Aramia's Journal

2:09am: LJ Wrap-Up
New blog fun, instigated by satya, http://aramia.wordpress.com/

Bye folks!

7:18pm: Nothin' like the SFA
my feelings post-Encuentro, post-missing all my flights, post-lessons with Cande on the jarana, post-ex-boyfriend encounter, post-everything I dig in SW Florida.

Nobody, no one, and nothing in this struggle like my people in Immokalee. On any given day, they rock me to the core. This goes for every SFAer out there, whether you reside in Immokalee or not. This goes for the workers, CIW staff, the AFF, for Vero and her soon-to-be-born child. I realize all this every time I come back here. Feeling amazed, inspired, frustrated, renewed, exhausted, crying til it fucking hurts, no kidding! Sleeping wherever you can find a safe spot in a good house, relying completely on everyone around you. This level of trust is hard to come by; talk to a million progressives, you won't find any more right-on political analyses, any better people to work with, any stronger focus on what needs to be done and how to do it. But let's not romanticize, Immokalee's a hell of a place to live -- Moklei, "the fenced space" but it is a home, it's a fucking neoliberal-built cage. Let's name it after nafta, after Policy, after every brown person who has fallen to brutality, and alcohol, and taser guns, and debt. Live in that town, you see it on the doorstep every single day. And that's where all this revolution springs from, that's all I have to say, after two years in it, that I am in love for life. The SFA crew, from I-town and out, I don't feel truly content anywhere else but with them.

This goes to Oannes too, my friend and mentor. Man, next year when you can walk again, from the Penobscot Nation, from the Wabanaki Territory on down to these illegal reservations, let's put the names of every Native person on the road signs, and the jail. From here to Oaxaca, Chile, Bhopal, the mid-east, let's keep growing our collective liberation.

9:09pm: "...and I went 'Cat! -- purse! -- apple!'"
We got this crazy cat here who bolts around like a maniac and sniper-pounces feet. He now also runs for the door at every opportunity, and last time my housemate, Patty, had her hands full she only just grabbed him in mid-leap over the threshold. Hope she at least got to eat her apple, if it wasn't ruined. The little cat's name is Kiska, it means something like "Holy flying terror" in Russian.

11:29pm: "I contend that the ills of the environmental movement follow from the fact that workers have not participated in it. And I contend that the failure of class struggle anarchists to bring our theory and practice into the modern era by taking account of ecological concerns, has contributed to this dearth of workers in green ranks.

Does all this mean that we should abandon the environmental movement as hopelessly compromised, to sneer at it as so much petty bourgeois self- indulgence? I think not. Rather, I think the aforementioned scarcity of working class participants in the movement for ecology is just a hurdle that we have to be aware of, and either change or adapt to. No one ever said being a revolutionary was going to be easy!"

YEAH! Okay this is the last post, I swear. But damn it feels good to re-read this essay.

11:14pm: I just read:
"A debate on how anarchist communists should address environmental issues. Should we work within an existing movement or seek to build a new one. But why should poor and working people always make the sacrifices for middle-class environmental solutions?"

Exactly! Ima'na stop updating this LJ so frequently and boring everyone. But I had to get this out there because it sums up the problem so perfectly. Thanks for listening.

This was from The Environmental Movement And Class Struggle
by Prole cat and Arthur J Millar - Aug 16 2005
http://www.anarkismo.net/newswire.php?story_id=1177

10:54pm: Julia Butterfly Hill 2
Julia Butterfly Hill came to Louisville tonight and Iwas so excited to see her again! Been looking forward to this for weeks. But interestingly, she wasn't there herself because she's up a walnut tree on South Central Farm in LA, doing her part to save this amazing place. So she spoke via cell phone to an audience of hundreds. I got to ask a question about fasting; her co-sitter had told us Julia's on Day 24 of a spiritual fast, sacrificing something precious to her in mindfulness of the farm and its purpose. She suggested solidarity fasts for anyone who felt so moved to help but could be actually in LA at this time and that's what I'd like to do. The last time I fasted was for three days and the purpose was willpower and internal cleansing. But this time it will have more of a purpose, and while I don't believe in "prayer" I do believe in directing energy to a certain goal. Y'all know what I mean.
So I've got a ton of literature to read and plans to share it with many people, like a lil' library cause this is lots of paper here. And yeah, it bothers me that the environmental movement ends up being so lacking in people of color at times...but this is merely another goal to work towards changing and another reason why it's great that people are finding out about South Central.
JBH has planned to come back to Louisville in September to make a physical appearance like what was originally planned. Who's excited? -- me! And this gives time to set up an SFA/CIW lit table there as well.

