or meaningful. Being present at a political meeting does not mean we are growing and engaging meaningfully. We need to have organizations that channel the only 2 hours of spare time someone can offer, into meaningful, inspiring, challenging work that helps us grow. For that, we need structure and political content.

We need to build that! Or we won't win against the capitalist scum bags that overwhelm us! We need to build that, so we dont burn out! Also so we won't conflate all forms of "sustainability" with self care that takes us AWAY from political work.  I believe it is possible to be sustainable and be engaged politically. I also do think there is need to take time away sometimes, but that cannot be the only way we conceptualize sustainability.

Family...

I feel a little silly that I can't sleep tonight cos I am excited for the first day of school tomorrow :P
I mean, I guess I'm kinda really excited to start (and finish! *fingers crossed*) nursing school. I had been preparing for this since...2007! O-M-G that's right! Pre-reqs!!! I hate you. Pre-reqs that expire? I hate you even more!

Anyway. I fill up my time by getting emo. I recently had a little conversion experience. I don't know how long it will last. I'm hoping it's not a temporary thing.

I realize how much I love my family!
My quirky, weird, atypical, problematic family! (which family isn't?)

My parents are not perfect. My mom has issues of internalized colonialism being from Taiwan and loving, absolutely adoring everything Japanese. Taiwan was a former colony of Japan. Japanese colonialism had different policies for Korea and Taiwan. Where they deprived Korea of any industrialization or technological transfer etc, they fawned over Taiwan and developed it as their lil model colony. It was the bad cop stick vs. the good cop carrot game they played.

My mom's racism is probably the hardest for me to accept about my family.

Growing up in Singapore/Malaysia, and seeing my mom despise all the people around me because they were "Nanyang" Chinese, or Malay, or Indian, was really poisonous. Because being a mixture of all this was how I grew up -- language, food, friends, education. Even with Singapore's racist anti-Malay, anti-Indian, Chinese supremacist education system, we still had an illusion that we were a multiracial society in my childhood years. Hell, I even *look* like a SEAsian Chinese! And it was never good enough. Where in school we learned about Japanese colonialism of SEAsia and all the degenerate racist things the Japanese military did under the name of "pan-asian unity," in my phase of deep nationalism and patroitism, my mom would simply squash all that by hushing me up. Shaking her head furiously and yelling madly, exactly showing how my young heart seeking a history to call home, was shattering her denial of how hers had merely been at another's mercy. I didn't understand why. And I despised her for it.

I have tried rejecting her. It succeeded for some years. But I think I am ready for some fresh memories.

I am ready to remember my mom's voice, not as echoes of memory from my childhood and teenage years. I want to hear her voice again, before it ends.

Somehow, having worked in a nursing home and interacting with all these elderly who have so many contradictions, and feeling this need to distinguish between their degenerate ideology and their humanity, because I need to reclaim parts of my own humanity, is, strangely, doing something to me in a deeper way.

I know women and many oppressed people have resisted historically by killing their oppressors. I will not condemn the right to self-defense, and related to that, the rage that emerges from years of pent-up oppression. But I guess I wanna say, that this form of resistance, as legitimate as they often are, is dehumanizing to us all, even if at times necessary. This system dehumanizes all of us, and so I am not positing an ideal humanity that is being disrupted by acts of violent self defense. It's not that. It's a deeper thing, a possibly deeper, tragic thing. Something I feel unqualified to talk about because I havent been in that position yet.

Anyway, I suddenly really wanna genuinely care for my parents. My mom who has lost her kidneys to a money-grubbing capitalist medical system. My dad, who has not found what he really wants and has illusions of grandeur, of believing that persistence and inspiration alone can help transform his village high school credentials into a Einstein/John Nash genius at age 66. Maybe so, most likely not. Regardless, I love them.
I never want them in a nursing home.

"Poetry" - A film about Alzheimers, Poetry, and Gender

I don't see a lot of films where elderly women are the center of the stories. "Poetry" by Lee Chang Hoon, is one of the few films that beautifully, sensitively, gently accomplish this. This film is about a woman who has Alzheimers, whose realization of the illness (and impending death) shapes the way she interacts with the world, shapes the way she acutely understands her gendered experiences and her empathy with other women (particularly a young deceased rape victim and her mother), but who does so in a very gentle and yet passionate and strong manner. She seeks poetry as a defined, tangible "poetic aspiration," and yet doesnt realize that as she wanders through the last leg of her life, she is experiencing and speaking poetry at every turn.

I like this film in part because the main character, Yang Mija, is seeking words at the same time that her body is losing them. Yet her body transcends language, and her physical presence in the world, her accidental encounters and experiences with other people in her town, embody what poetry is. In the end, the poetry she writes transcends language and time and body -- she and the deceased girl become one in the reciting. It is this merger of time and space that is the essence of poetry, at death. The gendered experiences of patriarchy in the film are subtle, but very present. Mija is a single grandmother, who brings up her daughter's child, Wook. Her daughter had left the town to find work after her divorce, in Busan. It is not a coincidence, that Busan is the 2nd largest city in South Korea, and Mija's daughter's move seems to be a larger picture of urban migration. Mija meets with the fathers of Wook's friends who are discussing how to cover up their childrens' involvement in the months-long rape of the recently deceased girl. Mija is the only woman present, in shock upon hearing the news, but also from the men's callous attitudes about the girl's death. She finds out later, to her surprise, how widespread this callousness is, both in her own grandson, as well as in the man for whom she cares for as part of her maid-job.

Anyway, watch this film. It's on Netflix! Here's the poem at the end of the film. It's beautiful, so it's here, but if you hate spoilers, don't scroll down below the trailer:)



Agnes' Song
How is it over there?
How lonely is it?
Is it still glowing red at sunset?
Are the birds still singing on
The way to the forest?
Can you receive the letter
I dared not send?
Can I convey the confession
I dared not make?
Will time pass and roses fade?
Now it’s time to say goodbye
Like the wind that lingers
And then goes, just like shadows.
To promises that never came,
To the love sealed till the end,
To the grass kissing my weary ankles,
And to the tiny footsteps following me,
It’s time to say goodbye.

Continued here

我不再潇洒了！：）

我爸说我这次回家，变得比较消沉，跟过去比起来，是比较“不潇洒” 了：）
挺搞笑的。我说“成熟”，“稳定”，他说“没威风”。。。

我想这过去一年所经历的哀愁，情绪的极端上下，锻炼出来的我，毕竟有些沉重。这也是岁月与人生经验所创造的，是无可避开的。虽然多年不见，父亲仍能观察到我的变化，也是挺不错的。

说起“潇洒”， 也让我想起叶倩文的 《潇洒走一会》。这首歌是那么地表征了九时年代的风各。我觉得父亲过去也非常喜欢这首歌。

video是有点过时。。。：）
  *warning: cheesy 90s Chinese video* :)

Hot pot goodness

I am not a photo person...so here's something jacked from the internet.

This past visit home, I got to celebrate the Mid Autumn Festival. This was the first time in 10 years that I was able to celebrate this festival with my family. It meant a lot to me to be enjoying hot pot with my brother, my new sister-in-law, her parents, and of course, my parents. Mooncakes, shrimps, noodles, fish, vegetables...wow. It was a feast. Everything is round on the table, the hot pot itself, the table, the seating arrangements, and the people! Round and full with this yummy food!

