ME: Red and Yellow, Black and White . . . AND Orange!

10/19/2007 5:36 PM

This weekend, I will be attending an "Undoing Racism" Conference at The Riverside Church, put together for our lay leadership. This summer, I was elected to the Mission and Social Justice Commission at Riverside, hence my being invited. This conference couldn't come at a more opportune time, as all across the United States, it seems that blatant racist displays have heightened in occurrence. Just last week, a black, Teacher's College professor, just across the street from me here at Columbia University, found a noose hung on her office door. For those of you who don't know, nooses were used in the lynchings, violent executions usually by hanging, of African-Americans particularly by the Ku Klux Klan after the Civil War, and sadly, sometimes even after the Civil Rights Movement. It is a hateful kind of "let's teach them a lesson, let's show who's boss", fear-mongering act, wanting to express white dominance, which is utterly and completely deplorable, disgusting, and oh so wrong. Therefore, the fact that empty nooses are now popping up all over the country, in New Jerseyand Louisiana recently, shows that although America has continued to make improvements in its racial relationships, it is a far cry from our living together in true peace and harmony.

Columbia's School of the Arts encouraged everyone to wear orange this past Tuesday as a show of solidarity against bigotry and for diversity, for not only was the noose hung on the professor's door last week, over the weekend, bathrooms were vandalized with anti-Semitic and anti-Muslim graffiti, somewhat surprising considering that we are a liberal university in one of the most diverse cities in the world! I donned my bright orange Penguin v-neck sweater, ready to join the masses in saying, "Enough is enough!" I mean, really, this is 2007, almost 2008, and it is completely outrageous that these kinds of things are happening, and further, that somehow hate is continuing to be passed down from generation to generation. When I got out of the subway station and entered Earl Hall's gates, watching people rushing from class to class, building to building, I thought that I had gotten the date wrong from the flyer. Everyone seemed to be dressed so, uh, normally. Then, occasionally, I would see a pop of orange from across campus. I was discouraged. There are so few of us in this solidarity, I lamented. Upon arrival at my office, I noticed no students were wearing orange there either. "What happened? Where is your orange? You couldn't wear an orange shirt, pants, shoelaces, something?" I asked. All replied, "I guess we didn't get the memo." Turned out, the School of the Arts did not do the best job of advertising the day (something I would think the School of the Arts should know how to do, actually); however, at the rally after lunch, once all the orange wearers got together, we did seem like a rather large orange fist raised up from Columbia saying that we do not accept this and will not accept this on our campus, in New York, or in the world.

So, although I am not especially thrilled about sitting in a conference ALL weekend (I do relish my weekends), I am excited to learn what we can do to make this world a much more humane and accepting place to live. We're all human. We all feel, love, suffer, experience, enjoy. We all pump blood through our hearts and breathe air into our lungs. Hopefully, this conference will help to teach me some ways, even if they are just simple, everyday ways, in which we can work together to end not only racism, but also sexism, classism, homophobia, religious-intolerance, and the like. After all, God loves all God's children – no matter what.

ME: Drizzles

10/11/2007 4:20 PM

It’s drizzling in New York City today. Cloudy skies and windy remnants of the severe storm, which plundered through the North American plains, dropping at least 28 tornados along the Midwest and South, are now passing over us here in the Northeast in a rather gloomy, anti-climatic fashion. And I can help but feel a little melancholy, although I’m not exactly sure why. The weather isn’t helping my mood much, but that’s not really the crux of what has me feeling dreary. At least, I don’t believe so. Perhaps it’s because time this week has moved in slow motion, each second seeming much longer than the “tick” of “ticktock”, giving me all the more moments to reflect, allowing discontent to rupture.

Earlier today, I read a small part of an interview with a well-known actor, and the title of the article was something to the affect of “He knows where he’s going and where he wants to go”. Upon reading that, I let out a silent moan thinking, good grief, I really only know where I’ve been. Where am I to go; actually, where do I want to go? Those are questions aspirations are made of, and I still haven’t quite figured out any of it yet. (And is that something that has to be figured out, I’ve wondered?) In any case, it made me grumble with slight jealousy that while others are ambitiously working their way towards their “goals”, I am still a little kid looking out the window at the rain falling, day-dreaming away the days, within a 30-something year old body, which, it would seem, should be somewhere much further along in this thing we call life.

