glitches

A Message to Fathers on Mother's Day

Dear Fathers Everywhere,

If there should come a time in your life when you and your friends are planning a "guy's weekend," and you're looking at the calendar, and there are just a few options available, allow me to make a little suggestion. If one of those weekends happens to fall on Mother's Day, you should probably just pretend that weekend is booked and look to other dates. Now, I know your partner is probably not "into Hallmark Holidays," and perhaps she has even been so bold as to state this in the past. Let me be the first to suggest to you that this is still no reason to disregard the date.

Even if you were one of those people who, in your childhood, did not pay attention to Mother's Day as a formal holiday, eschewing it for the lesser celebrated days such as Arbor Day, or Lincoln's Birthday. Now that President's Day has swallowed up the significance of the individual presidents of days past, those mighty leaders' birthdates have become a blur, yet Mother's Day has risen in prominence. Maybe you argue that Mother's Day is a False Holiday, and Father's Day gets short shrift! Why is Father's Day not given to flowers and brunches, instead tossed off with an occasional barbecue, in which dad himself has to helm the fire, where Mother's Day is practically a day off for mom? 

I am here to warn you that these things do not matter. Your personal history is of no consequence. Likewise, no matter what the mother of your children (or step-mother, natch) states is her preference for the date, there is no excuse for ignoring this person on Mother's Day. And, returning to the original point, if you are considering planning a Guy's Weekend, in say, for example, Moab, Utah,  a place where, maybe the Moms in questions might have always wanted to go but never had the resources but might actually have had MORE EXPERIENCE WITH MOUNTAIN BIKING THAN ALL OF YOU AND YOUR GUY FRIENDS COMBINED, might I gently suggest you demur and make other plans.

Because I think you will find this plan ill conceived. 

Even if you buy flowers and cleverly have your children sign the card at the flower shop so that the mom cannot throw them in the compost upon delivery, lest the children see the card and wonder what happened to the flowers they so carefully selected days before. 

Even if you plan an elaborate scavenger hunt for the gift that you had the children craft for Mother's Day, and set up all the clues in advance, yet neglect to tell the children about the clues so they fret about the clues and end up setting up a parallel scavenger hunt just in case you forgot to lay the hunt as planned, so the Mom gets to enjoy the fun of TWO scavengers hunts on Mother's Day morning, dressed only in her nightgown and not even showered for going on two days and all she really wants to do is shower for the love of all that is holy.

Even if you try to set up a ride for your child to the nightmare birthday party that is notoriously awful because it has been awful to epic proportions for the past three years, yet even that generous carpooler cannot tolerate the party for more than two hours so the mom and second child still have to tolerate the chaotic marshmallow war followed by the anarchic pinata with no less than two tantrums by the notoriously ill-behaved child (why is he still being invited to these parties?) followed by the seven story cake that is supposed to look like the Eye of Sauron but reminds the mom of a psychedelic vulva and that is the only thing that gets-her-through-the-day.

Because in the end, you cannot control for the fact that the cat will still shit anywhere but in the litter box. And the little boy will be an absolute nightmare before swimming lessons on Saturday morning because he's decided that he doesn't want to get in the pool for ??? who knows why, and then decides that he likes being a little pain in the ass for the REST OF THE DAY.  No amount of flowers will make up for the fact that everyone else has plans to sleep in on Sunday and Mom will have to wake up EARLY because her children are planning their parallel scavenger hunt loudly outside her door, and she couldn't sleep the night before because she never sleeps when you're away. Not to mention the fact that Mom has to take the kids to two big restaurant meals with her extended family because she has a relative visiting and she's Native American and so she can't explain to the person who is visiting that they can't come because that would be considered rude since they are tied through a ceremonial bond, and then it's Mother's Day and her Grandmother is almost 101 and of course she has to take the children to that big restaurant meal, even though it will be almost an hour between when they order and when they are served and her uncles, at ages 55, 73, and 75 are absolutely childish when it comes time to pay the check. And Mom has to keep the children polite, happy, and occupied through both restaurant meals, no mean feat when they are bored and tired, and not at all interested in sitting in a restaurant in the middle of a perfectly beautiful Sunday Afternoon, i shit you not. And don't get the mother started on Facebook and how even her own mother is making posts celebrating other mothers, and MEN who MOTHER, yet nobody in the world made a fucking post thanking her for being a mother to these two precious angels who had excellent restaurant behavior. No bouquet of flowers will make that better.

