The plan was to find refuge in you. With you.
Circumvent the emotions which have solidified
Yet, I feel emulsified within you
entrapped/encapsulated within you
When I think of you, you make me feel sick to my stomach
The circumstances show no evidence of rescue
This circumstance shows no evidence of life
When I think of you, it hurts to inhale
Suffocated by chance, suffocated at will
Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation is futile
Call me weak/tell me I need help/dismiss my case
I seemingly made a mistake seeking refuge in your halfway house
No regrets.
A simple mistake in dependence.
A simple mistake.
InDependence.
Retrospect is Twenty-Twenty
Retrospect is bifocals in disguise
Retrospect is cataracts in progress
Maybe I should have treated you like the other nicknamed
Friday, November 9, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
My First Love Poem In A Long Time
I don't know how to tell you this, but I hate you
I want to crush you between my fingers
Suffocate you and bury your soul
Take your spirit and tie it up
I want to possess you
I want to obsess over you
I want to feel something when I see you
I want to mark your body when we make love
Your movements are obscene
Unwelcomed actions violate my space
Catastrophe follows your every step
Destruction plagues the very thought of you
I hate your eyes
I hate your smile
I hate your hands
I hate your face
You make me want to become tangled up with you
Grit my teeth everything I give into you
Brevity is beautiful with you
Simply stated, I love you
I want to crush you between my fingers
Suffocate you and bury your soul
Take your spirit and tie it up
I want to possess you
I want to obsess over you
I want to feel something when I see you
I want to mark your body when we make love
Your movements are obscene
Unwelcomed actions violate my space
Catastrophe follows your every step
Destruction plagues the very thought of you
I hate your eyes
I hate your smile
I hate your hands
I hate your face
You make me want to become tangled up with you
Grit my teeth everything I give into you
Brevity is beautiful with you
Simply stated, I love you
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
In response to Alix Olson's "That the protagonist is always a man" poem
That mothers are being sold
That Asian mothers are being sold
That Asian sisters are wanting to be sold
That everyone loves an Asian Girl
That exotic is the new black
That my computer spell-checks "exoticization"
That it's okay for outsourcing "her"
That Michelle Malkin may consider herself one of "us"
That she "feels ashamed of her parent's native homeland"
That she "fells ashamed of her people"
that she looks like "us"
That we justify our war in Iraq to save the women
That patriarchy is justified
That Maganda and Malakas still justify beauty and strength in genderized roles
That Maganda isn't lalake
That Malakas isn't babae
That white is gold, that pale is god, that dark is dirty
That the yahoo results for "asian bridge" still comes up with mail-order bride sites
That Asian sistas still believe that it's okay to sell yourselves
That sistas still sell themselves
That our government still allows our ovaries to be controlled by laws.
That our governor said, "girly man"
That our vagina's are being sown shut
That.
That is why I am a feminist.
That Asian mothers are being sold
That Asian sisters are wanting to be sold
That everyone loves an Asian Girl
That exotic is the new black
That my computer spell-checks "exoticization"
That it's okay for outsourcing "her"
That Michelle Malkin may consider herself one of "us"
That she "feels ashamed of her parent's native homeland"
That she "fells ashamed of her people"
that she looks like "us"
That we justify our war in Iraq to save the women
That patriarchy is justified
That Maganda and Malakas still justify beauty and strength in genderized roles
That Maganda isn't lalake
That Malakas isn't babae
That white is gold, that pale is god, that dark is dirty
That the yahoo results for "asian bridge" still comes up with mail-order bride sites
That Asian sistas still believe that it's okay to sell yourselves
That sistas still sell themselves
That our government still allows our ovaries to be controlled by laws.
That our governor said, "girly man"
That our vagina's are being sown shut
That.
That is why I am a feminist.
Alix Olsen: Subtle Sister
So we’ve learned karate,
carry knives on our runs
wield words like weapons
prepare glares-like hidden guns,
we’ve deconstructed, demystified
tried retribution, remythologized,
we’ve been diagnosed with your diseases,
and still tried pleases, tried tears, tried Jesus.