My mum gave me the hot pot stove, to bring back here to Seatown, and I put it right to use! I had a lovely Mid Autumn Festival Round 2! with cherished people in my life. Shopping, preparing and eating with friends was a labor of love and made me so happy and light headed -- with barely no alcohol!!

Also wanted to share a piece I wrote a long time ago now. It's about my life, my parents, and this myth that's been associated with this festival. Those were some angsty days.

Mooncake Festival

Tonight is the Moon cake festival. The bright full moon sat comfortably like an egg yolk, beaming in the cool darkness of night. There, legend has it that Chang-er sits with her rabbit after she took the elixir of immortality four thousand years ago, to prevent her evil husband, Hou Yi, from ruling eternally over all heaven and earth. Four thousand years ago, Hou Yi was a good man who shot down nine out of ten suns to save heaven and earth from being scorched by the blasting heat of the ten suns combined. Chang-er watched as power and time tweaked him beyond recognition. Four thousand years ago, Chang-er exchanged brimming material luxury for eternal solitude to save heaven and earth from being ruled by one evil man, her husband, Hou Yi. She is so beautiful like a glowing gem hanging in the sky. Yet she is so alone in the vast vacuum of the soundless universe. What were the thoughts that ran through Chang-er's mind when she popped the elixir of immortality into her mouth? Was she nervous, frantically popping the pill in her mouth, in fear of Hou Yi's sudden arrival into her room? Did she in her frenzy, grab the nearest thing next to her when swallowing the globular object and did it happen to be the rabbit? Was she nervous and afraid was she not sure what would happen next was she suddenly a moon first and then flew up to the sky or did she first fly up and then become a moon? Was she as bright from the beginning and how did she feel about the choice she made? Could she have regretted and it was too late to regret because there was no choice but to go through with her choice? And how much choice was there, really, if the stakes for not doing it, were so high? He could have turned on her and killed her too because he was so evil… Did he beat her, was she abused, and any escape would have been a good reason to get away from the man who once was kind to her? Did she just happen to save heaven and earth? Or did she really intend to give up all to save heaven and earth? When Papa sat by me and Nin's bed on those nights when he was not traveling to those far away countries, I relished the stories he would tell. Running out of new bedtime stories, he repeated them one after another. There would be the story of Chang-er, and then sometimes there would be the story of Momo Taro, the little peach boy who grew up so quickly that his elderly foster parents couldn't believe it for all that their old eyes were worth. When narrating these stories, Papa's eyes danced with the fiery heat of the nine suns that Hou Yi had shot down, his voice suddenly trembling, suddenly angry with the angst and hatred of the villagers who felt betrayed by Hou Yi's deception. The five-syllable "Elixir of Immortality" that he would utter, was like a consonant-cluttered conundrum with a pronunciation that my early years could only recognize but not repeat, with a mysterious significance I could only imagine but not empathize. What could be so exciting about staying young and juvenile, when age and maturity was all that my young body was craving? Chang-er was a symbol of strength and resilience as I sometimes filled my little bolster with clothing to escape from home because the noise was too much and Nin was too annoying and I didn't think Mama and Papa loved me because she loved her business more and he loved the far-away countries more. Especially those nights when the sounds of vases and plates breaking, and Mama's cries mixed in with all that were a little too much cacophony for comprehension. Knelt knees with caps cutting coarse ground, salt-stung eyeballs staring into far away distance, I wanted to grow old instantaneously so I could be big and strong to protect Mama. Those nights I would be Chang-er, who would leave home and fly to the streets and seek out an adventure by venturing into the city where excitement and adventure burst through the colorful sidewalks onto the roaring asphalt roads… I would say bye bye to Papa…to Mama…to Nin… We will meet in our next life and thank you very much for the care that you have bestowed unto me while I have lived and sometime somewhere I will express my gratitude and repay your kindness…. How did Chang-er feel when she flew to the moon? Did she feel like Papa did when he left home to find work as a construction worker in the jungles of Brunei at age 18? Perhaps with that tinge of desperation that inevitably transforms itself into anticipation and excitement because one cannot live in downtrodden conditions without venturing onto new grounds? Or, did she feel like Mama did when she scrubbed toilets of the ritzy and the glamorous and felt her dreams disappear into the sewage of waste water and poop? I mean, did Chang-er feel for a moment that the moon could potentially be a very wet and dirty place where she could easily slide and slip into potholes and crevices if she just was just careless for a moment? Or, did she feel like me? Like me, when I attempted to sneak out of the house in the wee hours of the night with my clothes-filled, toothbrush and toothpaste-packed, walk-man and cassette tape equipped, ramen noodles-stuffed bolster? In other words, was she prepared for the unknown like I was when trying to launch an escape into the unknown streets of a scary and suspicious night? Tonight, Chang-er lives again as I share moon-cakes whilst drinking fragrant jasmine tea on a warm night. Tonight, the fog shades the bright moon glow into a cloudy orange. Her distance made painfully clear as the mist carelessly hides her on the night we pay tribute to her sacrifice. Chang-er, how does it feel like to watch us live our lives? Do you wish you had never left? Do you ever regret your decision and do thoughts of the people you saved from Hou Yi's terror help you get through your occasional loneliness? Tonight, I am 21 hours and 10 000 miles away from family. Sometimes, vestiges of home float slickly above new surroundings, like oil that never mixes with water. Moments of loneliness tickle memory into an unlived utopia, knowingly deceiving yet comfortably nostalgic.

A new phase

It's been a minute since I wrote in here. Summer felt like forever, and within that forever, it had its share of highs and lows. I am back here now, in pretty, cold, wet Seattle. Only when I left did I realize how much I like living here, how much I like having a home with loved ones and community.

Transitions! This year has had so many of those funky moments. I am bad at transitions, and have to brace myself for them. For now, the biggest transition in my life is no longer being a CNA (though I should apply for an on-call position), and now *finally* being a nursing student.

A little nervewrecking and scary, especially after our 8 hour-long orientation yesterday where basically we were told it's either STUDY and CLINICALS, or DIE.

It's not really a choice for me. I have to power through these 2 years. Be a good student and do well in my clinicals and practical. My family needs me to do this, get the fuck out and have a stable paycheck that I can support them with, and oh, pay back my loans with.

Welcome to this new period.

浪子回头，金不换

所谓“浪子回头，金不换，”我这次去探亲回来，真觉得自己成熟了一点。
母亲身体虚弱，但父母两仍然看起来是蛮开心的。也许是因为哥哥结婚，我回来看他们的原因。。。
家是那么的复杂，家人之间有那么多的历史。最后仍然是需要以爱心和关怀去对待。我真希望自己能够承担这个责任与状态。

我现在较深地了解与接受，自己真是存在在两个不同的世界，不同的国家的人。而两地都是家，都有我的历史。我的各人历史，家人的历史，与世界社会与政治，在这过去五十年来的变化，是撤不开的。

what nourishes us, cannot be quantified.

我爱我的家庭，我那奇怪，非传统，而非常独特的家庭。

哥哥前天说新加坡是他的家。
我回应，但这个国家可不要你。你为什么觉得他是家？
他回答，我哪有选择。除了这地方以外，我还有哪儿能叫“家”的地方？

忽然想念陳潔儀在新加坡国庆日唱的《家》

Hi from Point Reyes, CA!

