Trans Day of Visibility Rally

An up and down kind of day--I guess that's the way it is when your opportunities for community and solidarity are hemmed in by the big events and policies beyond your control that makes them necessary.

Off to the Trans Day of Visibility Rally at the Capitol today with L and Nu. There were such great signs at the rally today and people were happy to be photographed with with them when I asked (I'm documenting for L's newsletter). But one parent said that their kid was nervous about being photographed, and while I completely understand, it made me quite sad.

Today's rally was designed to be celebratory and joyful, which is why I invited Nu... but I think it still felt a bit overwhelming and they needed some time over the evening to go off by themselves to decompress. They were telling me later how they had such great hopes for the country in 2020, but feel defeated now. It's a bit depressing outright miserable to hear a 17-year-old think and talk like that. At got there just as we three were leaving the capitol and met up with us later at the house for dinner. 

I'd originally planned to have a great, big gathering at our house, like we used to after the Women's Marches.  But I scaled things back as I didn't know if my scratched eye would be healed (It's 90% healed, BTW!). We ended up with a tableful of guests and just after we said goodbye to the second carful, the emergency sirens began going off for tornadoes+thunderstorms. I went out again to call our guests back to shelter in the basement (as we were about to) but only got taillights. I was glad to get the texts about where people were sheltering a few minutes later. 

Pic: I've never seen "Cistem" before, and I love it. 

note

 

don't let the one with the coconuts tell the story

Three traders set out, board the boat,
eager and dreaming of success

each with a sack of their wares
upright in the restless breeze
by their feet

it is a completely ordinary journey

their chat common, dealing 

in bargains and markets... 

until the storm bursts

until the boat floods 

Uppulu

Aiiyo! I've lost everything

weeps the trader whose sack was full of salt...

as all the salt slips away in rivulets 

of milky wetness beneath their feet

and the sack empties into nothing

Poppulu

Aiiyo! I've lost everything

weeps the trader whose sack was full of lentils...

though really, some lentils are soaked through

puffy as flowers ready for the pot this evening

but the rest may survive to sell after an airing

Koppulu 

Aiiyo! I've lost everything

weeps the trader whose sack was full of coconuts...

though the coconuts look fresh as children just bathed 

What? Say the others. No, you haven't lost anything!

Your coconuts look like they got a free wash. Shut up.

____________________
Note: From a story my ayah told me in Telugu to illustrate how the well-to-do love to complain about their misfortune even when it doesn't really compare or isn't really a misfortune. (I wonder now if there was something that prompted it--like if she'd had some argument with my parents who would have seemed well-to-do to her.) I came up with the retort to the coconut trader and the subheadings (salt, lentils, coconuts in Telugu) because they so neatly nearly rhyme. And I gender neutralized the characters without losing the plot.
______________________
Pic: The beautiful spring view from RS's window at book club today. There was more resistance talk and organizing than book discussion, which was ok with me. Especially since I'd read You Think It, I'll Say It literally years ago and forgotten many of its finer details.

proud teacher

I've been skulking around campus like an obnoxious person of mystery in sunglasses because I scratched my cornea two days ago (while helping myself to a tissue!!). And because it hurts, I've been heading home early and missed the faculty bake-off yesterday and the reception to celebrate LV's tenure today... Boo. 

But I love this part of the semester because students are working on their research projects and I love seeing how fired up they're getting and all the ideas and connections that are taking off. Who knows where that will go. A paper on Baldwin's Sonny's Blues from last year's critical theory class just won first place in Sigma Tau Delta's (the English honorary society's) international convention that concluded in Pittsburgh last week and the society's journal editor asked the student if they could publish it! 

Pic: At the WGS Symposium with one of my student's projects about rehabilitating body dysmorphia in dancers. Their point is that as dancers they always stare at themselves critically in the studio mirror so they wanted to use the mirror as a canvas to enable dancers to write empowering complimentary words for themselves and others.

