Burn! Burn! Burn!

I really must make the time to sit down and write about AAAS and Atlanta, but I'll leave that until later. (Though there will be a tangential connection here.)

Earlier this week in my Feminist Theory class the discussion turned to the issue of women in elected government positions. For class that day we had read Gwendolyn Mikell's essay "African Feminism: Toward A New Politics of Representation" in McCann and Kim's Feminist Theory Reader. Towards the end of her essay, Mikell cites the positive effect of 45 female civic leaders and 6 parliamentarians having been elected in connection with the successful grassroots movement and consciousness raising among women by Wangari Mathai's Green Belt movement.

Moving from Mikell's discussion, students quickly turned to talking about U.S. electoral politics. My students (the vocal ones, anyway) articulated several positions. The discussion began with the question of whether or not electing females was a sign of tokenism. To this the reaction seemed to be that what matters most is what is (or is not) accomplished once there. Still, it seemed this question of getting into office was still important for folks to think about.

One position students held was that one can't get into office by being "radical" (my term, not theirs), but rather that one often had to be, in fact, more "conservative" (their term) than they might actually be to be elected. Another position was that people in office can do radical things, but only because no one (or at least, not the majority of folks, or anyone of importance) is paying close attention to what they are doing.

It makes (logical) sense why students might feel this way, but I tell you, it was really disheartening to hear them say it out loud and not equally hear how unfortunate it is that things might be/are this way. I suddenly flashed to a shroud of surrender and compromise (not the good kind that involves discussion and negotiation, but rather more along the lines of defeated complicity), and felt momentary defeat.

I should have questioned why it is we accept this way of thinking.
I should have asked them to evaluate the "gains" following this ideology has gotten us, and what their "costs" have been.
I should have challenged the ways they help maintain the electoral system's preference for "conservatives" in accepting this "logic."

I should have jumped up and down yelling how we must not accept this way of thinking!



What did happen, though, was that my resolve to examine the ways in which I've subjected myself to such defeatist thinking and compromised myself/spirit/soul was renewed.

While in Atlanta, I saw the following quotablecard and was instantly drawn to it...



To those mad and burning in my life--may we continue to be mad and burn for as long as we can--living hard, and in so doing, living well.

Dignity/Washington DC

I got in late last night from Atlanta, GA and my first AAAS conference (more on the conference later) which meant that I wasn't able to go to the nearby Dignity service. Instead, I decided today to trek to Dupont Circle and check out the Sunday evening service that Dignity/Washington holds at St. Margaret's Church (1820 Connecticut Avenue, NW Washington, DC 20009)

First, I have to say, St. Margaret's is a beautiful church. As I was walking along Connecticut Avenue looking for the church, its bells began ringing the hour, calling to me. Inside, the predominance of the stained glassed window over the altar as well as the organ pipes drew me in--I didn't even mind so much this week that there was no crucifix (St. Margaret's is an Episcopal Church). The red cushions on the wooden pews added to the warmth of the setting, too.

What was most amazing, though, was the music and singing. I've been getting back to music lately (thanks to the hand-me-down ipod I got from my kuya this past Christmas), and I love it--I can't believe that I had let it slip away from me as much as I did. I might consume fiction novels heartily, but I definitely don't have the same steady diet of poetry. (And here I'm conflating music and poetry.) I've really only read poetry in fits and starts most of my life. I can still remember, though, lunches in the library in high school reading W.H. Auden (whose writing I sought out after I saw the eulogy "Stop the Clocks" in Four Weddings and a Funeral), Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and Lord Alfred Tennyson. It's amazing how even then my subconscious had already been coerced into reading "canonical" dead white guys. But I digress...

The music and singing at tonight's service were AMAZING. I felt so moved by it all that at several points in the evening I was almost moved to tears, it was so beautiful. I can't even begin to do justice to it here in words. [Part of it definitely was the fact that the congregation was 95% (if not more) men, and I just adore men's choruses/men singing. The other part, however, was that I just felt my heart and soul opening and expanding as the music and our voices filled the church.]

