Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: protest

Rise up; stand up; don’t back down

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I woke up to the news that there’s been another local shooting by ICE. Oh wait. It might not be ICE. It might be Border Patrol. At any rate, it’s federal assholes. This time, it was K messaging me. which meant I had to be angry, upset, depressed, enraged, heartbroken, and a whole mess of other complicated emotions upon waking. Once again, I’ve spent all day in a daze, avoiding the video and the pictures, but reading what happened to the young man. I’m numb, yes, but there’s a rage burning in my heart, and it’s only growing stronger. There was a sliver of hope after the peaceful economic blackout yesterday–and now? We’re back in the terribleness we were in two weeks ago.

Before I continue on my rant, I want to say yet again that while I’m not happy with the increase of filming in public in general, I’m beyond grateful that it’s a staple in all the protests. Because without the video footage from ordinary people, ICE, DHS, and all the other presidential shills would be able to spin the narrative much more readily. Lord knows they’re doing their best to do it, anyway, but with all the video footage of what actually happened, it’s a much harder task for them.

Oh, I know MAGA will believe whatever their dear leader tells them, no matter what he says. Even when he changes his mind two minutes later, they agree unthinkingly.

Side note to the side note: This is a drum I’ve been banging for decades to the Democrats. Fuck that group. No, serious. Fuck them. Write them off. You will never ever ever win them over. I’m talking about that thirty percent of the population (roughly twenty percent, that’s an ass number, of the voters) who are just gonna be the way they are.

Stop ppandering to them. Stop trying to lure them to the dark side. Just. Fucking. Let. Them. Go. The ones you want to try to win over are the moderates and the independents. Oh, and by the way, you’re losing me as well because I’m tired of being put dead last every year. And not even consciously–but just by omission. That’s more insulting than being deliberately ignored.

Here’s the thing. The Democrats are shitty at messaging. And, for decades, they’ve tried to define themselves as the ‘not-Republicans’. The Dems were always reacting and never being proactive. They’re too nerdy and wonky for the gen pop. one of the big reasons Obama won was beacuse he had a simple message that connected with a vast swathe of people. He saved his wonkiness for when he got elected, which was a smart move. Oh, and he mobilized the online youth like none other. He internet savvy, and he used that to his advantage.

Back to my post.


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Sometimes, to make an omelet, you have to kick some fucking ass

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The surrealness of the world around me continues. On many levels, yes, but, sefishly, it’s what’s happening in MN that is occupying most of my mind. Don’t get me wrong. I’m outraged about Venezuela. I’m livid about Greenland. I’m seething over the tariffs and other economic bullshit that is emanating from this administration. But it’s what happening in Minneapolis that is most pressing in my mind because it’s nearest (literally and figuratively) to me.

Even then, I’m careful about how much news I ingest every day. I used to write for a political blogh, so I would watch/read a large amount of news a day. Iwas on the abortion beat, so most of the news I read was infuriating, sad, or depressing. I had to make sure I wasn’t burning myself out, and I did that for a few years.

Once Obama was out of office, I was no longer writing for the political blog. I also wasn’t watching/reading as much news as before. I had reached my limit, and I did not want to steep myself in that world again.

I kept up with the news, of course. I made sure I knew the big stuff. I cursorily skimmed the news, and then I kept it moving.

It’s too easy to doomscroll for hours. There is so much bad news, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed, helpless, and despaired. In fact, I feel that way much of the time now. I know that’s what this administration wants, but it’s hard not to remain hopeful. There have been sliver of good news, but so few and far between.

Here’s yesterday’s post. I’m not even going to try to tie it in with this post. Why? Because I’m tired, and I just can’t be bothered. There is a connection, at least in my mind, and I’m going to leave it at that.

I’m still exhausted because of the shots (Covid and flu), but it’s not nearly as bad as it was when I got the three shots on one day. It’s on par with what I normally feel after a shot. Slightly worse, but nothing too noticeable.

I’ve been very careful with not overdoing it as I get better. One good thing about Taiji and Bagua  is that it’s not something that you’re going to lose much if you can’t do it for a day or two. Or even a month. Yes, I forgot a few postures in my month off, but I was able to teach it to myself fairly quickly again.

One of the most amazing things about my medical crisis is how I was able to pick up my practice about a week after I got out of the hospital, shaky and tired, yes, but still able to do most of it. Taiji is chill and relaxed. It’s not the same as Bagua, but I did not start practicing that until well after my medical crisis was over.


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No Flag, No Country

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Eddie Izzard is hilarious, and he has several bits about being an empire and colonization. It’s funny because it’s apt, and he has the typical British self-deprecatory sense of humor. One of my favorites is one in which he tells how the UK became a great empire with the cunning use of…flags.

“I claim India for Britain.”

“You can’t claim us. We live here. Five hundred million of us!”

