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[tidoes]

[Poem] Gratitude

Gratitude Appreciating friends and family Who give me homey lamps, Who save me a seat in class, Who invite and include me at beach and bar and park parties, Who then understand when I gotta say no for the rest and self-care, Who check in on me, Who help me fulfill my mahjong dreams, Who tell me to go to sleep, Who think of me sending me good energy, Who get me through the week, Cause it's been a long week. I'm tired. And thankful to be tired. Cause what's life without exerting yourself. Thankful For all the people I'm connected to Who give me good energy When I'm at low capacity. ♡ P.S. I love you all. Filter: slumber

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[Poem] #graymournings

The tiredness That I wake up to After crying myself to sleep. #graymournings

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[Poem] Living Life as a Prayer

I feel like life is like a prayer Where the actions that I take are prayers in motion. To boldly take action Is a silent but purposeful prayer That my life is moving in the right direction. Manifest the life I want, By living the life I want, But what if I don’t know what I want? Well, I know some things at least, The things I don’t - I’m just going to let go of the things I can’t control. I yield to the mystic nature of the future, I allow my life to align itself, Praying for the internal peace and power to meet life as it comes. I put my trust in life’s mysteries, Remembering I am always, exactly where I need to be. So here’s to the excitement and tranquility of Discovering sticker postcards and Drinking tea while contemplating reflections.

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[Movie Review] Crazy Rich Asians

