Dear Mr. President,
This week I'll be applying to join the US Boat to Gaza, (the ship you probably recall is named after your book.) It may not be the most conventional way to spend spring break, but I think that it's exactly as self-indulgent as I'm willing to be. I have no idea what the odds are of me being selected to actually go, but I suspect that I'll always regret it if I don't at least apply.
Even if I don't make it to Gaza in 2011, the discussion of the gaza blockade has taken to the sides of city buses right here in Seattle. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this. While I wholeheartedly agree with the message and support the intentions of those running the ads, I don't know how effective this is as a strategy. Is $1794 better spent on an ad campaign that might not change any minds, or would it have been better used to send help to the people affected by the policies being protested? The awareness created might be considerable, but I'm not sure it will lead to the public outcry necessary for any substantive policy change.
When I lived in DC, the metro tunnels were routinely home to issue ads. One was the picture of a baby (presumably Palestinian( wearing a pro-hamas headband, and said "This child could grow up to be a: ( ) Doctor ( ) Lawyer (x) Terrorist" (The ad can be seen here thanks to flickr user louko.) The ad made my blood boil. I have visceral reactions every time I passed by it. Targeting the blameless children of this conflict seemed especially sickening, and to have it shouting at me from every wall every day of my commute ensured that I began and ended each work day so angry I could barely speak. The very nature of advertising made discussion or argument or dissent with the people placing the ads impossible. I think my intense reaction to these ads has made me hesitant to feel any joy at seeing ads supporting my views. I understand that the very effective (and well-financed) tactics of the Israeli lobby and PR organizations need to be balanced somehow, but I don't feel great about sinking to their methods.
The most I can hope for is conversation. If it gets people talking, thinking, questioning the policies supported by their taxes (often without their knowledge) I will swallow my objections and applaud the efforts of the organization purchasing the ads. The argument that a controversial, thought-provoking ad like this one is at least better than another Macy's ad is not lost on me, either. Do you think this is a helpful or appropriate forum for foreign policy conversations?
I should probably go work on my application. I know you don't agree with the mission of the US boat to Gaza and you could certainly never support it publicly, but I hope that, even if it is only in private, you find a moment to consider your own responsibility for the people who end up on this ship and for the policies that have made such an organization necessary.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I encourage all of my readers interested (and fully aware of and prepared for the risks) to apply to the US Boat to Gaza. If you don't want to go yourself, a financial donation will help purchase supplies to deliver to the people of Gaza, as well. Other great gift ideas for those concerned with social justice can be found in Nicholas Kristof's latest New York Times column, or on etsy.com
Showing posts with label washington dc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label washington dc. Show all posts
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Day 322- HIV/AIDS
Hey all,
Today's letter is inspired by my friend and fellow blogger Joe, who wrote this inspiring (and upsetting) piece for The Body, a site dedicated to HIV/AIDS research, awareness and education.
Also,World AIDS Day is coming up on December 1st, so look for events in your area, or consider donating to a HIV-related cause.
Dear Mr. President,
I'd never met anyone that I knew to be HIV+ before I moved to Boise. My gender studies class required a service component, and I was assigned a volunteer project working with an HIV/AIDS awareness group to organize a World AIDS Day rally. (Specifically, we were asked to coordinate support from the local religious community, an effort that went about as well as you'd imagine in most of the ultra-conservative Idahoan churches.) My classmate and I made phone calls, gave presentations to religious groups, and, on December 1st, stood outside in a park with a local youth group, passing out candles and hot chocolate to a small crowd. We stood together, men and women, young and old, many races, gay, straight, HIV+, HIV-, Christian, Muslim, and Atheist. We listened to the stories of those who had been affected by HIV and we listened to those who confessed their shame at their own ignorance about it. We wore red ribbons. We remembered the dead. We prayed and we cried and we observed in silence.
When I moved to DC, HIV/AIDS was so prevalent and awareness campaigns so widespread that discussion caused considerably less controversy. Perhaps this was because DC is more progressive, or simply because it is more difficult to dismiss a disease as the sole property of an ostracized community when it affects your neighbors, your friends, your family and a staggering number of those you pass on the street every day. That my own life was not directly affected allowed me the luxury of forgetting that attitudes across the country are not so enlightened. That many still think of AIDS as either foreign or self-inflicted. That many still refuse to educate themselves about the stark reality. Years later, when my boyfriend's mother (herself a former nurse) warned her son away from me, claiming my tattooed skin put him at risk for AIDS, I was reminded that this lack of basic understanding was just as widespread in Seattle as it had been in Boise.
Ultimately I am lucky that I've only had one person treat me the way that people with HIV/AIDS are treated all the time. For all of my attempts to laugh off her ignorant remarks, I felt frustrated and angry that she would cite the mere risk of this disease as a reason for her son to stay away from me. But I didn't have to live with that feeling for more than a few days; I didn't have to live with that feeling while also balancing a fear for my own life and the frustration of my own failing health. I can't begin to imagine what that would feel like. Like most Americans, I don't think about it that often.
Today I was reminded by a particularly eloquent essay that many are not so lucky. Especially among GLBTQ youth and communities of color, even the search for a cure can come hand in hand with the worst racist, classist and homophobic practices of our history. HIV/AIDS awareness, education and research is important to all of us, even if its direct effect on our lives isn't obvious.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Today's letter is inspired by my friend and fellow blogger Joe, who wrote this inspiring (and upsetting) piece for The Body, a site dedicated to HIV/AIDS research, awareness and education.
Also,World AIDS Day is coming up on December 1st, so look for events in your area, or consider donating to a HIV-related cause.
Dear Mr. President,
I'd never met anyone that I knew to be HIV+ before I moved to Boise. My gender studies class required a service component, and I was assigned a volunteer project working with an HIV/AIDS awareness group to organize a World AIDS Day rally. (Specifically, we were asked to coordinate support from the local religious community, an effort that went about as well as you'd imagine in most of the ultra-conservative Idahoan churches.) My classmate and I made phone calls, gave presentations to religious groups, and, on December 1st, stood outside in a park with a local youth group, passing out candles and hot chocolate to a small crowd. We stood together, men and women, young and old, many races, gay, straight, HIV+, HIV-, Christian, Muslim, and Atheist. We listened to the stories of those who had been affected by HIV and we listened to those who confessed their shame at their own ignorance about it. We wore red ribbons. We remembered the dead. We prayed and we cried and we observed in silence.