Wow, I dont remember the last time I was in nature, where there isnt wireless internet and phone access.

But!

Here I am, in Point Reyes, Cali, at a Marxist Feminist Summer Camp.

It's really exhilarating and inspiring to be with other women and trans feminists talking about class struggle, gender, queer and trans liberation.

It's not perfect, but I am taking as much out of it as I can.

Look forward to a barrage of posts on this blog as I process this trip!:)

sleepless night part 2

A blast from the past...i felt the need to read this again.
More on Detroit current struggles in a later post.

detroit. aug 25th 2007. 1443h

August 25, 2007 i am back in d-town. reminded of how much i love this city.

i went to visit my “Albanian cartel” aka the Royal Grill diner where I was a waitress for some time. It was cute, people remembered me as “the waitress who left” and said Hi and all…There is that sense of community (maybe just familiarity?) which was so hard for me to say goodbye to. Saw Djana, Valentino, missed Vince and Mirela cos I went after 3pm which is when they all leave…and it was good. altho as it happens sometimes, Valentino was in a bad mood cos supplies were low. I guess one good thing is that business was good! it was so good to see D again, and in a way I feel like she is my D-town mama or somethin, or at least, good D-town friend:) I saw A. again, even tho just briefly, in the grocery store, and from a distance, said some really customary greeting stuff, like “how are you? how long you stayin for?” blahs. I dont know how to describe this, and it brings me back to the first post on this blog, but A., Djana, Valentino, the whole Warren complex, represent something for me in these young years of my life — there are many possibilities in my life that I can live to the fullest. I’m not worried about keeping in touch a Djana, but with some people, they will leave my life as quickly as they entered and I wont see them ever again possibly. But I will remember that once ago a time there were some people from South Carolina in Detroit whom I crossed paths with and thought were amazing…haha:)

Then of course there is the Zen Center, my other home in D-town. It was so nice to see Sunim, to see Myungju, Hasuun, Jinju…and I really look forward to meditating with them again tomorrow. I like Ham-town, I like Detroit. I really do. I like the intensity, the seriousness of this Zen Center, the concreteness of life, the motivating sense of innovation, of new ideas that Myungju and Jinju are always cooking up. I hung out w them today at the Hamtramck Farmer’s Market. This was the first time they were havin it and they had a little stall of organic food. It was all very cute and it just like reminds me that life everywhere is always moving, always changing…is it strange that I feel some sense of hope? some sense of optimism when such small, you could say, apolitical things are happening around? I am looking forward to being in Seattle where I can really stick around and not have to leave cherished spaces so quickly. Anyway.

And then of course there are ARA folks whom I am going to get together with on Monday evening. Right now its hanging w Libbie and Mike and the ever exuberant Lumpi/lampah (Hokkien for a phallus…) 

And then of course of course there was Providence which I said goodbye to yesterday. Hung out w Giselle, Marie, Belinda, Gordo, Smitha, Sharon and it was great. I had a strange feeling of nostalgia for P-town. I talked about this earlier I think, that I suppose one thing about school, as hard and roller-coastery it was, was that it was a place where I made mistakes and learnt from them…sounds sooo cheesy I know. But its true. I went from a hippie, to a third-worldist, to a revolutionary. My self-conception changed all so drastically in these coupla years and I know its a long way ahead but I feel so much more focus these days than I did when I was an incoming freshman — w my eyebrow piercing and my let’s be merry and enjoy life kinda attitude:)

3 kinds of sadness

1) when I left Singapore, it was a nostalgia of what was, and being away from what roots me as a person, my history. my physical break from a sense of continuity from my family’s history that revolved around malaysia, spore, china, taiwan. my parents, my childhood, my dogs.

2) when I left Providence, it was a bitter-sweet goodbye. it was like a kind of tonic, with a flavor that changes as I leave it to soak over time. it once nourished me. it once protected me. it once stabbed me w its sharp tastes, but w all its good medicinal properties, it made me stronger to face the world

3) when I leave Detroit this coming Tues, it will be a goodbye to what I could be. A lifestyle, a community that I found which made me feel really holistic. even if transient. i could see myself building a life here. it is concrete. but i am leaving it for other commitments. there are miles to go before i go to sleep, and this city was a resting place, and i know i will come back to it somehow. * just realized i always have this sense that i will come back to places..i suppose its a good thing, no?

i move, like Grace Lee Boggs moved 50 years ago to Detroit, to be where the movement ctn be builr. did i already mention that I love GLB? That she is the person I aspire to be? of course, w some tweaks :)

sleepless night

1)

I can't sleep, so tonight
my fingers reached out to try to grasp
these frozen pictures of faded colors and etched faces
in the slideshow that plays silently, conspicuously, in the background
of my everyday mind

tonight, I hear those laughter, whispers, gasps, and
awkward silences,  abrupt coughs, mutters under breaths, drunken talk
of our young voices, gathered in shoddy dormitory spaces, living rooms, and cramped bedrooms

I recognize those sparkles in eyes, those smiling lips, those messy hair dos
those windy moments  
that weren't self conscious that they would years later, be valued images of their time

My heart aches for the past.
Nostalgia is
not because I want to return to it,
not because I want to freeze time

but because it is the pieces of me,
that so many people have helped to put together
into this one montage
still incomplete, still yearning, desiring
and sometimes fearing

2)

I feel a deep, quiet, joyous sense of freedom

It is like the warm ocean that swims
beneath the layers of icy waters

I have lived honestly,
in fear, desire, and love amid
the clutter

3)

i cant remember now.
:P

Biologists, strut your stuff!

If you havent watched the movie, XXY, you need to.

It's an amazing film about a young intersex person navigating their identity, sexuality and gender expression. What's really amazing too is the way there are 2 different visions of science that the movie presents. Mamos and I have been talking through this for a while and it comes through in the comment he leaves on another post.

There is the biodiversity vision of science, one that embraces the multiple, varied, evolving nature of the body, of nature, and society.

Another is a top-down authoritarian, Francis Bacon-style version of science that focuses on hierarchy, perfection and boxes.

Anyway, all this is bringing me to read about biology and gender.
A biology that isn't top down, gender-binaried, fluid, embracing of biodiversity.

So, my dear biologists, here I come:

Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Feminity by Julie Serano

Sexing the Body: Gender politics and the construction of sexuality by Anne Fausto Sterling
Myth of Gender: Biological theories about Women and Men by Anne Fausto Sterling

All Caring labor shares this

I think all forms of caring labor share this process to be truly humane and caring. Not the specifics, but the mental mindframe. This scenario is specific to the CNA job. What you will NOT hear in a CNA class or video with nice white ladies smiling and holding clean unsoiled bedpans.

What do you do when your resident's loose bowel movement or diarhoea spills all over the floor?

1) Is the resident in a safe position?
Call for help if you need assistance to transfer them into a safe position
Once resident is in safe position, resume the following

2) Don't panic. Turn away from the smell and take a deep breath. Your frame of mind is important for this to be a manageable task.

