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| PHOTO BY SI |
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Lateral Violence: Divide and Rule's Special Ingredient
"Lateral violence happens when people who are both victims of a situation of dominance, in fact turn on each other rather than confront the system that oppresses them both. Lateral violence occurs when oppressed groups/individuals internalize feelings such as anger and rage, and manifest their feelings through behaviors such as gossip, jealousy, putdowns and blaming."
I've been thinking a lot about this lately, and I think many of us who identify with marginalized communities are really hesitant about talking about this issue because it might open our communities up to ridicule and possibly further oppression. But I've spoken to peers who have experienced it far too often on a daily basis. I've experienced it myself both on a personal and professional level and am very familiar with the various displays of wrath that's out there - usually in the forms that are listed in the definition above. I don't think any of us are necessarily immune from it. Whatever struggles you're identifying with as a human being, those struggles will bring you into a community of others who have experienced the same. Our hope is that in coming together under this collective suffering, we'd all find understanding and acceptance. But more often than not, the very people who we need to count on for support are the ones who drag us down even farther. What such lateral violence creates is a profound and permanent lack of trust in our own people so that we all remain divided...and wretchedly conquered.
The only way we can create change and challenge systemic oppression and violence against our communities is to love each other fabulously, where each and every person's dignity is held up to be honoured and respected, where each and everyone's strengths, achievements, and dreams are celebrated, not envied or ridiculed. There is no denying the fact that we can't change the world if we can't change ourselves, but I'm not that naive to think that making such a change is all a bed of roses, as quick as a holiday makeover, particularly when we ourselves become both prey and predator of this kind of violence as we fall into a cycle that takes us deeper into fear, rage, and hate.
How do we develop self-esteem and self-awareness, and have the emotional tools to draw on courage to challenge our own internalized tendencies to oppress? How do those of us who work in sectors that serve vulnerable populations that we ourselves identify with in some capacity support them without having to sacrifice our own healing for the sake of seeming less than we actually are (such as by faking stupid) so we can avoid becoming victims ourselves? And if we do encounter the unfortunate circumstances of being a victim, where can we access resources and support that act as harm reduction to throw a wrench into the gears and stop the cycle?
We can't heal in a vacuum. We desperately need each other and need to collectively explore and implement transformative ways to reconcile, resolve, and grow with each other and for each other. If February is meant to be the month of Love (beyond the consumerist-romantic meaning of it), then let's challenge ourselves to know, be, and breathe Love. That, in my mind, is probably the single greatest act of resistance, and possibly the best antidote to our inner oppressed and our inner oppressor. Cultivate love by never losing hope in ourselves and our peers, especially the ones who have wronged us. Power to the people.
Sunday, January 25, 2015
HIV is not the problem
Recently, a friend of mine flew into Toronto for a visit. My place was too small to be shared between two people, so I checked out the airbnb site and found him a communal home where several people lived. When I sent my friend information about the house, he was quite elated to read that the residents shared many of his own values and lifestyle and dietary practices. I was really happy to have found the place since most of the other bnbs looked a bit too stuffy for an artistic wunderkind like my friend.
My friend arrived and I helped him settle at the home. He would stay for the next 3 weeks in order to connect with musicians who might be interested in working with him on his musical odyssey. All of that began to fall into place as he hit the pavement and began to expand his network here in the urban jungle. He exuded warmth and did not feel inhibited as he struck conversations with musicians, bar patrons, and friends at the open mics he performed at. He received a welcoming ear among the crowds, and support and encouragement from new and old faces.
He struck up similar conversations with his housemates and in an effort to tell them more about his personal story, he gave his card to one of the residents, who then checked out the website. Well, I'll inform you all here that my friend is open about his HIV status, which he spells out in colouful text under his alter ego's section on the website. This resident upon reading this information about my friend, then notified other residents of my friend's status. One person who frequented the house refused to come while he was there. I'm not sure if this person was given appropriate information about HIV, but they eventually sort of came around as I was told.
The owner of the house told my friend that he should have disclosed his status from the beginning. Soon, many of the residents were walking on eggshells around him when just a few days before they were warm and welcoming. Now, it seemed they didn't know what to say to him. Their discomfort was obtrusive, but my friend didn't take it to heart and responded by providing the owner with website reources such as TheBody.com to help educate. I also supported my friend by writing an email to the owner outlining some of the basic myths and facts of HIV, the reality of stigma and discrimination against poz peeps, and ways to educate and stay informed. I offered to invite my colleagues at ASAAP to hold a HIV 101 workshop at the residence along with a grounding activity so everyone would feel safe, most especially my friend. The owner responded by asking if the email could be forwarded, and I gave the OK.