But best of all, you absolutely can't control for the fact that your oldest son will get a migraine on Sunday night, when everyone is completely tapped out, and end up barfing miserably through painful tears, and your spouse will refrain from adding the words "You lucky asshole" to the text she sends you informing you of this fact because she knows you don't like it when she cusses.

You could have controlled for the fact that they ran out of groceries and hair care products for the kids. That was an oversight. Leaving her with a huge pile of laundry so they were pulling dirty pants out of the hamper was also a error in judgment. 

So.... even if your partner tells you, sweetly, that she's not really into Mother's Day and you should do what makes you happy, I am warning you, DO NOT LISTEN. And most of all, DO NOT GO OUT OF TOWN that weekend. You might go to the gym, but even that is pushing it. Whatever you do, give the mother of your children, that person who has sacrificed her body, her youth, and more hot meals than you can count, the gift of a little time to herself. She may not want jewelry, flowers, or other material things, but she would like a little recognition for just how hard it is to parent your children, with or without you.

Institutional Racism

One of my classmates from grad school posted on her facebook wall the other day that there were some birds on her lawn. She was really excited because, as she explained, that type of bird was her "totem animal." Her friends were excited because that type of bird really only comes out at night, and to have a big bunch of those birds on her lawn during the day is unusual, so they expressed excitement over this auspicious event. She then reiterated, no seriously, this is her TOTEM ANIMAL, so it was extra special.

I'm not mentioning what kind of bird it is, because in my tribe, this type of bird is a harbinger of death. To have this type of bird as one's TOTEM ANIMAL would be a very BAD THING. Even naming that bird is bad news. I briefly considered mentioning this on her wall, but instead I just blew it off, because really what would that accomplish? But it bugged me on two levels. One, because this person is so white European, her cultural appropriation is just irritating, and the other, because she is smarter than this, so what gives?

But then I was reminded of grad school. Oh, grad school, that painful place where you try to do so much in such a short amount of time.

I went to an ivy league school, with little diversity. People were liberal, well-educated, and they tried. Or at least they pretended that they tried. I liked my classmates, I really did. Most of my friends were midwives, I was in oncology and end of life care. We would joke that they did one end of life, I did the other, and that was why we got along so well. The midwifery program had a ceremony for their students at the end of the year, this is not uncommon for midwifery programs. Some places call it something along the lines of "The Blessing of the Hands."  The sentiment is that these people will then go and welcome lives into the world, and so their hands will be blessed to do this task. At my school, at that particular time in history, they called their ceremony a blessingway ceremony. 

A true Blessingway Ceremony is a very holy ceremony, presided over by a Medicine Man. It takes many days, it's expensive, and requires a lot of preparation and prayer. It doesn't get accomplished in an afternoon with a gaggle of women sitting in a circle in someone's suburban home, snacking on hummus. I've never been to one. I wouldn't dare insinuate that I know anything about it more than what I've said. But these women got REALLY excited about their blessingway ceremony, and started planning for the corresponding potluck weeks in advance. It was truly offensive. 

So I said something. I pointed out that it was racist, and offensive, and that all they really needed to do was change the name. They said they liked the name. And then they made fun of me. And they used air quotes. They mocked me, instead of changing the name. They didn't understand that these things have meaning, and by appropriating them, they demean the ceremony, themselves, and the damage relationships with their peers. It hurt. And the TOTEM ANIMAL woman was part of that. The last few weeks of grad school were really unpleasant because of this, because I pointed out something was racist, I made people uncomfortable, and they decided that I was the bad guy. 

I know, in my heart, that they are good people who were just ignorant. And maybe, someday, they would understand that hurting people through ignorance is just as racist as overtly calling someone a racist name. Or misusing spiritual terminology out of place. 

And maybe I know in my own heart that I shouldn't wish ill upon the worst of those perpetrators, that I shouldn't hope that their misappropriation of what I consider holy comes back to them someday. That would be no better. 

digitalme

I was thinking the other day about how little time I spend actually talking to people. I mean, really talking to people in a non-transactional sense. Even in my own family, we spend very little time in discussion that isn't logistically-oriented. The time spent actually breaking down a topic and analyzing, taking it from broad strokes to little micro-details is maybe an hour or two a week. This is in contrast to when I was younger and I used to spend hours talking to people. I would talk with my friends and family for hours at a stretch, on the phone, in the car, over meals. We talked and talked and talked until we were blue in the face. So what is the difference? 