3) Ignore the call lights going off along the hall way. You can hear them beep and may feel stressed about the charge nurse running down the hall way to rush you. Your mind may also be unconsciously counting how many more residents you need to toilet before you clock out. For this moment, ignore that. Others can answer the call lights, or the residents can wait. None of that is your fault. You can deal with the consequences later.

4) Do not be stressed, do not rush, regardless of how many voices are going off in your head. Freeze those thoughts. Take your time,  Remember too that diarhoea is a human process. It is not the residents' fault that this happened. Do not take out your anger and stress on your resident. Assure the resident that everything is OK. Keep a smile on your face if possible, crack a joke or something.

If working with a coworker, also make sure you do not take out your stress on them. They are equally frustrated. Always make sure to speak respectfully and not let stress make you into the manager you all hate. Best achieved under the mantra of "Take Your Time. No Need to Rush."

5) Do you have all your supplies for cleaning up this mess?
- Virex: disinfectant
- Wipes (and if Maintenance hasnt stocked them up cos they are trying to save on supplies, then use washcloths), lots and lots of them
- Bags for bagging soiled linen and diapers
- Protective gear (and if management has made them inaccessible to save on supplies, then try wearing night gowns meant for residents. If that is unavailable, then do not use protective gear)

6) Rinse wash cloth throughly with soap. Clean up mess. Use disinfectant.
If anytime during this process, the charge nurse knocks on your door to hurry you, say "Sorry, not now. I will be there as soon as I can."

If it is your coworker knocking to ask you to help out with a transfer, say "I am busy now. Can you help me with this so I can be done faster and I can go to help you?"

When done, ask housekeeper to clean up again with mop.

7) Change diaper on resident. Put them to bed if they do not look well. Take their vital signs
Report loose Bowel Movement or diarhoea to charge nurse.

8) Open windows to the room and use hella air freshener

This happens on average 2-3 times a week. And if they have C Diff, then god bless you!!!

What is Class Hatred?

I hate the word "classism" cos it always feels to me that it's about rich people being nice to poor people, rather than about fighting capitalism. Yet, "class oppression" or "capitalism" itself doesnt encompass the emotional dimensions of how class oppression plays out. I think there is a more developed vocab describing the impact of racism and sexism, than there is for class oppression, and that probably has a lot to do with how there has not been a working class movement or identity in this country for a while.

More drama at work -- the kitchen manager, R, is extremely mean and disrespectful. She comes into the dining room, doesnt greet any of us, and crosses her arms, towers over us to supervise us. A nurse working a double shift (6am to 11pm) left her food in the pantry area. We all know we arent allowed to leave our food in the fridge, so this nurse left it next to the coffee maker that is meant for employees. The kitchen manager comes in, and just dumps out the food in the garbage. Her excuse: You all aren't suppose to eat in the pantry anyway."

They switch up the rules on us, with no explanation for why and expect that we follow it. As of 2 days ago, we were allowed to eat in the pantry area. The nurse, having skipped her meals and breaks cos she had been so busy, came into the pantry area at around 1130am, and found her food in the garbage. The woman balled. We were all pissed.

What is most infuriating about the actions of this kitchen manager is the utter disrespect she shows for workers. This isnt the first time she has done this with food that is left for us, either by residents' families, or food that co-workers bring for one another. If the kitchen manager really thought the food shouldnt have been there, she could easily have asked around for whose food it was, and given a heads up; or she could have left a note and asked the person to get the food from her. But to throw out someone's lunch? That's cold.

Back to the topic. Some manifestations of class hatred. There's a lot of overlap with race and gender:

- Thinking that working class/poor people are lazy and need discipline coming from rich people

- "If you give them an inch, they will take a foot" - thinking that all our actions are irrational and based solely off of greed and laziness.

- Seeing our legitimate grievances as "complaints" and "bitching."

- "Hang the dead cat to scare off the others" kinda thing --Thinking that we are guided only be fear. That it is up to them to teach us "life lessons" or "lessons"

- Switching up rules on workers to make us more efficient. Thinking that we are too dumb to ask: Why. And then giving the roundabout/not making sense when we ask them why.

- Reminding us everyday that we owe it to them to have a job, and thus a life. And so we need to be obedient and subservient.

- Perpetuating the "It get Better" myth when it comes to poverty and difficult financial times.
Remember when Dan Savage did the "It get better" youtubes for addressing queer violence? CNN is the emodiment of "It gets better" politics for working/poor people. We need the "I get stronger" version and say: Eff the system! Down with bosses!

Queer Liberation as dialectics (random thoughts!)

2 things

1) Alot of people say queer theory is academic and inaccessible to the working class, and then write it off. However, the distinctions b/w sex, gender and sexuality are important concepts that do indeed also describe the experiences of working class people. I am wary of those who class bait queer theory as a way to not deal with the need for queer liberation within the working class. In fact, this kind of argument fall into the same old economist debates about the working class, that theory is for the academic/middle class, while struggle and "literature for workers" is for the working class. Part of what our project is, is to say we need working class militants and theorists. Queer theory is one of these theories that need to be reclaimed, just like Lenin, Marx, and Gramsci are theories that the working class needs to muster.

2) Ultimately, when theory describes an extremely personal and also social process such as gender, sexuality and sex, what is most important is how people are approaching the discussion, rather than the name-dropping of queer theory. This reminds me of what Michelle O Brien describes in her piece, that the fancy academics and yuppies who name drop about trans and queer theory sometimes turn out to be the most arrogant and pretentious, while those who dont know the jargon, but approach trans and queer peoples' experiences with a genuine desire to learn and understand, are the most valuable allies to have. It is this openness and genuine interest/vulnerability/unguardedness that paved the way for the queer-straight unity in the Welsh Miners Strike. I see one of my tasks as a revolutionary queer worker, to be one that nurtures and facilitates such openness with my coworkers through class struggle.

Queer liberation is a form of dialectical growth. It is not a static category. In the 1970s, Sylvia Rivera, one of the most important and dopest trans liberation activist in recent history, could not be named. As a drag queen, she existed lost in the binary b/w gay and lesbian, straight and gay. Today, as trans historians and activists like Susan Stryker, Leslie Feinberg, Joan Nestle, etc write the distinct narrative of the history of trans liberation, reclaiming Stonewall from middle class gay scenes, calling out the transphobia of the 2nd wave feminists, recognizing the Compton cafe riot as a definitive historical event for trans people, we now see Sylvia Rivera as a definitive figure of trans peoples history. What is unnamed today, is part of a birthing of a new historical, cultural, material experience, that can only be named tomorrow, later, after many pioneers have put their lives down.

My point was...this dialectical unfolding requires an open state of mind. This open state of mind is what Michelle O Brien describes, as the genuine, humbled experience of listening and understanding what another experiences in their relationships to sex, gender and sexuality, how their personal identities form through all our interactions with society, within ourselves etc. It is not born out of name-dropping queer theory jargon or Judith Butler-esque language. That said, note that I am not throwing out the insight that folks like Judith Butler and Foucault have made. Just that their academic theories are not the sole factors in shaping the new category of queer liberation, and should not monopolize queer liberation. We need to emphasize that the personal struggles and search for liberation of many individuals are part of the unfolding of the queer dialectic.

I hope this makes sense.
Toward a free and joyous expression of self!

P.S...

