broken walls and narratives

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100 Political Events in 2017: A Reflection

100 Political Events in 2017: A Reflection

H. Bradford

8/16/17

Yesterday, I attended my 100th political event of the year.   The 100th event was a solidarity vigil for Charlottesville at the Clayton, Jackson, Mcghie Memorial in Duluth.  The event was attended by several hundred people.  So many people flooded the plaza that there were people in the the street.  It was large enough that the police blocked off the street to passing traffic during the event against white supremacy (but framed generally as hate).  We are just three years shy of the 100 year anniversary of the the lynching of three innocent African American men in Duluth.  Yet, 100 years later so little has changed.  Activists 100 years ago might be terrified to peek into the future and see that we are still fighting imperialist wars, hate groups like the KKK not only still exist but is actually gaining popularity,  union membership is less than it was in 1920 and almost a third of what it was at its peak in 1970s, we are killing our planet, and basically…every oppressed group is …still oppressed.   It would be pretty demoralizing to look ahead in time.  In this long view into the future…this century long parade of violence, misery, drudgery…Trump would probably not stand out as the worst of the worst but just the latest terrible thing in the procession of suffering.  Yet, I would hope that this activist of the past would see some hope.  There are moments when humanity unites and fights against the tide of suffering.  There are slow gains from the struggles of mass movements to rage against everything that destroys and diminishes us.

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(I did not take this photo, it was posted to the Charlottesville Solidarity Vigil and I believe it was taken by Jordan Bissell)


Today was my 100th political event.  Activism is not a numbers game, but I do like numbers.  I know how many books I have read this year, new species of birds I have seen, the number of blogs that I have written, the number of countries I have visited, the calories I have consumed in the last 25 days, spending on food for the last several months, and many other things.  So, tracking my activism is just one thing of many things that I like to keep tabs of.   Numbers do not tell the whole story, but they do provide a piece of a puzzle.  What can be said about 100 political events?  Well, yesterday was day 227 of the year.  That means that 44% of the days this year have been spent at political events such as meetings, protests, or educational political presentations/films.  If I subtract the time I was out of the country on vacation- not at all engaged in politics- the number increases to 50%.  That means half of my days are spent at a political event.  This does not count times I spend writing political blog posts, preparing for political events by making event pages, putting up fliers, or creating fliers, having political conversations, or other political activities.  Of these 100 events, approximately 46% were feminist, 13% were against racism, 10% were socialist specific, 8% were LGBTQ, 7% were non-labor specific economic justice events, 6% labor related, 5% were environmental,   4% were anti-war or anti-imperialism, 3% were criminology related, and 2% were miscellaneous.  These numbers are imperfect, as some events were related to more than one category.  The previous year, I attended 80 events for the WHOLE YEAR.  So, it is safe to say that the election of Trump has resulted in an upsurge of political activity and opportunities to participate in social movements.  I think it is also fair to say that this year has seen the emergence of far more feminist activism.  While I tend to prioritize feminist events, there are far more events than I am able to attend.  Locally, the most consistent and robust area of activism this year tends to be feminism…though there are plenty of opportunities in other kinds of activism as well and my numbers do not reflect the actual number of events against racism or for the environment, for instance.  The numbers tell a bit more about myself than the political situation…but the general increase in activities certainly is indicative of an increase in opportunity.   People are fighting back on many fronts.

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What else can be said about the 100?  I can say that I am a little tired!  I feel accomplished.  It helps keep me motivated.  It also feels like hiking up a mountain and reading the elevation signs or the KM to the top.  When I went on my vacation and entirely disengaged from activism and politics, it was hard to come back.  I can see the appeal for the people who can’t be bothered to become engaged in social change.  I can feel the hopelessness that nothing will become better so we may as live for whatever pleasures we can eke out of this existence.  It isn’t always fun to go to meetings.  It feels like a second job sometimes.  It can feel like responsibility, stress, pressure, annoyance, etc.  I feel a lot of conflicted feelings, really.  I feel that it is mostly thankless and misunderstood.   At the same time, I do feel a sense of accomplishment and a sense of need.  I feel enough passion to continue.  I feel very angry.   It is anger that motivates me the most.  I feel so angry that the world is so shitty for so many people.  I feel angry that there are violent, horrific people who want women to live in the social equivalent of a whelping box as they breed the next generation of soldiers and workers.  I feel angry that the ignorance of America’s atrocities over history and today.  The stupid fear mongering over North Korea.  I feel angry that white people feel victimized by a system built upon slavery, genocide, racism, and imperialism.  I feel angry that there are so many people with the means to do more, but they don’t because it isn’t respectable to protest or in their immediate interest to make some waves.  I wish I had more time for other things, yet I actually usually do get a lot out of activism.  At the same time, I often wonder how normal people live.  What do they do with their time?   Then, there are some super activists who have probably been to 200 things this year!  I am sure that comrades, Adam and Lucas, have probably been to more events than I have.  Adam might have been to 150.  They don’t write it down like I do.  It isn’t a contest, of course.  Activism feels a bit like a Sisyphean task.  Most of the time, the results are not immediately obvious.  OR, in the worst case, the stone of social change actually rolls down the mountain.

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Activism isn’t always fun.  Sometimes it is cold…and boring…or disappointing.  Though this event actually was engaging and left me feeling hopeful.


All activists must have some sense of optimism that things can change.  Even without optimism, things always change.  More than optimism, activists have to believe in a sense of efficacy.  That not only does change happen, but humans can and often influence this change.   I have to assume that the imagined activist from 100 years ago would be disappointed if not terrified, but I would also hope that the activists today could give them hope.   I suppose that it where I see myself in history.   I hope that whatever future 100 years from now is better.   Wouldn’t it be nice if there weren’t prisons, hunger, homelessness, or wars?  What if everyone had enough?  What if the planet wasn’t dying?  How do we get from POINT A (this shit hole world) to POINT B (a better one)?   I believe it is by trying to build movements that will change the world.  I am a very minuscule part of that.   But it will be made by millions of minuscule parts.  So, I am telling you that I have been to 100 things so that maybe someone…out there…. will think that it is time to attend one thing.  The past, present, and future might appreciate it.  And, you can take it from me… one thing is not so much to do.