You wanna see what it’s like down here
in this pool of someone else’s rules, well
jump in, take a swim or just sit in this pit
squishing bare toes in someone else’s bullshit,
we do it all the time.
Still we’ve tried being patient,
collected, calm, nice
trying praying, tried laying you
paying the price,
we’ve learned to scream
until our throats throbbed
what else do you do
while your cunt’s being robbed.
And they say “you’ve made progress, girls,
take a rest in-between”
but see while you’re resting,
someone else is progressing,
it’s what i’ve seen.
So i take back the whispers,
the cute mute act,
and the high pitched giggles, yeah
i take them back,
i won’t avoid your stare, evade your step,
nothing of that kind,
won’t help you help me victimize
the only space that’s mine.
See now I’d put my life on the line just to see them trip,
frown and say “funny love, i never saw you slip.”
i say, “my life on the line-”
you say “man, she’s jaded.”
i say, “maybe control’s overrated.”
like when we cackled, they called us witches,
now we don’t giggle they call us bitches
well I’m cacklin loud, taking it back, full of hiss,
cacklin loud, cackling proud now.
And they’re getting nervous with this kissing each other,
scratching their heads,
whats going on brother
and they yell feed your husband, stop feeding the fire!
and we just cackle,
we’re a fuckin witches choir.
and we sing “sharpen your knives, sharpen your daughters
steam up the mirrors, bake us some dreams,
cook up some riots, fry up some screams,
and when you’re sick of your skirts
slice open the seams
cause they want domestics,
theyll give us needle and thread
for patching their egos.
we’ll sow revolution instead.”
And i hear you saying
“subtle, sister,
less bite, more bark
you can make your point without leaving such a mark.
subtle, sister,
stop your seething,
i think we got it, i think we’re even:”
subtle like a penis pounding its target?
subtle like your hissing from across the street?
subtle like the binding on my sisters’ feet?
subtle like her belly raped with his semen,
draped in his fuck, funny,
doesn’t seem even.
See, sometimes anger’s subtle, stocked in metaphor
full of finesse and dressed in allure
yes, sometimes anger’s subtle, less rage than sad
leaking slow through spigots you didn’t know you had.
and sometimes it’s just
fuck you.
fuck you.
you see, and to me,
That’s poetry too.
carry knives on our runs
wield words like weapons
prepare glares-like hidden guns,
we’ve deconstructed, demystified
tried retribution, remythologized,
we’ve been diagnosed with your diseases,
and still tried pleases, tried tears, tried Jesus.
You wanna see what it’s like down here
in this pool of someone else’s rules, well
jump in, take a swim or just sit in this pit
squishing bare toes in someone else’s bullshit,
we do it all the time.
Still we’ve tried being patient,
collected, calm, nice
trying praying, tried laying you
paying the price,
we’ve learned to scream
until our throats throbbed
what else do you do
while your cunt’s being robbed.
And they say “you’ve made progress, girls,
take a rest in-between”
but see while you’re resting,
someone else is progressing,
it’s what i’ve seen.
So i take back the whispers,
the cute mute act,
and the high pitched giggles, yeah
i take them back,
i won’t avoid your stare, evade your step,
nothing of that kind,
won’t help you help me victimize
the only space that’s mine.
See now I’d put my life on the line just to see them trip,
frown and say “funny love, i never saw you slip.”
i say, “my life on the line-”
you say “man, she’s jaded.”
i say, “maybe control’s overrated.”
like when we cackled, they called us witches,
now we don’t giggle they call us bitches
well I’m cacklin loud, taking it back, full of hiss,
cacklin loud, cackling proud now.
And they’re getting nervous with this kissing each other,
scratching their heads,
whats going on brother
and they yell feed your husband, stop feeding the fire!
and we just cackle,
we’re a fuckin witches choir.
and we sing “sharpen your knives, sharpen your daughters
steam up the mirrors, bake us some dreams,
cook up some riots, fry up some screams,
and when you’re sick of your skirts
slice open the seams
cause they want domestics,
theyll give us needle and thread
for patching their egos.
we’ll sow revolution instead.”