After the first watch - HOLY FUCKING SHIT. IT WAS SO GOOD. AND I AM GOING TO BE THAT LOUD OBNOXIOUS ASIAN BECAUSE HOLY SHIT IT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD. I NEVER FUCKING SAY THIS ABOUT ANY FUCKING MOVIE ADAPTATION OF A NOVEL BUT I SWEAR IT IS BETTER THAN THE BOOK. IT IS FUCKING BETTER THAN THE BOOK. THE THINKPIECES DID NOT PREPARE ME FOR THE FEELINGS. I NEED A FEELING PIECE. THIS MUST BE IT BECAUSE I AM TYPING IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE MY BEING IS SHOUTING. OMG. CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW THE FEMALES FUCKING CARRIED THIS MOVIE? THIS IS SOOOO NOT JUST ABOUT ASIAN AMERICAN REPRESENTATION. ITS ABOUT ASIAN AMERICAN WOMEN REPRESENTATION. yes, only east asian women. BUT FUCK YEAH EAST ASIAN WOMEN!!! POWERFUL FUCKING FEMALES. TIES THAT BIND AND TIES THAT BREAK FUCKING FEMALE POWER IN THIS MOVIE. YES MY BEING IS PROBABLY EXCITED BECAUSE CONTEXT AND WHAT I HAVE BEEN WORKING THROUGH IN MY LIFE, BUT WHATEVER. CONTEXT MAKES EVERYTHING MORE SPECIAL. AND FUCKING HELL, THIS MOVIE WAS FUCKING SPECIAL. IM A BROKE CHEAP ASS SNOBBY-ABOUT-BEING-CHEAP ASIAN AND I WILL FUCKING PAY MONEY TO SEE THIS AGAIN IN THEATRES. ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY. I CAME IN EXCITED WITH MEDIUM EXPECTATIONS CAUSE I READ THE BOOK BUT OMG IT BLEW ME THE FUCK AWAY. SOFNJEKFJQLDOEN294O2JEI39JFNWLDNFIJRJEJFJEJFJFJTJWK93JFJSLLSNFKOFP3OSPMGNEHDIGUEJNROEKFJRKJFKFKFJEKLFNFKFNFKLDKFJEOFJEKFJRKRJFKJFJGNNGJFKDJRJGJRKDJRJFNEO3NOTUGUSUEJTKQPGI3UBDKALCH10475HDBLAKCNJEJFJFJFJEK3OF9DYDNFJDKJFIGJGIRIGJFJFJFJWLLTNEKCORNFNJFKGJGJJ -- After time - A Chinese American on Crazy Rich Asians - I have not been quiet about a journey that I am still on - the journey to unlearn my internalized racism. I wrote about it before - here, on Instagram. As a Chinese American who’s still working on unlearning their internalized racism, I have so much to learn about myself. I am a Chinese American who struggles to be Chinese in the United States of America. I grew up in Los Angeles with a large Asian American population and still struggled to find my identity. I have so much to learn about me. Quick example - It was only three or four years ago that I truly learned the significance of my heritage and my piece of the Chinese diaspora. That my family are twice immigrants. My parents never even stepped foot in China until two years ago on a summer vacation. And yet, we are staunchly Chinese. Chinese Vietnamese American. This was a result of white supremacy and internalized racism which made it so that I was not interested in me or my family. So I bring it up again, cause I cannot talk about how celebratory this movie is, without acknowledging a lot of the pain that came before it, the pain from internalized racism and white supremacy. I think about it in loss. Loss of language, loss of heritage and history, loss of connection to family, loss of myself. Some losses, that I won’t even know about it - because that’s how deep the loss goes. An unknown bottomless abyss. So the journey - is one of recovery and reclamation. Recovering that which has been lost, I try… intentionally learning Cantonese in a class, watching Hong Kong dramas, speaking with my parents in Cantonese, asking my mother about recipes, reengaging in ceremonies and rituals and traditions, asking to hear about the stories that not too long ago - I didn’t want to hear. And despite all of this, it’s fucking hard. Cause there’s so much I don’t know. I feel like these attempts might be me - overcompensating for being a bad Asian sometimes. Angie Han describes it well. “I know, intellectually, that my Asian-American identity is not in question. And yet when it comes to representation, I feel sometimes like a fraud. I'm desperate to be represented authentically, and at the same time unsure of what that should or could look like. When something does come along with the trappings of authenticity, I fret if I don't fit the mold, get the jokes, recognize the references.” Similarly, Henry Golding, the actor for Nick, has had to face questions of whether he is Asian enough. So how does Crazy Rich Asians fit into my journey of unlearning internalized racism, of rediscovering and recovering that which has been lost? It was everything and yet, just the tip of the iceberg. It’s everything - I am in tears, thinking about how so much of this movie reflects me. The faces. The language I could understand. The values of family and the struggles around that. The music which I am so familiar with because my father sings them for fun, randomly, while we’re at home, in the car; he’ll sing those beautiful tunes even if his voice isn’t quite the most beautiful. And the MAHJONG, a game I learned from family, my aunties and uncles, my cousins. I was swept off my feet because this movie, the story spoke to parts of my being that I didn’t know could be celebrated, could be seen on the big screen. The screen... a mirror giving my image and myself back to me, lighting up all the little moments of my life that make up who I am that I didn’t even know could be unpacked. My body was full of adrenaline after the movie. I shouted, quite literally because...holy shit, that’s my tongue, that’s me, that’s my people, Chinese diaspora people. Representation, a reflection of my experience, validation, being seen. YES. All of it. YES. All of that is super important - And yet, It’s just the tip of the iceberg - Cause let’s be clear, it wasn’t me at all. I didn’t know everything. I don’t know what any of the food dishes were. I don’t know the language perfectly. I don’t know the meaning of the music even if the music is familiar to me. I don’t know that mahjong could teach one so much. I don’t get some of it, to be honest. Because fuck, I didn’t know. But this film - all those things that are unknown unknowns? It’s there for me to see and ask about and learn about now. When before, I didn’t know these small parts of my life were remarkable enough to shine a light on, to be on the big screen, to even talk about, let alone learn about, now I know they are remarkable, worthy of being unpacked. And I get to learn about some of it, with all these awesome thinkpieces and feelingpieces. And that’s where I’m finding the significance of this film. The beauty of it - is that it generates more stories. If I don’t get a piece of the story, someone out there does, and I get to learn about it and myself some more in the awesome outpouring of Asian Americans speaking up about their own stories in relation to CRA. Stories - of all of the different pieces of the diaspora, all the different pieces of the gigantic Asian American label, all the ones that desperately need to be heard. And there is so much more to do in terms of Asian representation. I think and speak specifically of my Southeast Asian family who were treated incredibly poorly in the film. We can do better, and we can do more. So yeah, there’s so much more to explore. This movie is JUST the tip of the iceberg. I caught myself dreaming of the many other stories that there are to tell. I thought of my friends’ stories and how much I want to see those on the screen. To quote the movie - let us wake. Let our stories be told. Let’s fucking write these things, these histories, these stories. -- A list of articles on CRA https://docs.google.com/document/d/1XseG0zNKqgMdwNRc6QEB5G_hRTOPCWavH_SAMnzyqho/edit?usp=sharing

