I’m looking back at Juarez, and it seems overdue for an update. 2.5 years have slipped by since my time there, yet I have never left it behind. Never forgotten.

For those of you who don’t know, in 2005, I was a delegate with the Mexico Solidarity Network, joining a small group journeying to Juarez to learn about the femicide situation.

We met with lawyers, grassroots organizations, visited the prison, gravesites….

Mostly, we spent time with mothers of victims. Listening as they chronicled their unreal last weeks, months, years…. They were tired, stoic, determined, sad. They miss their girls. Many of them found their voice through the struggle; empowered by the effort.

The accounts were horrific – so much so, that I found it was hard to communicate to people. When I returned, I realized that even in the telling, it seemed the stories had to be dulled to be palatable enough for anyone to care about. No one wanted to listen to ugly truths. I guess even imagination knows pain and puts up walls.

There was hope when the presidency turned over – but as elected officials have come and gone in the past without change – so with this. 12 women were already found murdered in just the first 3 months of 2008. “12 women killed. Things don’t change,” my friend in Juarez emailed me in April. “Nevertheless, we continue putting our souls and hearts in the cause….”

My own personal testimony to the unchanging attitude came in the form of a comment I received recently on my narrative that’s posted to YouTube. I didn’t allow it to be shown. My first Death Threat.

At least I knew it was getting out there.

The issue is highlighted on the site for the International Museum of Women:

http://www.imow.org/wpp/stories/viewStory?storyId=1202

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]]> http://johannasjourney.wordpress.com/2008/05/24/your-voice-can-change-the-world/feed/ 0 johannasjourney http://johannasjourney.wordpress.com/2008/05/20/larget-rally-obama-in-oregon/ http://johannasjourney.wordpress.com/2008/05/20/larget-rally-obama-in-oregon/#comments Tue, 20 May 2008 14:18:44 +0000 johannasjourney http://johannasjourney.wordpress.com/?p=41 ]]> The momentum is amazing. People are clamoring for Change.

30 January 2008

I really wasn’t sure what to expect tonight. It was my first political rally since the 2004 presidential elections, when I lived across the street from Town Hall in Seattle, WA and was fortunate to see all those in the running speak at one time or another. But easily said: Phoenix is no Seattle. Here, where we war in furniture parking lots about immigration, expand our cement horizons into the ever-dusty wild west, and rank at the bottom of the national education polls, it is easy to say that the political climate is no sister to what goes on up in the Evergreen State. So – I had no idea what to expect tonight as we headed onto the Phoenix Fair Grounds; the Veteran’s Coliseum, to listen to Obama speak.

The line zigzagged across the parking lot despite our decent arrival time and even after snaking our way through the line and into the building, past full restrooms and concession stand lines, we waited still longer. Excitement ebbed and flowed through the crowd – quite literally, sometimes in the form of “the wave” as chants for “O-BA-MA!” would rally from time to time.

It has been almost a year to the day since I last saw Obama: 27 January 2007 in New Orleans, Louisiana at a Senate Hearing. It was my first time to meet him and I remember being impressed with the way he put the pressure on to dig out answers from would-be weaslers who tried desperately to avoid responding to the inquiries. When no one else was, he was strong and clear, insistent, about needing concise answers for the record when they sought to story-tell their way out of trouble. After the hearing, we had the opportunity to shake hands and talk briefly in the quiet of the courtroom before the press conference. Afterward, my friend and I traveled with him and the press as we toured various Katrina-impacted locales.

I thought back on that day today, as we were sent to a “porthole” and the second level seating area where we’d be lucky to find a seat. Separated from Obama this time by hundreds of people, throngs of press, bright lights, a high school marching band, intense energy, and loud campaign music. What a different world.

It was gratifying to see so much energy; to be around people who Care. I’m not talking about people who care specifically about Obama – (I myself didn’t walk into that room with any decisions or firm convictions about my candidate of choice) – but rather about their Democracy. Democracy – “the free and equal right of every person to participate in a system of government….” (-encarta dictionary) By definition, clearly it’s our own Responsibility to find the answers to our questions, to shape our country, to actively Participate. Yet, so many of us don’t, even while unhappy with the status quo. Truly: It’s exciting to toss complacency aside, isn’t it? As Barack would later say during his speech, “It’s easy to be against something. But you are all here, because you want to be FOR something.”

When Caroline Kennedy appeared the crowd went wild, and again when at last, Obama appeared – the crowd roared and was on its feet, denying the wait had ever bored any of us.