Alas, I digress and must assert to myself that sometimes daydreams do billow into dreams, which can then burst into goals, which just might motivate this little kid towards some grand aspiration other than watching drizzling precipitation. We can hope!

ME: Nightlights of the NBA

10/4/2007 3:07 PM

Years ago, I used to blog or journal quite a lot. Then I began writing poetry, and all my thoughts were turned into tight, concise little bodies of verses, which I completely understood; however, some folks who read my knitted words wondered just what it was I was trying to say. Ah, the joys of poetic form. And now, that form has seemed to have left me, and sadly, without being able to write, I do feel altogether alone. For it was in those moments of expression that I felt the most comfort, even if what I was expressing was painful or even uncomfortable. So, I thought I would mildly attempt to journal a little again, in hopes that I will find some understanding of myself, begin another healing, as it were, even if it would seem to others as utter jibber-jabber about mostly nothing. All of this being said in hopes that you will please try to bear with me as I attempt to find my way.

Last night, at Columbia University’s opening to Queer Awareness Month, we had the honor and delight to hear John Amaechi speak to us in a large room in Lerner Hall. The room was packed with people to hear this 36 year old, 6’10”, stocky, former NBA player, dressed in a navy, tailored suit and multi-colored stripe shirt, speak about his being gay, black, British, and his coming out in the largely homophobic profession of sports. I must admit, he was wonderful, inspiring, handsome, and eloquent, if not also blunt, outspoken, and directly to the point. He is a psychologist now and certainly made us all think, ask deep questions (such as, why do we all feel the need to label people, just as I did above with “gay, black, British”?), as well as laugh and have a good time. Many students ask him questions, some interesting, some boring, some trying to sound intelligent only to sound silly, and still, no matter the question, he pondered them all and then answered each so sincerely, I was enamored.

John spoke of his mother, who passed away some years ago due to cancer, and had such love in his heart for her, it resonated upon every word he used to describe her and brought out an affectionate sparkle in his eyes. While it was endearing to hear him speak of his mother, it did make me sad, and I found myself feeling a little weepy, although I maintained my composure throughout the remainder of the talk. I began to wonder what it would be like to date such an amazing man with such a fondness for his mother, and, as another student raised her hand to ask a question, I tried to picture myself going out to dinner with the larger-than-life Mr. Amaechi in some nice, swank New York City restaurant, where everyone would look at us with awe and admiration. Already feeling sensitive and emotional, it was then that I scolded myself harshly, as the frenemy in me does so often, simply telling myself that I was way out of my league, and how could I even fancy such a daydream.

Then those voices, which I imagine we all hear from time to time, especially when we begin comparing ourselves to others, erupted in an unified chorus, basically affirming that I was NOT successful or accomplished, not all that attractive to look at, ultimately a failure at the 34 years of life I have lived thus far, and that it would be an absolute miracle if anyone of moderate social standing found me the least bit appealing. I mean, my bathroom is dirty and there are dishes sitting in the kitchen sink. Repulsive.

I shook myself back to John speaking at the front of the room, walking from side to side, his hand outstretched and animated as he began to tell us what we could do for all of us, gay, straight, black, white, rich, poor - humanity. He said, we each had to shine our own unique light. We might not believe we were the smartest or the best light. We might believe that we don’t really have much to offer anyone. We might wonder if we even have a light within us at all. But, he assured us, we all do. “Think about a nightlight,” he said. The nightlight is such a dim little light, not even as bright as a candle, with such low wattage, you might wonder what it is good for. In fact, even if you wanted to, it would be virtually impossible to even read by a nightlight. However, he told us, the sparkle in his eyes brightening, remember that the nightlight is one of the most warm, securing lights you have in your home. That one little bitty light in a hallway can keep you from tripping over your slippers while frightening the nighttime monsters away. That light can provide you with enough clarity to see your way through the dark. So no matter what you think of your light, shine it. Shine your light, and perhaps you will help not only yourself, but also someone else see their way through this sometimes very dark world.

The room rose in a standing ovation, which he modestly accepted. And, as I stood, smiling and clapping, I decided to stop listening to the frenemy in my head who all to often tells me I’m not good enough, that my light is far to dim to shine. Instead, I would shine whatever light that I have, the light that I have been blessed with, given, and hopefully, just maybe, someone, even if it’s just me, will find my light quite incredibly bright.