There was definitely much more racial diversity at this Dignity/Washington service in comparison to the Dignity/Northern Virginia one I went to last week. There was even some age and gender diversity, too, which was really nice. The priest was the same as the one I saw last week, so maybe he is the regular guy (he is definitely consistently and explicitly anti-war). I was also glad that I wasn't the only kneeler tonight. But, oh, the bread they use for communion is definitely not what I'm used to. Far from the circular, thin, white wafer they were using what seemed like diced pumpkin, wheat, bran bread--and because there seemed to be so many of us receiving communion, I got half a diced cube of Christ. (I hope that I'm not being inappropriate talking about communion, but at least God knows I'm a sinner, and is willing to forgive me if I am.)

From today's sermon I took away the priest's message that God's love for me isn't about what I do, or who I am, but rather is about who God is, and what He does. It was a bit striking at first to hear the priest say that there wasn't anything I could do to make me worthy of God's love, but when he went on to explain that it simply wasn't one of the things I'm in control of, it made much more sense. In fact, it was very similar to the message I heard at a meeting earlier in the day, too. Definitely a good reminder to think about accepting the things I cannot change, having the courage to change the things I can, and being wise enough to know the difference.

Now I feel a bit torn. Dignity/Northern Virginia's service is so close to me, and on a day and time when I'll most likely have the opportunity to attend, but Dignity/Washington was a really good experience--not quite the same as St. Augustine's, but with lots of similar good feelings.

Actually, on second thought, it's nice to have a choice of services...

It figures...

(Which literature classic are you?...)


Virginia Woolf: Orlando. You are a challenge, for outer events, the outside world, the time etc. play no importance to you. Your focus is in writing, in gender issues, and inside your own head. Self-analysis and exploration of yourself as well as the outer world hold great importance to you.
Take this quiz!

Dignity

I've been meaning to attend a Dignity service for quite some time, but it was only yesterday that I finally carried it out into action.

Dignity says about itself:

DignityUSA works for respect and justice for all gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender persons in the Catholic Church and the world through education, advocacy and support.

In the past several years, it's been increasingly clear to me that alongside the importance I feel in claiming a queer identity, I feel similarly about also claiming a Catholic one. (Which is only part of the reason I want my next tattoo to be of a parol.) Although not without its potentially problematic complications, I've always understand my Catholicism as integrated with my Filipino-ness.

(Putting aside for the moment the oppressive imperialist implications of Spanish colonization of the Philippines as a source of Filipino Catholicism) Considering my "home" church, St. Augustine, and the depth of my mother's faith, it doesn't strike me as the least bit unusual that I would experience my Catholicism as enmeshed with my Filipino-ness.

My mother has been, and continues to be, the bearer of culture/"Philippine nationalism" in my family, and her devotion as a Catholic runs through her, and everything she's taught me about where I came from, who I am, and how to go through life. These are lessons, though not always well-learned and remembered, that I definitely cherish.

As for my home parish...I love going to church when I'm back home, just like I like hanging out at the local mall, Serramonte, because they're places I've always known as Filipino-dominated. Sitting in St. Augustine's, my brown skin and shaved head blend in with the crowd (okay, so I blend in with the men in the crowd, but blending is still blending!). But even more than just blending in, it's one of the few spaces I've been part of where it was understood that I/my people were the majority and must be taken into central concerns (for example, in choice of Pastor, sermon, hymns, etc.). It's one of the few places I feel I get "played to"/addressed/hailed as Filipino (outside of the countless instances I face the query "So, where are you from?").

In any case, in the attempt to better explore and connect with my Filipino and Catholic selves more, I became interested in attending a Dignity service. The local Dignity chapter, Dignity Northern Virginia, celebrates the liturgy just down the road from where I live, and feeling particularly called to mass yesterday, I ventured over.