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[Poem] A Reminder

Today, I came across a set of poems, That are so exquisite It took my breath away. So that when there was a break in the story - I pause, take a deep breath. Look up from the pages, And see the magic of my own reality. Unlike most stories, Where my mind is still transported away on a magical adventure, I, instead, Awaken to the soft beauty of the wind Blowing on my ankles from the gap in the fence, Carrying flowers from the trees which then drift all around me Caressing my body in a cool breeze. It’s so lovely, all the poetry of life that exists in front of my eyes, And I feel it, the exquisiteness of being. The guise of society has been pulled back, There is no boundary between life and art, Our lives are art. [So fuck artwashing, The displacement of people for the sake of bougie art galleries. Your art is not more important than the lives that live on this land.] Awash in magic, I remember that I am poetry. – “This Land is a Poem” by Joy Harjo “Remember” by Joy Harjo Page 48 of Nejma by Nayyirah Waheed Page 109 of salt. By Nayyirah Waheed Page 152 of salt. By Nayyirah Waheed Page 194 of salt. By Nayyirah Waheed Page 225 of salt. By Nayyirah Waheed Page 226 of salt. By Nayyirah Waheed

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[Poem] I Sigh A Lot Lately

I sigh a lot lately. In the morning it’s not an actual sigh, It’s all in my head - Where I’m physically refreshed, But mentally My brain is buzzing dully From the lack of rest Because it’s still trying to make sense Of one, the fact that you left And two, how to live a life without you, my best friend. In the evening it becomes real, And all the energy I’ve used all day To mentally push you away Has been spent. I’m too tired to actively stop thinking of you, I’m too tired to do things to distract me, I’m too tired to keep the sadness at bay, (Sigh) I sigh. I sigh As if I could physically sigh the sadness away, Exhale it out of my chest Where it pools at the bottom of my lungs Where it almost drowns and consumes me The sadness that rests in my body Doesn’t let me rest. I know time heals, But the sadness hasn’t eased up yet. So at the end of the day, When I hit a point of exhaustion, From trying to fill the hole in my soul where you used to be, I sigh Cause even though everything I’ve done brings me joy It’s not enough - So when it reaches twilight and the sun sets, The day is still too long Even if the night is still young, Cause all I really wanna know is - Is it time yet? (Sigh) --

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[Poem] On Instagram These Days