When I moved to DC, HIV/AIDS was so prevalent and awareness campaigns so widespread that discussion caused considerably less controversy. Perhaps this was because DC is more progressive, or simply because it is more difficult to dismiss a disease as the sole property of an ostracized community when it affects your neighbors, your friends, your family and a staggering number of those you pass on the street every day. That my own life was not directly affected allowed me the luxury of forgetting that attitudes across the country are not so enlightened. That many still think of AIDS as either foreign or self-inflicted. That many still refuse to educate themselves about the stark reality. Years later, when my boyfriend's mother (herself a former nurse) warned her son away from me, claiming my tattooed skin put him at risk for AIDS, I was reminded that this lack of basic understanding was just as widespread in Seattle as it had been in Boise.
Ultimately I am lucky that I've only had one person treat me the way that people with HIV/AIDS are treated all the time. For all of my attempts to laugh off her ignorant remarks, I felt frustrated and angry that she would cite the mere risk of this disease as a reason for her son to stay away from me. But I didn't have to live with that feeling for more than a few days; I didn't have to live with that feeling while also balancing a fear for my own life and the frustration of my own failing health. I can't begin to imagine what that would feel like. Like most Americans, I don't think about it that often.
Today I was reminded by a particularly eloquent essay that many are not so lucky. Especially among GLBTQ youth and communities of color, even the search for a cure can come hand in hand with the worst racist, classist and homophobic practices of our history. HIV/AIDS awareness, education and research is important to all of us, even if its direct effect on our lives isn't obvious.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, November 12, 2010
Day 316-Really bad advice
Dear Mr. President,
Today I saw an op-ed in the Washington Post by two men who claim to be Democrats who don't think you should run for re-election in 2012. (I say "claim to be" because there is some question about their actual party affiliation.) I should probably remind every one that I'm not a professional political operative. I don't exactly have the resumé to argue with these hacks. But I think this is just about the worst advice I've heard any one offer you in a while.
I don't think that removing yourself now from the 2012 campaign would, as these pundits suggest, force the republicans in congress to make concessions. I think that backing down now would be the ultimate sign of defeat. Republicans would sieze the opportunity to legislate like they controlled all three branches of government. And I don't say this as a political expert (which I am not) but as a girl who has only gone on first dates for basically an entire year (which I am.) I go on first dates, and sometimes guys just aren't into me, and sometimes I'm just not into them, and sometimes circumstances just aren't right for the two of us. But this doesn't mean I give up entirely on the prospect of dating or ever finding some one to love me. Some of your decisions haven't been popular, some of what the country thinks it wants (social services funded by magic instead of taxes!) isn't what you're able or willing to give and some of your problems are just circumstance.
Running in 2012 demonstrates that you're not looking to escape because it's hard. It is what separates you from Sarah Palin (besides, of course, your grasp of the English language, basic knowledge of geography, economics and history.) To give up would be to tell voters, for sure, that Democrats aren't cut out for leading the country during challenging times. I have no idea who these strategists are or why they are so deluded as to think that appeasing the unreasonable demands of republican leaders is the best way to secure bipartisan cooperation, but I sincerely hope they are not people who get taken seriously in any official capacity.
Mr. President, I have disagreed with many of your decisions as President. I have my issues with your policy compromises and many of your centrist ideas. But I would rather see you in office in 2012 than any Republican. I want to see you listen ultimately to your own values and instincts and not to opinion polls and political pundits, to govern ambitiously and unapologetically, and with the courage of your convictions. ( I would also like you to be able to govern for a while longer without having to worry about reelection, but that ship sailed.)
You've got my vote in 2012, sir. Of the two of us, you're probably the more likely to make the most of a second date.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Today I saw an op-ed in the Washington Post by two men who claim to be Democrats who don't think you should run for re-election in 2012. (I say "claim to be" because there is some question about their actual party affiliation.) I should probably remind every one that I'm not a professional political operative. I don't exactly have the resumé to argue with these hacks. But I think this is just about the worst advice I've heard any one offer you in a while.
I don't think that removing yourself now from the 2012 campaign would, as these pundits suggest, force the republicans in congress to make concessions. I think that backing down now would be the ultimate sign of defeat. Republicans would sieze the opportunity to legislate like they controlled all three branches of government. And I don't say this as a political expert (which I am not) but as a girl who has only gone on first dates for basically an entire year (which I am.) I go on first dates, and sometimes guys just aren't into me, and sometimes I'm just not into them, and sometimes circumstances just aren't right for the two of us. But this doesn't mean I give up entirely on the prospect of dating or ever finding some one to love me. Some of your decisions haven't been popular, some of what the country thinks it wants (social services funded by magic instead of taxes!) isn't what you're able or willing to give and some of your problems are just circumstance.
Running in 2012 demonstrates that you're not looking to escape because it's hard. It is what separates you from Sarah Palin (besides, of course, your grasp of the English language, basic knowledge of geography, economics and history.) To give up would be to tell voters, for sure, that Democrats aren't cut out for leading the country during challenging times. I have no idea who these strategists are or why they are so deluded as to think that appeasing the unreasonable demands of republican leaders is the best way to secure bipartisan cooperation, but I sincerely hope they are not people who get taken seriously in any official capacity.
Mr. President, I have disagreed with many of your decisions as President. I have my issues with your policy compromises and many of your centrist ideas. But I would rather see you in office in 2012 than any Republican. I want to see you listen ultimately to your own values and instincts and not to opinion polls and political pundits, to govern ambitiously and unapologetically, and with the courage of your convictions. ( I would also like you to be able to govern for a while longer without having to worry about reelection, but that ship sailed.)
