A/PIA Movement Building Conference: Glenn Omatsu speaks “Educate to Transform! Learn and Teach to Transform Ourselves and Our Communities”

Glenn Omatsu

I was trained in a community situations; education is possible everywhere.  Anything can be come education.  Education is life.  It can be transformative.  I don’t know if I would think and be this way had I gone through traditional forms of education.

This vision fuels current Ethnic Studies conference.

Wasn’t until junior year in college and into organizing in San Francisco; anti-imperalism orgs, Japanese newspaper, early life was infused with “how do you raise awareness, how to do you engage people?’

You don’t need books or a classroom, but you need desire and intention.

My way of teaching is infused with workers’ experiences because I worked with labor unions; my style of education is informed by my experiences.

You need a spirit of experimentation to educate; it may or may not be successful.  One thing that works with one group may not work with another group.

Western concept of education: sit in an audience and not participate.

— explaining interactive exercise that is coming up —

Culture circle — culture means community that you’re involved in, not just race or ethnicity.

I focus on holistic learning, focuses on the mind, not separating thinking and doing.

Talk about something in your possession that reveals something about your culture.  Culture is much more than ethnicity and race.  I do this to humanize the class.  To get to know other people as human.

SE Asians academic class right now is about broadening the discussions beyond criticisms of communism and government.  — points to student writing on a wordpress blog

–more interactive exercises —

identify one struggle.  create a small educational activity that refers to the issue that you chose.  brainstorm teaching activities and ideas to share.  suggestions: organize and write a song, a rap, perform a play, a comic strip, haiku poetry, mini mural making, write a poem.

the objective: to overcome western colonial culture which says you have to know before you act, separates thinking from doing, separates teaching and learning.

Strategies to Overcome Westernized Concepts of Education

(my group went first)

we made a digital mural of our faces (taken with my webcam) and then aligned them in a line going down the middle of the mural wall and on the left side put OLD and on the right put NEW and then opened a dialogue about what would be the new issues presented to Asian Americans now that Asians before did not and the nuanced ways that unite and differentiate Asian Americans and Asians.

map out the journey of food in your family (analysis of skyrocketing rates of obesity and diabetes in certain cultures) particularly for our race.  Food is powerful educational tool.  “Feast of Resistance” curriculum by ?? to teach history in an informative and cultural kind of way using food items.

— next group asks out skit — trying to promote cultural awareness cross lines of latin@ and asian difference (deportation, food, cultural appropriation)

Next group: raising consciousness — do lines of poetry; pass one piece of paper with the line:

I am

I struggle

and have each person fill out.  (reading poem that the group did as an example — it’s awesome by the way)…

This exercise helps younger people who don’t identify as poet or writers.  This could empower them to rethink that concept and gets people to express themselves publicly.

How to raise consciousness and how to frame issues.  Each person write about the issue they are facing and then pass/share with others in the group.  You take someone else’s issue back to our community and discuss.

Use the sketch/phrase See, Hear, Speak No Evil and use as a base to ask what you are doing and how are you using your senses.

Next group: exercise to unpack privilege and power.  Everyone stands in a line. Ask series of questions.  Take a step forward if…parents graduated from college, speak english, primary identity is caucasion/White.

Take a step back if you went to bed hungry, or are a woman or a person of college, if you grew up around prostitution or drugs.

End of game everyone is dispersed through the room.  Then you conduct race to see who can reach the wall fastest and the person who is usually up front will win.  So, no matter how fast or strong you are, sometimes its not enough with the system but with determination you always reach the wall no matter what.

You can take the same activity and adapt — make use for racial equality, gender bias, etc.

Next group: take cameras and photo document what matters most to you.  each person what is is of value and then relate to anti-tobacco use among Asian americans, especially vietnamese population.  connect to second hand smoke as well.

Next group: issue is mentoring.  concern with working with students around issues of advocacy and getting students involved, resisting apathy.  How to address apathy:  mentors should not intervene with telling people how to do it.  But organize and gather the apathetic and lead them in group discussions on what is important and implement creative strategies to move them from apathy to activism.  (use creativity: hip-hop, photography, writing, etc)

Next group:  issue how to define asian american issues based on your identity when you are halved

conduct groups arranged by race and then have them list what the issues are that are most pressing and have one group that is mixed.  compare the results.