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Just keeping the flame of hope alive…

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Depression and the Lost Dark Years

Depression and the Lost Dark Years

H. Bradford

8/14/17

When I was about 20 years old, I stopped existing.  By some dark magic, I pulled off an astonishing vanishing act.  I disappeared behind a cloud for six to eight years.  While in this cloud, time stopped.  Yet, the world kept moving without me.  When the cloud cleared, I could finally see clearly my life all around me.  It spread out forever like a bombed city.   I was tasked with rebuilding it.  This is my story of depression and moving out of it.

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I don’t like to admit that I have struggled with mental health.  In fact, it seems like an odd thing to say.  I don’t like to see it as a part of me.  Instead, I like to see it as some external force that happened to inhabit me for a long while.  It began in about the the 4th grade.  That is when I began experience panic attacks.  Though, at the time, I didn’t know what they were.  They were just some terrifying curse that fell upon me randomly- like a demonic possession, which would tighten might chest and put me into a state of fear.  I found it hard to breathe and swallow.  They often happened at night, around 3 am.  Sometimes they happened at lunch or on the school bus.   I would sleep with a glass of water (and I still sleep with a beverage) to help me swallow if I woke up in a panic.  Panic attacks were inconvenient, especially when they happened at a sleep over or with groups of people.   My father would call them “spells.”  Heather is having one of her “spells.”  I suppose it gave it a supernatural quality.   I had these “spells” for years.  I didn’t know their name.  They were just some strange quirk about me that I never talked to anyone about.  I was ashamed of them and could not imagine that other people in the world experienced the same thing.  Thus, I had been dealing with anxiety to some degree since childhood. Image result for witch and cauldron vintage

(Oh no, this witch is conjuring up a “spell”  ….a.k.a causing children to have panic attacks. The cat seems particularly into this endeavor. )


I mostly coexisted with my “spells” as they were an irregular visitor in my life.  But, once I graduated high school, I was visited by a much darker and stronger force.  It began with a deepened sense of social anxiety, (but I have a hard time differentiating when anxiety ends and depression begins).  Basically, I came to believe that I was a failure and the world was judging me.  Because of this, I became so fearful that I could not leave the house to get the mail or put gas in my car.  I feared that someone would see me….Heather…that failure…that terrible failure.  I didn’t want to be seen in public.  I struggled to stay in college.  While I was in college, I maintained perfect grades but I couldn’t face being in school.  I dropped out several times.  While I felt anxiety over seeing people and being judged as a failure, I also experienced depression.  I didn’t have any friends.  I didn’t feel that I had the capacity to make friends.  I basically worked the night shift and otherwise hid from the world.   I lived at home with family members.  The only bright spot was that I did try to travel from time to time.  It was the only thing that made me feel that I was doing something with my life and that perhaps I was not a failure after all.


I was in an out of college for several years.  I did attempt to go to counseling a few times, as it was provided for free through St. Scholastica.  This helped a little.  At least it provided me a name for what I was going through: anxiety and depression.  Really, it opened up the door to the idea that what I had experienced was not some strange, magical force unique to my own bizarre, miserable existence.  It was a treatable medical condition.  It was suggested that I try medications, but I only took a few doses before giving up on that.  I am stubborn and like to be in control.  So, the idea of medication never sat well with me.  Still, I think that going to counseling helped me to think differently.  I was given weekly goals.  Even though I am not sure that I did that well at the goals, it created some momentum in my life.  But, as a general rule, between the age of 20 and 26, I wavered between complete, wickedly immobilizing depression and barely climbing out of depression.  During the time I was caught in wickedly immobilizing depression, I really didn’t live.  I didn’t pay my bills.  I didn’t think of the future.  I avoided my phone.  I didn’t feel suicidal, but I hoped that death would magically come to me and save me from living.  And, since I had social anxiety and felt that the world doomed me a failure, the depression didn’t help…as it made me a failure!  I hadn’t finished college.  The bills were piling up.  I was doing very little with my life. Image result for st. scholastica college

(Ah, my citadel of misery.  Yet, I miss those dark towers)


I am not sure exactly what happened to change things.  Depression naturally receded, much like the glaciers at the end of the ice age.  This happened sometime around the age of 26 or 27.  Something just…changed.  It went away.  It wasn’t anything I did or the result of any treatment.  The only problem was that my life was a mess.  For one, I hadn’t paid my bills for over a year.  I simply didn’t care enough about living to bother.  For another, I owed over $10,000 to St. Scholastica (the only reason that I owed this much money to the college was because I had too much social anxiety to visit the financial aid office and take out a student loan…and the time period to take out a loan had elapsed).  This put my transcript on hold and prevented me from finishing my education.  My life was in shambles.  So, even though my mood had improved, I had a big mess to clean up.  That mess took a lot of hard work and several long years.

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(The ice age might have ended, but I was left with the carcasses of some mammoth messes to clean up.)


Once depression had passed, I had a lot more energy for living.  This was useful, as I needed this energy to work.  I completed two service years as an Americorps member, as the program paid over $4000 in an education award at the time.  This helped me pay off the bill with St. Scholastica.  In turn, this helped me to finally finish off my bachelor’s degree there.  During this time period, I filed for bankruptcy, which discharged all of my other debt (aside from student loans).   Because Americorps paid a stipend of less than $900 a month after taxes at the time, I also worked the night shift at a hotel.  At other times, I worked as many as four jobs.  I was a bit of a workaholic at the time, with periods where I worked 80 hours a week.  However, I was trying to eke a modicum of pleasure from my bleak life.  I probably didn’t need to work as much as I did, but I wanted to save money for travel and for hobbies.  And, between all of the jobs I really didn’t make that much money.   Another boon for my financial situation was when I donated eggs, which helped to pay off my car and the rest of the St. Scholastica bill.  It took me about three to four years to re-assemble my life.  All the while, I felt that I was looking over my shoulder, waiting for depression to return.  After all, it had visited me so often in my early to mid twenties.  I feared that it would return and sabotage everything.  Certainly, there were some very dark and terrible moments in my workaholic years.  But….depression did not return.