You've got my vote in 2012, sir. Of the two of us, you're probably the more likely to make the most of a second date.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Day 303-Love and Sanity
Dear Mr. President,
250,000 people showed up to restore sanity in Washington DC. In Seattle, and in cities around the world, satellite rallies were held by those who couldn't make the trip to DC. I don't know if this speaks to the mood of the country or merely to the size of Jon Stewart's fan base, but it certainly lifted my spirits. I feel like, no matter the differences between my views and each of theirs, the people at those rallies are my kind of people. It's nice to know we're not nearly as alone as many of us feel.
Sanity has probably been my number one goal in life for the last year or so. I spent so much of my life feeling like I was at the whim of my impossible to predict emotions and the equally confusing way others treated me. For me this has meant avoiding intense romantic relationships. Being in love has only brought out the worst in me. Witnessing the way it has had similar destructive effects on family members and friends hadn't done much to convince me otherwise. This year, as I've worked to figure out what it is I want from the people in my life, I've started to realize how much my political passions have always played a role in grounding me. When I was going through one of the more difficult break-ups of my life, campaigning for you helped keep me sane because it kept my life in a much more reasonable perspective. Once the campaign was over, I felt completely lost and, not surprisingly, basically lost my mind. Getting back to that sense of perspective through this project has been amazingly good for me. One of the best parts of this blog has been the way it has helped me find the people in my life who value me for my political passions and who support me even when they don't agree with me. And, as I begin to define what is important to me and what is important about me, I've begun to notice more and more examples of healthy relationships among my friends. Watching one couple today, who act like their remarkable affection and respect for one another is the most normal thing in the world (much to my unending puzzlement) I even began to imagine I might one day find that for myself. It makes me think that perhaps my cynicism came not from observation and experience, but was itself shaping my perceptions in order to reaffirm a belief I'd already held.
I think many liberals feel like we're constantly surrounded by crazy people. I feel like this rally offered an opportunity for many of us to realize we're not alone, that our outsider status was a product of our own cynicism and not a reflection of reality. We're not at odds with the rest of the country; we are the majority. The majority of this country is pro-choice, pro-gay rights, pro-reasonable regulation, taxation, and social services. There is more that unites us then divides us. The system frustrates us, the corruption and stagnation that prevent our country from fulfilling its promise and potential for good. I think that being told we're not the crazy ones will be helpful and inspiring to many on the left who have struggled for years to understand our place in a national discourse dictated by FOX news. If no greater good comes from today's rally than the reassurance that we're not outsiders, that we have a place at the table, well, I think it was probably worth inconveniencing really all of Washington DC for a day or so. Who knows, if I had managed to make it to DC, I might even have found myself a boyfriend.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
250,000 people showed up to restore sanity in Washington DC. In Seattle, and in cities around the world, satellite rallies were held by those who couldn't make the trip to DC. I don't know if this speaks to the mood of the country or merely to the size of Jon Stewart's fan base, but it certainly lifted my spirits. I feel like, no matter the differences between my views and each of theirs, the people at those rallies are my kind of people. It's nice to know we're not nearly as alone as many of us feel.
Sanity has probably been my number one goal in life for the last year or so. I spent so much of my life feeling like I was at the whim of my impossible to predict emotions and the equally confusing way others treated me. For me this has meant avoiding intense romantic relationships. Being in love has only brought out the worst in me. Witnessing the way it has had similar destructive effects on family members and friends hadn't done much to convince me otherwise. This year, as I've worked to figure out what it is I want from the people in my life, I've started to realize how much my political passions have always played a role in grounding me. When I was going through one of the more difficult break-ups of my life, campaigning for you helped keep me sane because it kept my life in a much more reasonable perspective. Once the campaign was over, I felt completely lost and, not surprisingly, basically lost my mind. Getting back to that sense of perspective through this project has been amazingly good for me. One of the best parts of this blog has been the way it has helped me find the people in my life who value me for my political passions and who support me even when they don't agree with me. And, as I begin to define what is important to me and what is important about me, I've begun to notice more and more examples of healthy relationships among my friends. Watching one couple today, who act like their remarkable affection and respect for one another is the most normal thing in the world (much to my unending puzzlement) I even began to imagine I might one day find that for myself. It makes me think that perhaps my cynicism came not from observation and experience, but was itself shaping my perceptions in order to reaffirm a belief I'd already held.
I think many liberals feel like we're constantly surrounded by crazy people. I feel like this rally offered an opportunity for many of us to realize we're not alone, that our outsider status was a product of our own cynicism and not a reflection of reality. We're not at odds with the rest of the country; we are the majority. The majority of this country is pro-choice, pro-gay rights, pro-reasonable regulation, taxation, and social services. There is more that unites us then divides us. The system frustrates us, the corruption and stagnation that prevent our country from fulfilling its promise and potential for good. I think that being told we're not the crazy ones will be helpful and inspiring to many on the left who have struggled for years to understand our place in a national discourse dictated by FOX news. If no greater good comes from today's rally than the reassurance that we're not outsiders, that we have a place at the table, well, I think it was probably worth inconveniencing really all of Washington DC for a day or so. Who knows, if I had managed to make it to DC, I might even have found myself a boyfriend.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Day 254- What we choose to remember
Dear Mr. President,
Nine years ago I was a sophomore in high school. I woke up before my alarm clock. I remember I was having a dream about drowning. On any other day I probably would have forgotten the last wisps of this dream as the rest of my morning routine replaced it. I went downstairs and ate a bowl of cereal, squinting at the TV because I hadn't bothered to put in my contact lenses. My stepmother told me a plane had hit the twin towers. The rest of the morning was a series of stories, some true, some false, some never to be properly accounted for later. I was safely on the other side of the country from what was happening, but all morning long I could see my own turbulent emotional reactions in the faces of my classmates. We all felt the magnitude of what was going on; even if we didn't yet understand it, even if we didn't experience it the same way that people in New York and DC did. I remember I heard boys just 16 years old calling for blood, wanting to enlist that day and kill whoever had planned the attack.