8:19pm: Oooh...
I am sitting here watching The Sandlot and remembering how hot Mike Vitar aka "Benny Rodriguez" was. Plus his character was nice to the geeky kid. Wow, this is such a flashback. Anyone else with me here?

11:12pm: Cocktail Party!
Who wants to come? And what will you be drinking?

11:29pm: I want to be up with the Six Nations people so badly it's killing me. The brutality of canada towards the native people is hard to comprehend; it's just as comparable as the treatment of the united states...which we all know about already. And mad props to the SFA for supporting the Six Nations, that is beautiful.
For more info: http://sisis.nativeweb.org/actionalert/

12:20am: I Keep Getting Nudged...
...so I'ma update this livejournal. :) Just came back from one of my best friend's wedding reception. It's actually the one-year anniversary of their wedding; my buddy Amy married her now-husband, Cesar, last year in Ecuador. Amy lived in Ecuador for two years, Cesar is from the indigenous village which she lived in.
The reception was so much fun. Lotsa salsa dancing and ultimate frisbee, also a whole pig which I didn't eat but had fun examining closely. Also the weather was perfect perfect perfect and there were cookies.
The zoo is going fine, it's fun to play with the little kids and hang out with the animals on my breaks. Last week I worked with the lorikeets, the small parrots which eat nectar from a cup in your hand. Really neat. They like to land on people's heads and flap around like maniacs, which is very funny to watch.
I have also been visiting mounds, as in "the mound builders". Last week Keri, Shawn, and I went to Fort Ancient near Cincinnati. The were once the home of the Hopewell Indians, and with earthmounds built over 2000 years ago, words cannot describe. We three have plans to go mound-hopping in these months before they move to Hawaii.

5:36pm: $6.50 is better than zero
Ahhhhhhhhh who works at the zoo?? "Aramie Works at the Zoo!" Aramie has a job greeting people and playing with kids and cleaning around the animals and ARAMIE IS GOING TO DRIVE THE ZOO TRAIN and Aramie has to wear khaki and must remember not refer to herself in the third person around her new colleagues. At least not until she knows them a little better. Oooww!

But khaki, ew. Nothing is perfect.

5:18pm: 'American" flags and Indigenous People
So it all started earlier when compa Marc was telling me about this pow wow he went to up where he lives. He noted that the US flag was flying there and that the Indians were praying for their US soldiers of war...and he observed being somewhat uncomfortable with this situation and wondering what was up.
I have thoughts on this.
The Indians at the Seminole Tribal PowWow in February made the US and POW/MIA flags part of the Grand Entry (opening/general ceremony). Half the Grand Entry partipants wore US army fatigues and decorations. The MC declared that "Indian Country was proud of its warriors" and then we were asked to sing the national anthem with our hands over our hearts. My people declared that "God was with us". But the head of the Grand Entry was an elder with an eagle feather staff and the Seminole tribal flag was also flown. This is generally the set up at pow wows nowadays.
I was so bothered by this I talked to Oannes for a long time and he told me his feelings on the matter. He told me about his native brother who, like Oannes himself, refuses to acknowledge the US flag at ceremonies. He told me that those able who will not stand for the US flag -- or those point out the obvious conflict of being both Indian and Christian -- or those who generally dislike signs of the oppressor to be present at Native gatherings -- risk alienation and outright rejection by the group. They will often be called traitors, or sometimes "a disgrace, and not a worthy Native person".
Now, I didn't grow up on the rez. I haven't personally experienced the harsher forms of racism i.e. deliberate violence, disappearance, or the kidnap-removal of Native children to Xtian boarding schools. I have only my limited experience with which to form opinions, and I know most Indians have been forced off their land to the extent that a degree of assimilation is the only option. But I can't understand this incorporation of the Oppressor into our gathering space.
Some Natives feel that "this land is our land" regardless of what flag it flies under. But then, why not fly only the nation's tribal flag? Pray to it, sing to it, give your heart to a symbol of the true home. A military recruitment system which preys on low-income, minority and indigenous people will inevitably create space for those groups to want to pray for their friends and family in the service. But equal time can then be given to counter-recuitment action, to teaching the children about the reality of the US government and armed conflict, so that in the future no Native person will ever be part of the army scandal.
It's true that many pow wows are kind of a present-day construction, a meeting place for tribal people who cannot always continue the old way of life. Many close personal ties have been replaced by forced government displacement and city commutes. Indians can't always meet as they would like to (daily, and face to face). That's the old life. But to claim whatever part of the old life we can, to liberate it from a foreign "white" way of thinking and viewing the world, that just seems like power to me.
Thanks for getting me to think more concretely about this, Marc. I hope this lil rant didn't bore everyone else to tears -- just wanted to share a native voice with my friends. Because all your voices in la lucha are what keep me going, you know?