And i hear you saying
“subtle, sister,
less bite, more bark
you can make your point without leaving such a mark.
subtle, sister,
stop your seething,
i think we got it, i think we’re even:”
subtle like a penis pounding its target?
subtle like your hissing from across the street?
subtle like the binding on my sisters’ feet?
subtle like her belly raped with his semen,
draped in his fuck, funny,
doesn’t seem even.
See, sometimes anger’s subtle, stocked in metaphor
full of finesse and dressed in allure
yes, sometimes anger’s subtle, less rage than sad
leaking slow through spigots you didn’t know you had.
and sometimes it’s just
fuck you.
fuck you.
you see, and to me,
That’s poetry too.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Learning = Conflict;; Conflict = Learning
Young supple breed of familiarity
Branding hold against her skin
Poisoned by receptivity, enamored by normality
She beckons the call
Diamonds become rubies
She beckons the call
Driving onward into the horizon
Confusion was always a great shadow
Shadows become companions
Companions become lovers
Lovers lose autonomy
Shadows become her
In the shadows, she gave into her id
Actions that forebode an undesired archetype
Harsh words that foreboded division
She manifested into traffic
Driving insanity to a new destination
Destined into reality, she succumbed to her poison
The touch of insanity never tasted so good until now
She beckons the call
Driving her crazy she drives on
Pass streets she’s never heard of before
Coming into her mind’s labyrinth
You’re not expecting her
And she doesn’t even know why she came
Sit alone awhile
Come to possible conclusions of
A series of hypothetical events
As it unfolds, she meditates
She realizes tonight’s reactions
Are tomorrow’s passive aggressions
The idea distances itself from reality
So does her car
Maybe this is her time
Rubies become diamonds
She returns back home
Yet, she hardly recognizes it as home
She smiles, closes her eyes and succumbs
Methodically ready, she moves to the line
Picket sign in hand, familiarity by her side
She beckons the call.
Branding hold against her skin
Poisoned by receptivity, enamored by normality
She beckons the call
Diamonds become rubies
She beckons the call
Driving onward into the horizon
Confusion was always a great shadow
Shadows become companions
Companions become lovers
Lovers lose autonomy
Shadows become her
In the shadows, she gave into her id
Actions that forebode an undesired archetype
Harsh words that foreboded division
She manifested into traffic
Driving insanity to a new destination
Destined into reality, she succumbed to her poison
The touch of insanity never tasted so good until now
She beckons the call
Driving her crazy she drives on
Pass streets she’s never heard of before
Coming into her mind’s labyrinth
You’re not expecting her
And she doesn’t even know why she came
Sit alone awhile
Come to possible conclusions of
A series of hypothetical events
As it unfolds, she meditates
She realizes tonight’s reactions
Are tomorrow’s passive aggressions
The idea distances itself from reality
So does her car
Maybe this is her time
Rubies become diamonds
She returns back home
Yet, she hardly recognizes it as home
She smiles, closes her eyes and succumbs
Methodically ready, she moves to the line
Picket sign in hand, familiarity by her side
She beckons the call.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Any Questions?
Why is the blue sky?
Why does grey skies depress people?
Why is yelling perceived as bad?
Why don't people talk in elevators?
Why do we listen to beats more than lyrics?
Why would you superman that hoe?
Why are you pussy patrolling my vajayjay?
Where are the bouncers in the club when males are harassing females?
Where are the women who pay for men's drinks in the club?
Where are the Asian sistas on top model?
Where are the Asian sistas who marry white guys?
Where are the Asian folks on TV?
Where are the folks who scream for a change?
Where are the folks screaming to be heard?
Where are all folks screaming for our young people?
Where were you when your Asian sistas get raped?
Where were you when your Asian sistas get sold?