It was definitely a new experience...First, they meet in an Episcopal Church, Immanuel Church-on-the-Hill. It was very strange not to have a crucifix over the altar. Second, they sang a hymn I'd never heard before. And, we only sang twice--at the entrance and exit of the priest. Third, they didn't once kneel. I, however, couldn't resist a little time on my knees. Fourth, I was the only person of color in the room (and probably the youngest, too). Fifth, it was the fastest Catholic service I'd ever been to.

Despite all these differences, though, there were many similarities (prayers, responses, etc.) to masses I've attended in the past. I'm not really sure what I think of attending Dignity services just yet (as opposed to just finding a "regular" Catholic Church to attend) but I will say that I was very impressed with the priest's explicit anti-war stance in his sermon, and the way in which he took his main theme of "cleansing the temple" (from the Gospel, John 2:13-25) to talk about the ways in which we've taken God's good gifts (for example, the ten commandments which were the subject of the first reading from Exodus 20:1-17) and distorted them, and forgotten their true, core values. A good lesson to remember.

Tag...I'm It

With traditional tags people get tagged by others...I wanted instead to tag myself. (Maybe some of you who run across this post will be inspired/interested in tagging yourselves, too! By all means, do...and let me know.)

I've been fortunate enough to have TIME and SPACE/PLACE to get to know people and cultivate friendships. More accurately, I've been fortunate enough to be able to make time and space/place to get to know people, and have that effort and energy returned, as well as initiated by others.

Still, I think the task of starting a friendship can at times be a daunting one--not for lack of interest, but rather because there is so much to know that beginnings can seem overwhelming.

With that in mind, I journey on my own beginning here...and share it with others that they may then want to share themselves with me.

"A memory of our beginning, maybe, to ward off our end." (Emma Donoghue, Hood, 28)

Twenty Questions

#1 Your favorite color?
Blue, with Orange a close second--blue for its deep, cool, and calmness and orange for its fiery intensity

#2 A quirky thing about you?
I save silly mementos of times I've shared with others (e.g., receipts, movie stubs, plastic animals, bottle labels, coins, etc.)

#3 The quality you admire most in your best friend?
Sense of adventure that makes room for new experiences, and isn't stunted by fear of taking risks

#4 A quality of your parents/guardians/caretakers that you'd like to better emulate?
Social grace--not in the PC sense, but a genuine concern and care for others that is so apparent that it makes a significant impression on others for years to come

#5 Something you've wanted to do with another person, but haven't gotten the chance to yet?
Slow dance with a woman--not the kind of touch-dancing that goes on in a dark club (which admittedly can be very fun), but another kind of intimate dancing that happens when the lights are on

#6 A bad habit of yours you want to break?
Pushing people away, or not ever letting them get close in the first place
Being obsessive compulsive about my relationships

I've spent too much time being defensive and hiding in my turtle shell

#7 A quality you love about yourself?
Frank honesty. It would be nice (for others) if I had more tact, but I do take pride in the lack of ambiguity/explicitness in my relations with others

#8 A quality you haven't quite mastered but hope to?
Forgiveness
Sense of humor

#9 A quality that you find makes others irresistibly attractive?
Passion
Eyes that sparkle

#10 Do opposites attract?
Yes, but the question is for how long...

#11 Sunrises or sunsets?
Sunrises, not only because the whole day is still ahead, but also because it's amazing to see and feel the power of the sun break through morning clouds

#12 Inside or outside spooner?
Outside, though I'm willing to be versatile

#13 Your favorite flower?
Irises

#14 A recent or recurring New Year's resolution?
To stay in better contact with friends in my life, and to make new friends.