Well, for one, we have texting. Instead of calling people when I have a question, I can text them. So now I don't have an excuse to make small talk, and I don't have to fill in the gaps of conversation with little bits of hi how are you and what do you think about the situation in the middle east?. My closest friend and I almost never talk unless we are actually in the same room, which happens maybe monthly. Can you imagine talking to your closest friend only once a month? Texting is fun, and I have time for jokes and silliness, but having a deep conversation via thumb is really awkward. 

For another, now I have children, and much of my life is spent worrying about the next step. Where are we going, what are we doing, how are we going to coordinate everyone's life such that every person in the household has their needs met with the least amount of conflict possible. This requires an enormous amount of diplomatic logistical discussion, and I will admit that after having this conversations, I am often spent. So spent, I don't want to delve into the deeper conversations I used to have. Also, now I have other shit to do, so once we've worked out the details of the day, it's the 1-2-3- BREAK! and we all go running to actually do the things we just planned. I think both sweets and I yearn for a few minutes of time alone, so having a person following me around begging to have deep conversations about the meaning of life isn't really what either of us wants or needs.

Also, we just don't spend that much time worrying about the same stuff that we did when we were younger. I just don't care what people think about the rise and fall of electronic music like I used to, so I don't need to gather in places where people have those conversations. And to be honest, the places where those people are having those conversations are mostly online. Which leads to my next point- much of this narrative that used to come out of my mouth is now coming out of my fingers. When I want to tap into the discourse about electronic music, I go to twitter, see what people are tweeting about electronic music, follow the links and read what the bloggers and commenters are saying, maybe tweet something myself, and then I'm spent. Very little has actually been said. The language has spun around in my head, but no words have been uttered. Unless I go to a TED talk, and see what some very practiced, stylized "expert" has to say on the matter, but that is its own sidebar.

I do a lot of qualitative research- for the uninitiated, qualitative research is the type in which people are interviewed, and those interviews are analyzed, the opposite of survey fill-in-the-bubble research. I look at what people say, how they say it, what is the context in which they say what they've said, and what they haven't said, and I try to pull out the themes. In the literature about this type of research there is a lot of talk about how people build their own narratives through storytelling- that there is power in the act of asking someone personal questions and then listening to what they have to say. By creating your narrative, you're forming memories. So when a person retells a story about an experience, the way they tell it shapes how they remember it, shapes how they will experience that memory in the future. So it goes to say that human beings NEED to tell their stories, that we need to gather and talk and retell and share and exchange ideas. We need to reflect back the positive to each other, because we are all memory makers, helping form each other's narrative.

In the digital world, we are forming our narratives in tiny, literate bits. Some of us are better at it than others. I have a head-start because I jumped into online forums early, and have a world of friends who I only know (really) through the internet. My friends and I talk, share, communicate only through the written word. Some of us have tried to gather in real time, but one of the reasons we are able to be such good friends (I think) is because we can do it asynchronously. I love these friends dearly, as one does for close, intimate friends with whom one shares one's most private life. 

But I wonder sometimes how my, how our lives are changing as we transition into a world without conversation. 

my new career

Through a very circuitous route, I was selected to be the spokesmodel for a training video at work. This means I get to walk people through the ins and outs of how to conduct ethical research with minority populations. I've already done the voice-over recordings and tomorrow we will do the live shots. Or, as the "treatment" thing says, the "talent standup." I am very pleased with this. I am considering leaving my job and just doing technical videos for the rest of my life. Does that sound awesome? Pretty soon you'll see me the next time you get a new job and have to watch that unbearable video about harassment. Or when you take an online class on waste management and they have you do a segment learning about recycling? that's me: the pleasant-voiced, friendly-faced, racially ambiguous actress talking you through the step-by-step process of breaking down a cardboard box. 

I can't wait. This bus is going places.

mid tenure review

Hi. I passed my mid-tenure review. If you were wondering what happened to me, that's what happened to me. I got a job, a life, and now they pay me to write. The paid writing has to take precedence over the non-paid writing. 

but I'm here. Not always happy with this life, but it's the life I've chosen, and I'm trying to be positive about it. I have three more years before tenure and then I can start to think about other things. It seems like for my own sanity and for my marriage, I need to follow through with this, at least until tenure. because dropping out of this world would be bad, especially before my student loans are paid off, right? right?

best live performances

I have insomnia. What better way to deal with insomnia than to list out in my mind the best live performances I've ever attended.