It has been over a decade since I emerged from depression.  Depression and anxiety have not returned in the same way.  While they dominated my 20s, they have not and they will not return.  I have a lot of mixed feelings about the situation.  For one, while I used to fear that depression would return, I no longer fear that.  I have far more tools now, emotionally, mentally, and intellectually than I did in my early 20s.  While I continue to experience melancholy and sadness more than the average person, I feel that I have some control over this and can change negative thought patterns before they spiral out of control.  I also have a sense of what depression looks like in my self.  If I stop caring about life, stop paying bills, find myself unable to keep up with obligations, isolate myself, give up hobbies, or generally feel less motivated- I become concerned and seek to remedy the situation.   While I was living in Mankato, I felt those familiar feelings, so I sought counseling right away.  I only went to one session, but it was enough to get me back on track in life and throw my thought patterns into a healthier framework.   As for anxiety, I very rarely have panic attacks.  I have anxiety from time to time, but I recognize it for what it is and know it will pass.  I think medication would really help with anxiety, since it is not a fun experience.  However, I know I can generally power through it.  I fully believe that there will be a time in my life that I do not have anxiety.  I don’t think I have had a panic attack in almost a year.  As I grow and experience more life, I feel that I become better at living and better at thinking.  I am optimistic that I am fully capable of living in a healthy mental state.


I realize that my framing of mental illness is not really very helpful for most people.  For one, I shunned medication.  I don’t think this is the answer for others.  I don’t even think it is the answer for myself.  I suffered longer than I needed to.  Seeing how depression ate up years of my life, I am not against taking medication.  Time is the most precious thing we have.  It is finite.  Our time on this earth is woefully short.  Anything that shortens and diminishes our short lives should be fought furiously.  That is why I am a socialist.  I want people to have the resources they need to live full lives.   If I became as depressed again, I would not be as stubborn in the future.  Also, I don’t really frame depression as something that will always be a part of me or something that is built into my genes.  While it most likely was built into my genetics, I don’t care for that sort of determinism.  I think that it very well could have been the outcome of my life conditions.  That any human being in the same conditions may have also become depressed.  Really, I was lost!  I didn’t have friends!  I struggled to figure out meaning in this world and find my place!  I struggled with poverty and isolation.   This world itself is pretty depressing.  It is astonishing that more people aren’t depressed.   So, in a way, I don’t really OWN being depressed.  Worse, I sometimes feel resentful, uncomfortable, and impatient with others who experience mental health issues.   I should see myself and my struggles in them, but instead, I want to avoid it.   It makes me feel disgusted with myself for being weak and for failing.  Yes, I have internalized some narratives of mental health as a weakness.  Intellectually, I know better, but emotionally, I have negative reactions that I keep on the inside.  I want people to think I am strong, capable, and in control.  I certainly don’t feel happy about the ordeal.   It is embarrassing.  It shows that I am very flawed.  And, even if I wasn’t defective, the disease stole several years of my life.  Those are years that I won’t get back.  My life is less full because of the years that depression took from me.  It makes me angry.  It makes me sad.  When I see young college students having fun and enjoying their youth, I feel that I missed out.  I didn’t have friends, bonfires, camping trips, parties, road trips, spring break…etc.  I had soul crushing isolation.


Because of these feelings of loss, I am compelled to live very well.  I can’t change the past.  My 20s sucked.  That’s how it goes.  But, I made it through it.  I don’t have perfect narratives about the whole ordeal, but I have a lot of determination not to go through that again.  My 30s have been better.  While I struggled to finish one degree in my 20s, I finished three in my 30s!  I travel.  I am engaged in many hobbies.  I am active as an activist.  I keep a very tight schedule.  I have wonderful friends.  I read.  I learn.  I share.  I am living the life I wish I had been living in my 20s.  I live each day very fully.  I am hungry for living.   I often feel stressed because I wonder how I will fit so much into a single day.  I want to paint! Play violin!  Run!  Hike! Read! Write.  Write blog posts.  Write stories!  Write papers!  Write poems!  I want to enjoy the sunshine and trees!  I want to ride my bicycle.  I want to study languages!  I want to plant my garden!  Try a new hobby!  I want to be a better feminist, socialist, environmentalist, etc…  Ah…I want everything!    I have to forgive myself for my terrible 20s as it built a foundation for my 30s.  I am pretty sure I won’t be blindsided by depression later in life, as I went through it, know it, and am more capable of handling it.  I did travel in my 20s and I don’t regret my years of Americorps service.  I had some good friendships in my 20s as well.  So, while my 20s were not as fun and free as I would have liked, I have my whole life to make up for lost time.  To the best of my ability, that is what I will do.  Is it healthy?  If my 20s is the story of my long bleak winter the rest of my life feels a little like the rite of spring, a ceremonial frenzy to dance myself to death.  But that is another story.  The story of my fundamental existential crisis.  Perhaps depression really was just the first act.

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(an image from Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring)

Devouring Dictatorship: Reflections on Privilege and Travel in Ashgabat

Devouring Dictatorship: Reflections on Privilege and Travel in Ashgabat

H. Bradford

7-13-17

I was excited to travel to Turkmenistan.  I had read that there are only 9,000 tourists who visit the country each year.  By comparison, over 100,000 tourists travel to North Korea annually.   Of course, comparisons to North Korea are abundant on travel websites.  The idea of traveling to such a mysterious place filled me with fear and excitement.  I didn’t know what to expect.  Some travel websites warned that tourists had been denied visas upon arrival or faced harassment from the police.  Documentaries about Turkmenistan (from Niyazev’s rule) made it seem like a bizarre country where in women could not wear makeup on television, video games, opera, and the circus were banned, everyone had to get off the streets by 11 pm, and government officials were made to go on grueling marches once a week to ensure their health.  These kinds of stories made me worried that something might go wrong.  I began to feel real anxiety as my trip approached, as I would be spending a few days in Ashgabat alone before joining the group I would be traveling with.   If Ashgabat was truly like Pyongyang, as some websites suggested, it was a worrisome thought.  I was afraid that I might accidentally break a law.  The fear was unfounded.  The visit to Turkmenistan went beautifully.  Still, during my time there, I reflected on my privilege and my desire to see strange places.  Thus, this post is about both my experience in Turkmenistan but also the dark urges and privileges of a tourist.