#15 Do you take life too seriously?
Yes...and I'm too literal, too. But then when I think about taking life less seriously, I proudly hold fast to my intensity

#16 Your best good quality that's also your best worst quality?
My persistent inquisitiveness--I think its reception depends on how open others are to it

#17 Something you collect/save?
Directions to places I've gone (as a marker of where I've been, and where I might want to go again)

#18 Something about you others find unexpected?
That I think of myself as shy
That I'm only 5'1"

#19 A happy moment you had today?
I was able to help out a friend who had a flat tire

#20 A gift you got from someone that you absolutely cherish?
The time and energy of sharing themselves with me

Hard Love

When I read Ellen Wittlinger's book, Hard Love, there was something about the following that struck a chord with me...



Since then it's been tucked away in a journal, with some other notes on "love" that I've collected over time...

"The desire for her. I knew if I gave into it, I'd have to surrender myself completely. I'd lose all control. Everything I knew, everything I was, the walls I'd built up to protect myself all these years would come crashing down. I might get lost in the rubble." (Julie Anne Peters, Keeping You a Secret, 127)

"a big part of that magic was that no matter how much of ourselves we found to give each other, there was always more we wanted to give." (Nancy Garden, Annie on My Mind, 108)

"'It's not true, you know.' I tell her, throwing another knob of coal on the flames. 'The more you give away, the more you've given away.'" (Emma Donoghue, Hood, 208)

These quotations all touched a truth with me at one time or another; and, there are certainly parts of them that still resonate with me today.

Love has many truths...

Crazy (?)

Nothing happens in the "real" world unless it first happens in the images in our heads. (Gloria Anzaldua, Borderlands/La Frontera, 2nd ed., 109)

I've been told recently that I'm a little crazy.

I think I might just be. I've been pushing the images in my head out my fingertips into letters, and out my mouth into words. Pushing. Trying to make them a reality beyond that which exists in my own mind.

It is crazy to push like this, to take such images and imaginations to such an extent--but the travesty isn't my craziness, isn't it rather that we're not all pushing like/as crazy?

(Re-reading Borderlands/La Frontera has begun to get under my skin...disturbing my sleep and dreams, leaving me unsettled in my waking hours--just as it should!)

Restless

I don't know what it is, but I'm feeling especially restless tonight...

I was out driving just now, and I really didn't want to come home, or even stop for that matter. (If it weren't for the fact that I didn't just want to be driving around and around the capital beltway, I might have just kept going. And, if I didn't have to teach tomorrow, I would have just driven right out of town--probably east to see the sunrise over the Atlantic--the one thing that I do really like about being on the East Coast.)

I felt the need to be in motion, traveling...escaping? From what, I have no idea. Most likely myself.

There is supposed to be a bad storm heading this way, but right now the moon is full, the air is warm, and the night looks gorgeous. I wish, though, I could pop over to the beach, hunker down in the sand, and just let the sea air wash over me and let the waves lull me with their rhythm.

Can you be homesick when you don't feel like you've got a home?

More than just the Thinks you Can Think

The quality of light by which we scrutinize our lives has direct bearing upon the product while we live, and upon the changes which we hope to bring about through those lives. It is within this light that we form those ideas by which we pursue our magic and make it realized. - Audre Lorde "Poetry is Not a Luxury" (1984: 36)

While Dr. Seuss' book, Oh, the Thinks you Can Think!, still remains one of my favorite of his books, I must say that I've recently been fortunate to witness the magic of things being realized--gone from thinking to being. Lorde's quotation above encapsulates this sense as it emphasizes the importance of the "light" by which we look at our lives.

Whereas I've heard many times the cautionary tale to "be careful what you wish for because it might just come true," as well as felt the sentiment behind "if you don't say it, it's not true," it is quite novel to experience not only think the thinks I can think, but also to experience the positive ways in which saying something helps it to materialize.

More specifically, I'm thinking of my previous posts, "Breaking Bread with Others" and "Handshakes, Hugs, and Kisses", and the yearnings I felt in those posts. I have to say, I'm quite amazed at how much since those posts that I've been continuing to connect with people in the very ways I had written that I longed for.