Even though the owner had responded that things were much better now that some of the other residents who were apparently well-informed about HIV were back in the house, my friend continued to experience a sort of arms length distancing and contrived friendliness among some of the folks there.
It's the 21st century, but some folks choose to live in a past largely constructed by irresponsible and inaccurate media hype when facts and realities about the condition were still being formulated. I'm surprised that a household that prides itself on establishing a sustainable communal lifestyle was unable to extend that care and compassion to a fellow human being who respected the rules and policies of the house, and made the effort to reach out to the residents and give them an opportunity to learn something new about the human condition and the diversity of struggle, suffering, and triumph. I would think that if we are to apply social justice practices in our daily lives, it demands that we raise our consciousness and foster understanding. What does inclusion and anti-oppression really mean if they only serve as catch phrases to pad our egos?
What this incident showed me was that despite all the great gains that have been made in HIV treatment and care which has resulted in the overall improvement in the lives of poz communities, programs that educate and raise awareness to help fight HIV stigma must continue full steam if we are to see greater positive shifts in attitude and knowledge among the status quo. It's largely due to the work, advocacy, commitment and courage of many many poz individuals, their supporters and allies, and AIDS service organizations that advances have been made. I'm proud to stand by all of them, including my friend, as we act diligently to soften hearts, transform minds, and nurture our collective and love-affirming humanity.
*In writing this post, my intention was not to judge people's behaviour. I acknowledge that some people struggle with OCD, and so situations such as this might trigger fear or anxiety. They too are suffering from a condition, and should be provided with all the information they need to feel at ease and safe. In order to challenge HIV stigma, it requires compassion for all.
My friend arrived and I helped him settle at the home. He would stay for the next 3 weeks in order to connect with musicians who might be interested in working with him on his musical odyssey. All of that began to fall into place as he hit the pavement and began to expand his network here in the urban jungle. He exuded warmth and did not feel inhibited as he struck conversations with musicians, bar patrons, and friends at the open mics he performed at. He received a welcoming ear among the crowds, and support and encouragement from new and old faces.
He struck up similar conversations with his housemates and in an effort to tell them more about his personal story, he gave his card to one of the residents, who then checked out the website. Well, I'll inform you all here that my friend is open about his HIV status, which he spells out in colouful text under his alter ego's section on the website. This resident upon reading this information about my friend, then notified other residents of my friend's status. One person who frequented the house refused to come while he was there. I'm not sure if this person was given appropriate information about HIV, but they eventually sort of came around as I was told.
The owner of the house told my friend that he should have disclosed his status from the beginning. Soon, many of the residents were walking on eggshells around him when just a few days before they were warm and welcoming. Now, it seemed they didn't know what to say to him. Their discomfort was obtrusive, but my friend didn't take it to heart and responded by providing the owner with website reources such as TheBody.com to help educate. I also supported my friend by writing an email to the owner outlining some of the basic myths and facts of HIV, the reality of stigma and discrimination against poz peeps, and ways to educate and stay informed. I offered to invite my colleagues at ASAAP to hold a HIV 101 workshop at the residence along with a grounding activity so everyone would feel safe, most especially my friend. The owner responded by asking if the email could be forwarded, and I gave the OK.
Even though the owner had responded that things were much better now that some of the other residents who were apparently well-informed about HIV were back in the house, my friend continued to experience a sort of arms length distancing and contrived friendliness among some of the folks there.
It's the 21st century, but some folks choose to live in a past largely constructed by irresponsible and inaccurate media hype when facts and realities about the condition were still being formulated. I'm surprised that a household that prides itself on establishing a sustainable communal lifestyle was unable to extend that care and compassion to a fellow human being who respected the rules and policies of the house, and made the effort to reach out to the residents and give them an opportunity to learn something new about the human condition and the diversity of struggle, suffering, and triumph. I would think that if we are to apply social justice practices in our daily lives, it demands that we raise our consciousness and foster understanding. What does inclusion and anti-oppression really mean if they only serve as catch phrases to pad our egos?