The unusual nature of Turkmenistan began with my flight.  The flight from Frankfurt to Ashgabat made a stop in Baku.  I had never been on a flight that stopped to let off passengers before.  The plane landed and to my surprise, let off almost all of the passengers on the plane.  When we continued from Baku to Ashgabat, there were probably less than six people on the flight.  All of these six people were foreign tourists.  It was bizarre to be among the few remaining passengers and that all of us were foreign.   Foreign travel is somewhat restricted in Turkmenistan, as in order to travel the country a tourist must have a local guide and a letter of invitation.   However, tourists are able to travel to Ashgabat on their own without a guide.  As for locals, the economy of Turkmenistan is built upon oil and gas.  There is a wide gap between the very few rich and poor, with an unemployment rate of about 60%.   Poverty is almost certainly one of the reasons there was no one from Turkmenistan on my flight.  As for myself, I had a letter of invitation and a local guide accompanied our tour through Turkmenistan.  Thus, I breezed through customs without incident.  However, I arrived late (at midnight) and was one of very few people at the airport.  This meant that my bag was inspected for a long time.  After it was put through the x-ray machine, several workers sifted through my belongings.  They studied each medication, opened them, looked at the contents of each bottle.  They also took special interest in my snacks, making commentary to each other about my belongings.   I suppose they might have been bored.  I think my snacks were probably disappointing.  As for the thorough inspection of my medicine, opiate drugs are banned in the country, even with a prescription so I can only assume they were looking for banned medication.


Once I passed through customs and the baggage inspection, I had a feeling that everything was going to be okay and that I’d worked myself up watching too many documentaries or reading travel horror stories.  I was met by the local tour guide and driven back to the Ak Altyn Hotel.  By then, I was sleepy from my 20+ hours of airports and flights.  So, I barely paid attention to the city.  I dreamily looked back at the airport, a giant white structure shaped like a bird.  I also took note that there were other cars on the road, despite the 11 pm curfew.  I was informed that shops close by 11pm and also warned not to smoke outdoors (as it was illegal…though I don’t smoke anyway), but there were no other immediate signs of dictatorship.


The following day, I decided I would set out by myself and explore the city.  A few other tourists from the group arrived, but I gave them a cold welcome.  I was more interested in my own agenda of seeing the city than getting to know my future travel companions.  So, with a guidebook, map, and to do list, I set out walking.  I decided to walk because the buses seemed confusing (as there was no central map of routes).  It was hot.  I was disoriented at first and spent some time walking the wrong direction.  When I found my bearings, I turned around and set off for the statue of Lenin.  It was located about an hour or so walk from my hotel, provided one does not get turned around.  My walking brought me to a random amusement park with rides, a Japanese garden, and dinosaur statues.  People seemed to be having fun, though each few blocks seemed punctuated by a police officer.   Some meandered through the parks as well.  It seemed that despite the 60% unemployment rate, there was no shortage of police jobs or jobs sweeping or cleaning the many monuments.   Still, the city did not really feel like Pyongyang at all.  The fact that I could travel freely and solo, made it seem very different.  And, after wandering the streets alone for two days, I was only approached once by a police officer.  When it happened, my heart began to race, but…it was only to check the time.


Once I found Lenin, I spent several hours exploring other monuments and parks.  Lenin was only important because of my politics…but also because Turkmenistan has sought to distance itself from its Communist past.  Although Niyazov was a communist leader during the Soviet Union and his party was the reincarnation of the communist party after the Soviet Union collapsed, the iconography of communism as well as remnants of Russian colonization have been dismantled.   The Turkmen script was changed from Cyrillic and statues and images of Marx and Lenin were replaced with the images of Niyazov.  The guiding ideology of the nation was set forth in the Ruknama, a book by Niyazov on the history of the Turkmen people and himself.   Gas revenues were invested into creating a showpiece capital.  Thus, almost all of the buildings in Ashgabat are new and made of Russian and Italian marble.  The city is full of well kept parks and monuments.  It really is unique.  Still, despite the changes, a statue of Lenin remains…not far from the American embassy, in a less visited park.

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I spent the day visiting parks and viewing buildings.  Towards the end of the day, I visited the National Museum of Fine Art.  I was the only tourist in the three story building.  The staff seemed surprised to see me.  This was a common occurrence in Ashgabat.  The museum was filled with interesting Turkmen and Soviet art, such as giant carpets.  There were images of rivers, workers, giant melons, tractors, and happy people with musical instruments.  On the way back to my hotel, I wandered through Inspiration Alley, a park of various statues of Muslim scholars.  They were unfamiliar men, owing to my lack of knowledge of Muslim history.  The history is so foreign to me, it is hard to imagine that Al-Zamakhshari or Abu-Biruni might be household names and that not knowing them would be the same as ignorance of Einstein, Shakespeare, or Newton. Image may contain: sky and outdoor


The following day, I set off to visit the Botanical Garden, as I thought it would provide a nice opportunity to watch birds.  The Botanical Garden was closed.  This is a theme of my life.  When I went to Minsk the garden was closed.  When I went to Bishkek, I also found that the botanical garden was closed.  I feel that I somehow have very bad luck with botanical gardens.  Anyway, I instead visited the Alexander Nevsky Orthodox Cathedral.  It was a very hidden and modest orthodox cathedral.  I didn’t stay long as it was hosting a service.  Later I visited a bazaar and did some more walking, revisiting some sites I had seen the other day.   I was approached by two Russian speaking Jehovah’s Witnesses.  I was actually curious to talk to them (for the first time ever), but our conversation was cut short by two police officers and I was quick to walk away.  Jehovah’s Witnesses are illegal in Turkmenistan.  In all, the city is quite large and spread out, so I found it impossible to see some of the major sites by foot.  These had to wait until my tour actually began, as we were promised a sight seeing tour by bus and a night time tour to see the city lights.


The bus tours offered a wide array of strange sights.  We saw the largest indoor Ferris wheel in the world, the Arch of Neutrality, and the largest fountain in the world.  Once again, it is unsettling that the largest fountain in the world is in a country that is 80% desert!  The Ashgabat fountain is guarded by stern statues of the ancestors of the Turks: Orguz Khan and his sons.  We even passed by the Walk of Health, where government workers were expected to trek the 23 mile path through the Kopet Dag mountains once a year.  Perhaps the grand finale of the eccentric was a visit to the Turkmenbashi Mosque.  The mosque holds the remains of Niyazev and his family (his mother and brothers died in the 1948 earthquake that struck the city).  It also features quotes from the Ruhnama on the walls of the mosque and the eight pointed star.  The eight points represent the eight pillars of Islam.  Niyazev added three more pillars to Islam, including reading his book and visiting local holy sites in Turkmenistan.  These revisions were not welcomed by Saudi Arabia and consequently, Wahhabism is also banned in Turkmenistan.  We revisited the city later in the evening, when every building was lit up and the city looked like Las Vegas. Image may contain: 1 person, outdoor