(More on these connections later, when I'm less sleepy...)

It makes me take notice that it is not nearly enough to name something and make it thinkable (although this is VERY important) if we don't follow up and make real those thinks.

Coatlicue State

An addiction (a repetitious act) is a ritual to help one through a trying time; its repetition safeguards the passage, it becomes one's talisman, one's touchstone. If it sticks around after having outlived its usefulness, we become "stuck" in it and it takes possession of us. But we need to be arrested. Some past experience or condition has created this need. This stopping is a survival mechanism, but one which must vanish when it's no longer needed if growth is to occur.

We need Coatlicue to slow us up so that the psyche can assimilate previous experiences and process the changes. If we don't take the time, she'll lay us low with an illness, forcing us to "rest." Come, little green snake. Let the wound caused by the serpent be cured by the serpent. The soul uses everything to further its own making. Those activities or Coatlicue states which disrupt the smooth flow (complacency) of life are exactly what propel the soul to do its work: make soul, increase consciousness of itself. Our greatest disappointments and painful experiences--if we can make meaning out of them--can lead us toward becoming more of who we are. Or they can remain meaningless. The Coatlicue state can be a way station or it can be a way of life.

--Gloria Anzaldua Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza, 2nd ed., 68

Just yesterday in class I paraphrased this quote to my students in the attempt to make the point that in all our trying to keep things seemingly under control and maintain a "smooth flow of life" in the midst of growing craziness, sooner or later there would be a breaking point that would stop us, make us "rest." In ideal situations, we come of out these rest periods better off, having grown from the experience. In less ideal situations, we become "stuck," mired in an addiction/ritual that serves us only in keeping us from growth.

Little did I know yesterday that this lesson was primarily for me.

I was gently reminded, however, this afternoon. Though attempting to act in accordance with a smooth flow of life, I was undoubtedly repeating ritual, obsessive behaviors which may have served me in the past, but no longer do so, and found myself eye to eye with the snake.

Well, Coatlicue certainly slowed me up enough these last three hours to get my attention. When I carried my ritual, obsessive behaviors outside, Coatlicue found her way to lock me out of the house. Though initially I did the opposite of rest, rest came upon me eventually. Now that I've come out of the experience on the other side (or rather, to the inside, finally) I'm reminded of Anzaldua's words above.

Let us hope that I've grown and become more conscious...

Dancing at Pride and Heritage

In the spirit of getting more involved with my local community, I answered a call for dancers for a Philippine Folk Dance act in this year's Pride & Heritage celebration

The 7th annual Pride & Heritage celebration for Asian Pacific American Heritage Month is set for Saturday evening, May 6, 2006 at Club Chaos. Volunteers from DC area queer API groups have organized an awards ceremony to honor local advocates who have worked tirelessly to increase the visibility of our communities. The program will also feature cultural entertainment celebrating our respective API heritages.

Originally, we were going to learn Jota Paragua, which is a very dramatic Maria Clara dance with flamenco style footwork and castanets. But, that just got changed to performing Maglalatik. Should be interesting...

Practices start April 1, so more to come later.

In the mean time, check out this sample video of Maglalatik (warning, it's a movie, so it's a big file and may take a couple minutes to load depending on your connection)

People Who Categorically Don’t Dance…

Aren’t people that I trust, or even need to know

I said this to someone the other night, and got a sideways glance (I think, but my imagination has been going full tilt lately in all kinds of directions, so who really knows?). Really, though, people who are emphatic about not dancing are not people I tend to trust, or need to know. I’m not saying that you have to spend the whole night on the dance floor when you’re out at a club, or that you have to have awesome moves (they certainly may help, but are by no means necessary), or even that you have to always dance to the beat.

What I hear when someone says that they don’t dance is that they don’t let their body go/relax. I hear that they don’t let the power of music seep into their pores, pump the blood through their bodies (along with other fluids), massage their muscles, or lift their spirits.