8:41pm: To my companer@s:
I love you all and miss you so so much. Please don't ever forget that, or me.

12:16am: So, someone or someones have gotten ahold of the number on my check card. I tried to pay with it at the Winn-Dixie and...declined. So I talked to the bank fraud dept and there were all of these large transactions. Whoever it was had a mini-shopping spree at lovely places like Finish Line and Zappos.com. Also they started online gaming accounts. ! The bank reinstated all my funds, damn I am lucky to have the means/papers to keep my money in a bank (although it's a different tune from me when the overdraft charges come up), and priviledged enough that the bank believed I didn't spend $120 on a pair of shoes. Not to overreact but I'm kinda worried about identity theft, I mean, how did they get my number? I never buy anything online. They lady at the bank said they see this kind of thing every day and usually peeps just type in random 10-digit numbers til they find one that works. So this means Finish Line et al are not doing their jobs by matching up the billing addresses, so we'll be chatting a little tomorrow. Oi vey (yes I was raised Jewish). Also experience considerable irritation when realized I couldn't get at this second to the Save Mango fund as my account is on hold til things are straightened out. Hopefully only a few days til it's over.
In other news, did a lot of work today sending various things to various publications in Louisville about the Real Rights tour. Talked to Jordan and he had some good advice -- by the way! Jordan is on his way to talk to the folks at No More Deaths/No Mas Muertos as he's doing a story on them. Very exciting. I've been wanting to volunteer with them for some time now but it's difficult to get to Arizona. For those who aren't familiar, this group offers aid and shelter to those on the border. Recently 23 year olds Shanti Sellz and Daniel Strauss were arrested for medically evacuating three people in critical condition from a scorching hot desert. They are facing an increasingly certain (and unbelievable!) 15 year sentence for aiding migrants, and Amnesty International has declared that, if imprisoned, Shanti and Daniel will be considered prisoners of conscience. Words can't express what backwards crap this is from the US government, I only hope more people get to learn about this case and quick.

12:08am: Tonight we went to the Collier county fair and bought a serape blanket that is so beautiful it almost hurts to look at. We were walking around, Juan and I, and it occurred to me that I am too negative and uptight. While Juan was going "Hey, look at this, check out those people who are having fun doing this-and-that, it's so cool to be able to hang out here tonight", etc, I was thinking of much more critical things (critical as in criticizing others, not critical like more important). "Look at all this consumeristic crap." "All these neat animals in teeny tiny cages, that sucks." "I can't believe anyone thinks airbrush is cool." "Those people are idiots, they just paid to win a giant Scooby-Doo." Whatta fucking drag! Even if some of the thoughts were justified that still doesn't mean I'd hang out with myself if given the chance. What does it mean that I can't chill out? The same thing happened two months ago at the fair in Immokalee with Brigitte and Romeo.
Maybe it just means the country fair is no place for me.
Funny story, though. On Sunday at the Fort Myers Barnes and Nobles I spotted and pointed out a biography of George W. Bush. His face was featured grandly on the cover in an up-shot, eyes distant, somehow making him appear almost visionary. I laughingly said "Mira! Un libro sobre el pinche 'presidente' Bush." Juan peered at the offending object for a minute and then, forgetting we weren't in Immokalee, said quite loudly "Oooh...fuck you!" to the picture on the cover. He looked around proudly waiting for me to praise his English, and a soccer mom glared at us like we'd just slaughtered kittens. I had to gently remind Juan that we were in coversative territory, that people in Fort Myers are wealthy and fragile and somehow not used to hearing the words "fuck you", and, moreover, they might arrest us for saying those words near a book about the president.
The new serape still smells like fair animals. I hate to wash it. Maybe tonight I will get to dream of goats. Was just reading Angelo's post and feeling grateful that there are men out there who are keeping themselves clued in. Thank you for that. If I take anything away from this evening it will be that reminder. And now it is time for a shot of whisky, and then hopefully some sleep.