Concluding remarks by Omatsu:

education should be fun.  think creatively.  it’s invigorating to work with other people even when you don’t know them.  it’s best to be with other people.  this is based on longer traditions on older asian american communities, similar to other oppressed communities ‘ approach to learning and education.  as we move into mainstream thinking, don’t forget your roots about people-centered education.  most powerful form of education is outside the classroom.  as a teacher, experiment and do something beyond lecture and books.  get people outside and do other things in experiementation.  this will encourage colleagues to do the same and entire classes and orgs can change in powerful ways.

APIA Movement Building Conference: Barber Shops, Soup Kitchens and Museums: Sites of Resistance

Lisa Lee — Director of the Hull-House

Alice Kim — Director of the Public Square

SUBJECT: Organizing in Chicago — sites of resistance.  How to engage the public in social justice issues

Notes:

Lisa Lee speaking

Theory itself is only liberated in practice and in relationships.  Grassroots organizing is more than uniforms of knowledge, critical theory.  Thinking is the first active resistance.

What kind of spaces bridge academics and activists?  — Founded Center for Public Intellectuals! to fill that space.

reflecting on C. West’s “Race Matters” — return to thinking of the Common Good “we must focus our attention on the public square…the vitality of any public square determines the quality of our life as a common person”

Last 10 years, the Public Square in Chicago is building laboratory space for praxis.

“Imminent critique” — implement strategies of the oppressor and use the tools to defeat the oppressor

Began her work at the museum, in charge of this “dusty house” into a vibrant center of engagement.

Hull House — Jane Adams, one of the founders, first women to win Nobel Peace Prize — believes in peace and justice as relationship.  JA was also considered to be a public enemy and a dangerous person.  Her NPP is displayed next to her FBI profile in the museum. “JA is probably a member of more organizations than any other one individual in the US.  REsponsible for …radical meetings…and where subversive breeds have found shelter.”  She was under servaillance for creating opportunities to discuss ideas for marginalized women.  That’s what Hull House was and that’s what it strives to be again.

The best way to preserve history is to make it relevant to current struggles for social justice.

–shift in presentation —

how do we create social change and provide environment that supports the way we think and move?

talking about the cooks and bakers in Chicago who got fed up with fine dining and wanted to do something more about the earth, agriculture and growing obesity epidemics in the poor populations in Chicago.  Their engagement with food was inspiring.

How do their tastes change when you’re exposed to other ethnic food?  Leads to how to feed a family, public health…all beginning with issue of food.  Led to coffee, soup and rolls service.

This led to the dining hall space of the museum to be used a modern day soup kitchen — once a week, bring people together to discuss the most pressing issues surrounding food.

Food is the issue that pushes everyone to talk.  It’s what brings people together to eat and pushes us to think differently about its distribution, how its created, who we choose to eat with and how it’s prepared.

Brings together eaters, farmers, economists, engineering issues, contemporary food justice movement and diversity issues.

This is all about creating the opportunities to cross lines of difference.  They try to make links between issues.  E.g.  when you eat a bowl of soup — inform and educate about the locality of those tomatoes and bring in advocates to inform about who picked those tomotoes and what they’re paid so people think if they like tomoato soup, they’ll care about social justice issues –.

Also created an urban farm, creating a seed library – where people can check out their own seeds, just like a book with fees and fee policy.  At the farm, we highlight the dazzling diversity of food and focus on the issue of diversity of food and the diversity of the earth.  mono-cultural food is dangerous for the planet.  similar to languages.  we have hudnreds of thousands of languages but only a handful are spoken.  we do this work on the farm: ou can’t talk about sustainability without talking about culture and social issues, it’s not just about economics.

Food preservation — e.g.  grow your own in the summer and preserve it for the winter.