That’s a lot of don’ts…a lot of being closed off—and I should know, it takes one to know one. But I tell you, there are not many things I like better than dancing. There are few moments that I feel as free as I do as when I’m dancing. Best of all, if I’m dancing with you, then I’m letting you know me—physically, emotionally, spiritually…

I’m grounded in enough reality to know that this isn’t necessarily how others think of dancing. I’m grounded in enough reality not to expect everyone to subscribe to my way of thinking about dancing. But, given how I do feel about dancing, what does it say if you won’t/don’t dance with me? Enough said.

Seasons

Just the other day, I was talking with a friend about her preference for Maryland over where she grew up, and she cited (among other things) liking the fact that there were seasons here.

It definitely made me stop and think, and take a moment to appreciate the ways in which the metro DC area does have lots of things to offer that I don't/can't get in CA.

I can still remember my first Fall in the area, captivated by the colors of the changing leaves. I used to ride the metro from Alexandria, VA to College Park, MD picking out my favorite-colored trees every time the train was above ground; of course, there was also endless crunching through the leaves trying to find the crispiest of the bunch, not to mention the myriad leaves I'd collect and press in my various journals. (I actually still do all these things, well, besides ride the metro to school!)

Weather conditions (or should I say global warming conditions) haven't allowed for the leaves to turn colors to their full extent these past couple of seasons, though. Hopefully this Fall will prove otherwise.

In the mean time, even though I can't believe how quickly February has gone by, I'm enjoying the thought that just around this month's corner is spring break, the end of daylight savings, and maybe, just maybe...even Spring. This Spring what I want to do most is go see the Cherry Blossoms when they're in bloom and ride around the basin in a paddle boat. I know, kind of geeky...but precious, too, right? ;)

The sun's shining bright today, and it's definitely put me in a good mood, regardless of the 43 degree temperature. We're also starting our two week-long section of Gloria Anzaldua's Borderlands/La Frontera in my Feminist Theories course today. That's just icing on top!

Handshakes, Hugs, and Kisses

Recently, two Guerrilla Girls were brought to my campus for a speaking engagement. Never having seen them in person, but having taught about them, and having taught some of their materials, I was looking forward to their visit.

I still think that the Guerrilla Girls do good work to highlight the skewed representational politics in the museum art world, and to foreground oft-overlooked if not downright forgotten women artists. But, I must (sadly) say that I didn't find their presentation wowing.

The highlight of the night's event for me was actually getting to be part of the community that had gathered to see the Guerrilla Girls. More specifically, it was so great to see and re-unite with folks whose paths I've crossed over the years. I saw former students (a few alumnae who found their way back onto campus for the event), former classmates, and current students, too. It felt like what I imagine a class reunion to be (I say imagine since I haven't been to a reunion, yet).

Best of all were all the hugs and kisses exchanged in greetings and goodbyes. Hugging and kissing hello and goodbye doesn't at all seem remarkable when I'm in CA. In fact, on my last trip there, I think I hugged, kissed, and shook hands with more folks in those three days than I had in DC in the last two months. A couple were old friends, but mostly they were acquaintances or people I was meeting for the first time who were connected to acquaintances. In DC, the only people that I consistenly hug (there's definitely no kissing here) hello are international students from Asian and Latin American countries. There's definitely a physical ease with these folks that leads to this different kind of connecting.

I'm tempted to attribute it to cultural differences, but the more I think about it, the more I feel like it's not the differences between U.S. and non-U.S. cultures, but rather the differences between west coast and east coast cultures. I say this because I've noticed my own behavioral changes as I travel between SF and DC.

Having just gotten back from SF, I think I was still in the "hugging hello" mode last week. And, you know what? I really liked it. It was nice to feel connected to folks, and to actually make a physical connection, too. Hopefully I'll remember all this and keep my west coast ways alive out here in DC.

