restless

I've been feeling impatient lately. Now, patience has never exactly been a virtue of mine, but the issue I've been dealing with lately is not being present because of my lack of patience. I have so many amazing things happening this summer, and I want them all to happen rightnow. Moving. Laura Jean and Dave's wedding. Starting the puppet job. The sun actually shining for more than 10 minutes. What is humorous about this, is that the past six months have FLOWN by, so what's waiting one more month to move? Another six weeks to start the puppet gig? Absolutely nothing. I've got an itch that summer 2008 is going to be great, I've just got to make sure I'm present for it.

gentrification, or feeling bad about stealing but doing it anyway

So, this morning before Quaker meeting, I was doing my daily blog-roll, which if you haven't noticed includes the delightfully satirical stuffwhitepeoplelike.com. The most recent entry refers to an New York Times article describing the conflict and conversation happening in the NE neighborhood surrounding the Alberta district. I found this article terribly interesting in light of my recent migration. Moving to Portland, I was looking to escape racism, but instead have found only a hyper-politically correct version of it. What follows is a collection of three different experiences/conversations/interactions that have brought this concern to the forefront of my heart and mind. 

About three weeks ago, I met someone in a semi-professional environment. We were just having a casual conversation and it came up that I'm from the south. Upon hearing this, she echoed a sentiment that I'd heard for the first time last summer, both in Portland and Vermont, that she is acutally "scared" of the south. This reverse-bigotry astounded me then and continues to baffle me. Obviously, I know how screwed-up the south is. I lived there for the first 22 years of my life. It is a complicated place, and the racial divide there is one of many factors that make it thus. Last summer, I found this comment made me defensive and actually proud (for the first time in my life) of being from the south. I now always say that I am glad I am from the south; I think it makes me more complicated. Growing up in the south, you learn about irony at a young age. There are contradictions everywhere and at every level of society. Many different kinds of people live in close proximity. Different neighborhoods, yes, but de-facto segregation is nothing new. The divide at this point seems more cultural than practical, which of course is a gross underestimation of the may factors that contribute to it, but alas, I digress. What I'm trying to say is, regardless of all the problems, people still interact, and if there's racism, it's known. It's not hidden. It's not a secret. That doesn't make it right, but there's an awareness that precludes denial. With a 7% African-American population in Portland, it is easy to espouse the best ways to deal with racial tension without actually doing anything about it, because basically, you don't have to.

But back to my friend.

I pushed her further as to why she is afraid of the south ad she described some of the normal bad things about the south (racism, fundamentalism, misogyny, etc.), but went on to say (with a chuckle and shake of her head) that she just wished she could sit down with people there and fix these problems.

I found this a) condescending and b) a vast under-estimation of the complexity of these problems. I attempted to make a polite rebuttal but it was neither the time nor place for a full on argument. The conversation ended with a mutual shrug.

Did I mention she was born and raised in Portland?

Then at meeting this morning, the first message was given by a beautifully spirited elder in the meeting. This woman's concern, warmth, and openness point to a life of kindness. I want so much to be like her at her age. Anyway, she spoke to her concern of the condition of Burma (Myanmar). She expressed her own internal conflict of recognizing the need for aid there, but the corrupt government preventing it. She shared her confusion of being unsure of how to respond. She proposed three options:

1) Doing nothing

2) Waiting until asked for aid to give it

3) Forcing our way in despite the political conditions.

She said she didn't know the right response because she didn't think there was one. What she was struggling with, she shared, was that she hoped to find a best if not right course of action.

Then at lunch today (a group of 9! Young Adult Friends gathered after meeting for lunch today. Super Fantastic!!), we started discussing a YAF conference that a couple of people had attended last weekend in Indiana. Somehow a conversation about community and diversity came up in a reference to both the queer and non-white communities both present and absent from their conference and our local gathering. One Friend went on to propose (quoting the sole black attendee of the conference) that if we want to see more people of different backgrounds in our meeting then we need to "reach out to them, welcome them to the table, and invite them to help us decide how the table is set." He is always quick with a beautiful metaphor, so I pushed him to discuss practically what that meant. Deftly skirting over any overt reference to a specific group, he proposed that if we wanted to see more people who owned canaries in meeting that we should call the canary owners in the community, invite those of the canary-owning persuasion to join us, welcome them into our group and listen to their canary-owning perspective, and invite them to join in the decision making process of our meeting.