Where are all the protesters of the war?
Where are all the protesters of bush?
When can I call you my brotha?
When can I call you my sista?
When can I rely on you to scream?
When can I rely on you to rely on me?
When Can I say that I am proud to be an American?
When can I say that I fought for your safety?
When can I not be afraid to walk around at night?
when can I not be afraid to get drunk in a club?
When can I call you my brotha?
When can I call you my sista?
How do we not get 'caught up'?
How do we plan on saving lives?
How do we plan on being a better person?
How do we plan on marching together?
How do we know it's a better place?
How do we live without war?
How do we live without peace?
How do we learn without war?
How do we learn without struggle?
How do we learn without teaching?
How do we learn without peace?
How do we learn without hurting?
How do we learn without being uncomfortable?
Why don't we ask more questions?
Why does grey skies depress people?
Why is yelling perceived as bad?
Why don't people talk in elevators?
Why do we listen to beats more than lyrics?
Why would you superman that hoe?
Why are you pussy patrolling my vajayjay?
Where are the bouncers in the club when males are harassing females?
Where are the women who pay for men's drinks in the club?
Where are the Asian sistas on top model?
Where are the Asian sistas who marry white guys?
Where are the Asian folks on TV?
Where are the folks who scream for a change?
Where are the folks screaming to be heard?
Where are all folks screaming for our young people?
Where were you when your Asian sistas get raped?
Where were you when your Asian sistas get sold?
Where are all the protesters of the war?
Where are all the protesters of bush?
When can I call you my brotha?
When can I call you my sista?
When can I rely on you to scream?
When can I rely on you to rely on me?
When Can I say that I am proud to be an American?
When can I say that I fought for your safety?
When can I not be afraid to walk around at night?
when can I not be afraid to get drunk in a club?
When can I call you my brotha?
When can I call you my sista?
How do we not get 'caught up'?
How do we plan on saving lives?
How do we plan on being a better person?
How do we plan on marching together?
How do we know it's a better place?
How do we live without war?
How do we live without peace?
How do we learn without war?
How do we learn without struggle?
How do we learn without teaching?
How do we learn without peace?
How do we learn without hurting?
How do we learn without being uncomfortable?
Why don't we ask more questions?
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Thursday, October 4, 2007
My Sunday Morning
Switch on the TV in hopes it's in color
They say, Asians don't need color TV's
They say we don't need it
because everyone, everything, every channel is still in black & white.
Reach for my energy drink
It doesn't give me any more energy then sex on a cool day
It doesn't do anything for me
because i'm looking for substance in sustenance form
Today proves to be a difficult one from the getgo
Today, gravity just seems to work against me
So, i'm bouncing from idea to idea
Like a chicken with it's head chopped off
Rearrange my body, turning over in hopes of another hour
Rearrange my thoughts, maybe I can lie myself outta this one
Rearrange my hands, maybe I can sex myself back into sleep
Rearrange my thoughts, maybe i should wake up
it's Wednesday
They say, Asians don't need color TV's
They say we don't need it
because everyone, everything, every channel is still in black & white.
Reach for my energy drink
It doesn't give me any more energy then sex on a cool day
It doesn't do anything for me
because i'm looking for substance in sustenance form
Today proves to be a difficult one from the getgo
Today, gravity just seems to work against me
So, i'm bouncing from idea to idea
Like a chicken with it's head chopped off
Rearrange my body, turning over in hopes of another hour
Rearrange my thoughts, maybe I can lie myself outta this one
Rearrange my hands, maybe I can sex myself back into sleep
Rearrange my thoughts, maybe i should wake up
it's Wednesday
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Cat got my tounge
In light of recent events
I need to apologize
My tounge was caught in a state of shock
A momentary lapse of concentration
My tounge was temporarily out of service
It took a leave of absence
sick leave
Sick of work
Hoping to project itself into the cranium
Hoping/waiting/rejuvenating
Hoping that ESP would be enough to stop a war
Hoping that for once an army would come
nothing.
nothing happened
nothing would ever happen
not like this
for this reason, i picked up my guitar
not knowing how to play
I stummed the strings to chords in my lungs
I sang, even though I couldn't fathom how to and why
Can I sing for you?