They revoked my write up today! After getting advice from my coworkers, S and R, who convinced me that I shouldnt just let it drop, I went to the main boss's office and said they were selectively enforcing the rules (on eating and facial expression and duration of time I took to take weights) and that I would go to the NLRB on them.

I already had an NLRB case open because of how they threatened to fire me for our organizing, so any evidence I have to prove that I am targetted by the bosses for such an action would just be troublesome for them.

Not threatening, just troublesome :(.

NLRB route isnt my ideal. But a worker's gotta keep their job even when movement activity is low...so there you go.

I'm bringing pie to celebrate tomorrow!! AND! I will eat it at the right place and right time:) AND! I will be making stinky faces and rolling my eyes till they drop at power-tripping charge nurse.

Till the next write-up,
peace!

Thoughts on the division of labor

I got written up this past week for "rolling my eyes and having a disgusted look on my face," as well as taking too long to take the weights of the residents at last minute orders by my new power-tripping charge nurse. These extraneous, ridiculous reasons were the real reasons why they wrote me up, but she claimed that I had broken the rule of eating crackers in the residents dining room, which actually, everyone, including the nurses do. I guess I am sorry I broke the wrong rule at the wrong time, the one of a gazillion trillion rules that are made to be broken and enforced only to impose control when the bosses see the necessity for it.

I LOVE rolling my eyes at the charge nurse and pissing her off:) I cant help, and in fact I make sure that everytime I say my ritualistic "bitch" under my breath after interacting w them, it is inaudible to their ears. But  they are so evil and racist!!! I just dont think I deserve to be written up for it. So begins my little battle w them. I am trying to get them to revoke the write up.

I have been having some conversations recently, of how there is an emerging "healthcare worker" subjectivity. Paul Romano's American Worker was powerful not only because it described the self activity of workers, but because it resonated with the experiences that hundreds of thousands of workers were experiencing on their own jobs, revealing the texture of their working lives, frustrations, emotional and mental states of minds in a way that even a super dope theoretical piece would not be able to do . If healthcare is the new auto of US industry, it is not surprising that the texture of life under a authoritarian, careless, profit mongering system of commodified care, would generate similar experiences.

M. recently make a joke that I thought was insightful as well. He talked about how people back in the day would wear carpenter pants as a fashion statement. He was saying, maybe if there are big political movements within healthcare, people might start wearing scrubs down the road as signs of their fashion statements.

Not that I care much about fashion statements -- I desperately need one! :) But more so because the subjectivity of healthcare workers -- the many different layers of it, not just doctors and nurses, but CNAs, housekeepers, Medical Assistants, EMT, etc etc, is something that is so rich and exciting to discuss and observe and gather! This is the best of recognize and record! And if we are able to contextualize that certain subjectivity and experience, within the structure of capitalism and understand that relationship to be dialectical, that workers ourselves can also play a strong part in altering, it would be such a breakthrough for demystifying this system, depersonalizing and de-internalizing our individual stresses as responses to the system...

Anyways, 2 thoughts on division of labor in the nursing home

- the shower aide position used to not exist. the CNAs used to be the ones who would give the showers to residents. they now created the shower aide position after we went through that tedious struggle with them...and now they are trying to make it a different "category" from regular CNAs. Shower aides can leave earlier, as soon as they are done with the showers -- they dont need to help the CNAs either.
The effect of this:
they save money -- they spend less money on the shower aide because the hours are decreased

they systematically deskill the CNA position -- so where in the past we would be giving showers, possibly doing rehab physical activities with residents, now we are just cleaning and toiletting. this gives them a pretext to say: "Why are things difficult? You dont need to give showers anyway, there is less work to do!" AND also a pretext to say: "Since this job requires less skills, you can make less money."

This is part of a broader system of how division of labor had been used as a mechanism for creating race and class divisions within the field of nursing. Again referencing works by Evelyn Nakanno Glenn and other healthcare/reproductive labor historians, the history of the division of labor, of certifications (coached under the pretext of needing skilled work) has alot to do with white supremacy and the subjugation of working class women of color.

This also provides insight for why the nursing application processes are so difficult and intense. Wouldnt it make so much sense for workers who are in the lower rung of the healthcare industry, to be learning/interning with their nurses and have that be a way for people to gain entry into nursing school? But no, you have to go through this entirely external process that looks at your fucking GPA and not work experience, that looks at just a bunch of certifications and how well you jump through bureaucratic loopholes, rather than having some easy way for workers who work full time in a healthcare setting, to have easier access to education. Given the history of licensing and cerification as a mechanism by the all-white American Nurses Association (ANA), the focus on licensing and cerification as part of nursing ladder/track, is aimed not primarily at skill development, but at keeping certain people OUT of the field, and keeping them IN subjugated positions.

Last observation, is how I feel like if my work as a CNA was not just about toiletting people, but also about organizing activities such as bingo, bowling -- right now work that is done by the all-white, higher paid "activities" people who order us CNAs around-- then at least the work would be more joyful and I would actually be paid to build relationships with the residents. Right now, relationships form on stolen time on the job -- because of our self activity as CNAs, because we care about the residents in a setting that tries to make us dehumanized and uncompassionate. At work we say how we have to not be seen talking or relaxing with a resident cos the bosses will see that as slacking off and make us do extra work as a result. But the living conditions of the residents, and the working condtions for us, are so formed by the way the division of labor is structured. It does not need to be like this. I dont actually have to see the residents as only a bunch of diapers needing to be changed at specific times.

Remember how in American Worker, Paul Romano says that the auto workers manufacturing the cars say they would never drive any of that crap that they were building for sale? Among my coworkers, everyone says: Please shoot me before I end up in this position of living in a nursing home.
This, is how we feel about our workplace and our labor. What kind of deep alienation is that?? If we didnt have the economic pressures of having to make a wage to support ourselves, pay the mortgage, pay off the loans etc, I feel like healthcare workers could be at the forefront linking up with disabilities justice people to envision a better system of elderly care that is humane, loving, compassionate.

Last thing: I think in our world today, the categories of economism and political struggle are insufficient, even as they are still important!, as measures for assessment of political work. I think we need a new category that takes into account the ways individuals internalize the stresses of living under capitalism. This is already a terrain that the capitalists enter to increase our productivity, which mnay workers internalize, and individualize (therefore being hardworking by capitalist standards makes you a worthy person and being unemployed makes you crappy and lazy). Our work needs to also crack down the hegemony of capitalism in shaping peoples' internal emotional and mental judgements about themselves. I dont know what to call this. But I know its important for the experiences of healthcare workers where the systematic failures of commodified care are internalized as guilt and dehumanization for workers.

Going on a hike soon. Hello Portland and good, smart, dedicated revolutionaries who help me think through these ideas!

Random thought on gender

Friends over at Advance the Struggle posted this piece on the Welsh Miners Strike back in the 1980s, and how gay, lesbians and straight workers and working class people united in a strike against austerity measures by the Thatcher government. I had read about this strike before and re-reading it brought up some insights. Alongside this whole Slutwalk debate (which I really need to just sit down and write about cos I am referencing it so much in my writings)...