Hul house began canning and preserving the excess produce of the farm.  They began selling their stuff and realized how sexist and racist the food labels are (Aunt Jemima) and began highlight stories of women home economists in their selling their items.  E.g. Ellen Swaller Richards — radical home economist

“Survival pending Revolution” use this term in their work.

CHANGE SPEAKERS

Alice Kim

How do we create the world anew?

Reclaim public, private, institutional, uknown spaces into places of dialogue and change.  Transform spaces in our everyday lives for intentional and meaningful dialogue.

Activist circles: disparage talk about dialogue. E.g.  “The philosophers talk about the world, but the world needs to be changed.”  Deep conversation about anything more than just weather is becoming more rare.  How to talk about issues that matter to us: media blackout in puerto rico, wisconsin rallies of protest — these issues are brought up in unconventional places turned places for dialogue.

The point is to resist and interrupt a cultural of silence and consumerism.  Coordinate spaces to be democratic to dream and debate.  These spaces are few and far between.

— Alice reflecting on growing up, loving books, but then realized she never read about girls that look like me.  Made me want to read more.  In college

Adrian rooks, bell hooks, cherri moraga — introduced terms like alienation and what was previous unnameable [memoirs of a girlhood among ghosts] Personal sharing of life shtory of coming into knowledge that moved her into feminism, orientatlism, theory of oppression, helped me to see my onw agency and make the world anew.  New ways of seeing gave way to activism — against war, for repro rights.  Natural connection between activism and idea.  Issues of identity were the first round of transformation but it was issues of class that propelled me to go deeper.

Working with women who were HIV positive (after college) — went to grad school and left academy and knew that the ivory towers were not the place of the revolution so I left after my masters and decided not to pursue PhD.

Worked at Cook County Hospital…met with a man who was brutally beaten by the police and led her to criminal justice reform work and anti-death penalty.  Links between slavery and capital punishment and how discrimination is still in the center of that.  Our work is to bridge of ideas to the world of activism.

Creating spaces — CAFE SOCIETY

quoting Gwendolyn Brookes — consider another’s business as our own business, about rethinking the notion of community and going beyond traditoinal notions about geography and building, insist that the classroom is not the only place where ideas are exchanged.

Black and Brown Unity in the Age of Obama  — (topic of discussion as example)

place for conversation that might not otherwise happen  like “Why Do We Still Dream” — posed this question at Cafe Society.

–showing media clip —

Shwoing slides of Cafe Society Discussions where they hold dialogue.  Facilitator is always present to guide the conversation to help unpack the wisdom at the table.  Provide frame and links for more resources so there is shared knowledge.  next slide — BROWN SUGAR BAKERY — conversation was recorded then uploaded online for further discussion.  CAFE AFIDOS (?)  led in Spanish for spanish speaking community.  CHRISTOPHER HOUSE came on board to host discussions for their English as a Second Language exercise so ESL students were also involved.  BARBERSHOP — people are talking, author and scholars included — to have their hair cut and talk about these issues.  Barbershop was filled with organizers, writers, citizens listen.  MUSEUMS also used for conversations, “Art of Dissent” cafe discussions.

Created a toolkit DIY Cafe Toolkit — wants to act as generators of dialogue to promote others to facilitate their own programs.  Toolkit is a call to action, to create their own dynamic spaces to transform themselves and community.

“If I can’t dance, I don’t want to be a part of your revolution.”  – Emma Goldman

Lisa Lee back to talking —

Public sphere is a contested space and needs to be re-imagined all the time and our lovers, family, friends, and coworkers should fill those spaces.  The personal should be brought out and the “secret self” should be separate from activism has been debunked by theorists and this notion only benefits the private sector.  The personal is political!

For the work to be effective, it has to be extremely pleasurable!  Remember the joy of doing this work!

In research to learn more about reformers, discovered these “serious” people who closed sweatshops and dedicated their own lives for activism has been about their right to simple pleasures.  Long bike rides, dancing, skinny dipping, and eating with one another.  Our sensual selves is critical in our struggle.

To create the world anew is not just about what we’re against but what we are for!

its’ essential to rethink our work, our organizing and practice public discourse and embrace a politics of imagination.  what are the other sites of resistance now?  how do we transcend bitterness and embrace dreams of freedom?

