Next to Nine Inch Nails, Rage Against the Machine is one of my favorite bands. This song Wake Up performed live is what I love most about the band - the energy and tenacity in which the music - guitar, bass, and drums - is played - and Zack de La Rocha on the mic droppin’ political knowledge in the middle of the song when all goes quiet to build a crescendo and climax of just raw indignation at social injustice.
The main points that Zack brings up in the course of the song are those who individually took up their social responsibility to address problems of society - such as racism, poverty, defending rights of the people, opposing war and imperialism and because of their exemplary leadership position were targeted by the ruling class in order to deny and rob the people of this leadership. The prominent individuals named throughout the song, such as Dr. Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Leonard Peltier, Dennis Banks, etc., - definitely represent the struggle of the working class and people, be they black or indigenous, to be an intervening force in the equation of politics and the development of society.
Although the song expresses the need for the individual to wake up in the following Whadda I got to / whadda I got to do to wake ya up / To shake ya up / to break the structure up, there is the need to also address the collective in taking up social responsibility.
About a year ago, I was flipping through one of our National Geographic magazines and found an article about the oldest Mayan Mural found in Mexico by archaeologists. Of course, this editorial, was not without photographs of these murals. The article can be found here. They were stunning, awesome, beautiful.
Looking at the photos of these paintings, I was drawn to its simple form and the complexity make-up of its storytelling. The presentation of its human features, such as the nose, mouth, eyes, as well as the style of headdress and costume that represented divinity, power, authority, wisdom, and knowledge. I found that thickness in line art to be fascinating - like looking at the some forms of graffitti pieces. It held me, and then I was hit by an idea: I wanted to draw something similiar. So turning to the literary project I have been currently working on, I decided to depict some characters of my own, trying my best [perhaps in vain] to emulate and imitate the style of the Mayan artwork.
Hence, a tiny tiny glimpse of another world, GHISUGO.
I decided to post this piece online, after watching Apocalypto over the weekend.
The following entry is the continuation of Introduction I and is part of the groundwork for another entry I am working on regarding identity and memory. This entry, like the previous one before it, was writtened to our Colombian Adoptee Search and Support (CASAS) Group and can be found in the CASAS archives dated June 2, 2006 - a good two years after my trip to Colombia in April 2004. This entry has been slightly updated in order to emphasize some of what I have to say, which was not possible posting to CASAS.
Fri Jun 2, 2006:
Dear listmembers of CASAS,
A month ago I was in NYC to attend the May Day immigrant rights and anti-war demonstrations. It was one of many that were held throughout the country, such as Chicago and Los Angeles. It was an extraodinary experience for me and since then I have been trying to find the best way to express my thoughts and feelings on the demonstration itself and how it impacted me as a US citizen and an adoptee of Colombian national origins.
Thus far, my life as an adoptee has been divided into two stages, the life I led before my trip to Bogota and the life I am trying to create for myself since that trip. Comparatively, these two stages are very different in character. Coming back from my April 2004 Colombia trip has not done away with all the issues that came with my being adopted, but it has tremondously calmed these issues to a degree in which I could begin to breathe. Therefore, my trip has helped me to move on to other things. However since my return from Bogota, several questions from my earlier period did remain with me, not as crushing and persistent as before, but important nonetheless and no less demanding of an answer. They were, of course, questions of identity, nationality, and most importantly, my own role with regard to country, nation and society - and where did I fit and belong?
With help from others and my trip to Colombia, I’ve gained a little ground to begin to wrestle with these very big and important questions. In the course of struggle and political organizing work some of the pieces to these questions were beginning to slide in place. Like my trip to Colombia, my experience with the May Day demonstrations has been another turning point in my life.
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May 1, 2006 it was a Monday morning when I set off with a fellow friend to meet up with a contingent of Fillipino migrant domestic workers - all of them women. I met many immigrants and workers of many nationalities during this demonstration, but the Fillipino women impacted me the most.
It was arranged that an interview would take place and then to join the march at Union Square. During the course of the interview, it was understood that the Fillipino domestic workforce consisted of “documented” and “undocumented” workers and some of which were participating in the demonstration. The first part of the interview focused on how in general, Fillipino workers, regardless of status, faced racism, discrimination, sexism in the course of their work. The fact that there were “undocumented” domestic workers made it much harder to struggle for human rights on their behalf because of the technicalities that were involved. The second part of the interview focused on more specific areas of the problem, the myriad of situations that the Fillipino women faced in terms of obtaining documentation and citizenship as well as trying to provide themselves and their own families through contributing to society by their labor.
