Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
So, there comes anger, sadness, paranoia and peacefulness. Like waves, my emotions get the best of me. Right now, I am piss off.
There are many ways of saying what you want, without sounding like a wild teenager in the Maury Show. One thing is to say, “The people who used the flags of the country of origin, did a stupid mistake. They were detrimental in the purpose of the action and harm the overall intended message. If they are not going to help, at least they shouldn’t be part of the problem. Please give a break to us, the ones who are working hard for The Dream Act and CIR and don’t make mistakes like that.”
I agree with that. Also, those who made the mistake would see your point and respect it, maybe change their minds and do marches the right way. More important than posting on Facebook, You Tube or Twitter, speak to the ones who committed the offense. Tell them in their face, that what they did is ineffective. Of course, that is hard to do, to rant stupid things in the internet, on the other hand, is quite simple.
Just saying “mexicans are stupid for parading with their flag, who the fuck they think they are with their pride they need to march to where they came and stay there.”
It reminds me of this comment:
The answer to your question is they don't deserve anything courtesy of the US taxpayer. Millions of citizens graduate high school every single day yet when they prepare to go to college out of state, they have to pay out of state rates. The circumstances of Dreamies are NOT special other than they have managed to lie, cheat and steal in order to obtain an American college degree by any means necessary. They need to take their ill gotten gains and use them to help raise their 3rd world countries out of poverty. But it's easier for them to remain here in all of their arrogance and delusional racial superiority and demand we foot their bills.
Additionally, they claim they can't go back because they aren't familiar with their homelands. Neither they nor their parents were familiar with America but they sure did learn how to skirt every law possible to remain here. Proof that it is not impossible for them to go home and adjust to the country they so proudly support but are too lazy to make liveable. It's much easier to stay here and demand everything after all we've already done all the heavy lifting.
It's time for them to blame and hold their criminal parents accountable for their actions but of course they won't do that because they have been raised to believe that nothing is ever their fault.
Do you really think this person is going to like you just because, you are insulting the marchers…and they call me optimist. Actually, as horrible as the comment is, it managed to be smarter and better crafted than the posts of many dreamers. This comment I can respect, even if I do not agree with it.
On the other hand, look at what DreamActvist.org did. The whole message was right on the spot; first they only focus on the dreamers. Second, they are only focusing on the positive, which creates a sense of power, energy and momentum, not of failure, resentment and impotence.
If we want to win, this is the type of message we need to craft, as individuals and independent activists of our cause. Who cares if you lose the battle, you will win the war. Isn’t that the goal that matters?
Thursday, April 16, 2009
They are telling me to wait….a little longer. I listen to their soft voices and look at their compassionate eyes. Their intellect, well above mine dictates that politics and such and such will take a while. That is the way I understood life and the way the world understand me. Everything is in equilibrium.
I have been waiting for fifteen years. I waited while in the desert and no one came. I was thirteen and afraid. I was thirteen and I died but didn’t found out until it was too late.
I waited while in high school. My dad lost part of his finger. The firm made him sign up papers in English, saying that it was his entire fault.
I waited through community college. My father put his wages into a house. His boss told him that since he could not own a house, it was better to put the house under his name. It is now, the boss house.
I waited through college. We filed a lawsuit against the boss. The Judge told our lawyer that it was feasible for my father to accept a 50% cut on his wages at the same time his boss buy a house in a town 50 miles away from where he lived. Maybe illegals accept those types of wage cuts.
I waited after got a job. I was earning half of what other people would earn.
I waited while my mother lost her ID and the cops told her that she cannot file a complaint because she does not exist.
I waited while my land lord decided not to give me my deposit back and the Consumer affair staff, told me that I cannot file a report because I am an illegal alien.
I am asked to wait, just a little longer. Wait to live, to travel, own a house, get a camcorder, get a real job, buy a car, pay high taxes, get a health insurance, get Master’s degree, fulfill my dreams, fight back, get respect, go outside and claim the sun, the wind, the earth, the north, the south, the east, the west, ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect. ect.ect.ect. ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect. ect.ect.ect. ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect. ect.ect.ect. ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect.ect. ect.ect.ect.
You are in fact, asking me to wait for my humanity. There, lost in the Arizona desert, crying for me and asking me to go back and claim her as mine and mine alone. What would you do in my place, would you wait a little longer?
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Still, freedom is what I want. What my soul yearns so deeply it turns into a pain that caresses my bones and heart. It cuts like a knife through my gut until it hits the other side. There is a cavity in the flesh that goes into the infinity. It is a wound that never heals. It won’t heal even if freedom arrives. The bleeding will carry on until there is nothing left but an empty vessel.