What this incident showed me was that despite all the great gains that have been made in HIV treatment and care which has resulted in the overall improvement in the lives of poz communities, programs that educate and raise awareness to help fight HIV stigma must continue full steam if we are to see greater positive shifts in attitude and knowledge among the status quo. It's largely due to the work, advocacy, commitment and courage of many many poz individuals, their supporters and allies, and AIDS service organizations that advances have been made. I'm proud to stand by all of them, including my friend, as we act diligently to soften hearts, transform minds, and nurture our collective and love-affirming humanity.
*In writing this post, my intention was not to judge people's behaviour. I acknowledge that some people struggle with OCD, and so situations such as this might trigger fear or anxiety. They too are suffering from a condition, and should be provided with all the information they need to feel at ease and safe. In order to challenge HIV stigma, it requires compassion for all.
Sunday, December 21, 2014
I see you, I hear you
Everyday we are bombarded with some of the worst news known to humankind. Stories of disturbingly cruel crimes and armed conflicts that surpass our imaginations on the power of our species to destroy without mercy. Will there ever be an end to it all? Will there ever be a day that will come when there are no incidents of the evil that humans do to other humans, to animals, to the earth, and to future generations who haven't been born as yet but who will inherit this ravaged tortured planet?
Every time I read these stories, the hope I have for our world goes down a couple notches and I begin to see the whole of reality the same way these reports depict it: a world filled with murderous, ravenous trigger-happy, knife-wielding people who have either lost complete control of their senses (and their hearts) or are so immersed in greed and sadism that their only objective in life/death is to exact maximum pleasure from the pain and suffering of others, for profit, for vengeance, for whatever. No matter what they may say, such acts are not rational and cannot be justified.
Still, there is no power in viewing these people as separate from myself. If conditions demanded, I might also engage in such acts knowing the full battery of human emotion and how with just the right triggers, I might snap and act against my better judgement. The best way for me to view a threat as no longer a threat is to understand its psychology and take it apart so I can see the life path that emboldened some of us to commit such atrocities. I've read books about how our brains and minds work, how the experiences of early childhood could impact our responses to circumstance in adulthood, how armed conflict and war can destroy our life-affirming spirits and create ongoing tragedies that spiral downwards towards an inescapable vortex where death shatters and scatters.
Where is god in all this, I sometimes wonder? Where are the angels that gather around the victims to protect them and give them the strength to fight off their killers and escape the profundity of the evil staring back at them?
I've read quite a bit on the whole theory of how our thoughts have the power to create realities. And I'm now trying to put that into practice - although most times I forget and respond to the news with worry and dejection, perhaps contributing more of that hate-filled gleam in our universe, so when tomorrow comes, we end up reading the same news of murder and mayhem over and over again. But what if we could respond in less typical ways in order to harness healing energy around these stories so the damage doesn't keep infecting our consciousness. Empathy automatically shifts our reactions to shock, anger, and dismay at the unnecessary loss of life. So, we turn to the victims in grief, and marvel at the audacity of the perpetrators in curiosity, horror, and contempt, soon to be replaced by outright condemnation of their vile acts.
What if we could nurture empathy for the perpetrators too? Would that, could that create the possibility of a transformation? How to empathize with such individuals? While I think we can all empathize with anyone, some of us have had life experiences that have compelled us to welcome that gift instead of shunning it. We are constantly placed in situations where we must make the choice between to love and to reject. Call me stupid, but I choose love, any and every time, regardless of whose eyes I'm looking into. I can't explain it, but that's been my inclination, almost automatic, since coming to an understanding of my own suffering, and learning to take accountability and ownership of that suffering. I have a great desire to understand everyone, and particularly understand those who have followed a criminal path, whether in war or in civil society.
I see the circle that connects us all, and have come to the conclusion that there can never be any such thing as "us" and "them", for, despite the uniqueness of our lives and environments, we all retain the same essential spirit. I've been able to look past what's on the surface of someone's persona, all their behaviours and bad tragic choices, and discovered that the ugly, messy, traumatized, and dazed parts of themselves failed to rob them entirely of their potential to seek redemption and do some good. But getting them to be aware of that potential is the challenging part because it requires that I get close enough to them to develop a friendship where trust, compassion, and love are the building blocks. It requires that I myself do not get eaten up alive by the person's destructive tendencies, and in order to prevent this, I hold space within the center of the loving energy that we both embody, the energy we were essentially born with.