All of this probably sounds pretty astonishing.  I thought it was astonishing.   Although Niyazev is dead and some of his monuments have been shuffled around, the country is still considered one of the most repressive countries in the world (by Human Rights Watch for instance).   Yet, as a tourist, it was…well, fascinating.  My detached position from it all and speaks to my privilege.   I believe that when we travel, we consume the exotic.   In Turkmenistan, it was the experience of dictatorship and the legacy of Niyazev.  If we consume the odd food or threat of danger, we can take on the qualities of the fearless or the bizarre.  Just as the flamingo becomes pink from eating crustaceans and algae, the traveler consumes experiences to become something more colorful.  As travelers, our privilege allows us to migrant from experiences.  We are not mired in the same realities of oppression.  When a tourist goes to jail or becomes very ill, the reality of the world returns.  This painful reality is framed as shocking.  It is framed as a bad travel experience.  Anything that is too real or too inescapable is not travel…it is a crisis or tragedy!  Hence, the case of Otto Warmbier in North Korea or Bakari Henderson, who was recently killed in Greece after taking a selfie…are not viewed as part of the travel spectrum.  Travel should be cushioned from the world’s harshest realities.

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Perhaps the exotic should be made normal.  In Turkmenistan, it may seem exotic that drivers are fined for having dirty cars.  But, are our own laws any more rational?  The fundamental assumption behind both is that laws exist and breaking them results in state administered punishment.  An alien might find little difference between the marbled fantasy land of Ashgabat and the red carpet of Hollywood or neon glow of Las Vegas.  One was built as a dictator’s legacy, the others built upon a similar fantasy of wealth and beauty.   The weird mosque of Turkmenbashi is only unusual because “legitimate” religion must be at least a few hundred years old.  But, these too were created by individuals and interpreted by other individuals until they were made normal by legitimizing power structures.  The excess seen in Ashgabat…with giant fountains and white marble statue are no more heinous than the same excess that is commonplace in advanced capitalist countries.  What about our giant malls, thousands of Walmarts and McDonald’s, and mountains of garbage?  Turkmenistan is a country smaller than Spain with a GDP that is smaller than Croatia’s, Lithuania’s, Kenya’s, and well….87 other countries and a population of less than five million.  Surely, even with its excess…the country has an ecological foot print far less than much of the world. Image may contain: sky


At the same time, differences do exist.  We are not all perfectly the same.  To glaze over difference by normalizing the strange, fails to recognize the social conditions which brought about a particular set of traits.  It is terrible that so much gas wealth was put into building the show case capital than building schools, hospitals, or housing.  It is also unfortunate that wealth and power in the country is concentrated into the hands of so few.  As for the social conditions that brought about Niyazev’s dictatorship, that is a long complicated story that I don’t have the time or knowledge to answer.   The political/economic development of the country…and the very existence of the country itself as a unique entity with a unified identity is a Soviet construction.  But, even this construction is a dialectical process as it was constructed in a world at odds with the Soviet Union.  Prior to this, its development was shaped by Russian imperialism- and that itself was shaped in reaction to British imperialism.  There are always bigger forces at play.  No dictatorship exists in a vacuum.

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Returning to privilege, to some degree, all travelers must exist in the fantasy land of their own ego.  My ego is hungry for experiences.  This is in part so I can patch together an identity that is not a disappointment to myself.  An identity that siphons as much living out of the world as possible.  The truth is, I am not wealthy and free.  I am oppressed.  I am a worker.  I will live and die like a billion humans whose stories will fade into the blurry memories of a few close friends or family members- before disappearing entirely.  In the grand scheme of things, I am not even here.  I never existed.  My importance is so minuscule, that for all practical purposes I am already dead.  Isn’t this the epitome of privilege?  Exerting what little power and freedom I have for the purpose of living selfishly?  The rest of the world be damned.  This is something all travelers do.  Many loath to return to work.  The most privileged don’t have to.  So, while we are privileged enough to enjoy some ego driven escapism, what are we escaping from?  For me, the gravity of wage slavery will always draw me back home.  Thus, I think my travels are fueled by escapism, ego, and existential crisis.  It is a combination that makes it hard for me to be perfectly mindful of my impact on the world and in this case, the wanton consumption of dictatorship.


So here I am.  Chronos eats its children.  Every human eats its reality when it becomes aware of its existential crisis.  Yet, we don’t all have the power and privilege to be titans.  Every titanic consumer is a blight on the environment, the lives of others, and the world around them.  There are moments when I am a titan.  But, usually I am just a proletarian.  I don’t know how to remedy this contradiction.  I love to travel.  I love a chance to get away.  When I am at home, I work very hard as an activist, worker, and human being.  I try to be engaged and mindful.  Then, when opportunity permits, I escape for a bit and consume piece of the world in the form of leisure and a particular form of selfish living.  I am hungry for the darkest, strangest bits.  Dictatorships, nuclear accidents, and spectacular tragedies.  Maybe there is a little cult of personality in each of us.

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Activist Notes: February Review

 

 

Activist Notes: February Review

H. Bradford

2/28/17

February is one of my favorite months.  It is my birthday month, after all!  I had an ambitious list of things to do to celebrate my birthday and Valentine’s day this month, but a busy schedule got in the way of accomplishing most of it.  While I didn’t take as much time for myself as I might have liked, I am glad that there is a strenuous amount of activism to partake in.  Here are some activist highlights for the month of February!  There are some activist events which I attended this month which do not appear on the list, but this provides an overview of some of the things that I was engaged in.


  1. Solidarity Valentines to Prisoners:

 

On the day before Valentine’s Day, the Feminist Justice League and Letters for Prisoners collaborated to send solidarity Valentine cards to prisoners.  I already wrote about this event, but it was a great way to show love for freedom, social justice, and humanity.

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  1.  Feminist Frolic: Women’s March Report Back:

This event was not as well attended as I would have liked, but I think we had a fun time hiking at the Bagley Nature Center.  This was followed by Alexa’s engaging activist adventure story as she retold her experience at the Women’s March in Washington.  It was a wonderful story involving a broken down bus, gender bending bathroom rush, mad dash to see Madonna and Gloria Steinem, crowded march, exhausting ride, and dilemma over the disposal of signs.  She had many thoughtful insights about the experience, so it was great to hear her story over coffee.  Otherwise, it was fun to talk to Kristi during the hike and build some snowpeople with her kiddo.

 

  1. Letter to Editor: Homeless Bill of Rights:

Following the feminist frolic, the Feminist Justice League hosted a letter writing event in support of the Homeless Bill of Rights.  The goal of the event was to write letters in support of the homeless bill of rights to various newspaper.  This is the letter which I wrote.  It appeared on page four of the Reader.  Believe it or not, it was my first letter to a newspaper!