Nine years later I still remember the images we all saw on TV. I still remember the haunted way my coworkers at the Washington DC bookstore sounded when they told their own tales of that day. I still think about the havoc we rained down upon millions of innocent people in response. I remember the lives we have ruined and displaced, the hundreds of thousands we have murdered. I can't talk about 9/11 without also talking about these shattered lives. There was no number of Afghan or Iraqi civillians we might have killed to bring back those lost on American soil 9 years ago today. Every time I hear 9/11 used to justify these wars we wage as acts of vengeance, I feel tired in a way that I don't think I'm old enough to feel. It all seems so pointless, so tragically, miserably heart breaking and pointless.
You have asked us today to remember the tragic events of 9 years ago. We might choose to remember this day in isolation, to recall nothing of what came before or since, and I understand why many choose this. This day was so shocking, so traumatizing and devastating to so many that I can't ask any one to do more than what they feel they can. But I think we should not choose to remember this day in a vacuum. I think that, no matter how painful its memory is, we should not feel entitled to the belief that we were alone in suffering it, or numb ourselves to the pain so many others were forced to feel as a result. Today I remember the dead, I honor the dead, but I do not imagine that the death toll of September the 11th ended on our shores. I choose to remember all who have died since and all those who continue to suffer for it. Nine years of suffering has not made this day any less tragic. We are nine years older, our hands are nine years bloodier and the death toll just keeps rising.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Nine years ago I was a sophomore in high school. I woke up before my alarm clock. I remember I was having a dream about drowning. On any other day I probably would have forgotten the last wisps of this dream as the rest of my morning routine replaced it. I went downstairs and ate a bowl of cereal, squinting at the TV because I hadn't bothered to put in my contact lenses. My stepmother told me a plane had hit the twin towers. The rest of the morning was a series of stories, some true, some false, some never to be properly accounted for later. I was safely on the other side of the country from what was happening, but all morning long I could see my own turbulent emotional reactions in the faces of my classmates. We all felt the magnitude of what was going on; even if we didn't yet understand it, even if we didn't experience it the same way that people in New York and DC did. I remember I heard boys just 16 years old calling for blood, wanting to enlist that day and kill whoever had planned the attack.
Nine years later I still remember the images we all saw on TV. I still remember the haunted way my coworkers at the Washington DC bookstore sounded when they told their own tales of that day. I still think about the havoc we rained down upon millions of innocent people in response. I remember the lives we have ruined and displaced, the hundreds of thousands we have murdered. I can't talk about 9/11 without also talking about these shattered lives. There was no number of Afghan or Iraqi civillians we might have killed to bring back those lost on American soil 9 years ago today. Every time I hear 9/11 used to justify these wars we wage as acts of vengeance, I feel tired in a way that I don't think I'm old enough to feel. It all seems so pointless, so tragically, miserably heart breaking and pointless.
You have asked us today to remember the tragic events of 9 years ago. We might choose to remember this day in isolation, to recall nothing of what came before or since, and I understand why many choose this. This day was so shocking, so traumatizing and devastating to so many that I can't ask any one to do more than what they feel they can. But I think we should not choose to remember this day in a vacuum. I think that, no matter how painful its memory is, we should not feel entitled to the belief that we were alone in suffering it, or numb ourselves to the pain so many others were forced to feel as a result. Today I remember the dead, I honor the dead, but I do not imagine that the death toll of September the 11th ended on our shores. I choose to remember all who have died since and all those who continue to suffer for it. Nine years of suffering has not made this day any less tragic. We are nine years older, our hands are nine years bloodier and the death toll just keeps rising.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, August 20, 2010
Day 232-Tourism for a better world
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
The market in Hebron
The Tree of Life
St. George
Dome of the Rock
Dear Mr. President,
Tony Blair recently suggested that more people visit the West Bank as a means to supporting the peace process. Visiting Palestine, stimulating the economy by enjoying local food and crafts and services, witnessing firsthand the hospitality of many Palestinians- these are all small steps toward better understanding and communication. I loved my own time there, and I can't wait to go back. But I've also lived in tourist destinations. The complicated relationship between a place, its people, and the people who just come for vacation. Try riding the Metro during summer time in DC. The strict order of things breaks down. Suddenly no one knows that you stand on once side of the escalator, walk on the other. Lines get longer, crowds get bigger. I remember days when I couldn't go from my metro stop to work without being asked for directions several times. Even here in Seattle, Pike Place Market swells with visitors as soon as the warm weather starts.
Local business depend upon these visitors to eat at restaurants, fill hotel rooms, and purchase absurd souvenirs. But Tourists often treat their destinations like personal playgrounds, with no regard for local customs or culture, no respect for the people paid to serve them, and no concern for the long-term interests of the city. They come, they consume, they go. Tourism might be a great way to promote cross-cultural understanding, but I wonder if this can be done without fundamentally changing the places we visit.
If you join Tony Blair in encouraging Americans to travel to the Middle East- to ease tensions through casual, non-political interaction- I think that you should do so with caution. Americans should travel to other countries, we should learn about other cultures and we should try to experience life outside of our own comfortable perceptions of reality. But we should do what we can to mitigate the harmful influence we might have, by respecting the people, and the environments that we visit. I think that Tony Blair's heart is in the right place, that we can do more good traveling and learning from one another than we can with bullets and bombs and economic sanctions. I hope that people take his advice and explore the beautiful and hospitable places in Palestine that I fell in love with two years ago.
And, if they have layovers in DC, I hope that people learn which side of the escalator is for standing.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
If any of my readers are interested in going to Palestine, please consider doing so with The Abraham Path Initiative or The Siraj Center. If you'd like to donate to projects that help others travel to Palestine, please visit Global Giving.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Day 229- Welcome to Seattle
Dear Mr. President,
For all of the traffic-snarling inconvenience, it was really exciting to have you back in Seattle after so many years. (A sentiment that might be easier for me to express, as I don't drive, but I'm sure the commuters got over it.) It's too bad that the Secret Service said no to your stroll around town because it really was a lovely day out. Early returns from the primary are showing a healthy and unsurprising victory for Patty Murray, which is a good sign for Washington. If Dino Rossi manages to rally enough supporters to win in the general, I'll worry for the Senate even more than i already do. It may be purely symbolic, but having you visit Washington after so long almost felt like an attempt to assure solidly blue states that you haven't forgotten us. Or maybe Senator Murray's re-election is less assured than you're comfortable with. Either way, it was good to have you in the city. Apparently you even got to visit my neighborhood.