“we must tap the well of our collective imagination and do what our ancestors did: dream.”  Its essential to know what to build and to know what to knock down.

Dream, dream, dream.

Embrace the intellect and the creative of us.  “If we came from nowhere here, why can’t we go somewhere there?”

40 Days of Writing, Day 17: Building the A/PIA Movement

A/PIA stands for Asian Pacific Island Americans

and I am in Ann Arbor, Michigan for two lovely conferences.  They are both being held at the University of Michigan.  One is for A/PIA movement building and the other is for Filipino and Filipino American academics.

I’ve been taking notes all day and I’m exhausted, but I just wanted to post my two favorite quotes I heard thus far:

“Resurrection is the ultimate queer act.” – reflections on LGBTQ resilience, Sony Coranez Bolton

and (drum roll please)

“We are living in a dying empire and that is something to be welcomed.  I love my country so much I want to change it.”  From the indomitable conference celebrant Grace Lee Boggs.

Hopefully I’ll be blogging and tweeting more tomorrow about this.  For now, I’m off to dreamland…a world of peace and artistic revolutions.

40 Days of Writing, Day 16: The Problem with US-Centrism

There are many ways to define “superpower.”  As a nation, the United States boast a number of reasons why it’s the last (or soon to be passing) superpower in the world.  Economically, however arguable, our economy  and entrepreneurship influence every country in the free market.  Our nation was founded on religious freedom and our racial and ethnic diverse populations make us an interesting face to study.

Of course there are always flip sides to all of those reasons why the US is a superpower.  We absorb nearly 25% of the world’s resources even though we make up less than 5% of the world’s population. We have had blood on our hands as the United States backed the military of El Salvador during their civil war out of fear of the spread of communism when, in fact, nuns, priests, and bishops were being murdered by the trained military while the US turned a blind eye.

Yes, the United States is a superpower.  Indeed.  And it’s more evident on the tongues of everyday citizens.  You need not a textbook to to look at our history to understand how the US-centric thinking has tainted the minds of even common “not political” identified people.

US-centrism dominates the discourse and lifestyle of so many people, it’s outrageous that more people just don’t have tattoos on the foreheads, “Everyone should love the USA!”  More and more people, I notice, in everyday conversation normalize the middle class/US lifestyle as the way of life for all.  As if comfort is defined with big homes, intelligence is measured with degrees, and freedom is dictated by the size of one’s salary.

Most recently I was engaged in a conversation with three people I had never met before.  The issue of traveling outside the United States came up and I immediately took interest.  Having traveled to numerous parts of the world, I was eager to hear about other travelers had to say about their adventures.  But instead of sharing rich stories, they started complaining.

“Have you seen the movie “Slumdog Millionaire?”  It’s just like that,” one woman told me.

India, apparently, was on the chopping block.

It became a litany of complaints.  The heat!  The traffic!  The excessive security checks at the airport!  The beggers!  The heat!  How crowded it was!

I opened my mouth to speak about my experiences in the Philippines and in Latin America and how those things were common in economically underprivileged parts of the world.  And, to be comical, couldn’t we just toughen up a little bit as US americans?  We’re so cushioned that we even demand our own personal space, never giving a second thought that we have all the space in the world to clear out, take a walk, be alone, get lost if we want.  I thought and meditated extensively about the privilege of space and time while in the Philippines and how I had *snapped* when I couldn’t get a foot of breathing air on the street.

Privilege.

I opened my mouth to also share my deep yearning to go to India to see this poverty first hand.  I’ve felt a strange calling for nearly ten years to see India, to study its spiritual ethos and cultural roots. Extreme conditions may disturb me physically (anyone remember when I passed out at the base of a garbage dump in the Philippines?), but it shoots adrenaline into my soul to see how the majority of the world lives.

To believe that not only the way we, US citizens, live is the best, but however other people live is something we should avoid or not even tolerate while we are in that country, is US-centrism at its best.

I opened my mouth to say these things and suggest to perhaps talk about the things they did find pleasing in India, but they never let me get a word in.  Strange feelings coursed through me.