I have been thinking alot about why freedom of sexuality and gender expression (from "sluttily"-dressed womyn, to trans people, to gays and lesbians) are often seen as some kind of "bourgeois deviation," or as some form of individualism. Why havent these forms of self expressions been acknowledged firmly, surely and definitively, as part of the textures of working class life among the left? Why has it been framed so much as counterposed to working class life? The efforts and works of Black feminists and working class queer peoples' rebellions (Stonewall, Compton Cafe rebellion etc)  have shown that these are working class lives, these are the emotions and struggles and expressions of working class people.Queer and Trans identities and lives are not middle class inventions.

I feel like the language of how race and sex etc are divisions within the working class do not sufficiently explain how queer and trans struggles are part of the class struggle. I think the way we understand race and its relationship to capitalism, should not just automatically be applied to how we understand gender and sexuality. Too often, the left makes this mistake -- and it is a product of under theorizing/sloppiness/not taking gender seriously, and is most easily exemplified in my mind by the "intersectionality" model. I am so critical of the intersectionality model because...it is so boring!! I am not trying to be downplay the need to understand the multitude of peoples identities and experiences and to have solidarity around these different identities and experiences. But, what is the texture, the life, the changes, the experiences of living as a person with disabilities, as a person of color, as a trans person...what is the social relations of each of these groups to capitalism? To one another? The intersectionality model is so shoddy in explaining any of this. It just assumes one form of oppression fits into another, and precisely because of that, it doesnt explore the differentiated, though connected functions of gender, race, sexuality, disabilities in relation to capitalism.

But my point was, that while race is a specific identity category of capitalism --- Black, white, Asian, Latino, Native, etc that is specifically a creation (since we are all the human species), gender and sexuality are processes that are not confined by categories. They are processes that include all people. The same thing with disabilities. Gender, sexuality and disabilities are life processes that are not specifically creations of capitalism. They are human processes and desires that are...dare I say it, natural! They are historical to the extent that today we use certain terms and associations with them, and that these identities can be modern (ie. in the way that John D'Emilio discusses it, specifically a product of capitalism) and defining characteristics and identities of individuals rather than a set of behavior that doesnt necessarily define someone. They are also historical to the extent that we need to choose to accept that certain part of ourselves and have that be part of what defines us in this society.

I think there are 2 levels of struggle in queer and trans liberation. On the one hand, the ability of those who have chosen to express their gender or sexuality under these oppressive homophobic and transphobic patriarchal conditions, ie. against queer and trans oppression or violence targeted against queer and trans folks, and then there is another level of struggle for us as societies to open space for everyone to have space to accept, question, understand, experiment with our sexuality, gender and the like, which cannot happen under the context of capitalism.

I think by saying that queerness/genderqueerness/trans identity is a texture of working class life, I want to say that there are aspects of working class life that provide these spaces, choices for working class people. It is obviously fraught with contradiction, but peoples' self activity, desire for self expression, ability to be vulnerable to themselves and accepting of each other's transgression of social norms out of love, open up these spaces.

So many random ideas in my head. I am also thinking about disability, aging and the nursing home industrial complex too...

Some thoughts on gender

 I have been wanting to write something about gender, my experience of it, specifically about genderqueerness. I have been hesitant because emotionally and mentally, I was unable to commit to it. The primary reason being the little squeaky voice in my head saying: Really? You're going to choose to mope over this over the gazillion other important things to write about and sort out in your life? This is trivial in comparison.

I know it's messed up. Call it internalized shit, and also the way genderqueer identity and experience has been so monopolized by a scene I can't really identify with...I am committed to figuring this shit out though. I am committed to understanding genderqueerness and gender non-conforming experiences as part of the texture of working class life, not the academic and elitist pie in the sky.

Last week, as I was coming down from my high anxiety/panic moments around the upcoming massive loans for nursing school, and the guilt I felt for not being around my parents, I was pushed to understand and figure out concretely why it is that I am no longer home, why being home with my parents, being home in the country that I grew up, is really scary for me, and why apart from the financial stresses of buying plane tix etc, visiting home for 3 weeks/month is an ordeal I dont currently feel prepared to take. I realized that I need to face the fact that gender continues to be a really stressful issue for me. My desire to escape the stresses surrounded with gender and gender presentation has shaped my life decisions in deep ways. It does me no good to trivialize my experiences. Otherwise, I just blame myself for the decisions I make, without understanding, respecting and accepting why I made them.  This is just recipe for guilt and regret.

In my mother tongue, being gender non conforming and/or trans, is to become labelled as a Human Devil. When I was growing up in the 90s back home, the only visible trans folk were transwomen who walked the city streets late at night, whom everyone assumed to be sex workers. The way I remember them, they were beautiful, forbidden and distant and evoked a mix of fear and awe from me. 

I remember also the fabulous Kumar, a witty, smart drag queen, who had showtime on TV. Trans life was fantastic, was extravagant, was glam, was distant, in that sense of being totally separate from my own little life back then.

 

A few years ago when I went home to visit, I was watching a popular Taiwanese talkshow hosted by a trans woman. I can't remember her name but she was a big celebrity. She was exotic and tokenized, and that explained her popularity. My family sat watching her show, and started their commentary: This ren yao is so funny, so weird, maybe she's doing it for money, she's really good for a renyao... etc etc.

I jumped to her defense, using my limited knowledge of Chinese terms around queerness and gender. Fuck, all my language for describing my gender experiences are so steeped in English! I dont even know the terminologies in Chinese. Another layer of stress.

I argue, What's wrong with being born a man but not wanting to live as one? What's wrong with living as a transwoman? Why are they insulting her for being trans? They would hate it if it was around race or nationality, so why is it OK for it around gender? And being trans doesnt make her a creep.

I remembered this awkward feeling of arguing very strongly around something I felt deeply invested in, but not being able to reveal that personal investment for fear of judgement. So I tried to push my point in what felt like distant and liberal arguments, around concepts like "rights"...which just didnt feel right.

Some back and forth ensue on nature, god (and we arent even seriously religious plus I dont recall the Buddha saying anything about gender presentation!)...and then the question:

Why are you taking this so seriously? What's wrong with you?

I felt like bursting out saying: Because I feel like this. Because I am not just a child who hasnt grown up and who hasnt figured out what gender she is. Because you think I am a girl and really I don't think I am.

Being seen as a child and not getting respect as a grown adult and the choices I make. This has been such a big piece in my relationship with my family. I know people say no matter how old you get, in your parents' eyes you are always a child.

But my specific experiences with being seen as a child, as someone who hasn't grown up, has been tied to my gender expression as well as my politics and life choices.

When I go home, I keep getting bombarded with these ideas that I am not a good adult, and therefore I am immature and childish. "Aren't you too old to be doing this?" is the kind of responses I get from friends whom I grew up with, about how I look, and the work that I do. 

I can brace myself for these moments, but the stabbing words always catch me by surprise.

"You're really lucky that X wants to be with you. I mean, you look the way you do and he likes you. How did you manage that?" giggles*

"Thank god you are not a lesbian. I thought you were one."

"Are you trying to be like one of those people? Don't try to be different. We're not people like that."

It always feels like an all-out attack to trivialize and make me second guess all the decisions that I make about myself. Somehow when it comes from friends back home, and my family, it's not something I can easily dismiss. I think what's so hard about it is the psychoanalysis that they do on me. Where because they believe so strongly that what they are doing is right, they think someone who does anything different must have an ulterior motive that isn't just about expressing who they are. It's always gotta be about covering up some insecurity.