“For the past several years, the Homeless Person’s Bill of Rights Coalition has tirelessly worked with our homeless community to draft a Homeless Bill of Rights.  The coalition seeks to create an ordinance that provides homeless people with rights such as free movement in public spaces, the right to share or eat food in public, protection from discrimination in housing and employment, the right to speak with an advocate or outreach worker when questioned by the police, the right to choose whether or not to use emergency shelters, the right to equal treatment by city staff, the right to privacy, and the right to 24-hour access to public restrooms.  In all, the carefully crafted bill includes eleven demands which come directly from our homeless population.  After years of work, the Homeless Person’s Bill of Rights is finally up for consideration by the City of Duluth.  If passed, Duluth would be the first city to protect its homeless population from the harassment and discrimination that is otherwise commonplace.  After a city council resolution, petition campaign, public speak-outs, endorsement of dozens of organizations, this is the final hour for the people of Duluth to stand up and voice their support for this pioneering ordinance.

There are some within the city who would prefer to pass a policy rather than an ordinance.  A policy would be non-binding.  It could be changed at anytime without debate or notice to the public.  Thus, an ordinance is essential for cementing the basic rights of our homeless population.  An ordinance would cost little to the city.  Even the right to 24-hour access to public restrooms could be met through the rental of port-a-potties that could be obtained for less than a few thousand dollars a year.  This provision would certainly benefit any person of any economic background who happens to need to use a restroom while downtown.  It would also make certain that our city no longer smells of feces and urine in areas that are currently frequented by those who cannot access restrooms.  As a matter of public health, cleanliness, and human dignity, access to public restrooms is a sensible and modest demand.

I hope that you agree that all people, irrespective of their housing, deserve the basic right to eat in public, occupy public space, enjoy privacy, and avoid police harassment, so long as they are acting lawfully.  These elementary protections ensure that everyone in our city is treated with the dignity that they deserve.  To ensure the passage of this ordinance, please contact city counselors and the mayor.”


  1. Earned Safe and Sick Time Speak Out

The Earned Safe and Sick Time Task Force is hosting a series of public events, wherein community members can voice their concerns regarding the passage of a Earned Safe and Sick Time ordinance in Duluth.  This would ensure that all workers in Duluth can earn sick time and safety related personal leave.  I have not been involved in this campaign, but decided to attend one of these listening sessions.  I found that the business community is highly organized against this ordinance.  I wasn’t going to speak, but the business community launched a series of infuriating and inhumane complaints against such an ordinance.  As such, I felt compelled to sign up for the speaking list.  I have since condensed my comments into a letter to the editor that I submitted to the Duluth News Tribune.


 

  1. Hildegard House Meeting: Beth Bartlett

Early in the month, Jenny and I attended a meeting at Hildegard House.  Hildegard House is a Catholic worker house which shelters women who have been trafficked.  Beth Bartlett was the speaker at this meeting and shared her thoughts on community.  She also shared about her book: Making Waves: Grassroots Feminism in Duluth and Superior.  It was great to hear her speak.  She even signed my book.  We finished reading her book this month in the feminist book club.

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  1. Feminist Book Club:

The feminist book club met in early February to discuss Making Waves: Grassroots Feminism in Duluth and Superior.  One of the major themes that we drew from the book was the institutionalization of feminism over time.  This was the result of social pressures, scarce resources, laws which required institutionalization, new movement norms, and the doldrums of the feminist movement.  In a way, the history is a cautionary tale of the movement from egalitarian grassroots feminism, to the comparatively unequal and structured world of nonprofits and non-governmental organizations.  Unless someone was a feminist in the 1960s or 1970s, they probably don’t have experience with the feminist movement outside of established institutions.  One fear I have is that this normalizes a certain relationship to the government, political parties, and funders.

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  1. Bi with (Pizza) Pie

Pandemonium meets once a month at Pizza Luce to discuss issues related to bisexuality over pizza.  This month, we discussed various bi+ identities.  I think it was a rather fruitful discussion.  The event was attended by seven members, so the turn-out was pretty good!  One of the members was new to the group and another member had been absent since our first meeting, so it was great to have some new and newish faces.

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  1. HOTDISH Militia Fundraiser:

The HOTDISH Militia will be participating in a bowl-a-thon to raise funds so that low income women can access abortion and other reproductive health services from the Women’s Health Center.  The goal is to raise $5000.  This event is held throughout the country through NNAF, but HOTDISH is unique because it is the smallest (and probably most grassroots) of the organizations which provide funding for women.  I will be participating through the Feminist Justice League.  We hope to raise $600 for the April 29th event.  As a bonus, we will be dressing up as superheroes!  You can check out our donation page here to make a donation!

https://bowl.nnaf.org/team/106832


  1. Immigration Solidarity Rally

Early in February, Idle No More hosted a short rally in support of immigrant rights at the MN Power Plaza in Duluth.  This was attended by about 40 people.  The event was great as the various speakers connected immigrant rights to other issues such as war, environmentalism, colonization, and poverty.  There was some discussion of reviving an immigrant rights group in Duluth at this event, though it remains to be seen if this suggestion will bear fruit.

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  1. Women and Gender Studies Breakfast

Twice a year, UMD’s Women and Gender Studies Department hosts a breakfast which brings together various feminists in the community.  I felt very honored to be invited last fall and again this spring.  The event is a great way to connect with other feminists and share what we are up to.  I was able to share the schedule of feminist frolics and book club meetings for the spring, as well as some information about an International Women’s Day event I’ve been organizing.  This event helps me to feel more connected to other feminists.  It helps build a united feminist community, wherein we share a meal, our concerns, and our projects.


  1. Fascism: What it is and How to Fight it

Socialist Action hosted a presentation on the history of fascism and how to fight it.  The event was attended by about ten people, which is actually pretty good for an event centered around a theoretical and tactical discussion of fascism.  To very briefly summarize Adam Ritscher’s presentation, fascism arose in the wake of WWI.  European economy were in shambles, especially in Germany where hyperinflation rendered the currency nearly meaningless as the result of war reparations.  WWI saw the collapse of empires and revolution in Russia.  Socialist revolution was a real threat to an already destabilized capitalism.  Socialist revolution was brutally crushed in Germany and only succeeded in Russia at an enormous cost.  Still, throughout the 1920s, socialists and communists enjoyed millions of votes in Germany.  However, Stalin’s ascent to power made collaboration of socialists and communists impossible due to his disastrous policy which ordered communists to treat other socialists as more of a threat than capitalism and fascists.  Because these massively popular parties could not unite, fascism slinked into power in Germany.  Fascism is a political movement which gains ground in times of crisis in capitalism, when the power of workers is so potent and frightening that the ruling class sacrifices some of its own to bring into power a thuggish fiend that can subjugate the working class through violence, dictatorship, and terror.  Fascism is the capitalist class’ last and worst weapon against the threat of revolution.