I felt embarrassed.

I felt embarrassed because they were so assuming that I would share or already did share their opinion.  I felt embarrassed that they spoke so brashly about a country they clearly knew so little about and still turned their nose up.  I felt embarrassed that these women experienced no filters in their machine gun fire at the beautiful country of India.

Then I felt anger.

US american travelers don’t just love comfort, we expect it.  It doesn’t matter where we travel to, we expect the condition of comfort when we arrive.  Air conditioning and heaters, ice in our drinks and clean silverware.  Cushioned seats and constant breeze.  Delectable restaurants and even more delectable prices.  We want organized traffic signs and English speaking taxi drivers.  So many expect this, even in other countries.  And when those countries don’t deliver, they get our scorn and bad reviews.

Nowhere in our US-centric mentality do we consider the possibility that our comfort zones are really brain washing cells that leave us little to no room for compromise or consideration that we could very possibly be impacting the world that contributes to beggers in the street, to limited air conditioners because our country zaps so much of the world’s energy.  Our linear thinking process travels very clear lines of cause and effect – except when it comes to globalization and social responsibility.  Even as mundane and simple as curtailing our harsh opinions in everyday conversation, we blast other countries for — what?  Poverty?  Their proximity to the sun’s rays?  Traffic laws?  CLEARLY these things are in hands of the beggers and children in the streets that tourists find so pesky.  But we pack them all together with the label ANNOYING and UNACCEPTABLE and tell our friends and family: Don’t go to India!

That is what is wrong with US-centric thinking.  It salts the US lifestyle to the point that everyone else is bland and jealous of us.  It promotes economically underdeveloped countries to set up culturally unthinkable resorts for first world travelers so we don’t have to deal with the harsher reality of its people.  When in Nicaragua, a friend shared the reason why so many rotaries are built near the airport, “When there are no traffic lights, there is no time for beggers to approach the cars.  The government tries to hide its own people.”

There is an illusion that US americans live in.  We think consumerism, immediacy, comfort, and convenience.  That’s how we live.  And that scariest part is not only do we often choose to stay in this protective bubble, many who reside outside the US believe this is the best reality there is, and so they build more mirages for us, for the continued health of our delusional state of living.

40 Days of Writing, Day 15: If Jesus Came Today

I have a lot of thoughts about Jesus.

And lately I’ve been wondering how and why people around me seem determined for me to like and worship their version of Jesus.

The Redeemer.  Savior.  Rabbi.  Teacher.  He was, I believe, all of these.

For me, though, I imagine that Jesus would behave like one of my best friends.  A glorified best friend.  Someone who is so complex and beautiful; someone who endlessly fits me.  When I’m spinning out of emotional control, Tricia’s the listener and squeals, “Whhhaaaat?  How could that happen?”  When I’m depressed about the state of the world, Amanda is the exclaimer, “Leese!  The world needs you!”  When I have a hilarious joke, Gretchen is the one who stops in whatever she’s doing and laughs soundlessly into the phone.  Best friends do this.  They mold into whatever you need to get through the day.

I think, in a lot of ways, that’s who Jesus is and who He would be if He came for me today.  He’d take one look at me and become ________ to get me through the day.

Today, He’d be a listener.  The ultimate listener.

40 Days of Writing, Day 8: How to Un-Celebritize Your Life

I like knowing things about famous people.  I watch TV and I’m a careful consumer of media with the awareness that with every second of air time, with every inch of billboard, with ever soundwave on the radio, there’s an agenda.  There’s nothing more attractive to business people than the glossy surface of your brain which they’d like to fill with products, messages, and catchy jingles.  The more famous someone is, the more precious the space around them becomes.  And if there’s one thing that can be said about US culture – especially in the rise of digital media – is our utter obsession with celebrity hood.