And on compliments: A couple of weeks ago, when I gave the talk about the Trump administration's rhetoric, a student told me their friend who'd come to the talk with them said I was pretty and had terrific hair--I got so self-conscious, that instead of saying thank you and moving on, I blathered on about but did they like my talk. The next day, Lisa said something nice about my hair as well, and that weekend I reacted awkwardly when something similar happened. L's advice: "A simple thank you will suffice."

like an open window

today I go on into

this leftover world 
with its great gifts 
of unfastened earth
and lightened tasks 

                                walking altogether
                                talking to myself 
                                and my gods--as if
                                anyone else would
                                even be listening--

waiting for beauty
opening like a fire 

connection a flash

the moments of 

understanding like

                                the peace that passes 

                                in the long silent times

                                of waiting as my heart

                                circles red the sounds 

                                of recovery and rises 

________________________________

Pic: This love. I get to handle this level of mopey, smitten affection for hours every day. Mostly from Max. Huck (further down) is a bit more sophisticated about it. 

"keep fighting the good fight"

Today, I finally got to teach the class I was supposed to teach in prison last October. I was a bit concerned about building rapport with a bunch of adults I'd never met before within the space of a class period, but it went great.

Things that stuck with me:

• In pre-class training, the liaison said that if anyone held the door open for me, I should wave them through first--I shouldn't let anyone walk behind me. (And then they assigned me a Personal Protection Device with an emergency button.)
• But apart from some people in the hallway who were gawking at the classroom, everyone was welcoming and respectful.
• When I mused out loud that the classroom didn't have a clock (and as no smart phones are allowed in the building, I didn't have mine), one of the students gave me his watch to use.
• How eager my students were to laugh at my silly jokes. My kids could stand to take some lessons on how they did NOT roll their eyes. Ha.
• But seriously, 100% of the class wanted to be there, had done their homework, and were active participants.
• How dependent they were on forces completely out of their control--whether the program would continue or not, whether they'd receive funding or not, if people would find the time and inclination to come visit/teach them or not.
• What they said about freedom, the way rehabilitations had been rolled back, how when you grow up hearing gunshots every day, you don't even think to duck. 
• How in the space of two hours, I was already assigning place values to the students as the philosopher, the historian, the memoirist, the media consultant and so on.
• The new things I learned in these texts I've read a zillion times--from my reading of course--but more importantly from the ways other people read, shared, and built on in community. I love this part of teaching so much.
• How they must have picked up on the small coded things I said (there was an official observer in class) about the carceral system, restorative justice, needing a Malcolm in order to have the government negotiate with a Martin, etc. When I answered their question about why I was there, I got a deep "I understand" from the person who asked it. And at the end of the class when we we were taking the desks from the circle and putting them back into the mandated and regimented rows (metaphor much?) three students shook my hand and told me to "keep fighting the good fight."

I will. 

Lots of moving parts to the prison education program currently, but I want to keep being involved. Surprisingly Big A, who usually supports everything I want to do, was a bit taken aback when I mentioned taking this on as an extra class and wondered if I might need to pace myself. 

(Also, I don't like shaking hands. If I resort to my heritage and start offering namastes instead--would that be rude?)

Pic: Spring is really coming! A sunshiny-bright patch of crocuses on the MSU campus.

family worries

Around my sister's birthday, she seemed to think her job was in jeopardy, and it turns out she was right. She spoke to H.R. yesterday and will be leaving the company at the end of the month (She is a Managing Director at Accenture). This will mean some upheaval for all of us since our parents are currently on her health insurance, but we'll have to figure it out. She's been looking for a lateral move for a couple of months, but feels her age is working against her. I'm very worried about all of this.

And I have a tiny worry about Nu. It feels silly to say it out loud, given the state of the world. But Nu  has worn the same seven shirts (washing them like clockwork every week) and Converses for at least three years now--everything is faded and falling apart. It's very environmentally responsible and it's waaaay better than being trendy just to add to the world's trash. But for some reason it makes me sad that my child is limiting themselves this way. When I've brought it up, Nu will rightly point out that they consume a lot of baked goods, CDs, books, and skincare products so they're not exactly an ascetic. 

Pic: Huck and Max went to the groomer and came back with spring-themed bandannas that say: "Finally Spring!" And it cheers me up just to look at it. Nu's disdain for the gender-themed blue and pink was also entertaining.