I feel like with the culture back home, this stems from the fact that material necessities has shaped so much the totality of so many peoples' lives If I dont get with it, and plan my life around upward mobility, there has to be something intrinsically wrong with me. Choice, is for the rich. For working class/poor people, choice about our lives and gender identities we present, HAS to come from some dysfunctionality. Otherwise, why wouldnt you prioritize food and shelter, over gender, loves and creativity? So this is how their words seep into me. Is there really something wrong with me? Am I being indulgent? Can't I get with it?

I have so much to say about this. How the politicization of gender and sexuality has been seen as "individualist" and simply labelled as "middle class." It is as if people of color or working people can't make choices unless they absolutely, inevitably, have to, that all our life decisions HAS to be shaped ONLY be oppression and being in the dead end -- that we dont have the right to experiment, and play with gender, and have fun with how we present ourselves, and explore etc etc. All our needs NEED to come from extreme deprivation, all our choices must be HARD choices. It's not just my parents, but even the left is guilty of this streamlining and erasure of the vibrant, exciting, interesting textures of working class life. 

[*I have lots to say about this in relation to the recent Slutwalk controversies. But more on that later.]

Which brings me to another point. I have a hard time with embracing fully as genderqueer for a few reasons, and one of them is how much I have associated this concept of trashing the gender binary, as something that has been so tied to queer theory and academia. I know this is not true. I know bending the gender binary, or smashing it, IS a  texture of working class life that is, once again, robbed and monopolized by hip middle class queer theorists...and gender is one of those things that are so powerful and intimate and yet so trivialized and easily brushed away...the most dedicated anti-racist, class struggle people become liberals when it comes to gender and sexuality, saying: if you do what you wanna do in your own world, thats fine, just dont bring it into my bedroom. When it's about race, it's called liberal racism, and a segregation of POC from white folks was called Jim Crow. But somehow when it comes to gender and sexuality, it becomes a thing of "I prefer to be with ciswomen, or cismen, and transmen or transwomen should self identify and not pass as cis." All this smacks of liberalism and transphobia!!!

This post is kinda all over the place, cos I lost steam while writing it. But I was happy today and motivated to write about this stuff now because of some interactions w my coworkers around gender that made my day. 

Anyway, some pieces for now that I think are great and think everyone should read:)

Michelle O Brien Thinking Critically about anti-oppression Ally organizing

Joanna Kadi: Thinking Class

late night rumblings

I have to be at work in 5 hours, but a damned mid afternoon nap, and some annoying homework is keeping me up on this weekday night.

I can't help but find myself at times, having random flashbacks to the drama and pain that arose from the organizational split earlier this year. This past weekend had been particularly difficult because it was coupled on with family and financial stresses. I need to move on, and actually, I am moving on, slowly but surely, steadily and firmly, kindly and assertively. To give myself credit, I have learned to be disciplined with my emotional ups and downs and have been able to let go, and trust my environment and the people I surround myself with, to take me out of some really destructive holes I bury myself in. I have a lot of people around me to thank. I hope to be able to reciprocate this. I find myself, 6 months after the drama, feeling a sense of excitement and direction about political work, and a persistence to personal theoretical development in a way that I had not felt before. I lost an organization I built for 5 years, and some important friendships, but my testament to myself is that I am still politically active, and still believe in the liberatory potential of revolutionary politics. I have not let organization and its failings, become the totality of revolutionary politics. I won't let myself be a forgotten piece of memory for those who have done wrong to me, nor someone who can only be patronizingly lamented or easily tossed to the back of the mind. I have seen other women revolutionaries become inactive because of organizational trauma and seen how easily the trespasses against them have been forgotten, or buried in organizational archives and memories, a tale to be told but not a relationship to be rebuilt, a past mistake to be accountable for, or an organizational failure to be consciously learned from. My continual political activity is first and foremost, for myself, but also a statement that I will not, and cannot, be forgotten or dismissed as easily.

A line in an email from a Seattle comrade, who recently read the anti-police brutality piece that I collaborated in writing, really resonated with me. I quote him:

I recently learned of the emergence of a new grouping, here in Seattle, that appears to have emerged (or been helped in their emergence) from the struggle against the police murder of John Williams.  This, together with the emergence of other new groups locally, is an indication that the world is changing.  Something is happening.  Yes, there will be twists, turns, betrayals and heartbreak ahead.  There always is.  But there will also be victory.

Yeah, as usual with me, a super-emo/dramatic line grabs my attention and gets me all queasy inside :). It is somewhat relieving to contextualize the individualized dramas, stresses and turmoil that I, and many others face, within the broader context of living and doing revolutionary politics.  It comes with the terrain and my little heartbreak in this one year of my life, is a part of this broader narrative of emotional experiences that come with trying to be a better person, with many other people who are similarly *hopefully* trying to be better people themselves, while also trying to win concrete, measurable, qualitative victories. Countless other people have experienced similar things, and as the struggle heats up, if it does, then we will inevitably have even more intense moments to work through. We need to build emotional capacity, mental clarity and emotional discipline to weather such storms.

I wondered today at myself, a different person than I was a year ago. I feel a little slower, a little less quick to judge, a little less quick to respond to my immediate emotional responses, and a little more hesitant, a little more inward and a little more self-conscious. What is the difference between being a humble person, and being a person who has lost confidence? I feel a mix of both.

Sidenote: There is discussion on Kasama about psychology and mental illness. It's really great that there's a forum for this conversation. We really really need to draw organizational lessons from the past failures so revolutionary politics will actually be truly liberating for us and those around us.

A communist exploration of mind and personality

Communist line struggle over alcoholism (part 1)

Communist line struggle over alcoholism (part 2)

Mental illness among reds: Excavating problems of line & structure

Attacks on Medicare and Medicaid: heralding a Toyota-style mode of production in healthcare

The long term care unit that I work in at the nursing home has had 1/4 of its beds empty for the last month or so. Our beds usually fill up pretty quickly (like 2-3 days) but this time, it's been a long spell. Surprisingly enough, they didnt put us on low census *yet* though we are constantly nervous that they will (more work, lost pay = bad combination).

I know we usually have a chunk of our beds filled up with Medicaid patients. I wonder if the cuts to Medicaid have some kind of relationship to the empty beds. Maybe the facility can't get reimbursed?

There's now an official policy at work where we cannot work overtime cos they can't afford to pay time and a half. My nurse comes in in the morning to do the paperwork from the day before without clocking in. They told one of the CNAs to leave early because she had stayed late the day before. They say that without doing this they will have to lay off the workers. Translate that into: speed up and unpaid labor.

The world of Medicaid and Medicare legislation is so confusing and frustrating to sieve through. Here are some articles I came across today. I think they are revealing how the Toyota Lean Model, a form of neo-Taylorism that is based on time-based efficiency production models used for automobile production, is now being used in Healthcare. These policies that are discussed below:

1) Obama Administration Obstructs Right to Medicaid

2) Medicaid to Quit Paying for Preventable Events 

3) Medicare plan to reward cheaper hospital care

The Obama administration plans to establish "Medicare spending per beneficiary" as a measure of hospital performance, just like the mortality rate for heart-attack patients and the infection rate for surgery patients.