I actually did remember this morning. I went to study at Starbucks, but there were no empty tables available. Not wanting to leave, I simply approached a woman who was sitting alone if I could join her, and she let me. (There were no handshakes, hugs, or kisses, but I still think random hello's are unusual enough in DC that this fits along with what I've been saying here.) She read the paper while I worked to grade papers. As she got up to leave, she asked me if I was a teacher. When I said I was, she asked what I taught. I said "gay and lesbian studies" (it was very bad of me not to also include "bisexual" and "transgender", I admit it) at which point she did a quick double take, asked me if I had indeed said "gay," and then when I confirmed that, she shared that her rabbi was gay, smiled, and then turned and left. A strange experience, but I appreciated the connection nevertheless.

It feels good to be getting out of my shell a bit. It feels good to feel good enough to want to be out of my shell a bit. Shyness certainly hasn't served me well, so maybe it's a good thing that I'm starting to move away from that. I guess time will tell...

Parae, Dyspecific, and Wood (or Kate Bornstein Take 2)

On my latest trip to CA, I spent my Friday night going to see some live Queer Rock bands. More specifically, on the bill were Parae, Dyspecific, and Wood.

Kate Bornstein was supposed to start the show with a reading, but apparently something amiss happened with travel arrangments, because Bornstein was a no-show. Maybe when I try to go see ze in April, the third time will be the charm!

In any case, not having heard any of the three bands before, I couldn't quite get into it the same way that I can when the music is familar to me. What I could get into, though, was the passion these performers and musicians had. In addition, it was another great example of community coming together. Not only were various members of the several bands connected in meaningful, bonding ways, but so many in the audicence were also tied to various performers. People were clearly there not just to hear good music and watch a fun show, but also (perhaps more importantly) to show up in support of their friends and sustain community connections. It's something I see a lot of in CA, and have seen on occassion here in DC, but not nearly to the same extent...

Transamerica (or Kate Bornstein Take 1)

In mid-February, I was going to try to see Kate Bornstein's performance of "Queer and Pleasant Danger" at Towson University.

Actually, when I first heard about ze being at Towson, I hadn't made plans to see ze, partly because I had seen Bornstein several years ago at my own university--not a performance, but a sit-down talk and Q & A. But, also, I didn't feel like making the trek up to Towson alone. When I found someone who was interested in going, I jumped at the chance--not only to see Bornstein, but to have the opportunity to better get to know this woman who was interested in Bornstein.

I was crushed to find out that Bornstein's performances had been rescheduled for April 6 and April 7 because I thought I would miss out on both Bornstein and hanging out with a new person.

As it turns out, she was game to see Transamerica instead. It was just my luck, too, because then I got to finally go to E Street Cinema, which I've known is a theater that shows a lot of independent and LGBT films, but just never took advantage of the opportunities.

I'm embarrassed to admit it now, but originally, Transamerica wasn't on my must-see-in-the-theater list. I was feeling a little burned out on MTF stories. (I think it must be from watching too much late night (Discovery?) cable shows when I can't sleep.) It wasn't until my faculty advisor was raving about it that my interests in Transamerica were renewed.

I'm so glad that things turned out the way they did. If the Bornstein event hadn't been re-scheduled, I might not have seen Transamerica in a theater. It struck me at the core as a road trip movie, which I hadn't actually anticipated. After just having driven across the country for the first time last June, it was a theme that resonated with me. In fact, it made me miss the road...the rhythm, the sights, enjoying the journey.

I think I need to find a place I can take a quick road trip to from DC...it's been too long since I've just gotten away for a day road trip. It's definitely NOT like being in CA, taking a day or two to go from Irvine to San Francisco, or San Francisco to LA, etc. Hmm...the Keith Haring exhibit will be in Reading thru August...which sounds like a perfect getaway--not only do I get to enjoy being on the road, but then there's Haring once I get there!