I know this must all sound rather nonsensical since I'm not giving examples of what I mean exactly, but in a few months, you'll all see what I mean. Stay tuned for the presentation of my first one-person play since 2007's Shiny Ropes. Read the synopsis below, and you'll either think me as someone completely off her rocker OR you might see a little of what I'm trying to accomplish through the lives of the characters in this story - based on true life events - who have changed my life forever so much so that I have nurtured the ability to see everyone as part of myself, and to see myself as part of everyone. No separation. No finger-pointing. Only the following words resonate inside my heart and mind: "Yes, I see you, I hear you. And I know you and know your pain."
Peace.
Letters to a Dead Girl: Transcendence
During the second U.S.-led military invasion and occupation of Iraq in 2003, hundreds and thousands of Iraqi civilians were subjected to violent deaths as a result of an armed, foreign military presence. The deaths of civilians in this period saw a tragic increase from the first invasion of Iraq in 1991. The embattled region remains in chaos and its people deeply affected by the horrors they had witnessed.
Every time I read these stories, the hope I have for our world goes down a couple notches and I begin to see the whole of reality the same way these reports depict it: a world filled with murderous, ravenous trigger-happy, knife-wielding people who have either lost complete control of their senses (and their hearts) or are so immersed in greed and sadism that their only objective in life/death is to exact maximum pleasure from the pain and suffering of others, for profit, for vengeance, for whatever. No matter what they may say, such acts are not rational and cannot be justified.
Still, there is no power in viewing these people as separate from myself. If conditions demanded, I might also engage in such acts knowing the full battery of human emotion and how with just the right triggers, I might snap and act against my better judgement. The best way for me to view a threat as no longer a threat is to understand its psychology and take it apart so I can see the life path that emboldened some of us to commit such atrocities. I've read books about how our brains and minds work, how the experiences of early childhood could impact our responses to circumstance in adulthood, how armed conflict and war can destroy our life-affirming spirits and create ongoing tragedies that spiral downwards towards an inescapable vortex where death shatters and scatters.
Where is god in all this, I sometimes wonder? Where are the angels that gather around the victims to protect them and give them the strength to fight off their killers and escape the profundity of the evil staring back at them?
I've read quite a bit on the whole theory of how our thoughts have the power to create realities. And I'm now trying to put that into practice - although most times I forget and respond to the news with worry and dejection, perhaps contributing more of that hate-filled gleam in our universe, so when tomorrow comes, we end up reading the same news of murder and mayhem over and over again. But what if we could respond in less typical ways in order to harness healing energy around these stories so the damage doesn't keep infecting our consciousness. Empathy automatically shifts our reactions to shock, anger, and dismay at the unnecessary loss of life. So, we turn to the victims in grief, and marvel at the audacity of the perpetrators in curiosity, horror, and contempt, soon to be replaced by outright condemnation of their vile acts.
What if we could nurture empathy for the perpetrators too? Would that, could that create the possibility of a transformation? How to empathize with such individuals? While I think we can all empathize with anyone, some of us have had life experiences that have compelled us to welcome that gift instead of shunning it. We are constantly placed in situations where we must make the choice between to love and to reject. Call me stupid, but I choose love, any and every time, regardless of whose eyes I'm looking into. I can't explain it, but that's been my inclination, almost automatic, since coming to an understanding of my own suffering, and learning to take accountability and ownership of that suffering. I have a great desire to understand everyone, and particularly understand those who have followed a criminal path, whether in war or in civil society.
I see the circle that connects us all, and have come to the conclusion that there can never be any such thing as "us" and "them", for, despite the uniqueness of our lives and environments, we all retain the same essential spirit. I've been able to look past what's on the surface of someone's persona, all their behaviours and bad tragic choices, and discovered that the ugly, messy, traumatized, and dazed parts of themselves failed to rob them entirely of their potential to seek redemption and do some good. But getting them to be aware of that potential is the challenging part because it requires that I get close enough to them to develop a friendship where trust, compassion, and love are the building blocks. It requires that I myself do not get eaten up alive by the person's destructive tendencies, and in order to prevent this, I hold space within the center of the loving energy that we both embody, the energy we were essentially born with.
I know this must all sound rather nonsensical since I'm not giving examples of what I mean exactly, but in a few months, you'll all see what I mean. Stay tuned for the presentation of my first one-person play since 2007's Shiny Ropes. Read the synopsis below, and you'll either think me as someone completely off her rocker OR you might see a little of what I'm trying to accomplish through the lives of the characters in this story - based on true life events - who have changed my life forever so much so that I have nurtured the ability to see everyone as part of myself, and to see myself as part of everyone. No separation. No finger-pointing. Only the following words resonate inside my heart and mind: "Yes, I see you, I hear you. And I know you and know your pain."