The howling sirens of your motorcade really took me back to my time in DC. It used to amaze me to see the Presidential motorcade (or the smaller processions of other government officials) speeding through the streets. I always wondered if the powerful occupants of the limos and SUVs ever noticed the run-down neighborhoods or the homeless men and women on the corners downtown. I know that as the country's leader you're constantly aware of the big-picture problems we face, the crushing effects of unemployment and poverty. Sometimes I wonder if your position distances you from the reality of these problems too much to see them as more than an abstraction or political liability. But that's more cynical than I'm comfortable being on a night like this.
Thank you for visiting Seattle. I hope it doesn't take another 4 years to get you back here, but I suppose there are worse things than having a reliably liberal population. Have a safe trip home.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
For all of the traffic-snarling inconvenience, it was really exciting to have you back in Seattle after so many years. (A sentiment that might be easier for me to express, as I don't drive, but I'm sure the commuters got over it.) It's too bad that the Secret Service said no to your stroll around town because it really was a lovely day out. Early returns from the primary are showing a healthy and unsurprising victory for Patty Murray, which is a good sign for Washington. If Dino Rossi manages to rally enough supporters to win in the general, I'll worry for the Senate even more than i already do. It may be purely symbolic, but having you visit Washington after so long almost felt like an attempt to assure solidly blue states that you haven't forgotten us. Or maybe Senator Murray's re-election is less assured than you're comfortable with. Either way, it was good to have you in the city. Apparently you even got to visit my neighborhood.
The howling sirens of your motorcade really took me back to my time in DC. It used to amaze me to see the Presidential motorcade (or the smaller processions of other government officials) speeding through the streets. I always wondered if the powerful occupants of the limos and SUVs ever noticed the run-down neighborhoods or the homeless men and women on the corners downtown. I know that as the country's leader you're constantly aware of the big-picture problems we face, the crushing effects of unemployment and poverty. Sometimes I wonder if your position distances you from the reality of these problems too much to see them as more than an abstraction or political liability. But that's more cynical than I'm comfortable being on a night like this.
Thank you for visiting Seattle. I hope it doesn't take another 4 years to get you back here, but I suppose there are worse things than having a reliably liberal population. Have a safe trip home.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Day 208- Home is other people
Dear Mr. President,
I was riding the bus back to Seattle from my hometown today, the air conditioning turned up so high that I had goosebumps, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. Arlington is a complicated place, or, I suppose, Arlington and I have a complicated relationship. I went to high school there, and the family that I knew there, the people who became my brothers and sisters, we all wanted to get out. We went away for college. We moved, and traveled and generally scattered. Arlington may not be my home, but this group of friends always will be. They still make me feel young, even as the remind me how responsible we've become. They inspire me with the choices they make, the lives they choose, the things they accomplish. They are not the type to overlook a person's flaws, and yet, they forgive me for being me. They are my feeling of home, wherever they might be.
The face of the town has changed a lot since I lived there. I still see the faded logos of local businesses that have been around since I was a kid, but now they're ducking behind towering Best Buys and Costcos and the roads are new and wide and dark. I feel so foreign in this town, these days. I can imagine what my life would be like still living there, needing a car, having wilderness and wildlife nearby, running in to old faces from high school at the grocery store. I just don't know when my life changed so drastically to make me so out of place here.
By the time I forced myself to take one deep, trembling inhalation I was well on my way back to the city. And the rest of the trip, I-5 rolled by, anonymous, while I relived days at my first job, school dances, fights with my parents, poker games played late into the night around a kitchen table. I thought of the boys who are still my brothers, how they are men now, how they will one day be husbands and fathers and professors and writers and engineers. How I will one day be, whatever it is I'm going to be. Are we becoming what we are because we left or because of where we came from? I had begun to doubt that I would ever feel as strongly about a place as I used to feel about Arlington, when my bus finally stopped in Seattle. I remembered why I love it, why the strangers that live here feel like home to me, almost in the same way my childhood friends do. I believe they will, for the most part, forgive me, too.
For now I am going to make dinner for every one and enjoy the feeling of having so many people I love so close. It won't be like that forever. A big part of home is over in Africa, and I'm going to have to go find her, before long. I wonder, does the White House feel like home? Or is it more like living in a museum? Is Chicago still home, or Hawaii? I suppose the list of places must inevitably grow longer with the transience of certain lives, but I wonder if these are places you could imagine returning to, or if, like me, you'll never know you belonged there until you wake up one morning and don't any longer.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I was riding the bus back to Seattle from my hometown today, the air conditioning turned up so high that I had goosebumps, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. Arlington is a complicated place, or, I suppose, Arlington and I have a complicated relationship. I went to high school there, and the family that I knew there, the people who became my brothers and sisters, we all wanted to get out. We went away for college. We moved, and traveled and generally scattered. Arlington may not be my home, but this group of friends always will be. They still make me feel young, even as the remind me how responsible we've become. They inspire me with the choices they make, the lives they choose, the things they accomplish. They are not the type to overlook a person's flaws, and yet, they forgive me for being me. They are my feeling of home, wherever they might be.
The face of the town has changed a lot since I lived there. I still see the faded logos of local businesses that have been around since I was a kid, but now they're ducking behind towering Best Buys and Costcos and the roads are new and wide and dark. I feel so foreign in this town, these days. I can imagine what my life would be like still living there, needing a car, having wilderness and wildlife nearby, running in to old faces from high school at the grocery store. I just don't know when my life changed so drastically to make me so out of place here.
By the time I forced myself to take one deep, trembling inhalation I was well on my way back to the city. And the rest of the trip, I-5 rolled by, anonymous, while I relived days at my first job, school dances, fights with my parents, poker games played late into the night around a kitchen table. I thought of the boys who are still my brothers, how they are men now, how they will one day be husbands and fathers and professors and writers and engineers. How I will one day be, whatever it is I'm going to be. Are we becoming what we are because we left or because of where we came from? I had begun to doubt that I would ever feel as strongly about a place as I used to feel about Arlington, when my bus finally stopped in Seattle. I remembered why I love it, why the strangers that live here feel like home to me, almost in the same way my childhood friends do. I believe they will, for the most part, forgive me, too.