It’s not just the celebrities themselves either.  It’s the belief that we ourselves – anyone! really – could and should be worthy of fame and microphones.  And not only can our kids aspire to have their own papparazzi, we have begun to be indifferent about the effects of celebrity culture, as outlined here by this great post by The Aporeticus:

  • that where we pay attention directs where technology and commerce occur, which in turn produces systems for concentrating our attention ever more on those parts of culture;
  • that as a result, celebrity culture is not merely a matter of the public’s attentiveness to phony, flagrantly moronic nonsense, but is additionally a catalyst that compels media, platforms, and systems of information delivery to mirror its priorities;
  • that the web, in particular, is driven by the imperatives of celebrity culture, both in organizing activities around the transmission of gossip and superficial chatter about “the froth and scum” and in permitting us all to become celebrities.

read the whole thing here and a great follow-up here.

Now, you may think I’m a bit of hypocrite, as I lazily watch reality TV here and there and write my own life out in the open gaze of the internet.  Here’s the difference:  I don’t believe I am or ever will be famous.  I don’t believe or celebrate the opinion of Oprah nor do I pass along the latest trend styles from Michelle Obama’s.  And, I’d write the exact same thing if I had zero readers or a million readers.  I write openly because I love to write.  I remain unmotivated by fame. It’s unfortunate, but I just don’t think sexual violence prevention and feminist spirituality is going to catch on like dating and mini skirts.

Uncelebritizing my life isn’t about a complete refusal of celebrity and media in my life, it’s more a de-cluttering of people I follow on Twitter, how decreasing the number of times inane Hollywood thoughts occupy space in my brain. I turn off TMZ and turn my thoughts on other forms of entertainment.

I want to celebrate authenticity and real opinion of everyday people.

Wanna do the same?  Follow my lead:

  1. If someone brings up reality TV, claim that your reality is the only reality you know.
  2. Ask a 16 year old what s/he wants to do with the rest of their life & when they say, “I dunno,” remind them Justin Beiber, such an accomplished hair trend setter, is 17.
  3. Take pictures of your neighbor through a bush and yell, “HOW DOES IT FEEL?”
  4. Gossip only about people you know.
  5. Preface all opinions with, “This is off the record…”
  6. Remind party goers in your life that Photoshop could be responsible for their professional downfall.

If you don’t know this is tongue in cheek, you need to stop taking everything written on the internet so seriously which is another step to uncelebritize your life.

40 Days of Writing, Day 7: Writing Through Pain

The only reason I am writing this sentence at this very moment is because I promised myself I would and because I believe that having a hiccup this early on in my Lenten promise is nothing short of embarrassing.

I have a headache.  And it’s one of those where even after 2 Tylenol, the pain is blocked, and your head still kinda feels cloudy.

Writing through pain is a good discipline.  Not every day is a good one.  Not every post is profound.

I can write through my pain if I think of things which give me relief and what I am grateful for.  So here is my litany of gratitude:

I am grateful for the awesome caretaker who watches Isaiah like a hawk and has a gentle voice.  She started this week and things are off to a great start.

I am so grateful that Tylenol exists and my neurotransmitters transmitting PAIN PAIN PAIN are being blocked right now.

I’m grateful to be writing this on a MAC and not an IMB which, in my opinion, freeze and throw temper tantrums like a 2 year old without a nap.

I’m relieved to know that the day is over and I am almost through a very thick week of evening programs, meetings, and consulting.  And grateful, at the same time, to be paid for aforementioned responsibilities.

I’m relieved that Isaiah is sleeping through the night again.  (Small stretch of 2am teething cries.)

I’m grateful that I bought those brown boots early in November.  They were worth the investment as I wore them for the billionth time today.

I’m relieved and grateful that today was warm enough for a 30 minute walk outside with the stroller.

I’m grateful for my amazing mother who stayed with me for a month, helping me recuperate from my back sprain and take such loving care of Isaiah.

I’m relieved to hear that Nick’s competitive and perfectionist nature is leading him to absurdly high marks on his midterm exams.

I’m grateful for my life that enables me to write through my pain.

Be grateful and acknowledge those reasons aloud.  You’ll be surprised how many surface…

Gendered Pain: A Free Write on Birth, Partnership and the Woman’s Body

There’s nothing sexy about pain.  There’s nothing even remotely redeeming, glorified, cute, or remarkable about pain.