Because of the failure of Stalin to appropriately address the threat of fascism, Trotsky broke away from the communist party, giving up any hope that it could be reformed.  He founded the 4th International.  Historically, Trotskyists have sought to fight fascism by correctly identifying it as a threat above the run of the mill workings of everyday capitalism and by defending workers with force as necessary.  This has entailed organizing armed defense of workers.


Adam provided several historical contexts of fascism and anti-fascist organizing.  One of the most important points was an analysis of if Donald Trump is a fascist.  From our perspective, he is not.  Capitalism is not immediately threatened by the prospect of revolution.  The labor movement is relatively weak.  While Trump is awful and should be organized against, both capitalist parties have operated in awful and repressive ways throughout history.  Racism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia, etc. have historically been essential to the functioning of capitalism as they divide the working class and depress wages.  The fact that he is not at this moment viewed as a fascist, does not mean he is any less threatening or should be taken any less seriously.  It simply means that he does not fit the traditional Trotskyist definition of a fascist, which is rooted in the specific role fascism plays in prolonging capitalism.  While Trump has curtailed democratic rights and reversed the gains of social movements, this use of state power is not in the interest of definitively smashing working class resistance.  Democracy has not be usurped to save capitalism.  Any threats to democracy happen because they can happen, not because they must happen.  There is little working class resistance to his policies, or for that matter, the policies of Obama, Bush, or Clinton.


  1. Socialism and a Slice

Yesterday, I attended Socialism and a Slice.  This is a fun way to meet up with other activists, while enjoying pizza.  This month, Christine and her family showed up.  It was a very special day, since her baby was celebrating his first birthday.   We discussed various activist events which are happening locally and the challenge of being engaged in everything that is going on.

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  1. Self-Care

I was pretty busy with activism and work, but I tried to take care of myself by doing a few fun activities.  One of them was visiting the Sax Zim Bog to do a little birding.  I wasn’t there that long, but spotted a gray jay and white winged crossbill.  Another fun thing was a short road trip to the mysterious lands beyond  Superior, WI.  This journey took us to the hopping metropolis of Danbury, WI and onward to answer the siren’s call of Siren.  We made a stop at the Clam Dam to wander around and walked a short distance on the Gandy Dancer Trail.  This month also included a cold morning walk on the day after V-Day and discounted chocolates.

 

 

 

 

A Very Good Year

2015 was a very good year. Here are some of the highlights:

  1. Visiting four state parks: Tettegouche State Park for an informational hike about ferns (with bonus information about lichens), trip to Tower-Sudan Mine Park with Adam and Lucas, trip to Crosby (Cayuna Recreation Area) to learn about the mining disaster there, and a trip to Moose Lake State park during Agate Days. These visits were fun and informative, deepening my knowledge of ferns, mining, and agates.DSCF1072
  2. A trip to Ukraine, Belarus, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Finland, and Sweden in August. The highlight of this trip was by far, my visit to Chernobyl. But, I enjoyed Estonia as well, especially the visit to the bog in Lahemaa National Park.DSCF1178
  3. Graduating from Mankato with my Master’s in Sociology. It took long enough, but I did it. And, as of this moment, my thesis has had 95 downloads. I feel self-conscious about it, as it was certainly imperfect. But, as I was told in my research methods class…the best thesis is a done thesis.  My GPA was not perfect either…at 3.91. I learned a lot and was challenged. My imperfect GPA was not for lack of effort.   Thesis: http://cornerstone.lib.mnsu.edu/etds/412/
  4. Student Teaching at Denfeld HS. Teaching sociology and world history to 11th and 12th graders was a wonderful experience. I loved doing creative projects, games, group work, food sampling, station work, and interdisciplinary activities in the classroom with the students. I loved teaching. I loved the opportunity to share my knowledge with the students. I was told by my cooperating teacher that I was her best student teacher and told by my supervisor from St. Scholastica that I was among the top 2% of student teachers (2% was awfully specific, but I will remember it as a great compliment). I suppose that turning in 20-40 page lesson plans helped my cause. Aside from the compliments, I enjoyed teaching week long lessons on the French and Russian revolutions to the 11th grade students. We did both as giant role playing games wherein students invented their own characters and were assessed based upon the memoirs of their characters at the end of the unit.
  5. Finishing up the GTLE program.   One reason I stalled in Mankato was that I embarked on a second Master’s program, which was an accelerated program that gains a person a teaching license. I finished up the licensure portion of the program and will have a Master’s in teaching this spring. Thus far, my GPA is 4.0. I am quite proud of this, as I have been working full time and because the program was…well, accelerated, with two sets of classes each semester. I don’t mind tooting my horn, as I worked hard.
  6. Working at Safe Haven. Working at a domestic violence shelter can be stressful, but I generally enjoy the work and think that my co-workers are excellent. I am glad to have a job that serves women and I am glad to have a job where it isn’t abnormal to be a feminist.
  7. Feminist activism. This year I participated in a feminist book club and a counter protest against the 40 Days for Life. I also did a Roe v. Wade protest and International Women’s Day Panel. It felt good to help organize these activities and to work with other feminists.DSCF2269
  8. Running: I’ve never been all that great at running. In other words, I am awful. Two years ago, I tried taking up jogging at was gasping like a fish out of water at a quarter mile. Suddenly, something just snapped. I didn’t try that hard. I didn’t run consistently. I just did it off and on. Now, this year, I was able to jog for an hour and a half (in September.) That is a long time of jogging! It feels amazing. I still run inconsistently, but I don’t fear it, don’t hate it, and don’t gasp like a fish. I love it. What a liberating feeling! There was no special effort or training…just a slow commitment to run from time to time and push myself to go longer.DSCF0943
  9. Learning about nature. This ties to going to state parks. I went to various lectures and hikes, mostly at Jay Cooke State Park and Hartley Nature Center. I also purchased a few guide books. The sum of this is that I grew in my ability to identify ferns, trees, butterflies, and wild flowers. I made a goal of learning 15 of each (though I have forgotten some of that knowledge for lack of consistent practice).
  10. Fun time with friends. I am glad that I was able to convince my friend, Adam, to pal around with me on various adventures (such as the state park adventures, a trip to the Oulu corn maze, outings to the planetarium, hikes, trips to the zoo, etc.). I also had fun when Lucas visited and during my brother’s visit. It was nice to reconnect with Jenny through feminism. I don’t have many friends. I am socially awkward and stand offish. So, I am certainly thankful for the few friends that I have.DSCF2335
  11. Good books. I read some good books during the year. Some were through the book club. I wish I could remember all of the books that I read. I guess I should have written them down. Highlights include King Leopold’s Ghost, The Sixth Extinction, Education and Capitalism, Belarus: Europe’s Last Dictatorship, Blood lands: Between Hitler and Stalin, I am Malala, a book about the history of travel, and others that I just can’t remember. Terrible! Maybe I should resolve to write down what I read. Anyway, I felt that I read some really interesting non-fiction this year on topics such as feminism, Congo, Eastern Europe, climate change, education, etc.
  12. Beach Outings: One of my favorite summer things to do was visit Wisconsin Point and walk along the beach, go for a hike in the woods, or read a book. These solo outings were a way to have some fun in the sun and enjoy the lake.DSCF0992
  13. Star Gazing: There were a few times that I went star gazing, enjoying constellations and meteor showers.
  14. Various opportunities to wear costumes. I like dressing up. As such, I relished my opportunities to dress up as a Brainy Scarecrow for Halloween and Che of the Dead for Day of the Dead.   Costumes are fun. There needs to be more dressing up in my life.DSCF2381
  15. Adding some acting to my life. I participated in the Douglas County History Society’s living history walk at the Greenwood Cemetery as a Jesse McArthur, a drowning victim from the early 1900s. It was pretty fun, as I hadn’t done any acting since high school.IMG_21528
  16. Generally good health. I had some minor digestive problems, perhaps due to stress from working at the shelter or stomach bugs. However, generally speaking I didn’t have any terrible health issues aside from some digestive things and various colds.
  17. Feeling okay about myself.  Sometimes I struggle with the nagging feeling that I am a failure, ugly, fat, terrible, incapable of friendship, and all of those other insecurities.  I never feel satisfied.  I feel that I must do more and be more.  I can’t say that I am sated with the accomplishments of the year, but I can say that I put enough effort into enough areas to sate the hungry demons of insecurity.
  18. Fun clothes.  On an entirely frivolous note, I found some cool clothes this year.  I really like my dinosaur x-mas shirt, apple hat, pumpkin hat, and a poncho I found at Savers (with built in headphones and an MP3 hook up).  It is hard to be depressed/spiral into an existential crisis when you are wearing a pumpkin on your head.  Orange is never the new black.   A fashion highlight was matching my clothes (apple hat, apple sweater, and apple socks) to some caramel apples I made for a work party.DSCF2334