For now I am going to make dinner for every one and enjoy the feeling of having so many people I love so close. It won't be like that forever. A big part of home is over in Africa, and I'm going to have to go find her, before long. I wonder, does the White House feel like home? Or is it more like living in a museum? Is Chicago still home, or Hawaii? I suppose the list of places must inevitably grow longer with the transience of certain lives, but I wonder if these are places you could imagine returning to, or if, like me, you'll never know you belonged there until you wake up one morning and don't any longer.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, May 31, 2010
Day 151- Memory in blank verse
Dear Mr. President,
I walked to work today in the pouring rain. My blood still boiling from last night, drums in my ears asking me to keep my compassion, to keep my cool, I walked and sulked and snapped at anything I could think of. I know, today is a day for remembering. Today is a day to remember the girls and boys we put in men's uniforms and gave weapons and made murderers (and murdered.) To remember the suits who sent them to their deaths and destinies. To remember the placid, peaceful suburbs and 3-day only sales we sent them to protect.
Sometimes I feel like I'm watching a microcosm of US history on fast-forward in Palestine. I fear that Palestinians face the same fate as the Native Americans; refugee camps like reservations, ostensible autonomy that creates isolation, not independence, dying traditions and tongues, hunted, then marginalized, disenfranchised, disarmed, disbanded, disappeared. When we remember the soldiers who have died for this country, do we also honor the dead who died for us to take it from them? Where is their bank holiday, their 3-day only sale? I'm so confused today, tangled up in the inevitable contradiction of being an American; of being born with blood on my hands, bearing the burden of an original sin, not against God but against my fellow man. I want to sort out these feelings; to tease out these threads into distinct narratives, of America, of Palestine, of wars and war crimes, to place it all on a timeline that makes sense.
Nothing makes sense today. Grief is giving way to disorientation and disbelief. Some lady was yelling at me about swiping her gift card too many times, because I might scratch it, and people are being taken off of a humanitarian ship in Haifa, to be taken to a room in the Tel Aviv airport, or to a prison cell, a hospital room, or a morgue. I'm just not sure I understand how these realities overlap. I've stepped, too far, off of some undersea shelf, and now I can only tread water. I can't tell if the White House thinks this is bad because it looks bad for Israel, or if, underneath the suits that control the truth, there are fathers who would not see their daughters suffer as daughters of fathers across Gaza are suffering. If you believe your own spin, or if you're saying it in the hopes of making the truth less devastating. Those boys in men's uniforms dropping down zip lines from choppers onto boats were acting in self defense. They were terrified of a truth so horrible it cannot be erased by bulletts. The truth that makes it so much harder to put on the uniform and pick up the gun. It was self defense, and if you say it enough times, it might be true.
In Washington, an unknown tomb is honored. The Schrödinger's cat of Identity. He could be white or black or Native or فلسطيني. Unknown could be any of us, bones bleached anciently to only human. The shifting, changing, contradictory American; he no longer needs to know how to live, it has been answered for him. He might have died for freedom, or security, or national unity; fighting the British, the Union, the Confederates or the Nazis. He might have fallen on a Pacific Island, or a Vietnamese jungle, or an Iraqi city. He might have been young, he might have been frightened, he might have been ready. He knows how to be an American, if he is all of these things.
Walking home, the rain had stopped. A day spent laboring under the layers of glass and steel and light that make up this city had made me tired, but hadn't made sense out of anything. I don't know what I remember and what I've just been told. I was told to remember those who died to make America safe for me. To teach me how to be an American on days like these. Overwhelmed, other people's memories wash over me; of Crow and of Blackfoot and of Cherokee, of Gettysburg and Bull's run and Blakely; of Pearl Harbor, and Dresden and Nagasaki; of Kabul and Baghdad and Karachi. (Of the dead, from a ship, in the darkness between Gaza and Turkey.) Lies are pouring in from men in suits on TV, while witnesses are being processed and discredited, until no one knows what they saw or who shot first. I still know what I believe. The drums haven't stopped. Compassion. Compassion. Compassion. I can't let it be taken from me.
To the dead, today, I remember you. I am humbled by your lives and how you lost them, for me. I still don't know how to be an American the way I am intended to, especially on days like these.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I walked to work today in the pouring rain. My blood still boiling from last night, drums in my ears asking me to keep my compassion, to keep my cool, I walked and sulked and snapped at anything I could think of. I know, today is a day for remembering. Today is a day to remember the girls and boys we put in men's uniforms and gave weapons and made murderers (and murdered.) To remember the suits who sent them to their deaths and destinies. To remember the placid, peaceful suburbs and 3-day only sales we sent them to protect.
Sometimes I feel like I'm watching a microcosm of US history on fast-forward in Palestine. I fear that Palestinians face the same fate as the Native Americans; refugee camps like reservations, ostensible autonomy that creates isolation, not independence, dying traditions and tongues, hunted, then marginalized, disenfranchised, disarmed, disbanded, disappeared. When we remember the soldiers who have died for this country, do we also honor the dead who died for us to take it from them? Where is their bank holiday, their 3-day only sale? I'm so confused today, tangled up in the inevitable contradiction of being an American; of being born with blood on my hands, bearing the burden of an original sin, not against God but against my fellow man. I want to sort out these feelings; to tease out these threads into distinct narratives, of America, of Palestine, of wars and war crimes, to place it all on a timeline that makes sense.