I came into this realization quite quickly Sunday morning when I was dressing Isaiah for mass. I began lowering him to the floor, felt a horribly familiar pop! in my lower back and I immediately recognized that telling radiating heat that spread throughout my lumbar region as I fell on one knee. Isaiah screamed in my ear as he harmlessly wobbled back from me so he peer into my face to see what was wrong.  All he could see was my face going paler by the second and my breath quicken in short spurts and outbursts, trying to control the pain.

No.  No.  No.  No.  No.  No.  No.

Not again.  Not again.  Not again.  NOT AGAIN.

I just got back to the gym this week.  I just started getting back on the treadmill, back in the zumba studio, back for my first swim in the pool.  I just …

I just got over my back injury from last month.

Remembering my phone was in the inner pocket of my purse, I slowly walked to my purse on the ground and gently leaned forward.  I reached and immediately fell and screamed in pain.

I somehow got my phone, I don’t remember how.  (A friend told me that when her back went out, she blacked out from the pain.)  I remember feeling calmed by the smooth surface of my phone, thanking God it was charged and relieved that Nick was only 5 minutes into his day, ahead of me, and on his way to work.  I whispered frantically to Isaiah that everything was fine and threw him a toy as I winced in pain.  He hobbled away, whimpering at the site of his mother in such disarray and distraction.

I burst into tears and could barely get the words out to Nick, “My back…w-w-went ou-ou-out a-a-a-gain…”

It was at that moment that I retreated from the world, the pain was overwhelming, almost blinding.

A co-worker told me later she saw Nick walking on the street when he was talking to me, all dressed up for work, briefcase in hand, but in an unusual walking speed, “a near run” she told me.  So she stopped and offered him a ride to wherever he was rushing to.  “Home,” he said, “Leese threw her back out again.”

It’s hormones, my chiropractor told me yesterday.  All the hormones and chemicals that loosen the pelvis and back, readying the body to deliver a baby, are still in your body and, likely, the lumbar region isn’t as tight as it was before and isn’t as strong.  Doing household chores and lifting things can sprain, strain, and injure the lower back, says the doc.

All of this from hormones?  Still?  It’s been 14 months.

Hormones and chemicals can linger in your body, doc says.

A number of friends – all who have given birth in the past two years – have confided of their recent and surprising chronic lower back pain, some so severe that it prevents mobility.  Few have found comfort.  All have tried natural healing, gym trainers, chiropractors, physical therapists. This strange community of back pain mothers comforts me.

I toss two pills of Alleve in my mouth and tried to smile at Isaiah in the kitchen.  He put his chubby arms up for me to carry him and starts grabbing my clothes for leverage, like trying to climb a tree.  Nick immediately scooped him up and tries to cheer him up with a jolly, overly boisterous voice.  The shriek out of Isaiah’s mouth was one I could interpret instantly, “What’s the matter with you?  Why won’t you pick me up?”  He’s taken away from me and, out of nowhere, I have an image of him being taken away from me the moment he was born when all I wanted to do was hold him.  I shake my head, and gently stir the boiling orzo.

Is this what birthing mothers deal with, I asked my head as I stare at the back of Nick’s body.  His is so strong, so solid.  Simply clad in jeans and a white tshirt, Nick’s body looked beautiful to me; his wide and capable back seemed fearless.  His stride was fluid, like a complicated piece of piano music keyed effortlessly.  I look down at my body.  A staccato mess of surgeries, stretch marks, and my skin’s opinion of the pregnancy weight gain and loss.   I see my scarred belly from three surgeries with another scheduled in the summer to fix an umbilical hernia.  My inner eye sees an exhausted and red lumbar region, a weakened lower back throbbing with stubborn stiffness.  It strikes me, with almost a pin needle acuteness, that Nick’s body hadn’t changed at all since we had Isaiah.  Nick’s body remained intact, with no incisions, no stretches, no torn anything.

I pause in that realization.