(aside: Amidst all the hyper-frenetic energy, I couldn’t help but imagine Barack as the common man. What would it be like, seeing your name on thousands of posters… media, Everywhere. Hearing the throngs CHANTING your name, the World watching…. What would that be like? No, not for him. What if it were You?)

Barack’s energy was full-bore, giving no indication of having been in Colorado just hours earlier — or of nearly a year of campaigning, for that matter. He covered a wide range of topics in a short time, from education to the environment, immigration to war, healthcare to Hope. He spoke about giving our kids their college education and having them return the contribution in the form of community service. About healthcare for all. He spoke about the nonsensical truth that many hard-working Americans are still struggling to get by. And he gave his rebuttal to the critics who suggest that he is too young or lacks experience, saying that “the argument is that we need to stew him and season him a little more. We need to boil all the hope out of him. And then maybe he’ll be ready sometime when he talks and acts just like us. I have to say the American people don’t seem to be buying this argument. And the reason is because they understand that the biggest gamble would be to have the same ole’ cast of characters doing the same ole’ things, with the same ole’ results over and over and over again. That’s a gamble we cannot afford. That is a risk we cannot take. We need to step forward. We need to turn the page….”

It’s true, his message is most definitely one of Change and Hope. The excitement was palpable in the air and I could feel the beginnings of it stirring within – the desire to believe in the dream, to hope the biggest Hope for our country. Perhaps it sounds cheesy, but perhaps that in itself is the problem. Rather than striving for the high ideals that we were founded upon, those kinds of dreams are not common-language, now sounding so outlandish in a country headed well-down another direction.

This is our choice; our Democracy. Time to stand up. Seek out the answers. Take responsibility for your freedom. Toss ambivalence and complacency aside. Vote, Vote, Vote. As Gandhi famously encouraged:

“Be the Change you wish to see in the world.”

Akemashita Omedetou*
*
I reached out to cling to some old, ancient traditions – spanning across time and the oceans to my ancestors – from here: the Arizona desert.

Here I stand with an entire open slate of possibility before me marked by open calendar days and pages of journals yet unscribed. Looking forward while still grounding myself with pieces of our old, ancient past. Remembering having stood at these chapter markers of my past. Jumping up and down at midnight to grow tall. With grapes for bounty, noodles for long life. Omochi, Sake, Natto, Kobumaki, Kuromame, Kazunoko, Kurikinton… all kinds of osechi. Full salt and rice containers in the house. Japanese flute music in the morning, and sometimes kimonos. This has been our story. The story of generations. For my family growing up, Japan’s traditions combined with those of the Philippines.

And now, from the desert, we add American football. Ode to merging the old with the new….. It’s a beautiful journey.
*
Cheers to New Beginnings. To endless Possibility, Potential, Hope, and Inspiration.
*
Happy New Year Everyone!

Ahhhhh….  Beautiful fall in the Pacific Northwest. A breath of fresh air.

Crisp.

Inspiring as spring for naming new Crayola colors.  Elaborate swatches of spent life.  Wobbling, dancing on the wind.
Oh that we could all live, grow vibrant with age, and let go with such grace….

There’s something fantastic about the simplicity of dog days. 

For a week in Portland, I got to hang out with Oden.  A bulldog.  On our late-morning walks, Oden would invariably find sudden interest in that which I would otherwise pass by without a second thought.  What caught him ~ a smell, a shape, movement… I can’t say.  But suddenly there would be a tug on his end and he would be sniffing, prodding, sometimes tasting….  No matter how many times we would pass along the same route, there would always be so much new, giving further reason to explore and seek out what others might have left undiscovered.  He was reminding me to explore-the-already-explored.  I wondered on how to employ such a continuous drive-to-seek in my everyday, on the paths both known and unknown.

In the most abstract way, I would think of him later, when I listened to the biography of Einstein along my drive.  Einstein simply employed Curiosity, which he deemed the greatest of his traits – to wonder upon that which everyone else simply accepted as unmarvelous and As-Is.  Staring at a compass as a child changed Einstein’s life forever; wondering on the unseen forces that forced the northward pointing arrow.  What other unseen forces might there be, guiding and shaping this world?  He decided that it must all be explored and grappled with.

And so it was, to go for a walk with Oden.  Perking our ears at the crunching leaves underfoot and the distant birdsong, pushing past the limits of leashes to give notice to the easily unnotable; to remember and sniff out the details. 

Later, comfortable in being cared-for and loved-on (another beautiful quailty), Oden would tiredly snore away the afternoon, spent with the day’s investigations.