Desperately searching for an honest answer
baby takes her momma's hand and walks along the street
momma's trying to buy you a mocking bird
mocking all the sadness in our lives, because...
because sometimes, times like these need laughs
If that mocking bird don't sing
momma's gonna buy you some time
time to create your own stage
your own voice/rhythm/rhyme/time
If that voice/rhyme don't work
momma's gonna take the time to love you still
The song's incomplete but baby holds on tight to her momma's hand
The strings of the guitar vibrate and pass the guitar on
Are you strong enough to sing with me?
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Etymology of Homicidal Prologues
Clean lines scrape past your face into the depth of your relationships
Clean outlines the borders of this morality
It’s nice to finally meet you
In morally neutral terms, “I have committed homicide”
It describes my [re]introduction to you
It’s the conclusion of you
It describes the void I’ll create of you
Murder is messy/obnoxious/exaggerated
Morality meets outrage for the first time
It’s nice to finally meet you
Justifiable in a [temporarily] insane criminal’s mind
Crisp linen sheets become disheveled
Meeting you for the first time reminds me of the first time
Awkward/opaque/homicidal
Romanticized rape fantasies
Meeting you for the first time feels good
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Saul Speaks: T(E)=ART
T(E)=ART, energy factored by time equals art
Deep down on the ocean floor a diver came upon a door at the base of a mountainside that stretched into the blue. He knocked three times and waited. Slightly scared, he hesitated before pushing on the door and swimming through. The door shut right behind him as the brightest light did blind him. He closed his eyes then squinted, just enough, so he could see. To his surprise, before his eyes a city that was made of lies was glowing in the distance on a hill that couldn't be.
Could it be? Who'd believe it? Is that all a vision needs, just the sustenance of breath and the hopes of one who bleeds? Is it how we hold our visions, how we tilt them in the light, that allows their possibility to be more than could or might? And what if "might" were possibility not just strength and muscle heap? Or must we muscle possibility to be all that it can be? Make conditions. Fuck conditionals. Manifest your every dream. But then what becomes of ego…
Up above,
the downward beam.
Deep down on the ocean floor a diver came upon a door at the base of a mountainside that stretched into the blue. He knocked three times and waited. Slightly scared, he hesitated before pushing on the door and swimming through. The door shut right behind him as the brightest light did blind him. He closed his eyes then squinted, just enough, so he could see. To his surprise, before his eyes a city that was made of lies was glowing in the distance on a hill that couldn't be.
Could it be? Who'd believe it? Is that all a vision needs, just the sustenance of breath and the hopes of one who bleeds? Is it how we hold our visions, how we tilt them in the light, that allows their possibility to be more than could or might? And what if "might" were possibility not just strength and muscle heap? Or must we muscle possibility to be all that it can be? Make conditions. Fuck conditionals. Manifest your every dream. But then what becomes of ego…
Up above,
the downward beam.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
I was just reminded of another ovary violated current affaire! It was only some time before they institutionalized sexism in the most appropriate way ever. Receiving your college degree as a Homemaker...er, domestic engineer? domestic manager? queen of domesticatiion!
june_cleaver.gif
Get college credit for loading the dishwasher (but only if you're a girl)
Posted Aug 24th 2007 1:28PM by Susan Wagner
Filed under: College, Moms, Staying at home, Making a Difference
Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth, Texas, is offering a B.A. degree in humanities with a concentration in homemaking. The course, which will include two years each of classical Greek and classical Latin, as well as courses in fashion design and budgeting, will be open only to women.
It will offer a bachelor of arts in humanities degree with a 23-hour concentration in homemaking. The program is only open to women. So, does that mean that men have to give income to their wives for being engineers of the homestead?