His tongue had never mistaken water for metallic liquid.  His nose never became so sensitive as to be able to detect the cleaning fluid on the floor of a grocer.  His heart ventricles never widened to allow more blood flow.  His calves and feet never swelled with unbearable water retention.  His chest never billowed with heart burn.  His mind never clouded with postpartum depression.  His nipples never cracked with pain so deep that his shoulders shuddered.  His skin never broke out in rashes.  He never vomited from anesthesia or used his foreman to protect a 6 inch abdominal incision against a winter chill.  He never had a catheter put in at the same time as a suppository while compressors pumped blood away from his legs.  He never had an abrasion in the back of his eye because the surgeons forgot to completely close and protect his eyes before surgery.  He never had to take pills to stop, prompt, or control a menstrual cycle.  He never felt a flutter of life in his belly or feel the hiccup of a new being inside his womb.

Because he doesn’t have a womb.

Nick did and does everything a parent could possibly do.  He transformed his emotions, his life, his commitments, and reformed his schedule to accommodate me and every little thing I needed throughout my pregnancy and birthing experience.  He respects anything I tell him or request.  Nick continuously and gladly lays in a metaphorical railroad track for me and our son.  If that’s what needs to happen, that’s what I will do, he says.

But in the confines of my bed, nursing this near paralysis, when I hear Isaiah’s laughter and Nick’s efforts to keep him occupied, I realize, with ringing clarity something that I could not have known or respected prior to going through it myself: our bodies are entirely different and our needs are entirely different.  My body endured all of this and my body cried differently than his. I knew this beforehand, but I never really Knew It beforehand.  Maybe my body never really cried until I became a mother.

So this difference between Nick and I exists.  It exists as sharp as a paring knife, as real as our love.  That difference – that my body changed while his did not – initially sprouted a rocketing resentment against anything him, society, and anyone else that didn’t Get It.  It = women’s bodies are a terrain that only we ourselves can travel.  It is not for anyone to lay laws upon.  It is not to be conquered, violated, disposed, or mishandled.  Along with the resentment, I also noticed a widening reverence for my body.  From which new life travels, the woman’s body is the canal to existence.  It is from our very bones, the calcium of our teeth, the marrow of our own breath that the woman’s body offers and sustains a new being.  The woman’s body is the epitome of automated self-sacrifice.  It is the ground zero of renewal — if the environment agrees that her life is valuable and the time to recover is respected.  We women, we give birth.  And we are also born into a new identity and a new body.

Give.  Birth.

Give.

Birth.

Are there two more powerful and daunting words in the English language?

But we women are also prone to set back and injury because of what our spines uphold.  Our bellies swell with life and our spines pull back to hold us up and in shape. Sometimes, though, the spine gives way and loses its strength.

Pain, whether it’s the lower back or elbow, or migraine, or menstrual, is a debilitating state of existence.  Not because of the physical pain itself.  It’s debilitating because chronic or severe pain draws our minds inward, incapable of fully giving of ourselves to anything or anyone else.  In pain, I become unlike myself.  I don’t unravel.  I do the opposite, I am mummified.  Most people, but especially me, are social beings.  I feel endorphins from conversation, laughter, and intellectual exchange.  However, in the confines of a bed and four walls, my spirit goes down.  My intellect goes dim and my emotions begin to go dark.  Swathed and cast in my own stillness and short breaths, pain dictates my freedom.  I no longer care about anything.  All that matters is finding a pain-free, mobile existence.  Which is why when I check all my social media outlets – email, Facebook, Twitter, newsfeeds, and listserves – I shake my head that the world is celebrating Mardi Gras and International Women’s Day.  I wish I had the energy to care.  I find all kinds of interesting stuff to read, but before my mind digests in the information, my back spasms again and I nearly drop my laptop in shock.

Pain draws us inward.

So for me, today, the one day (unfortunately) that calls women from all over the world to stand together, I lie in bed, with my eyes closed, waiting for relief.  Luckily, for me, I am certain of two things:

patience and writing can be worked on in bed

and

I do and can stand up for women’s rights and gender justice on a daily basis.  But right now, regaining my spiritual and psychological composure after a back injury and remembering the awesome capacity of a woman’s body seems like my fight for today.

Tomorrow it may be something else.