There were many issues that were brought up in the course of the interview, all of which were very important to address, but one struck me the most. The separation of family was a critical issue for the Fillipinos. In fact, one of the signs they carried in the march declared very boldly “Imperialism separates families! No deportation!” Many found out that they could not reunite with their families whom were left in the Phillipines or were already here in the US as citizens. The issue of the separation of family is cropping up more and more in American current events, most notably in the aftermath of Katrina, where many families were dispersed throughout the country and have had no contact since. There is an ongoing movement now among Katrina survivors for the right of return and the right to reunify with their lost loved ones. Separation of families has been, in my own budding realization, an increasingly common characteristic and feature of imperialism and colonialism [although the history of colonialism is awashed with such offenses] . As an adoptee, separation in and of itself has been a sensitive issue for me. My being adopted into another family wouldn’t have taken place without separation. There is of course differences that distinguish between types of separations, just as there are many types of migrations. Such areas are worthy and in dire need of exploration, in my opinion, but I digress.
Upon reflection my feelings and wonder of this experience are summed up in the question Ernesto “Che” Guevara asked himself after his experiences and encounters with the working poor and peasantry while traveling across South America with his best friend on a motorcycle: “How is it possible to feel nostalgia for a world I never knew?”
The demonstration was to start at 4 in the afternoon and as the time drew near, we volunteered to help carry some of the many banners and signs the Fillipino women made. To get to Union Square we had to walk a fair amount of distance and take the subtrains. Along the way, we met some Latino youth who heard about the demonstration but didn’t know the way, so they joined us on our very own migratory journey.
I was very much prepared to participate in the demonstration. I was very much unprepared for how much it would affect me. I’ve been to many large anti-war and anti-globalization demonstrations, but this demonstration was very different, not just in terms of size, but in terms of its celebratory spirit. As we entered Union Square, I saw countless contingents of working people and immigrants from all nations coming together in one big mass. As I looked, I could see immigrants whose nationalities were Mexican, Colombian, Irish, Fillipino, Korean, Indian, Puerto Rican, Venezuelan, Honduran, Ecuadorian, etc. I do not know how many nationalities there were or how many were represented, but there were many and side by side. I have never seen so many people from all walks of life, who hail from different nations concentrated in one location standing for their rights as dignified people and in unity. I was witnessing the unity of nations and people standing and moving as one. And among them, I saw entire families, grandparents, grandchildren and all. In the current of this migration of nations I was literally swept away and found myself “lost” and “found” in a sea of humanity rising.
Up to this point, in my head, I had already accepted and defended the equality of nations, people and language on principled grounds. I already came to the conclusion that all people have rights to their nationality, no matter what country they are a citizen of, no matter what polity they are a member of, simply because their national right to be is a fundamental human right. Citizenship and nationality are two different things and cannot be substituted one for the other. By this time I also accepted that those who produce the wealth, development, of society are the real genuine builders of the polity known as the United States and have legitimate claim to issues that most affect them, such as education, benefits, medical care and attention, etc. The loftiness in which I held these views was soon demolished as I saw with my entire being, and all its sensory functions, the word made flesh.
Since my trip to NYC to demonstrate among the working people and immigrants, regardless their citizenship and status, my sense of what my role is has become much more clearer. That is, the principles that I embraced have become like steel in me, unbreakable - unshakeable. In fact when I was among the sea of nations in Union Square, admist waving flags of many colors and celebratory chants in different languages, their voices surging through my body, I knew where I belonged and most importantly, my place.
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After coming home from Colombia, I took some time to read the writings I had contributed to CASAS. Truly, I felt like I was reading the writings of someone else. I noticed that one of the things that this other “me” [from some other time] kept deliberating on, was the need to feel and be authentic, genuine and legitimate. I remember that time of anguish, confusion, rage and darkness. During that time, the question of who I am and my identity hung over me like the sword of Damocles and I could not answer as I was afraid.
My name is Joshua Minchen and I am an international, inter-country adoptee. I am an American citizen and my nationality is Colombian, but I am first and foremost, a human being. I am a Proletarian Internationalist Freedom Fighter.