1) The Pixies, Santa Fe Convention Center, November 2011. This show was incredible. Santa Fe isn't a large enough market to draw huge acts, so we usually get overlooked when big bands are touring- bands will play Albuquerque, or they'll skip us altogether and go straight from Denver or somewhere in Texas to California. We're the rest day. But the Pixies were doing their Lost Cities tour, and were deliberately stopping to play cities they'd never played before, so we got a hit. Santa Fe came out in force, and we were delighted. It was an incredible show- great energy, great music, and so much fun. It was one gigantic pixies singalong. The only thing that would have made it better would have been if my friend from Denver had been able to make it down to join us, but that will have to happen another time, I guess. Highlight: There was a pit- I haven't been to a show with a pit in FOREVER. My friend Jessica's response to the pit: "You don't have a pit at a Pixies show!"

2) Ben Folds Five, Toad's Place, New Haven, 2001?. Ben Folds gives an incredible live show.  He does it on one of his live albums so you can hear the effect- it's part of his schtic, but it was fun. It was a great venue for that. Speaking of the venue- Toad's place was/is (?) hilarious because they dealt with the all ages issue by placing a chain-link fence down the middle of the audience. Over 21? you can go on the bar side of the pen. Under 21? in with the parents in the playground. Very weird to be in a bar with with a chain link fence. Highlight: Lots of interaction, including my favorite, when he divided the audience into choral sections and assigned out the horn parts to one of of his songs.

3) Florence, Italy, 2002. Z and I were in Italy for our honeymoon, and we were wandering around Florence one night looking for something interesting to do. We wandered into a street festival, and just happened to be there right as an incredible street performance was beginning. To call it a street performance doesn't really do it justice- it was more a staged and very carefully choreographed street circus. There were aerial fabric sets done off the side of a 5 story building, there were people dancing around floating on top of the crowd in these big transparent spheres, there were puppets and trapezes and all sorts of breathtaking feats. The music was amazing, the lighting was perfect, and then just as it started, it just ended. It was one of the most indescribably beautiful moments of my life. Highlight: Realizing that we had just wandered into something really, really special by accident.

4) Paris, France, 1995. In another, similarly happenstance event, I once stumbled upon a performance of an accordian orchestra playing in a bandstand in a park in Paris. I didn't know beans about Paris, and certainly didn't know that I was about to be awed and delighted by this performance, it just happened. I was with a band I was traveling with, on our way to do our own post-concert ramble across Europe. We didn't have our instruments with us any more, this was a true vacation. We did have all our luggage, and at the time there were lots of bombings around Paris transit systems so we couldn't check our bags at the station, so we found a park and decided to spend the afternoon there, because our suitcases were too big to lug around all day. I remember napping, and I remember waking up to accordion music. There was an accordion orchestra, with accordions of all sizes, playing wonderfully breathy music- very French, very Eastern European. Very magical. Highlight: They performed a piece which included sections in which the accordianists were to play just the bellows of their instruments, literally giving the music breath.

5) Sun Ra Arkestra, Yoshi's Place, Oakland, 1999?  I'd only just started dating Z, and his dad invited he and I to go see Sun Ra at Yoshi's. I didn't get a lot of opportunities to go see live music because I just didn't have a lot of money during this period, and I never got to go to Yoshi's due to the whole broke thing, so this was a treat. This was when the music career was ending, and I was making the very difficult decision to stop performing and apply to nursing schools. I hadn't told a lot of people, and I think I was even still gigging, but it was in the back of my mind. Anyway, we went to see Sun Ra and the music was so beautiful and so intense and so beyond anything I would ever be able to create, it made me cry. I've never be brought to tears by a performance- I usually get caught up in the technical magic of a musical piece, but this concert was about the emotional power of music. It was amazing. Highlight: Five minute saxophone solo exploring alternate fingerings.

6) The Flaming Lips, San Francisco, 1999. Anyone who's seen the Flaming Lips live knows how great they are. Yes.  Highlight:  Confetti Bombs. Long before stupid glitter bombs and stadium concerts. 

7) I would be remiss if I didn't mention my big boy's first piano concert. That is definitely the best live performance I've ever seen in my entire life.  :)

I'm here...