A friend noticed I'm processing a lot on my instagram these days, And yeahhhhhhhh, I totally am, So let me explain. This Instagram thing Has been a long time coming - Putting me, myself and I In front of the camera As the focus of my own story Instead of behind it, hiding - This Instagram thing Is just another step in a long journey Of reclaiming my space, presence, existence, Of owning my identity. I'm sharing many of my life’s adventures, Like going to the beach with my brother And being told I can't fly a kite by a lifeguard. Like getting my first facial And realizing I really can let loose and focus on my own face for an entire hour. I'm sharing the many little things that bring me joy; excite me. Like the little drops of sap that fall from trees, Like the time I saw a bunny being walked in a harness, (I'm totally serious) Like this dress, Bold and bright in its orange sunniness. So much wonderful awesomeness has happened this week! But I would be remiss If I was not completely honest That I'm also feeling a lot of sadness. Grief exists in my body. It starts as a ball of sadness Hanging in my heart so heavy It's fallen and dropped down into my gut Turning and churning my stomach into knots And I want to hurl. My gut can't handle the spreading sadness, So it tries to expel it, Bubbling, gargling, pushing up my throat Until I vomit. But I vomit nothing but air. Maybe it's lucky that I haven't had an appetite. I'm not thirsty either, And maybe that's lucky too So I'll run out of tears to cry, Though the well hasn't dried up yet. And it's been hard to sleep. But morning comes eventually. Even if mourning doesn't end, There's too much love and passion surrounding me To be melancholic permanently. It's silly, But it's reflected in this dress coincidentally. It reflects the weather of me, emotionally, Cloudy with spots of sunshine. I didn’t know gray and orange worked so well together. But that’s how it’s going to to be - My pain and joy will work together As I explore the future. So on Instagram these days, Every time I share a little about my adventures My spirits lift a little higher, Thanks for bearing witness.

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[Book Review] The Train to Crystal City by Jan Jarboe Russell

This was interesting. Worth a read because it not only attempts to unveil the bullshit that was US incarceration camps but unveils the layers of bullshit. Layerssss like bullshit on top of bullshit on top of bullshit. By bullshit I mean, inhumanity after inhumanity after inhumanity. Surprised by the fact the US has been deporting even folks with citizenship or stripping citizenship retroactively? HA! IT'S NOT THE FIRST FUCKING TIME AND THERE'S FUCKING HISTORICAL PRECEDENCE FOR THIS SHIT. Ughdksjfpwk3jcosojwdiwnridkwbd. While this book shined a lot on US incarceration camps, like the continued lack of acknowledgement of the incarceration of German Americans, I don't think I appreciate the softness it takes to the idea of all this being an unfortunate casualty of war. This shit isn't just unlucky or unfortunate. This shit has been caused by people in power who knew what they were doing and should be held accountable. What does accountability look like for intergenerational trauma and suffering? How does redress and healing play a part in it? I think I'm tired of having to ask these questions for too many populations in the US. This shit had happened Too. Many. Times.

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[Poem] Adventures

Adventure is out there! At the Los Angeles flower market and Moskatels where I inhaled fresh flowers whilst wandering the stalls adopting some greens and contemplating pots I took a step towards a dream of becoming an overwhelming plant lady with a crowded room overflowing with plant life, And also happened to decide that my kids should teach me about slime, At the Central Library hunting for history textbooks lost in the teenscape section at 26 years old inspired by a friend I found American Panda by Gloria Chao on audiobook, still hunting for history textbooks lost in art lost in shelves lost in books confused by conservative claims about liberal lies wandering to a charging station I sat, relaxed, charged me and my phone And happened to remember that my first adventures were in books. But it doesn’t do to just sit and read about others, I’m learning to create and enjoy my own adventures, Take up some space in this world, That has often told me to shrink. I was off to Regal LA Live cause yay for discount Tuesdays! to be mesmerized and amused by Sorry to Bother You, Then off to home for an adventure on the internet hangouts online is always full of surprise a game of who’s next in lost connection it was me, Then off to the Chinatown Library, to check out there calendar of events thinking (oh hey, there are Chinese classes on this list) to pick up a book on hold to then walk cheerfully home with an adventure awaiting in my hand, And the last thing I have to say is, Fuck capitalism Cause if I worked nine to five My body and mind wouldn’t have the energy to do all this I need a day for rest I need a day to adult I need a third day to actually enjoy life And go on some adventures. P.S. Today's adventure soundtrack is 1000 Miles by Vanessa Carlton and Sunday Candy by Chance the Rapper Making my way downtown walking fast Faces pass and I’m homebound Staring blankly ahead just making my way Making a way through the crowd And I need you And I miss you And now I wonder If I could fall into the sky Do you think time would pass me by? Cause you know I’d walk 1000 miles If I could just see you tonight…