Damoclean sword, swing if you must, but know that will not save you.
With that, I leave you with a passage from The Motorcycle Diaries of the young Ernesto Guevara. In this passage, Guevara is addressing an elderly man that he has met on his journey, yet the content of what he says is not just for the elderly. I can easily attribute this to the migration of labor, the working people, people of all ages, as well as to us adoptees international and otherwise who have sacrificed much in terms of identity, history, self-knowledge, name, in search of family, nation, place and belonging.
“All of them, all those who can’t adapt - you and I, for instance - will die cursing the power which they helped bring about with often enormous sacrifices. Revolution is impersonal, so it will take their lives and even use their memory as an example or as an instrument to control the young people coming after them. You will die with your fist clenched and your jaw tense, the perfect manifestation of hatred and struggle, because you aren’t a symbol (some inanimate example), you are an authentic member of the society to be destroyed; the spirit of the beehive speaks through your mouth and moves through your actions. You are as useful as I am, but you don’t realize how useful your contribution is to the society that sacrifices you.”
Since the events of September 11, 2001 an atmosphere is continually being fostered by the institutions of international monopoly capital in which the bonds that exist in the polity of collectives, communities, and nations are being attacked and severed. Entire people are being single out, isolated and targeted on the grounds that they may be “terrorist”. The Arab and Muslim communities are a case in point.
The targeting of the Muslim communities, not only is happening here in the US, but it taking place abroad. The angst of the Muslim French immigrants and youth against deteriating social conditions in their communities who have been depicted by the monopoly presses as “violent” and “backwards”. The Danish Cartoons, depicting racist stereotypes of Muslims and Arabs in the name of excercising “freedom of speech” while at the same time neglecting to face responsibility of what freedom of speech and the free expression of ideas entail. The speech given by Pope Benedict in which he resurrects an almost forgotten emperor of a different time and place in history to depict Islam as “violent” and those who subscribe to the principles of Islam, namely “jihad”, as being ”unreasonable” and “illogical”.
Amidst the turmoil taking place in Iraq and Afghanistan by US imperialism during the summer, a conflict between Israel and Lebanon rocked the world. US President Bush, US Secretary of State Rice and the US imperialists looked on approvingly of Israel’s attack against Southern Lebanon declaring publicly that this was the beginning of a new Middle-East. Israeli imperialism, unable to complete its objective to wipe out the Lebanese resistance organized by Hezbollah, was soundly defeated.
Presently, the sovereign nation of Iraq is being torn apart in civil war along with the civil strife that is being sown in Lebanon after the assassination of Gemayel and targeting of the resistance for the assassination.
As a result of all this, I would like to provide some texts and literature that speaks to some of the issues on this.
For the past couple of nights, I’ve been having dreams about someone I love and care about very much. Someone who is no longer in my life. In my dreams, we are together again and talking like we used to do and then my feelings for her come out. I wake up and I think about it. I can not help but feel guilty. I feel guilty because I think I left her at a time when she really needed me.
About a week ago, I went to see The Fountain at the cinema. It was a movie about facing life and death, beginning and end, birth and rebirth. I was extremely impressed with how the film tied the Tree of Life with the Mayan mythology of creation. It was a very good film although quite sad. The issues raised in the film were issues of extreme importance to her.
I am haunted by something she once said to me. I am re-thinking all the reasons for why I’ve tried to shut the door. The poem I wrote, A Few More Goodbyes is Not Enough, I must finally admit, was for no other. It was for her. Who am I fooling? Some change has taken place in me today, although it is too soon what that change actually means right now. I feel invigorated somehow. But I have no plan. I feel I know what I must do, I’m just not sure if I am ready to do it.
With every invigoration and inspiration there is always an abiding sadness and loneliness that comes with it. Today I came across one of my favorite Nine Inch Nails songs The Day The World Went Away. It was a song I remember playing while sitting on the bus en route to Anchorage in Alaska. I was in the military then and the song expressed my feelings at that time of complete loneliness, bitter hopelessness, and despair. I was going through a very rough time in my life and adjusting to military discipline and bearing didn’t help me much. I found this video on youtube, and it is the one video I have not seen by NIN thus far. Today was quite an emotional day for me.