While I see the truth and Quaker essence in this proposition, I find it somehow flawed as well. There is something inherently condescending in both my friends' propositions for improvement. They are both people I respect and value their opinions greatly, but their comments, to me, denoted a blindness to privilege that both prevents us from solving our own complaints (lack of diversity), an perpetuates a kind of bigotry in itself. 

I understand the need to actively reach out and listen to the voices that have been systematically oppressed in our culture and society, but I am tired of people of privilege and power making beautiful theoretical statements about the best way to fix other people's lives.

To me, it seems that people who crave "diversity" live farthest away from it. It also seems that these same people have a haphazard craving/need to surround themselves with people who are different from them. Similarly, it seems that all this inclusiveness is a guilt-laden reactionary response to make privileged people feel better about being privileged.

Attempting to atone for the sins of previous generations by reaching out to people of a specific race or class simply because they are different seems a perversion of intent. Conversely, it is also important to note that it is a gross misinterpretation of reality to deny that there is indeed a vast disconnect in our society between people of different races, socio-economic statuses, and sexual orientations.

I feel that in reaching out to people, we should reach out to all people. Yes, that includes people of different races, sexual-orientations, and socio-economic statuses paying special attention to any prejudices that may reside within ourselves. As a member of the majority, I feel it is my responsibility to be sensitive to the needs of others without assuming I know the best answers for them. The goal is to be inclusive while simultaneously respectful of differences. Is that possible? Like I said, this has been at the forefront of my heart and mind and I welcome any criticism or discussion this may spur. I am wrestling with this issue and am no where close to having a conclusion for this post.

boredom killer

better than facebook.

superawesomeamazingness

I could, quite possibly, be having the best week ever. So good, in fact that I've had no time to write about it. 

First, I got the puppet job. I'll be touring 'The Shoemaker and The Elves" at elementary schools in Washington state from September through May. This means a) I'll be doing my dream job. b) I'll get to spend almost every weekend home. c) I am going to be freaking buff because the entire show will be performed with my hands in the air (over my head, apparently). If you couldn't tell, I'm really really excited about this.

Secondly, PlayWrite has been amazing. The students, the process, the other coaches; what an incredible learning experience. There's something so extremely powerful about listening and giving voice to these kids, who people usually actively ignore. We've all done it right? Just ignore the the bum on the sidewalk, and pretend he's not there so we don't have to deal. PlayWrite does just the opposite. We're actively asking questions, listening, hearing these people. It was transformative. Today professional actors performed the scripts in front of a live audience. To see the look on Charlie's face as the actors realized his characters was nothing short of awesome, in the truest sense of the word. They've invited me to come back for more workshops and I can't wait. 

And, it's just a month until I'm back in SE with the lovely ladies of 44th Ave. Also, terribly exciting. Yay, for being in a whole house that I feel comfortable in, not just my room. Although these hallowed orange walls will be missed, I'm really looking forward to afternoon wine with Anna, eggs and toast with Sarah C., and consuming as much of Elsie's banana bread as possible. Anyone else notice that all of those references were food-related? Anyone surprised? I thought not. 

big wet portland kisses to all!

make it write.

So, before I get into my post, it needs to be said that momma came down for the weekend and we had a totally stellar weekend. Really a superb visit all around. We stayed busy doing a lot of stuff for the wedding and throwing Laura Jean a lingerie shower (I got totally trashed on cosmos and would be delighted to never see another in my life) and today we saw Barack Obama speak (along with about 75,000 of our closest friends). Beautiful (HOT) weather, perfect weekend. 