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[Article] [Poem]

http://www.pewsocialtrends.org/2018/07/12/income-inequality-in-the-u-s-is-rising-most-rapidly-among-asians/ "Income Inequality in the U.S. Is Rising Most Rapidly Among Asians Asians displace blacks as the most economically divided group in the U.S. By Rakesh Kochhar and Anthony Cilluffo" -- Well, THIS IS IMPORTANT TO KNOW. and also, Let's interlace this with ethnic data! Disaggregate it! I wonder what we'll discover! Are East Asians at the top of that? Are Southeast Asians at the bottom? Shall we consider age? Shall we consider immigration status? SHALL WE DO THE WORK TO UNCOVER THE INJUSTICES THAT EXIST WITHIN OUR OWN RACE? Let's unpack it, break this shit down! Especially when there's not just mixed race, there's mixed ethnicity, so we got to give that space. This ish is tangled and complicated But we got to get to the roots, Unweed what chokes our growth, Give light to our anti-blackness.

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From my living room window Up on a hill in Chinatown, I see fireworks go up all over Los Angeles . They pop up from Disney Concert Hall, They frame the Twin Towers Correctional Facility. To me, the irony of the land of the free is obvious. It's in the Constitution, The 13th Amendment makes it clear. Slavery is legal when it's "a punishment for crime". There is no freedom here. Enough has said about this. So I'll just put down a reading list. For me, and for you. And, help me with it? Please and thank you. ☐ "Between the World and Me" by Ta-nehisi Coates ☐ "Freedom is a Constant Struggle: Ferguson, Palestine, and the Foundations of a Movement" by Angela Y. Davis ☐ "The Hate U Give" by Angie Thomas ☑ "Just Mercy" by Bryan Stevenson ☑ "March" by John Lewis ☐ "The New Jim Crow" by Michelle Alexander ☐ "Pushout: The Criminalization of Black Girls in Schools" by Monique W. Morris ☐ "When They Call You A Terrorist" by Patrisse Khan-Cullors & Asha Bandele

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[Poem] The US Government is Kidnapping Children

#kidwisdom Me: childrena re being taken away from their parents Kid: so they're being kidnapped Me: (MINDBLOWN because I have never heard this word being used in reference to the separation of families at the border) ... i guess...yes? actually, yes... This #kidwisdom sparking this research and reflection: https://psmag.com/social-justice/uncovering-the-truth-behind-where-are-the-children https://www.vox.com/2018/5/30/17405992/family-separations-missing-migrant-children Under all the systemic complexity, this is what we have essentially, the United States government is kidnapping children. kidnap (v): to seize and detain or carry away by unlawful force or fraud and often with a demand for ransom But it's happening legally, which is why I guess it's called detention or separation or government custody. Wordsmith it all you want, it's what the kid said, it's kidnapping. -- edit 6/5/2018 https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/05/world/americas/us-un-migrant-children-families.html?smid=fb-nytimes&smtyp=cur It's kidnapping.

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[Movie Review] An Addition to the Many Reasons why the Wonder Woman movie Is Not Great

I have a critique to add to the ones out there. One that I don’t think has been mentioned yet. 

There have been many many many excellent articles unpacking the new Wonder Woman movie from an intersectional feminist standpoint. They do well to gauge where Wonder Woman has both succeeded and failed to push female representation in media as well as general discourse. 