Nothing makes sense today. Grief is giving way to disorientation and disbelief. Some lady was yelling at me about swiping her gift card too many times, because I might scratch it, and people are being taken off of a humanitarian ship in Haifa, to be taken to a room in the Tel Aviv airport, or to a prison cell, a hospital room, or a morgue. I'm just not sure I understand how these realities overlap. I've stepped, too far, off of some undersea shelf, and now I can only tread water. I can't tell if the White House thinks this is bad because it looks bad for Israel, or if, underneath the suits that control the truth, there are fathers who would not see their daughters suffer as daughters of fathers across Gaza are suffering. If you believe your own spin, or if you're saying it in the hopes of making the truth less devastating. Those boys in men's uniforms dropping down zip lines from choppers onto boats were acting in self defense. They were terrified of a truth so horrible it cannot be erased by bulletts. The truth that makes it so much harder to put on the uniform and pick up the gun. It was self defense, and if you say it enough times, it might be true.
In Washington, an unknown tomb is honored. The Schrödinger's cat of Identity. He could be white or black or Native or فلسطيني. Unknown could be any of us, bones bleached anciently to only human. The shifting, changing, contradictory American; he no longer needs to know how to live, it has been answered for him. He might have died for freedom, or security, or national unity; fighting the British, the Union, the Confederates or the Nazis. He might have fallen on a Pacific Island, or a Vietnamese jungle, or an Iraqi city. He might have been young, he might have been frightened, he might have been ready. He knows how to be an American, if he is all of these things.
Walking home, the rain had stopped. A day spent laboring under the layers of glass and steel and light that make up this city had made me tired, but hadn't made sense out of anything. I don't know what I remember and what I've just been told. I was told to remember those who died to make America safe for me. To teach me how to be an American on days like these. Overwhelmed, other people's memories wash over me; of Crow and of Blackfoot and of Cherokee, of Gettysburg and Bull's run and Blakely; of Pearl Harbor, and Dresden and Nagasaki; of Kabul and Baghdad and Karachi. (Of the dead, from a ship, in the darkness between Gaza and Turkey.) Lies are pouring in from men in suits on TV, while witnesses are being processed and discredited, until no one knows what they saw or who shot first. I still know what I believe. The drums haven't stopped. Compassion. Compassion. Compassion. I can't let it be taken from me.
To the dead, today, I remember you. I am humbled by your lives and how you lost them, for me. I still don't know how to be an American the way I am intended to, especially on days like these.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Day 101- Immigration reform
Dear Mr. President,
Yesterday, in Seattle, more than five thousand people rallied for immigration reform. I was just getting off of work, when I passed through a crowd in Pioneer Square. Congressman Jim McDermott was among those in attendance, and, at first impression, the crowd seemed more like a jovial gathering than a political protest- I saw people of all ages and races, some angrily chanting, some silently holding up signs, more than a few children running around laughing and waving flags. I think it was uplifting to see so many Seattlites come together and stand up for the rights of illegal immigrants across the country.
Once, while sitting on a plane from Boise to Seattle, I was telling the woman next to me that I studied Arabic in school, and wanted to travel to the Middle East. She warned me not to expect "people over there" to accommodate me, the way we accommodate people over here. She went on to explain that, in America, we make it so easy that people don't even have to speak English, while the rest of the world insists on making people speak the native language. I've heard this mind-boggling rhetoric many times since; from old acquaintances on facebook who post things like "Welcome to America, press 1 for English, press 2 to hang up and learn English," as well as from coworkers who grow frustrated at customers who don't communicate easily in English. In DC one morning, I watched as an old woman yelled at a Hispanic McDonald's employee for denying a homeless white man free coffee, insisting that the employee, as a "non-American" was the reason the man was homeless in the first place. I try to imagine the logic behind a worldview that affords basic dignity and respect only on the basis of a shared language and place of birth, but I just can't do it. It's an ugly sense of entitlement that I just can't empathize with.
Unfortunately, I don't have to understand this kind of racism to be complicit in it. Things like this rally give me hope, even as they deepen my disappointment in myself for not being more actively involved. Just the other day, an old woman on my bus stormed off in protest after the driver angrily berated an elderly Chinese couple for not following his request to make more room quickly enough. I kept my seat; I was late for work, and I didn't want to walk in the rain, but the shame of staying silent while the woman stood up for two strangers, alone, stayed with me all day. It's up to all of us to stand up against discrimination, whenever we can, and I am too often content to look the other way if it is inconvenient for me to act.
Our government needs to do its part, as well. Immigration reform that offers a clear path to citizenship for those living in this country illegally cannot wait another year. We must make a clear demonstration that we value and respect the contributions immigrants make to our society, how essential they are to the character of America. We do not gain anything by forcing millions of people to live outside of the law; they suffer because of it, and our country suffers because of it. While comprehensive immigration reform will likely be even more difficult to pass than health care reform, it is long past time and well worth the fight. I hope that your administration begins an aggressive campaign to see that this becomes a reality.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Day 40- The snow
Dear Mr. President,
My condolences for the extreme weather in DC. Seeing the reports online, and hearing from my friends who still live in the city, it sounds slightly magical, almost as though the Senate leadership really could be making snow angels out on the mall. Two years ago we had our own Snow-pocalypse in Seattle, and I remember it being anything but magical, so I'll try to reign in my whimsical envy of your real winter and appreciate the mild mid-50's and sunny that Seattle has been graced with.
During that unreasonable cold winter, I was reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road, not a book I'd recommend during weather that inspires comparison to the end times. That being said, McCarthy's writing is some of the most beautiful I've ever experienced. Working at a bookstore, I'm lucky to be constantly exposed to great writing, new and old, and the people who love it. Your own reading tastes often influence what people are buying- Team of Rivals, The Post-American World and Netherland all became very difficult to keep in stock after you were spotted reading them.
Having a President who regularly reads and engages the public in what he is reading is a nice change, after 8 years under President Bush. I'm sure President Bush did read books. Dick Cheney used to shop at the Book store I started at, on L street. The books I saw him buy were almost always by Tom Clancy or aspiring Tom Clancy-types. Thrilling books, with good guys and bad guys. Books that assured the reader of the righteousness of the protagonists and the absolute evil of the villains. I'm not saying that this makes you better or smarter than the former VP, but I do believe that what we read informs our worldview, and, in my mind, Vice-President Cheney did little to disprove this.
Just because it is my job, (and it may not be, forever,) and probably the thing I do best, in the world, I'd like to suggest a few books.