So, having two kids and a tenure-track job make posting pretty difficult to achieve. Which is obvious, since I haven't updated in over a year. In a quick update- I have decided after 2 years to stop calling myself vegan. Over the past 2 months it was pretty clear that I wasn't being very adherent, and maintaining veganism became really difficult. In truth, I got tired of struggling over what to eat every damn day, and fighting with sweets over it. I didn't want to be the whiny vegan  who complains whenever there isn't a vegan option, which is also known as ADVOCACY.  I am a good advocate for many things, but that became a battle I just couldn't fight any more. Particularly in my own home. I'm still about 90% vegan, but that last 10% was just too much of a battle. Every meal I eat that doesn't have animal products in it is still a benefit to the world, and I don't want to change all the good habits I've put in place, but I also can't fight with my husband any more about what we're going to eat as a family.

I had hoped that we would all eventually transition to veganism. The kids were about halfway there, but my husband's refusal to make the switch despite the fact that we were eating vegan meals as a family a good portion of the time made it too frustrating. He just wouldn't give up his animal products, even though he's mostly vegetarian already. Don't get me started- this has been a struggle for me and I don't want to dwell any further on it. 

So yeah, that's where we are right now. The lentil is 7, reads voraciously, and is turning into an excellent skier. The peanut is 4 and continues to be an exciting child to parent- he has definite opinions on the world, he likes to be the contrarian, and he's incredibly fun. They're both incredibly fun, actually.

be well, my friends!

Is blogging dead? I'm not entirely certain. I know I don't have a lot of time for it any more- it's hard being gainfully employed and mom to two and just generally nutso. I really am never sure which way is up. When I started this blog, I had neither a job nor a child, let alone two. I have some friends who continue to blog through all the excitement of adulthood, but... I'm having trouble being one of those people.

But I just renewed my account at typepad. Who knows how many posts I'll fit in this year. I'll do my best.

And to update: I'm still vegan (although most of you are friends with me on facebook or twitter (@emmalola) and so you know that. I work at a university. the lentil is 6, the peanut is 3, and both are wonderful. I travel a ton for work now, so any free time I have is spent with my boys or trying to get caught up, not blogging. Sometimes I still have ideas about things that would be great blog posts, but I just haven't had the time or energy to keep it up. Maybe this year will be better?

vegan breakthrough

I'm still vegan!  I have had a few slips- some truly authentic pueblo-made tamales couldn't pass the vegan resolve, as with the delicious indian food in Berkeley.  But I consciously made the decision to eat those foods and I don't regret it.  I eat what I want, and I don't really miss the meat.  At all.  I'm sometimes put out by the lack of options in restaurants, but that's not the end of the world.  It just means I'm not eating big fancy desserts and cheesy-meaty action-packed meals.  It means I've done things like order nachos with extra beans, no cheese for lunch, which turned out to be delicious.

But today I had a real breakthrough.  In the past I've known to have some crazy cravings.  Things like chocolate, cheese, jerky.  I haven't had serious cravings for cheese since the first month, and I indulge the chocolate cravings by eating a little dark chocolate every day.  I don't even want jerky any more.  But you won't believe what I was craving today. Today all I wanted was.... 

beans.  Beans!  Who craves beans?  Me.  the happy vegan.  Beans!  And guess what?  I had tons of beans in the cupboard.  I didn't need to feel resentful for not being able to eat it, I didn't feel like I was missing something, I just went to the cupboard and opened up a jar of fancy greek beans and ate them!  And they were GOOD!  

My name is whylime, and I crave beans.

Victory Song

I have a song on my IPod that makes me tear up almost every time I hear it.  Whenever I’m feeling like I need a reality check or I need a pick-up I play it because it reminds me of what I’m doing, why I’m here, and what I can hope for some day.

In 2008 I was pretty emotionally invested in the Obama campaign.  I even volunteered for the campaign on voting day and ended up standing on a street corner with a big sign urging people to vote for him.  I went door to door canvassing to try to help people get to the polls.  I wanted Obama to win because he had a platform which I supported, but more importantly I wanted him to win because he was a bi-racial man.  I know that might sound small or naïve, but that’s where I am.  Before Richardson dropped out I wanted him to win because he is from New Mexico and he’s Latino.  That’s just how I roll.

The day after the election, Oprah had Will.i.am on her show, where he debuted his new song about the election.  The song is so raw, yet it captures the day so well.  The day after Obama was voted president.

I went to sleep last night, tired from the fight.  I’ve been fighting for tomorrow all my life.  Yeah, I woke up this morning, feeling brand new, ‘cause the dreams that I’ve been dreaming have finally come true.  It’s a new day.