Some of those articles that I’ve read and found helpful are here:

“My Soul Looks Back and Wonders: A Critical Examination of the Wonder Woman Mo”vie”

“Wonder Woman’s Feminism is Strong as Hell, But It’s Not Intersectional”

“A Letter to My Sons After Watching Wonder Woman”

“Wonder Woman is Your Zionist, White Feminist Hero”

“Why Wonder Woman is BitterSweet for Black Women”

I only have one thing to add to the critique. And it’s a plot point critique that lays bare the hypocrisy of Western tropes surrounding their own goodness. It is ridiculous that they set this piece during World War I pitting Diana on the side of the Allies against the Axis powers in which her main goal is to prevent the Axis powers from deploying a weapon of untold destruction that kills innocent people. This is ridiculous because it is literally the West during World War II that used the atomic bomb not just once, but twice on innocent Japanese citizens from the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. 

We need movies that go after the US for their atrocities. Wonder Woman should have been after the US and the Manhattan Project during World War II. They didn't need to create fictional evil characters creating chemical weapons of mass destruction. They need look no further than the US. Atomic Bombs and Agent Orange. It's all in our history.

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[Resources] May Day / International Workers’ Day Educational Information

HANDOUTS: International Workers' Day http://www.doonething.org/calendar/workersday.htm Source: The Emily Fund About: At the bottom of this webpage, there is a handout that describes May Day. Additionally, there are handouts featuring quotes relating to the labor movement from significant individuals including Cesar Chavez, Susan B. Anthony, Noam Chomsky, Angela Davis, Frederick Douglass, JFK, MLK, and more. VIDEO: Workers of the World Unite and Fight - May Day Explained https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-ulhdrB_rE&ab_channel=AJ%2B Source: AJ+ (Al Jazeera Media Network) Published: 2015 About: Minute long video that briefly explains the origins of May Day VIDEO: International Workers' Day https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gj9ndBWTGy4&ab_channel=teleSUREnglish​ Source: teleSUR Published: 2016 About: Minute long video that briefly goes into how immigrant workers are working to reclaim May Day VIDEO: International Workers' Day Short Version (~3min) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2xg6nOVPPA&ab_channel=NERCC Long Version (~8min) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-yr5lc5jZc&feature=youtu.be&ab_channel=NERCC Source: The New England Regional Council of Carpenters Published: 2013 About: Workers from the Boston area are featured in this video in which they tell the story of why they work and do what they do. (This is my favorite because of the personal stories, and it features speakers of different backgrounds and languages.) SLIDESHOW: May Day Protests Around the World http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2013/05/01/world/20130502MAYDAY.html Source: The New York Times Published: 2013

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[Letter] Intention to Strike - May Day 2017