For First Lady Michelle, I'd suggest a memoir, The Bread of Angels by Stephanie Saldana. It is a beautiful book by a remarkable woman, and a really enjoyable read.
For Malia and Sasha, as I know they, like me, appreciate Harry Potter, I suggest UnLunDun, by China Mieville and Coraline, by Neil Gaiman. They are two of my favorite books for young readers, and both feature strong, original female characters.
If you, Mr. President, came to my bookstore looking for something to read, (this is assuming I regained my ability to speak long enough to put forth a suggestion,) I'd offer Aravind Adiga's White Tiger for enjoyment, Daniyal Mueenuddin's In Other Rooms, Other Wonders for beauty, and, because walking a mile in the shoes of another isn't always possible, I Saw Ramallah by Mourid Barghouti.
And that is absolutely the most presumptuous I'm prepared to be, at least for now. Thank you, for humoring me. Happy reading. Enjoy the snow.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
My condolences for the extreme weather in DC. Seeing the reports online, and hearing from my friends who still live in the city, it sounds slightly magical, almost as though the Senate leadership really could be making snow angels out on the mall. Two years ago we had our own Snow-pocalypse in Seattle, and I remember it being anything but magical, so I'll try to reign in my whimsical envy of your real winter and appreciate the mild mid-50's and sunny that Seattle has been graced with.
During that unreasonable cold winter, I was reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road, not a book I'd recommend during weather that inspires comparison to the end times. That being said, McCarthy's writing is some of the most beautiful I've ever experienced. Working at a bookstore, I'm lucky to be constantly exposed to great writing, new and old, and the people who love it. Your own reading tastes often influence what people are buying- Team of Rivals, The Post-American World and Netherland all became very difficult to keep in stock after you were spotted reading them.
Having a President who regularly reads and engages the public in what he is reading is a nice change, after 8 years under President Bush. I'm sure President Bush did read books. Dick Cheney used to shop at the Book store I started at, on L street. The books I saw him buy were almost always by Tom Clancy or aspiring Tom Clancy-types. Thrilling books, with good guys and bad guys. Books that assured the reader of the righteousness of the protagonists and the absolute evil of the villains. I'm not saying that this makes you better or smarter than the former VP, but I do believe that what we read informs our worldview, and, in my mind, Vice-President Cheney did little to disprove this.
Just because it is my job, (and it may not be, forever,) and probably the thing I do best, in the world, I'd like to suggest a few books.
For First Lady Michelle, I'd suggest a memoir, The Bread of Angels by Stephanie Saldana. It is a beautiful book by a remarkable woman, and a really enjoyable read.
For Malia and Sasha, as I know they, like me, appreciate Harry Potter, I suggest UnLunDun, by China Mieville and Coraline, by Neil Gaiman. They are two of my favorite books for young readers, and both feature strong, original female characters.
If you, Mr. President, came to my bookstore looking for something to read, (this is assuming I regained my ability to speak long enough to put forth a suggestion,) I'd offer Aravind Adiga's White Tiger for enjoyment, Daniyal Mueenuddin's In Other Rooms, Other Wonders for beauty, and, because walking a mile in the shoes of another isn't always possible, I Saw Ramallah by Mourid Barghouti.
And that is absolutely the most presumptuous I'm prepared to be, at least for now. Thank you, for humoring me. Happy reading. Enjoy the snow.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, January 22, 2010
Day 22
Dear Mr. President,
Paul Krugman has some very important things to say about health care in today's New York Times. I agree with his call for Congressional Democrats to "stop whining, and do what needs to be done." He says this needs to happen in the face of poor leadership from the White House. I'm not sure I agree. I thought your speech at the town hall meeting today was a clear demonstration of your commitment to the issue, but I think the State of the Union will be the real test. I don't think you should be shy about telling the American people just exactly what is holding up this reform- their congressional representatives.
Krugman's point about bipartisanship is also a valid one. Once again, the Republicans are demonstrating their superior legislative strategy. The health care reform bill is incredibly conciliatory- I'd imagine there are several moderate republicans who would support it, in principle. Unfortunately their party's goal- to prevent Democrats from appearing effective- is more important than doing right by their constituents. This is something democrats could do a better job of calling them out for. Which party is standing on principle and which is putting politics before the national interest? I don't think Democrats have communicated this well to the public.
Finally, I think that a concession to your own base is probably in order. We've been roughed up the last few weeks, the left is lacking fire and excitement. How about checking off some of the campaign promises you can do without congressional approval? Repealing DADT? making real progress towards closing Guantanamo? These may cost you political capitol with the centrists and the right wing, but it would energize your supporters and remind congressional democrats (many of whom owe their seats to your electoral coattails) that you came to Washington to do more than compromise- and so did they.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Paul Krugman has some very important things to say about health care in today's New York Times. I agree with his call for Congressional Democrats to "stop whining, and do what needs to be done." He says this needs to happen in the face of poor leadership from the White House. I'm not sure I agree. I thought your speech at the town hall meeting today was a clear demonstration of your commitment to the issue, but I think the State of the Union will be the real test. I don't think you should be shy about telling the American people just exactly what is holding up this reform- their congressional representatives.
Krugman's point about bipartisanship is also a valid one. Once again, the Republicans are demonstrating their superior legislative strategy. The health care reform bill is incredibly conciliatory- I'd imagine there are several moderate republicans who would support it, in principle. Unfortunately their party's goal- to prevent Democrats from appearing effective- is more important than doing right by their constituents. This is something democrats could do a better job of calling them out for. Which party is standing on principle and which is putting politics before the national interest? I don't think Democrats have communicated this well to the public.
Finally, I think that a concession to your own base is probably in order. We've been roughed up the last few weeks, the left is lacking fire and excitement. How about checking off some of the campaign promises you can do without congressional approval? Repealing DADT? making real progress towards closing Guantanamo? These may cost you political capitol with the centrists and the right wing, but it would energize your supporters and remind congressional democrats (many of whom owe their seats to your electoral coattails) that you came to Washington to do more than compromise- and so did they.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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