3:37pm: Altagracia!
Here in my first month of being a member of the town of Immokalee, FL. Just as a person, not as an active intern (though I spend a fair amount of time volunteering and keeping with things as we all do). I'm working doing income taxes for the people and right now things are sloooow. We learned words yesterday! I taught Nata "giraffe", "the windy city" (like Chicago), and "chicken sandwich". I learned about the Virgen de Altagracia, patron saint of the Dominican Republic. Apparently "Altagracia" is used like "Oh, God" is here, or Dios Mio.
Here are some things I've done and seen so far:

1. A swamp, so beautiful I wanted to live there forever in a hut. Then someone mentioned alligators.

2. The reaction of a catcaller when I finally got the guts to say "Callate, guey!" in response instead of just walking past. Maybe not my most refined moment but a pretty satisfying one.

3. An intense physical fight between two brothers, one of which was someone very close to me. It was awful.

4. Three bunnies and a puppy. New pets at the guesthouse. My bunny's name is Chop-Chop.

5. Lots of old friends at the SFA dinner for the Board members.

I like Immokalee.

3:37pm: Families and Revolutionaries
How do y'all, as revolutionaries, activists and anti-capitalists, deal with talking with the non-revolutionaries in your own families?
My peeps are progressive surburans who believe NAFTA was created to save the world. When it's explained that NAFTA is, in fact, destroying the Global South they get all panicky-looking and change the subject. Y'know? They're fragile.
Every time I have to go home or update my fam on what I'm doing it's a constant strain. I end up giving them this watered-down version of what's up. It's too much for them to hear "Working to take down capitalism and corporate 'America'"...lol. It's hard to talk to suburbanites about the movement. If you totally take your stand no one listens to you anymore and you're the crazy radical/hippy inciting familial rage in the living room. My tactic has been more subversive but damn it gets hard sometimes!
Maybe I don't trust my own debating skills (never can think of the perfect response til hours later) enough to openly admit my stance on issues.
Advice for this? Are you "out" with your family? ;)

1:01am: Trees!
Vero put up a Christmas tree today in the house. It's all with ornaments and flashing on-off lights and that tinsel and some little stars all over. It's my favorite. I'm a serious sucker for Xmas and I don't know why. I barely have a family to go to. But for some reason this time of year is the only time when f-ed up shit didn't happen in my house...entonces, I am giddy and content and don't care who knows it.
This year for Xmas I want understanding, personal catharsis, and to be a more loving, revolutionary person. Then, I want to put my past away and never have to be this self-absorbed again. Y'know? Companer@s: what do you want?

11:46am: Maaaaarc! You're gone and we didn't even get to go on a mini-walk! We thought for sure that when you left with flaco you'd be gone forever last night...cause it's flaco...and before I knew it it was 1 p.m. at Jalapenos and by then you were already asleep. This bites. We got Meghan to promise to stay til Sunday, maybe she will tell us Marc stories in your absence (hmm on second thought who knows what kind of stories would come out that way? perhaps not) ;) Either way yo, disculpe.

12:47pm: So we went to SOA this weekend and I was surprised by my own reaction to it. On Saturday, the rally, I felt like I was back at college at Antioch...this is hard to say about a movement that really seems so worthy but...I dunno. People there really cared enough to be there and be present and that's cool. And it was white, for sure. Who else really has the resources to take so much time off work and pay all the gas to get to Ft. Bennning? But mostly I was bothered because it seemed so indulgent, in a sense. Like a lot of people just being there and being weird and outlandish for the sake of being weird and outlandish...this is hard to be so judgemental. Sometimes I just think it happens that a lot of time and energy goes into being securing a certain look or image or whatever when those aren't the important things, really...the important thing is not to be the individual making the change but to be part of the *people* making the change. And, most of all, to be led by those most affected by the atrocities. Because at some point people begin to question what this movement is about when those most affected are absent. Solidarity has to include a solid base, the affected base of the people.
Am I just getting older, that the atmosphere didn't seem like fun? Why should it be fun? It's a situational travesty. Wish I could've talked to someone about this at the time but there was just too much happening in my head to do so. Plus this recent identity shift has just been very complicated.