In fact, Seminary President Paige Patterson is known in Southern Baptist circles for issuing a statement saying that women shouldn't be pastors and that they should "graciously submit" to their husbands. (How one "graciously submits" is another question. Would I smile and thank him for the great honor of doing his laundry?)
In actuality, If given an economic value of the unpaid labor on women in the household, women would be trillionnaires. Would that really be justified by this institutionalized sexist act? Have they considered legitimizing women with a paycheck for their work at home? Women employed outside the home do 70% of the housework. Fulltime housewives do 83% of the hosehold labor. So, let's logically add it up:
Job Performed
Food Buyer
3.00 (Hours/week)
17.60 (rate/hour)
52.80 (value/week) The value of work within the household per week
Nurse
1.00
24.63
24.63
Teachers/ Teacher's Aide/Tutor
2.00
8.97
17.94
Waitress
2.25
7.58
17.05
Seamstress
.75
10.68
8.01
Laundress
3.00
8.07
24.21
Driver*
3.50
9.71
33.99
Gardener*
2.25
12.03
26.69
Family Counselor*
2.00
17.11
34.22
Maintenance Worker*
1.00
13.40
13.40
Child Care Worker/Nanny
40.00 8.32
332.80
Janitor/Cleaning Woman
7.50
9.77
73.28
Maid/Housekeeper*
2.50
8.42
21.05
Cook
12.00 8.30
99.60
Errand Runner*
3.50
9.01
31.54
Budget Analyst
3.50
26.65
93.28
Interior Decorator
1.00
21.39
21.39
Child Psychologist
5.00
27.79
138.95
Household Buyer
2.00
10.99
21.98
Dishwasher*
6.20
7.45
46.19
Dietitian
1.20
20.68
24.82
Secretary
2.00
12.69
25.38
Public Relations Specialist 1.00
23.19
23.19
Animal Caretaker/ veteranary assistant
1.50
9.28
13.92
We can safely say that the range of income, depending on household size and age of children can range from 30,000-80,000/year. According to an MSN article by Dunleavy, "economists say that the stay-at-home parent who relinquishes a career may lose about $1 million over the years."
Tricky tricky tricky men. Let's have a rock throwing contest at this Patterson character. Pay up or we kill.
june_cleaver.gif
Get college credit for loading the dishwasher (but only if you're a girl)
Posted Aug 24th 2007 1:28PM by Susan Wagner
Filed under: College, Moms, Staying at home, Making a Difference
Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth, Texas, is offering a B.A. degree in humanities with a concentration in homemaking. The course, which will include two years each of classical Greek and classical Latin, as well as courses in fashion design and budgeting, will be open only to women.
It will offer a bachelor of arts in humanities degree with a 23-hour concentration in homemaking. The program is only open to women. So, does that mean that men have to give income to their wives for being engineers of the homestead?
In fact, Seminary President Paige Patterson is known in Southern Baptist circles for issuing a statement saying that women shouldn't be pastors and that they should "graciously submit" to their husbands. (How one "graciously submits" is another question. Would I smile and thank him for the great honor of doing his laundry?)
In actuality, If given an economic value of the unpaid labor on women in the household, women would be trillionnaires. Would that really be justified by this institutionalized sexist act? Have they considered legitimizing women with a paycheck for their work at home? Women employed outside the home do 70% of the housework. Fulltime housewives do 83% of the hosehold labor. So, let's logically add it up:
Job Performed
Food Buyer
3.00 (Hours/week)
17.60 (rate/hour)
52.80 (value/week) The value of work within the household per week
Nurse
1.00
24.63
24.63
Teachers/ Teacher's Aide/Tutor
2.00
8.97
17.94
Waitress
2.25
7.58
17.05
Seamstress
.75
10.68
8.01
Laundress
3.00
8.07
24.21
Driver*
3.50
9.71
33.99
Gardener*
2.25
12.03
26.69
Family Counselor*
2.00
17.11
34.22
Maintenance Worker*
1.00
13.40
13.40
Child Care Worker/Nanny
40.00 8.32
332.80
Janitor/Cleaning Woman
7.50
9.77
73.28
Maid/Housekeeper*
2.50
8.42
21.05
Cook
12.00 8.30
99.60
Errand Runner*
3.50
9.01
31.54
Budget Analyst
3.50
26.65
93.28
Interior Decorator
1.00
21.39
21.39
Child Psychologist
5.00
27.79
138.95
Household Buyer
2.00
10.99
21.98
Dishwasher*
6.20
7.45
46.19
Dietitian
1.20
20.68
24.82
Secretary
2.00
12.69
25.38
Public Relations Specialist 1.00
23.19
23.19
Animal Caretaker/ veteranary assistant
1.50
9.28
13.92
We can safely say that the range of income, depending on household size and age of children can range from 30,000-80,000/year. According to an MSN article by Dunleavy, "economists say that the stay-at-home parent who relinquishes a career may lose about $1 million over the years."