To the folks of Alliance MIT Complex, I am declaring my intention to strike on May Day, International Workers’ Day, a Day Without Immigrants, the 1st of May. May Day has historically been a march for workers to speak up about their rights and about labor issues. In the United States, because our most marginalized workers are immigrants, it has also become a Day Without Immigrants. To put it simply, I will be joining fellow laborers across the nation in support of workers’ rights. As an Instructional Aide, I am a laborer, a white-collar laborer, but a laborer nonetheless. I honor the individuals and unions who picketed over 100 years ago for better working conditions and wages. I uplift the fact that we still have a long way to go – as folks’ wages are still not living wages, myself as an example. To put it intersectionally, workers’ rights are human rights and I march for our collective liberation. Collective liberation being the recognition that all of our struggles are intimately connected, and that we must work together to create the kind of world we know is possible, a world where every person is worthy of dignity and respect, and that within systems of oppression, everyone suffers. The denial of workers’ rights is just one facet of the oppressive system of capitalism that works to dehumanize individuals. In our capitalistic society, our worth is determined by our ability to produce and be part of the wage economy. Though this is a fallacy, it is the current reality that if individuals are not a part of the mainstream society whether economically or socially, society functions such that they are then not deserving of basic human rights. Individuals cannot fully be their authentic, complex selves in a system that demands conformity to the status quo. We are not allowed to be fully human in the current reality that we exist in. As such, I strike not simply because I am a laborer, but also because I am woman, a Chinese American, a daughter of immigrants. In these specific ways, I am at the margins of this society. In other ways, I benefit from the status quo with the privilege of being cisgender, heterosexual, not black or brown, neurotypical, physically able, with a US citizenship, with a college education, and more. These are identities that I do not have to waste energy or time worrying about because it is mainstream and “normal”. In both the ways that I am marginalized and the ways that I am privileged, the full complexity of my humanity is denied to me. When I am marginalized, dehumanization can be summed up simply: society tells me that I do not or should not exist, with the exception being that I can exist sometimes, when I am of use to others. In areas where I am privileged, there is a theme in which I have had to sacrifice pieces of myself to attain that privilege, such is the society we live in – that attaining privilege or becoming part of the status quo is more important than our fullest selves that we sacrifice parts of ourselves thereby losing our full humanity. These identities have everything to do with being a worker, as being a worker, in any workplace, necessitates that individuals divorce themselves from their core identities, from their authenticity, the fullness of their being. It is dehumanizing. After all, is professionalism emotional? Compassionate? Freeing? If not, is professionalism then a direct affront to the core of our very beings? Humans in the workplace, as workers, are constantly asked and forced to exist in ways that are in opposition to who they are. When folks do present themselves authentically, in the best-case scenario – they risk being respected, in the work case scenario – they risk not being able to have a job that they need to survive. Thus, we are at the mercy of capitalism and so much more that is connected to the workplace. Workers’ rights are human rights. I march to dismantle the system that privileges a few groups, a few ways of thinking, a few ways of being and existing over the multitudinous ways of being and existing in this world. It is our duty to honor each other’s humanity without strings attached. More pointedly to current events (besides the current events related to the 45th president), this strike also comes at a crucial time in which we have learned our corporate nonprofit home office has spent over $1,000,000 to fight unionization efforts of Alliance instructors. It is written in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, adopted by the United Nations, that individuals have the right to form unions to protect their interests. What is so wrong about becoming a collective to hold the home office accountable anyway? In light of all of this, I think of abolitionist and black author Frederick Douglass, “Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and never will.” Finally, I strike knowing that I am in a privileged position to do so. I do not have sixty plus students to be accountable to. Ultimately though, the dream is to have students strike with me, to have them learn that they are empowered actors in the world by doing or by not doing. I strike for future generations as well, so that they will not have to be at the mercy of capitalism as I am today. Thank you for working in community with me and allowing me the space to take these bold steps to march for justice. I will return to work for my next scheduled shift starting at 8:00am on Tuesday, May 2, 2017. In solidarity, Tiffany "TiDo" Do 杜雪玲 Gender Pronouns: She, Her, Hers

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[Poem] On Dr. Dao and the United Airlines Incident