Okay, so last week I got a call from Sarah from the Nomadic Theater saying that she'd been working all week with an organization called PlayWrite. Basically, it is an organization that teaches playwriting to at-risk kids, as an outlet for creative expression, validation, and healing. Awesome, right? Then she told me that she'd been working with them last week primarily because one of the students they were working with was Deaf (she signs too), but that she could only work for half of the workshop because she had another commitment. So, she had given them my name and number! More Awesome! So, last week I asked off for the days and times of the workshop, and my boss actually agreed (more awesome). Tonight, I met with Lindsay, one of the founders, to go over logistics, details and their process. In short, I AM TOTALLY STOKED. And?!?! I'm going to get paid. Like $300, which is more than I normally make in a week. So, instead of taking a pay cut for this week because I thought this was a volunteer gig and could only figure out how to get about 15 hours at the clinic, I'm making more money, and doing something totally amazing and important and super fun. My life is freaking rad. 

things I freaking love about portland; post 1

This is going to be the first in a series of posts about the myriad of things that I love about this fine city. 

On my mind today: mail in voting!

I voted on Saturday. Yup, that's right. Saturday, just after breakfast in my pajamas. How did I do this you might ask? Because Oregon is friggin awesome and realized that most people are more likely to vote if they have the option of doing it in their pajamas. You register, they send you a ballot, you mail it back. Ah, democracy is delicious.

Secondly, not only was I a comfortable voter, I was an informed voter. Before this election, all of my voting decisions have been based on my own research, (lackluster, I'll admit) and in the absence of researching a specific candidate, voting for the candidate with the best name (you've done it too). But! Oregonians might just be the most informed voters in the country, because instead of standing in a voting booth only able to recall brightly colored yard-signs, we get a packet, yup a detailed packet (about 30 pages), in which each candidate submits their own information, and each ballot measure is described in detail (as well as what a "yes" and "no" vote actually means and its financial impact). 

So, while May 20th is the actual primary for Oregon, many of its voters have already cast their ballot. And I am one of them. 

And in case you were wondering, (or it wasn't glaringly obvious) I voted for hope.

everywhere at once.

I don't know if it's just the weather, but I've been missing Athens for a couple of weeks. It's not overwhelming and it's not constant, but every couple of days I feel a little longing for the classic city. But the more I think about it, I realize that as much as I miss a Taco Stand burrito (tofu, extra hot, with onions and peppers) or a boot of PBR at 283, or zucchini bread from ERC, (god, all food references, surprised anyone?) what I miss about all those places isn't the places themselves. It's getting Taco Stand as a reprieve from a rainy bike ride with Nina, or sitting outside on the patio of 283 with Matt, Megan Louise, and Lauren,  it's sharing a pot of tea with Helen at ERC and splurging for the zucchini bread. I miss the community I had in Athens, the places are just context. I was talking to Lauren this week and telling her about how much I miss Athens, but admitted that if I were there I'd probably be wondering what life would be like living in a place like Portland. 

And the thing is, my life is pretty great here. I'm building my community and chasing my dreams. Yeah, I'm broke, but how would I appreciate some day making $1,300 a month without making only $784 a month first? I had my audition with Tears of Joy on Wednesday and it went swimmingly. If I get that gig, I'd be touring elementary schools for 9 months from mid-August to mid-May, with periodic stops at home (never more than a month on the road). Which basically means that I'd be doing my dream job. Also, I'm moving back to SE (of Portland, not the country) with the lovely ladies of 1023 SE 44th Ave. Audrey is moving out (no drama, she just wants her own place), and they asked me to move back in. Although my orange room has been quite delightful, the rest of the house and living situation haven't quite lived up to my expectations. (Have I mentioned that my room-mates started dating each other a month after I moved in?) 

And although it's only 60 degrees outside, there's a bit of sunshine falling through my window, and for now, that's enough. 

p.s. be sure to scroll down and check out pictures from Running into Walls!