Saturday, June 20, 2009

numbers

people are not numbers
don’t reduce
my friends to math
my brothers and sisters
to clicks on a keyboard
they are people, living and breathing.
I stand against this blasphemy.

Recocnize individuality
not insignificance
it’s about spirituality
not statistics . . .
everyone has a face
and everyone has a word
we must shout it from
the mountain tops
let it be heard, let it be heard -
all these people have voices
don’t you silence them with
your scribbles
on the paper of the numbers
you want them to become
so that we’ll all disappear
and the whole world will
be numb.

We cannot stand by
and comply
with the wishes of the
calculator and the spreadsheet
and the corporations and the congress
who all want to steal our souls
who all want us to become
nothing more than
a click and a clack
into a datasheet, dead to the world.

I refuse to go down without a fight
My sisters, my brothers
Stand to your feet
We can’t let them take it from us
if we only stand together
living every second
breathing every breath
like his face, her voice
are all tellers of their story
and this story keeps on going . . . and going
it’s the story of humanity
its why its so important
that we don’t black out the faces
and we don’t block out the voices

not just figures and data -
the currency you deal in is flesh and blood
yet we are all of the same flesh and blood
we all cry the same tears
we sweat the same salt
but how dare you smear it all together
into groups and charts
that exist only in your blackberry
in the pocket of your suit

no -
the space where any child of god draws a breath
is sacred

I stand against this blasphemy.
this urge to conquer, name, perscribe
this need to seperate the cause and effect,
the bombs and the broken
the laws and the lovers
the bottomline and the barely surviving
the fences and the families
blasphemy is disassembling the world
making it what you want,
you fancy yourself gods

How dare you ignore what makes us all the same
we’re all living and breathing and loving and dying

everyone has a name
and every name has a story
and every story has a voice
Don’t ignore this valuable reality,
don’t ignore this essential choice -
to tell one's story as one knows it.

people are not numbers
don’t reduce us down
to numbers on a paper
that will perish in the jaws
of an office paper shrewder somewhere,
adulterated, used, dirty.

cause everyone has a chance to let someone
tell their story
and that’s why its so important

to not black out the faces

and not block out the voices.

Monday, June 15, 2009

From the diary of an oppressor by: Mateo González Regueiro

As a white Cuban-American I am a privileged oppressor. My material wealth, the way I speak, even my ability to record these thoughts in the form of written words are all manifestations of the oppressive system in which I function and that my family has helped perpetuate. These are facts. I cannot change the past, but I can work to know it. Looking to history, and the present, it is clear that we all function in a power hierarchy that is founded on oppression. Though not every human is guilty of oppression, any honest look at our human societies will show that the vast majority of us are. Around the world different peoples oppress others; light skinned peoples oppress darker skinned peoples, darker skinned peoples oppress those with lighter skin, wealthy oppress the poor, men oppress women, adults oppress children, peoples from cities and suburbs oppress those from the country.

Although we are born at different levels in this system, we all function within it. These are facts, not excuses. The oppressive actions of others do not negate the oppressiveness of our own lifestyle, and vice versa. Oppression of another, or even of oneself, is inherently unjust and as such should be challenged wherever it is manifest. As Martin Luther King Jr. observed, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” If we truly wish to see justice flourish, we must speak out against all oppressive actions. This not only entails speaking out against racist and sexist policy, but also speaking up to our families and friends when they act in ways that perpetuate this unjust system.

The present state of human society has been molded by the actions of our ancestors and in the same manner can be transformed by us. As Paulo Freire writes in Pedagogy of the Oppressed, “Just as objective social reality exists not by chance, but as the product of human action, so it is not transformed by chance.” The responsibility to transform our societies therefore falls upon us, and our decedents.

It is first and foremost crucial that we begin by looking to how we directly and indirectly oppress others. To achieve this we must look to our rhetoric, our actions, and even our non-actions (since the status quo functions on the oppression of others, not acting against it ensures its continual existence, i.e., ensures the continuance of oppression).