I know freedom will change nothing. Still, I know that bread will taste sweeter. The grass will look as emeralds in the dirt turn into amethysts. The sky hue will be more beautiful and the air will feel crisper. The tears will be less bitter. Freedom is eternal and those who obtain it transcend with it.
The stars are powerful and beautiful suns. Like our humanity, they are pure energy. All the stunning, warm light cannot be hold and must be release to faraway places. It is a bleeding that must continue until there is nothing left but an empty vessel. Sometimes I wonder if the stars looked at us back and wonder about the beauty of those tiny dim lights.
Life is the same whether or not I am free but the meaning of everything changes when you are free. How I long to be free. To be free is what I wish for.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Illegal is illegal। It is just a sentence with two words. It means nothing. Oranges are oranges and two is two no matter how you slice it. I can say that stupid is stupid and there is no denying it. It is a truism like Jesus is love. Only Jesus is more than love. Clergy, atheists and scholars can tell you that Jesus is more than love. There is a point where love has nothing to do with Jesus. It is easy just to say that Jesus is love for the sake of sanity. That is the problem.
It is so simple that the meaning escapes through the window and runs laughing at your face. The first illegal refers to a person who is living without documents in the United States. There are many ways on which a person can become undocumented in the USA. Either the person was smuggled though the border or enter through an airport with a temporary visa and never left. Anyway, the person is illegal. Now, you can see the reality of the sentence. A person is illegal.
Illegal is illegal and it is funny। There are people driving cars without a license plate and those cars are not illegal. People smuggle animals into the country and those animals are not illegals. It is only when it refers to me that illegal is illegal, although, like the car and the animal, I had no say on the decision of whether I wanted to be an undocumented resident of the United States or not.
Even funnier, a murderer is a murderer। A murderer is not murder. A rapist is a rapist but it is not rape. There is a chance that we can love the sinner and hate the sin with a murderer and a rapist. There is no chance of loving an illegal because the sin is the sinner, even, if that particular sin is the only one committed by the sinner. I am an illegal when going to church and an illegal when donating blood. I am especially illegal when volunteering. Some of my illegal blood might be running through your veins. It is also safe blood, due to my stubborn catholic belief of remaining chaste until marriage and my unwillingness to drink alcohol or use drugs. There is such thing as illegal but safe. By the way, illegal is still illegal.
Illegal is illegal। It is a derogative term use to make the dreaded other feel inferior and less than human. It is like, calling a homosexual a fag or an African American a nigger. The only difference is that illegal is actually the correct legal definition. They also throw in the “alien” concept, thus every one can associate me to the dark, moist creature that impregnated American men in the Aliens Trilogy.
Because, illegal is illegal means, you are inferior। Justice has nothing to do with it. That is why we have engineers that are working as waitresses and nurses that are working as nannies. We have people whose only language is English and who were raised here. We have people who are no longer part of the country they left. They are the dreaded other in their country of origin and they are the dreaded other in the country they reside. Illegal is illegal and it means that I am unwanted everywhere.
Since illegal is illegal, the constitution has nothing to do with me। That is why someone can scream at my face that illegal is illegal and I can give a long wonderful speech. I cannot say that I am not illegal, because then, they’ll call ICE on me, and I will be deported. I cannot say that I am undocumented. You cannot feel compassion for me because feeling compassion to me is to feel compassion for my legal status. Tancredo does not have compassion for my legal status. He, however, understands that illegal is illegal. That is why he threatened to call ICE on a group of young students that were promoting the Dream Act. Thus, effectively he denied them the right to rally for their cause.
I also understand that illegal is illegal and that it refers to me। It is not how I see myself or how I see other Dream Act students. It is how I am perceived by others, even people who claim to like me. When a journalist writes a favorable article about the Dream Act, I want to thank that person. If I write as a Dream Act student, nothing happens. If I write as a thankful reader, I get a reply. Also, when writing responses in Saloon.com and Bill Moyers Journal, when writing as a pro-Dream Act individual, I get negative and positive responses. When I write my story and my take on my situation, people ignore my comments. I, it seems, do not have the right to have an opinion, even if the argument is the argument of my life.
Illegal is illegal and it must be stop. We can argue as much as we want. Some people might even write angry letters and some might have a good point. Still, those who are sick and tired of illegal is illegal must fight it to the bitter end…in Congress. Deep inside, after the protective cynicism is removed, the optimist hides inside all of us. There is a solution and its name is the Dream Act. One day, someone will scream at me that illegal is illegal. I will reply. “Illegal is illegal but it does not refer to me.” Only this time the law will be by my side. The world will have to agree. And those who wish to maintain the status quo will have no choice, but to swallow back, their bitter poison.