In all, 2015 was a really good year. I was happy. I kept active. I had some accomplishments and few setbacks. I would say that 2015 was probably one of the best years in my adult life (though it is hard to measure such things. 2010 was pretty good too). 2016 has a lot to live up to.  My tip for 2016: wear more orange.

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A Month in the Life

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This month has passed in a flurry of final school activities, work, and activism.  There has been little time for fun or hobbies…or anything aside from work and school mostly.  Now, as the semester ends, I can slow down and look back.  Here is a retrospective.

Today:

Today I taught a lesson on the Mughal Empire to 10th grade students.  I am proud of this lesson as it used four stations to appeal to many learning styles.  At station one, students completed a graphic organizer wherein they matched facts about various Mughal rulers with the name of the ruler.  At station two, I had “the Mughal Empire” in a bag.  Actually, it was seven bags filled with items such as the Koran, an astronomical map, a toy elephant, an Afghan throw, a book about the Taj Mahal, and several other items.  Students had to determine how the bagged items related to the Mughal empire.  At station three, students chose from a list of events in Mughal history, which they then drew onto a timeline.  At station four, students sampled Indian food, assembled a puzzle, or looked at various books related to the Mughals.  The lesson went very well.  I was happy.

I also finished a paper today along with several items of busy work.

I also sat in on a 2 hour conference call for Socialist Action, learning more about French Trotskyists, Fergusson, and the15 dollar an hour movement.

A nap also happened.

Yesterday:

I slept about one hour and felt like the victim of a failed, fictional Soviet sleep experiment.  My brain would not let me sleep as I was too concerned about my upcoming lesson and the mass of homework I had due.  I went to my internship.  I also turned in my 85 page unit of lessons and materials on the Russian and Chinese revolutions.  Yes, 85 pages.  I also prepared for the Mughal lesson and finished up an online resource kit assignment.

Sunday: Like Monday, I only slept about one hour due to stress.  I worked all day at Safe Haven (a women’s shelter) then did four hours of homework.  I did take a nap in the evening.

Saturday: This was supposed to be a big homework day but turned out to be a day spent sleeping/dry heaving from a mysterious stomach bug.

Friday:  Three hours of class+ 2 hour Mughal documentary+ up until 4am creating a Mughal lesson plan that was 20 pages long including all of the materials.

Thursday:  Work + Vampire Diaries.   I know that the Vampire Diaries is not sophisticated, academic, or feminist.   I just like vampires…okay!  Oh, I also finished a book about Tasmanian Devils.  Maybe THAT can be a blog post.

Wednesday: 12 hours of work.

Tuesday: Lesson on the legacy of the Ottoman Empire through an interactive map game at Superior HS. The students seemed to enjoy it.  I also fed them Baklava and Turkish delight.

Monday: Internship+ homework+ lesson prep.

Sunday:  Work

Saturday:  10am protest against SodaStream in support of  Palestine.  Noon = Pizza Hut with  Adam. 2-4 poster  making for evening protest.  4-5:30 walk on the Osage Trail.  5:30 protest against the layoff of UWS janitors.  7pm? homework.

Friday:  Class+ Mug Exchange+ homework

Thursday:  Work

Wednesday: Work

Tuesday:  Internship + feminist planning meeting.

This month kind of sucked.   I need more me time.   I  want time to exercise, write, draw, read, and pursue hobbies.  I  think  I need to take another vacation this summer….

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