10:17pm: Three Day Fast
So today I broke my three day water-only fast. Actually, okay, it was just under three days but close enough! It was so...interesting. The first day was okay probably because of all the adrenaline then the second day, towards the end, I just got weak. It was hard to carry my laptop around. By today I was cleaning the house, had cold sweats, and could barely sweep a broom.
On the second day though, before the really debilitating weakness, my sense of smell was so incredible. I walked into the house and immediately could tell "There's bread over there, there's a pineapple in the next room, someone's drinking green tea." Really cool. Also my personal intuition was dead-right-on. It's usually pretty accurate but this was something different.
But now, praise the creator, I have eaten. Viva frutas! Viva tortillas and queso con salsa picante!!!

12:52am: Julia Butterfly Hill
Tonight we went to see Julia Butterfly Hill at Florida Gulf Coast University...me, Julia, Sean and Oannes. I was about to get all bogged down with office work, making dvds and such, instead of going. But at the last minute Sean was like "no, really, you need to go to this."
And thank god I went. I didn't know much about Julia except that she did a tree-sit. And I'd no clear idea of what that entailed. She talked about many things: sustainability and anti-consumerism and how people direct their lives...too much to discuss here. But to hear her tonight, talking about finding your passion where you never knew it was, about your life arriving in places you hadn't forseen and actually never intended...well it made me so happy. Because I've begun living here, in Immokalee, a way that makes me jump out of bed in the mornings in a way I never thought possible. Living with no supposed guarantees or pefectly clear direction, just a way of flowing with my world and trusting in where it's going.
This sounds kind of passive, but I assure you, it's all in the direction of revolution and defiance in the bravest sense of those words.
Julia's experience is beyond my comprehension right now. But her words about living the revolution (even if she didn't phrase it as such for Florida Gulf Coast; it's what she meant) were inspiring and beautiful.

1:16am: Smoke and Leaves
Oh...tonight smells like Fall! It is wonderful. A beautiful, cool Autumn day in Florida after being hit by this hurricane not 48 hours ago. Perfect cool blue sky -- hoodie weather! -- then excellent stars and crispy air. I feel like roasting marshmallows, and camping.
Tonight Juan and I went on a bike ride in the dark. We rode around the town, which took a surprisingly long time and discovered, upon our return, that the lights had been restored to our respective houses. The Coalition had been told this morning by the County that it could take weeks before we had power. I've been accepting meals wherever they've been offered; last night some of us ate at a house with a gas-powered generator and today Francisca made us hot tortillas and beans, not to mention the...um...cactus yesterday morning (what's it called? I don't remember!! is it nopal?) which was so good and the first meal since before the hurricane. I didn't mind not having lights or being cold, it's just that we couldn't work and that was difficult. Especially cause we thought it would be a week without power. I was so afraid of falling too far behind and letting somebody down in the long run.

1:09am: Indígena
Something happened recently which is amazing and difficult to just put into words. Well, actually it's easy to put into words but hard to convey my feelings around the situation. I'll do my best. Basically, for those who didn't know, I am adopted and don't know my real parents. I have known about this adoption since a very young age. When I was 18 I wrote to the state and requested the only thing they'd let me have, "non-identifying information" meaning whatever they had that didn't actually name my birth parents. Okay. At that time they told me that my birth father was "native american" (no tribe listed). I thought "how amazing" but kind of dismissed it like how could I believe anything the State said? I mean, they forged me a whole new birth certificate (seriously, my birth certificate just has thick black lines marking out all the information -- so wrong).
Not knowing about my cultural heritage, not having anyone in my fam who looks like me, or acts like me, always wondering if I have brothers or sisters somewhere, wondering all the time why my birth parents never cared enough to contact me or the State, wishing they would come and face the child they left and meet the person I've become... just recently I've admitted it's been a very painful thing to carry around. One of my best friends, Amy, has followed me in this story for over 12 years, she knows the whole score. Here in Immokalee, Brie and I talked about this a lot and my hurt reaction to the whole situation made a lot of things clear.
Then I called the State of KY, where my birth records are kept in a little box which I am not allowed to see. They could not tell me much but the woman did tell me that because of the laws pertaining to 'Native Americans' and documentation that they wouldn't put that on there without actual documentation.
She confirmed it.
I am indígena.

12:49am: Hoowwllll....
Lonely in the Guest House. Am the only one here, and it's weird. Am whiny.