“Do you have a flag?” (Funny grimace.)

“We don’t need a bloody flag. It’s our country, you bastard.”

“No flag, no country; you can’t have one. That’s the rules that I’ve just made up! And I’m backing it up with this gun that was lent from the National Rifle (riffle, as he pronounces it) Association.”

(Back to being Eddie)

“And that was it. You know.”

 

I bring it up because of the brouhaha being stirred up over the American flag, which isn’t really the issue, even though it’s become the center of the drama.

Quick background: Colin Kaepernick, an NFL quarterback, took a knee last year during the national anthem as a peaceful way of protesting the systemic injustices that black people, men in particular, suffer in this country. The backlash was swift, and he became a pariah to many white Americans. They wanted him to just play football and keep his politics out of their Sunday entertainment.

Fast-forward to this year and this past week. This president opened his gob and more stupid shit fell out. For whatever reason, he thought it would be a good idea to comment on the situation and said:

“Wouldn’t you love to see one of these NFL owners — when somebody disrespects our flag — to say, ‘Get that son of a b*tch off the field right now. Out. He’s fired. He’s fired!'”

Now, I’m not surprised that’s what he said because it’s who he is, but he didn’t have to open his mouth at all. He could have said nothing, and it would have been better than what he did say. Then again, that’s true of approximately 99% of what he says. Before I get into the meat of what he said and why it’s idiotic, the best response to this shitty statement is from Colin Kaepernick’s mother, Teresa. She tweeted:

OT: I really hate the habit of using an asterisk for one letter of a ‘controversial’ word (or more asterisks for more letters), especially in a written piece. Who the f*ck do you think you’re fooling? Like, people aren’t just putting in the g*dd*mn letters as they’re reading? It’s even worse than saying ‘n-word’. There’s a great Louis CK bit about this that says, “You’re just making me say the word in my head so you don’t have to be uncomfortable saying it out loud.” Anyhooooo….

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Sometimes Silence is Not an Option; What You Can Do to Protest

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In my parents’ homeland of Taiwan, they lived under a dictator named Chiang Kai-shek. He fled from the Mainland and Mao in 1949 and took over Taiwan, where he ruled with an iron fist. Taiwanese people were treated like second-class citizens in their own country. They were not allowed to speak Taiwanese in school, and all the prestigious jobs were saved for members of the KMT. Since Chiang Kai-shek’s mission was to reunite with China, he didn’t care what he did to Taiwan or its people. My father was an ardent supporter of an independent Taiwan, and when he came to America to attend grad school, he didn’t keep his opinions to himself. I remember when I was a kid marching in the streets of downtown Minneapolis* with handmade signs, chanting for an independent Taiwan. Because of his actions, my father was blacklisted from his home country for decades and would have been jailed or ‘accidentally’ killed if he had returned.

I’ve heard stories of the horror of living under this man, which is part of the reason what’s happening right now in our country is sending chills down my spine. We Americans aren’t very good at understanding things we don’t experience, and most of us do not have any intimate knowledge of fascism. We read about the terrible things the Nazis did and think, “That would never happen here.” What we don’t understand, however, is that it didn’t start with concentration camps and the gassing of Jews. It started much as it’s starting here, with orders of who is and isn’t allowed in the country. “I’m just doing my job” isn’t never the moral option (akin to “I’m just following orders”), and less so now than ever before.

Let me tell you about my experience while flying in (and out) of America as a minority. Let me also preface it by saying that I realize I’m incredibly fortunate to be able to fly as much as I have. With that out of the way, let me say that flying is an unpleasant experience for me, especially when I was younger. When I first flew to Canada, a (male, white) coworker of mine told me quite firmly that I didn’t need a passport to fly into Canada. When I reached the Minneapolis airport, the ticket agent wasn’t going to confirm me because I didn’t have my passport. I showed her my driver’s license, and she said, “That doesn’t prove you’re an American citizen.” I argued with her for five to ten minutes, and she finally, reluctantly, allowed me to continue. Ironically, Canada was perfectly fine with me entering their country. Go figure.

My worse experience flying was to London to visit my boyfriend. The customs agents took one look at me with my permed hair, big hoops, and multicolored jumpsuit, and pulled me out of line. Meanwhile, next to me, there’s a big, dumb American saying he’s coming into the country to spend a lot of money, derp-di-derp.  The agents wanted to know why I was there, and, oh, is my boyfriend English? No. American? No. I told them he was Sri Lankan, and that was enough to get me pulled to a backroom. They asked me about what my parents did, what I did, and what my boyfriend did. They also pulled him into the back and questioned him for twenty minutes. Afterwards, he was furious with me. He said I should have just said I was visiting a friend. How the hell was I to know, though, that I would be questioned like that? It left a bitter taste in my mouth, I’ll tell you that much.


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