Secondly, we must act. As Paolo notes, “Discovering [oneself] to be an oppressor may cause considerable anguish, but it does not necessarily lead to solidarity with the oppressed. True solidarity with the oppressed means fighting at their side to transform the objective reality.” Though anguish may do much to change our perspective of society, it does nothing to change the objective reality of oppression. A person awakened to their oppressive lifestyle must begin by purging themselves from oppressive actions. Whether this be not buying clothing that is made in sweatshops, not making racist/sexist jokes, or not laughing at those who do one must work to end their involvement in oppressing others. Although this is a life long process, it must be the first action step we take.

From here it is important that we act to end the oppressive actions of our community (by community I mean family, friends, co-workers, the churches and schools we attends, etc.). It is much easier for a person of privilege (which by now I hope it has been made clear that this is all of us) to “step down” and give a “lending hand,” via mission trips or volunteer work, then it is to speak out against the oppressive actions of one’s community. In going to “serve” those outside of our community the worst we can fear is the rejection of our “helping hand.” At home we risk being ostracized by the few people in the world who have ever loved us; this makes protesting Prop 8 in West Hollywood much easier than speaking against the unjust treatment of homosexuals at home.

Malcolm X noted the tendency of oppressors to find an easy way to “salve their conscious” by joining black organizations. He wrote, “By visibly hovering near us, they are ‘proving’ that they are ‘with us.’ But the hard truth is this isn’t helping to solve America’s racist problem. The Negroes aren’t the racists. Where the really sincere white people have got to do their ‘proving’ of themselves is not among the black victims, but out on the battle lines of where America’s racism really is and that’s in their own home communities.” It is our communities that are the source of oppression and it is therefore in our communities that we should work to end oppression. Though this process is admittedly long, the longer it takes to change individuals and systems the harder it is for them to be changed back.

These are the steps that must be taken if we truly hope to purge our society of the injustice of oppression. The above-mentioned actions are not the only necessary steps but I truly believe they are the first three. We must strive to consistently speak out against all oppression, no matter who the oppressor may be. Whether it is a church, a university, a family member, a friend, or even ourselves we must not sit idle by as our societies continue their oppression.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

In the arms of trees by: Mateo González Regueiro

Free leaf sailing through the air,
Follow the wind; release your cares.
Enjoy the sun on this clear day.
Soon you will fall to the earth and rot away.

Today you have been freed from the chains of your tree.
So fly through the sky.
Sing for joy.
Ride the breeze.

Chances like these don’t come to all.
Some leaves rot, long before they fall.
Drained, curled, and brown, they are thrown to the ground.
Used by a tree and by a tree thrown down.

Never do these leaves sail through the air
that offers liberation from jealous trees.
Never do they experience a life free of the chains
That have not been loosened since the day they were named.

We are all leaves.
Not all of us our free.
Some live encaged,
In the arms of trees.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

We Would Like You to Know

a poem by Ana Castillo

We would like you to know
we are not all
docile
nor revolutionaries
but we are all survivors.
We do not all carry zip guns, hot pistols,
steal cars.
We do know how
to defend ourselves.

We do not all have
slicked-back hair
distasteful apparel
unpolished shoes
although the economy
doesn't allow everyone
a Macy's charge card.

We do not all pick
lettuce, run
assembly lines, clean
restaurant tables, even
if someone has to do it.

We do not all sneak
under barbed wire or
wade the Rio Grande.

These are the facts.
We would like you to know
we are not all brown.
Genetic history has made some us blue-eyed as any
German immigrant
and as black as a descendant
of an African slave.
We never claimed to be
a homogeneous race.

We are not all victims,
all loyal to one cause,
all perfect; it is a
psychological dilemna
no one has resolved.

We would like to give
a thousand excuses
as to why we find ourselves in a predicament
residents of a controversial
power
how we were all caught
with our pants down
and how petroleum was going
to change all that but
you've heard it all before and
with a wink and a snicker
left us babbling amongst
ourselves.

We would like you to know
guilt or apologetic gestures
won't revive the dead
redistribute the land
or natural resources.

We are left
with one final resolution
in our own predestined way,
we are going forward.
There is no going back.

(posted by Rod)