Peace.
Letters to a Dead Girl: Transcendence
During the second U.S.-led military invasion and occupation of Iraq in 2003, hundreds and thousands of Iraqi civilians were subjected to violent deaths as a result of an armed, foreign military presence. The deaths of civilians in this period saw a tragic increase from the first invasion of Iraq in 1991. The embattled region remains in chaos and its people deeply affected by the horrors they had witnessed.
Letters
to a Dead Girl: Transcendence is a one-person theatre production with music
about a U.S. soldier living out the rest of his life in solitary confinement
for crimes he committed while stationed in Iraq. The story of Private First
Class Leonard Purple is a profound and disturbing exploration of a troubled
American youth's indoctrination into military invasion, racism, occupation, and
violence. After receiving the toughest sentence of life without parole out of a
group of five soldiers charged with the rape and murder of an Iraqi teenager
and the murders of her family, he sits in a solitary jail cell back in the U.S.
as turbulent memories of the past invade his mind. In an attempt to take
accountability for his actions, Purple begins writing a series of letters to
Fatima Qureshi, the girl he had killed. What follows is an unexpected
transcendence where identities converge and then merge, and where Purple
suddenly finds himself on the side of the Occupied. As this alternate reality
unfolds changing the landscape of his prison cell, Purple hears the voice of
Fatima through his own as she delivers a repertoire of haunting ballads on
piano to reclaim the life she knew in one final act of resistance and
repossession.
Letters
to a Dead Girl: Transcendence has no entertainment value. It is not a show or a
spectacle. It is a story to remember and to honour the young spectres of war
and violence whose lives were mercilessly stolen, and whose spirits yet remain,
roaming in anticipation of liberation.
Friday, September 19, 2014
Why More Than Fiction should be on everyone's fall reading lists
 |
| The front cover of More Than Fiction reflects all the intersectional layers of Poz women's realities as they journey through the torrents in order to catch site of guiding lights along the way. COVER & BOOK DESIGN BY ZAHRA AGJEE |
"These are beautiful stories of love and loss, faith and miracles, strength and community, and smiles and tears that speak to the strength of the storytellers. Each story stands as a powerful example of women who have thrived in the face of HIV stigma and each provides a universal lesson in resilience." - Shannon Ryan, Black Coalition for AIDS Prevention (BlackCAP)
More Than Fiction is a beautifully crafted collection of 12 profoundly intimate and introspective narratives written by South Asian women living with HIV/AIDS. The writers worked throughout the spring and summer of this year to draft their creative non-fiction stories and fantasies that express both their struggles through the dark days of an HIV diagnosis and their triumphs as they navigated networks of support to find care, compassion, kindness, knowledge, friendship, and love.
I urge you, dear reader, to explore these 12 honest and inspiring stories and greet these writers' perspectives on life, love, self-care, dreams, and their relationships with their families, friends, colleagues, lovers, partners, and children, with open minds and hearts, and with a strong desire to challenge your own assumptions, biases, and prejudices about people living with HIV/AIDS.
The fact that these women cannot disclose their real identities is a testament to the silencing intensity of HIV stigma. If they were to disclose, will they be shamed? Judged? Denied friendship and intimacy? Pushed out by their families and communities? Or physically and emotionally harmed? Find out what the historical pattern has been in our societies, and then you'll know. And when you know, do something about it, help make the answer to every one of these questions a resounding "NO"!
Yes,
it takes courage to speak out and be open about identities and health, but it also takes tremendous courage to hold it
all in, day in and day out, and continue to put a strong face forward, continue
to care, to support, to love. And these writers speak to that and more in More Than Fiction.
Everyone's making reading lists this fall. I encourage you to add More Than Fiction to that list because it's just one of those collections you won't be able to put down until you've read the very last page. And it won't end just there. There is no "The End". After reading these stories, there is work to be done in our communities, far and wide, to support healing and to help change people's perceptions of and responses to people living with HIV/AIDS, so they can get the support and care they need to survive and thrive.
Thanks to the Alliance for South Asian AIDS Prevention for submitting the project proposal to MAC AIDS, who gave the project a thumbs up and provided generous funding to help the writers achieve their goals. The project team also included two brilliant mavens, creative writing and photo art facilitators, respectively: Sheniz Janmohamed and Zahra Agjee.
The book is available free of charge. To order your copy, please contact phasupport@asaap.ca.
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