Tricky tricky tricky men. Let's have a rock throwing contest at this Patterson character. Pay up or we kill.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Anti-gay, anti-Philippines, anti-"west coast liberals"
While flipping through the channels, I stop on someone who caught my eye. A young, 30-something (36 to be exact) Asian American woman. She wore a brightly foral-colored collared shirt with big hoop earrings. She was presenting on C-Span. "Oo0hhh, and Asian American woman on c-span!" I thought. So, I continued watching.
To my amazement, this Pilipina/pinay/pilipina-american was presenting, nay key-note speaker for the Young Republican Foundation conference. The face of Fox news, columnist, right-winged ideals was starring back at me..but she looked like me. Or, at least someone I could have grown up with...an ate, or "aunty"...
She raged on about the horrible protests at UCSanta Cruz that pushed "the hard working military recruiters" off campus; "they have the right to be there!" she argues. She raged on about anti-immigration laws and the liberal's inability to defend threats within "our own homes".
Anti-gay marriage articles fly through the blogosphere; along with her feelings of "shame for [her] parent's native land" because the Philippines decided to pull out of the war. Along with the barrage of questions, one young woman asks about being a feminist (liberal feminist vs. conservative feminist) and who are conservative feminists to note. Malkin answers, "those like myself, laura doyle, etc..."
Conservative Feminist. Conservative. Feminist. Conservative Feminist?? Seems so contradictory. I don't appreciate conservatives on my ovaries, thank you very much. It hurts my menstral cycles and makes me angry.
On another note, Margaret Cho, dear Margaret Cho had interesting words for her as well:
"Her story reminds me of the documentary by Errol Morris, Mr. Death. Mr. Death is a nerdy electric chair specialist who boasted an expertise on all things related to execution. He was hired by a white supremacist organization to go to Germany and disprove the existence of concentration camps. Dr. Death had never had attention in his life. He was this dorky academic who had spent most of his life under the radar. Suddenly, he was thrust into the spotlight. Never mind it was the gaze of racist, hateful, ridiculous white supremacists, The accolades were no less seductive. It is a tragic tale of a man deprived of recognition to the point where he will attempt to revise history in order to receive some kind of acknowledgement. Dr. Death becomes the authority of Holocaust revisionism. He serves the white supremacist agenda by backing up their hokey theory and he gains redemption for his years as a who cares nobody. Who could blame Malkin for wanting to follow in those footsteps?
The terrible thing about invisibility is the lengths that we will go to in order to be seen. If spouting racist propaganda and being a tool for the conservatives are worth the right to exist in the monochromatic world of right wing political pandering then I applaud Malkin's effort. She inflames the need to uphold the ideals of equality and fairness, and she puts a new face on hate. I'd be happy to argue with someone who looks a bit like me for a change.
African Americans have Clarence Thomas and Condoleeza Rice. There's a new race traitor on the block, and her name's Michelle!"
(to read more: http://www.margaretcho.com/blog/indefenseofmichellemalkin.htm)
It's disturbing, intriguing, and scary to see someone who looks like you hate who you are.
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