In addition to being a road movie, Transamerica was also a really touching parent-child story without being overly sentimental, yet still maintaining tenderness. Besides, Felicity Huffman was just terrific! (I got the chance to see Walk the Line on my recent plane trip, and as much as I like Reese Witherspoon, I hope Huffman takes best actress tonight.)

I'm kind of sad, actually, that Brokeback Mountain was getting so much news attention that it ended up overshadowing Transamerica in mainstream and LGBT press. Don't get me wrong, I wish Ang Lee the best tonight, too. I just wish that Brokeback Mountain's position in the mainstream didn't overshadow our communities' attentions to those things on the (independent/outlaw) margins, like Transamerica. (Then again, I'm a Queer API immigrant, it's no wonder I'm sensitive about things on the margins being ignored! :) I certainly don't want to just move the margin to the center. Relocation without transformation, why bother?)

Hmmm...I just realized that I never did get to really talk about the movie with the person I went with. Maybe we'll get to it yet.

Usaping Puki (Tagalog Version of The Vagina Monologues)

After traveling to OAK for a long weekend last weekend, and then spending this week catching up from being away, I'm trying to catch up here, too.

(Things in the queue: Guerrilla Girls at UMD; Dyspecific, Parae, Wood (& Kate Bornstein); DC Kings 6-year anniversary show; People who categorically don't dance; Pinay Power; House parties; parol tattoo; Black.White.; learning Jota Paragua)

But for now, let me say just a little something about Usaping Puki, the Tagalog version of The Vagina Monologues that I had the fortune to attend last weekend, Feb 26 at the Herbst Theatre in San Francisco.

The Filipina Women's Network along with V-Day held two benefit performances to raise awareness and funds to end violence against women and girls.

While I was a bit disappointed at missing my own university's production of The Vagina Monologues, I'd have to say that seeing the first Tagalog version to be performed in the U.S. more than made up for it. Another treat was the all-Filipina cast of performers.

Despite all the times I've seen, read, and taught the VM, it was an entirely different experience seeing it performed by an all-Filipina cast in Tagalog.

One difference was just being able to see so many brown women on stage. I don't think in all the performances I've seen that I've ever seen so many women of color on stage as I did at Usaping Puki. It was also a very new experience for me to attend an event with so many Filipinos in attendance, too. I think my mom's office parties when I was a kid is probably the only other comparable thing I can remember being part of a large Filipino gathering.

Another difference is just how AMAZING it was to be able to experience the VM in Tagalog. Anytime I can hear Tagalog, I cherish it--being here in Washington DC as opposed to Daly City, I don't get to hear it hardly as much as I'd like. I can't exactly explain, but it's a language that makes me feel grounded.

It was also such a different experience hearing about sex, vaginas, cunts, pubic hair, and everything else Vagina-related said out loud in Tagalog. I felt embarrassed, excited, shy, proud, and most of all empowered.

I go back and forth on whether I consider Tagalog my "native" language--mostly because as a 1.5 generation immigrant, it might have been spoken in the house, but rarely ever to me. This is still the case when I visit my parents, who'll be having conversations in Tagalog, automatically switching to English when I'm addressed. I'm still not sure why this practice ever started...so that my English-language abilities in school wouldn't be compromised? I don't buy the whole, "we're in America, so speak English" trope because it was always clear to me that we were "foreigners" (having diplomatic status)and that my parents' lives, friends, and communities were never about assimilating into "American" culture, but rather them maintaining Filipino ways and cultures. What happened to us 1.5 generation kids, though, runs the gamut...(maybe more on that later)

In any case, I also enjoyed Usaping Puki because it was a nice long show. I think in all the show lasted four hours, including one intermission. I definitely felt like I got my fill--well, at least for that day! I also really liked the Anti-Violence Resource Guide that the Filipina Women's Network distributed at the show.

I wish I could do my experience justice here, but the words are falling away from me...yet in their place is this amazing peace fueling passion.