[Hospitals] are apprehensive about Medicare's plans to reward and penalize hospitals based on untested measures of efficiency that include spending per beneficiary.

A major goal of the new health-care law, often overlooked, is to improve "the quality and efficiency of health care" by linking payments to the performance of health-care providers.

This performance-based/"efficiency" policy is the same kind that is also pursued in public schools and paving the way for charter schools and the neoliberalization of education as a sector, as well as explicitly investing in education merely as a way to churn out future workers with technical skills, stratifying students from a young age to determine their future positions in the working class. (I went through such a an education system where I grew up and it was very an awful experience.)

Now, these policies are making headway also in the realm of healthcare. Treat human bodies like cars -- efficiency and performance is most crucial. It sounds absolutely crazy. How can you measure body health and changes like you measure the efficiency and performance of a car? Where all you care about/what is rewarded is the production of efficiently performing cars (bodies that are absolutely productive and work-able), and anything else can go to hell. You can bet this will further change the kind of care available to patients, and also change the working conditions and stratification also within the healthcare labor sector.

I recently read a piece called "The Proletarianization of Nursing" (email if you want a copy) and the piece talks about how bedside nursing used to be the modus operandi for nursing/healthcare. But with the construction of hospitals and the centralization of healthcare into profitable institutions as opposed to the personal/private practice of individual nurses and doctors, the field of nursing also changed. There was more of a division of labor based on race and education -- dividing nursing staff into the layers of the RN, LPN and CNA/"orderlies". Certification and licensing became a way for the highest rung of the nursing hierarchy, the RN, to maintain their position, pay and privilege as predominantly white womyn, while womyn of color were pushed down to the bottom doing the unskilled/less valued labor within hospitals. Other works by Evelyn Nakanno Glenn (titles I don't recall now) have zoomed in on case studies involving Asian women in healthcare/nursing and white women under this division of labor.

Point being: understanding how these stratifications within caring work and models of commodified care for patients have developed due to the changing modes of production within capitalism, can help us shed light in understanding how further changes will take place under the imposition of the Lean Models/Toyota-models in healthcare that changes in Medicare and Medicaid policy seem to be centered around.  This can also help us shed light on organizational forms that need to be built and battles that need to be waged that can combat this division of labor/mode of production.

I am inspired by this paragraph from Harry Cleaver's Reading Capital Politically, as he describes the Italian Autonomist movement and the ways they integrated workers self activity into understanding and defeating capital:

[...] analysis of how autonomous working-class struggle overcomes capital's divisions and forces it to reorganize production in the factory and broaden its planning to higher levels. (110) [Panzieri] is thus able to situate the new phase of capitalist planning of the 1930s, identified by the Frankfurt School and James, within a general theoretical framework for analyzing the revolutions of capitalist technology and workers' organization within the dynamic of class struggle. In fact, what emerges from his work is the concept that, ultimately, the only unplannable element of capital is the working class. This constituted both a theoretical and a political advance beyond the Frankfurt School, which had seen only capitalist planning, and a theoretical advance beyond those who had emphasized autonomous working-class struggle against such planning but had not worked out such a general theory. The incorporation of working-class autonomy into the theory of capitalist development implied a new way of grasping the analysis of the class struggle in the evolving structure of the capitalist division of labor. Not only is the division of labor seen as a hierarchical division of power to weaken the class -- a certain composition of power -- but also, against this capitalist use of technology, the working class is seen to struggle against these divisions, politically recomposing the power relations in its interests. This, in turn, implied a new way of understanding both the nature of capital and the problem of working-class organization.

I wanna be part of workers organizing efforts that is self conscious and aware of our own roles in both being a component of, and yet also attacking this division of labor under capitalism. 

Any advice for Black Male CNAs?

I got this in the inbox from someone who wants to be a CNA. Any advice?


"I'm currently contemplating becoming a CNA and have done extensive research into the job. My major worry is unwarranted hate and discrimination may turn into false accusations of abuse or rape. What do you think of a black male CNA's time in a nursing home facility compared to a hospital?"

I'm still alive! and dreaming while kicking back!

I have been silent on the blog, but been thinking through a lot,  been watching Buffy and Roseanne and as usual, always trying to get through Capital Vol 1. I have come to accept my love-hate relationship with 19th century writers before "topic sentences" and concise, clear writing was in vogue. And then, also stressed about my family. It's not fun being broke and living so far away from home while my parents are sick, aging, isolated, and broke.

2 updates:

1) I got into nursing school and now, am super stressed about finding $$ to pay. I still have hella loans
ARGH!!!
But..I am going!! I can't wait anymore! Applying for nursing school, having to deal w inefficient bureaucracy, ever-changing pre-req requirements, and expiration of pre-reqs and ever so competitive programs has been super stressful and tiring. I need to go!!!

The madness in applying for nursing school even when there is such a high demand for nurses is just another case in point on how the reproductive labor in society is individualized and personalized!! Nursing school applicants: you all know how stressful it is! And what sense does it make that we get into all this debt and loans and stress JUST TO BE ABLE TO get ourselves a job to help the capitalists maintain this farce??

2) Seasol started a fight with a home healthcare agency fighting for a CNA's mileage reimbursements that the union (SEIU) wont take up.

                       5.30.2011 SeaSol Demand Delivery with Anthony at Chesterfield Home Services!

It's gonna get exciting and I am thrilled to be a part of this fight. I feel it in my fingers and my bones! I have mad mad respect for Anthony, the CNA who is still currently employed at the workplace, and is facing up to the boss. And also mad respect to Seasol for taking it up!!

Let me dream...

- Build dope healthcare workers network in Seattle over the next 2-3 years with militants in nursing homes and hospitals and home healthcare agencies

- Wage workplace struggles in healthcare workplaces -- could be small, point is to have organizational expression of non-union bureaucracy affiliated forms of organizing over the next 2-3 years

- Put out dope analyses together on theory and practice of healthcare and capitalism -- break down the political economy of healthcare, forms of resistance, new values, organizational forms etc

- Have analysis that is specific to the medical hub that is Seattle as the frontline of pushing new forms of medical/healthcare commodification such as the new Swedish satellite hospital in Issaquah (aka Medical Tourism) as well as the use of the Toyota Lean Model in healthcare administration and services (aka in Virginia Mason) 

- Fucking break down the role that the Gates Foundation plays in monopolizing rhetoric around healthcare in the third world when its an excuse for further privatizaton and neoliberalism under the guise of benevolence -- draw from disabilities justice and food justice frameworks. "liberal gates foundation saves the third world" is the form of hegemony that the healthcare industrial complex imposes on people here to buy our hearts and minds. Recently they ran an article in the Seattle Times about how Gates Foundation is helping out poor people in Ethiopia, providing healthcare and medical services etc -- and of course its a shout out to the Ethiopian healthcare workforce here in Seattle that hey, your job might suck but what you're working for is saving your home country. Further reinforces the sentiment that thee are GOOD healthcare capitalists (like Gates) and then BAD healthcare capitalists (like the one we work for).

- Future conference of militant healthcare workers...toward a model of healthcare that prioritizes wellness, class struggle and liberation of people w disabilities, queers, womyn, poc, workers!

Daydreaming but serious. If you're interested, lets talk and build!