I can identify with this.  I understand fighting for tomorrow, going to bed weary and waking up weary but ready to fight again.  I spend a lot of time in my career scheming my plan to continue the fight.  I fantasize about the day when I can wake up to a dream realized.

It’s been a long time coming.  Up the mountain kept running.  Songs of freedom kept humming.  Channeling Harriet Tubman, Kennedy, Lincoln, and King.  We gotta invest that dream.  It feels like we’re swimming upstream.  It feels like we’re stuck in between a rock and a hard place, we’ve been through the heartaches and lived through the darkest days….

There is such dark history in this country.  America’s past is filled with horrifying memories of darkness interspersed with brilliant flames of inspiration, goodness, and visions of a just humanity.  Whenever I hear this part of the song I’m filled with yearning for that inspiration, and I’m filled with deep and unsettling jealousy for Black Americans, because they have this history rich with powerful and influential leaders, and this history rich with resistance and small victories.

If you and I made it this far, well then, Hey! We can make it all the way.  And they said “No we can’t” and we said “Yes we can.”  Remember, it’s you and me, together.  It’s a new day.

We’ve come so far together.  In the early years of the United States, Black slaves sought refuge with American Indian tribes in the southeast and northeast.   The civil rights movement was important for all Americans, not just Black Americans.  Latinos mobilized during this time and formed important labor groups which helped change the way migrant workers were treated.  American Indians mobilized and tried to reclaim land lost to broken treaties.  In more recent history Japanese Americans were finally recognized for their struggles during the second world war, some Native peoples received justice in the form of recognition that our lives were destroyed through U.S. policies.  Sometimes the deepest and most profound gesture is that of offering an apology, and we get that occasionally, through dribs and drabs of federal policy.  But it's never enough.

It’s been a long time waiting.  Waiting for this moment.  Been a long time praying.  Praying for this moment.  We hope for this moment, and now that we own it, for life I will hold it, and I’ll never let it go.

Oh, how I want this.  I want the federal government to stand up and say “We deliberately and with much forethought did every thing we possibly could to eliminate Native peoples from this country.  And we’re deeply, terribly sorry.  We fucked up in a big way.  We created such a huge mess, it’s going to take an enormous amount of work to try to even start to fix this, and we’re dedicated to fixing the problems we created. “  I want the federal government to say, “Although we can’t bring back your grandparents and great grandparents, we want to fix things now so that your problems will not continue.  We accept our role in creating the devastating health problems, the overwhelming poverty, and the choking suicide in your adolescents, the diabetes, and unacceptable death rates in your communities.   That’s our fault, and we’re now going to do what we can to fix it.  We’re going to funnel money and resources into this problem we created so that it will never happen again.”

It’s for fathers, our brothers, our friend who fought for freedom.  Our sisters, our mothers, who did for us to be in this moment.  Stop and cherish this moment.  Stop and cherish this time.  It’s time for unity, for us and we, that’s you and me, together.

I cherish the fact that we as Americans have done something we thought impossible.  We brought together hope and history and made something good.  I do cherish this.

‘Cause we weren’t fighting for nothing.  And the soldiers weren’t fighting for nothing.  No, Martin wasn’t dreaming for nothing.  And Lincoln didn’t change it for nothing.  And children weren’t crying for nothing.

It’s a new day. 

The thing is, when I hear this song I feel like our people are fighting for nothing.  We’re fighting and dreaming and crying and things aren’t getting any better.  

I spend my days reading and writing about this incredible disparity in survival between American Indians and non-Hispanic whites.  In New Mexico more than half (55%) of Natives die from cancer, where less than a third of non-Hispanic whites will die from the disease.  Same cancers, but the differences (among others) are that Natives don’t get the health care they need to get the early diagnoses and the prompt treatment, and that Natives still see cancer as inevitably fatal, where non-Hispanic whites see it as possibly fatal but still worth going to the doctor about.  We have serious issues, and I’m fighting an uphill battle.  There are lots of us footsoldiers in this war against healthcare disparities, but for all our efforts it sure doesn’t feel like we’re getting anywhere.

I can’t wait for our new day to come.  I can’t wait to feel like our grandfathers and grandmothers endured their struggle so we could see a new day.  I can’t wait to feel anything but overwhelming despair over the problems in our people today.  We’re strong and we’ve made it this far, but will we ever be able to talk about our history as a terrible past and not part of our present?  I can’t wait until we can sing of our resistance in the form of our own victory song.