[From the daughter of a Chinese American man who immigrated from Viet Nam.] When I first heard the news, My first reaction wasn’t anger or sadness, It was confusion. And I think this is how I handle most instances of disrespect, microaggressions, dehumanizations. Like did that really just happen? --And I have to double check with someone, cause I’m almost in disbelief – Yea, That really happened. And it still doesn’t sink in. And sometimes it never does – Cause that’s how I was taught to handle things – just brush it off. My father taught me that. My father is water Just move on Forget about it Keep going about your business. My mother is fire. She wants to raise hell But as a woman in a patriarchal household in a patriarchal society, she eventually submits to it too – The ignoring of what happened and just moving on. Which is why I don’t know I’m not sure How to react to this I know it should hit so close to home, but I just… I got nothing. Cause what I really care about is – Is this man okay? What does he think? How does he feel? I will take my cues on how to react from him Just like I take my cues from my father. My father, 56 years old, once the victim of a harmful prank by a white teenage boy at a national park. It was such a bad prank, no one was laughing. Reminiscent of the Fox News segment that made a mockery of older Asian American folks. Why did this white boy choose my father specifically in the sea of people as his target? Anyways – My father, pretends it doesn’t happen. Ignores it. There is no anger. With a pride that no one can touch because who cares – it’s just a dumb white boy. I tell him – you could have talked to him about why it’s not okay and it was disrespectful. He tells me it’s not his job to educate the white people. He doesn’t flex his power, doesn’t waste his energy. His dignity lies in his calculating silence. He just moves on. And that is where I differ. I have learned to try to stop And Process before moving on. I am unlearning that I should stay silent and just let it go Because my silence leads to continued violence No matter how much face I save By not rocking the boat By holding the status quo. It’s survival alright But when all is said and done It doesn’t change that what happened Wasn’t right. So I’m trying to process this incident But ultimately, I can’t process this without him – this man, Dr. Dao And my father Cause this is theirs to process. Community can help you with that, I will help you with that, But this is yours to process You older generation of Asian Americans – Will you stay silent? I wait for your cues I’m looking to you. Cause this is yours to process. What do you feel? What do you wanna do to heal? This is theirs to process. Admit it father – Some harms are not just physical But mental And emotional too. We must confess to being vulnerable To having been violated Before we can move forward. Will you lose face and admit that That you have been wronged That you have been hurt? This is yours to process. I’m right there with you every step of the way – But this is yours to process Your mind that must grapple with what happened to you Your emotions that must react to what you felt Your body that must feel. So tell me, How do you feel? How would you like to heal? Let me see what you’re going through, Cause seeing you in pain, it hurts us too So we need to heal, with you. It’s ours to process. But let’s start with you.

[tidoes]

[Poem] Car Rides

It’s 3 o’clock. And I’m driving on the 101 underneath a California sun. It’s hot. But I don’t use the AC cause money. I’m driving. My armpits are sweating. And like any curious child, I check what’s good in the hood – Specifically, what’s lit in my pits. I take my hand I tuck it underneath my shirt I swipe it against the deepest fold of my armpit – Really get my fingers in Move past all that hairy hair It’s pretty wet in there. I bring my hand up to my face – right underneath my nose I take a whiff – a big sniff. It smells terrible. Sour spoilt milk smell. That’s what it smells like. I let my hand dangle in front of me As I’m just whew – Taken aback Cause damn that smelt bad And then I do it all over again! Sniff sniff It’s still wet. Still smelly. Nothing has changed from the 1st to 2nd to 3rd or however many times…(I didn’t exactly count) Perhaps I’m subconsciously trying to magically distribute the odor – you know, so it won’t be as concentrated or compacted in my pit. Anyways, I’m fascinated. And for the next 15 minutes of that car ride On the 101 In the bright hot sun It’s just me, my nose, and my pit. The strength of the sour, spoilt milk smell. It fades. It faded. And instead I’m just left with the smell of me. Nothing bad Nothing good About it Just me. Days or weeks later, idk I’m in the car again Driving home From the place I had been going towards just a moment ago Life’s full circle that way I wear these flats without socks And it’s the afternoon in SoCal My toesies have not seen the light of day for seven hours They be sticky sweating. After a long day, I like to drive barefoot I take my shoes off. And I don’t I don’t take my hand, I don’t wipe it against my foot, and I don’t dangle it in my face. Cause I don’t need to to smell my feet. The aroma of my sticky sweaty feetsies wafts up. It’s not the sour spoilt milk smell But it smells. And I’m sitting in this smell – for an hour or so because traffic in LA sucks And you know what? I like it. It smells like me. And I love me! Why wouldn’t I like it? Take that capitalism. You can’t make me dislike myself enough to profit off of any small smell insecurities. Cause I have no smell insecurities. I fucking love me – radically Especially my own scent My sweaty pit scent My sweaty feet scent I like it I love it I revel in it. Cause you know that this won’t be the last time that I sweat and take a little sniff. Car rides. The open road with open armpits odorous feetsies And an opened nose.