paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- american dreams american realities Today I had the privilege of staying home from work in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King Day. It seems like such a position of privilege of get to observe the holiday, that I told myself I was going to reflect on Dr. King and his work. In high school I had a large poster of him up over my bed, next to a large poster of a Cocteau Twins album cover and a poster of Paris. Kind of an odd mix, but perhaps my taste in adolescent posters is a form of self-expression or even autobiography. These were the concepts I held dear enough to put on my wall and to let them stand for me and/or my dreams. But I would rather be at work and have him still with us now. April 4, 1968, was a sad day for our nation and when I listen to the speeches of Dr. King on this holiday and think about what he accomplished with his life, I feel a sense of tragedy. We have stopped the difficult conversations that he and his fellow civil rights movement leaders started. They started it with a mixture of pain, inspiration and belief, and too many of us have not bothered to get the recipe. I always cry on Martin Luther King Day, but I feel conflicted by these tears because I want to celebrate all he is and not mourn the loss. I think I cry because I see in the world around me (and I hope it is just a regional thing) too much evidence of "individual unique liberation" (I don't know what it is called) that is marketed to and sold to us. That freedom to be unique that is all about materialism and not about real freedom. But the more I look around, the more I wonder if too many people have bought their sense of personal liberation instead of working towards a dream for everyone. People struggled mightily for freedom in the past. People struggle mightily for freedom today. But do enough of us who have privilege protest inequality? Do enough of us take a stand as individuals that gets one step father away from this world of injustice. It might be that it is only one step, but if 1000 people took whatever one step was meaningful for them�. I cry because we are taught that we must take action in this country but I cannot conceptualize a course of real action. I live my life and refuse to admit some of what I see and hear in the world around me to live in my vision, my art or my inner life. Ours is not an easy world in which to live, and it is even harder for idealists. Considering that my one prayer from age four to age eleven was that if the world could just stop and think about what is good or hopeful or happy for ten minutes at a given time, I would say I am an idealist who suffered from exposure to the Coke commercial. I see the conflict in myself between who I am and who the dominant culture created in me and I think that is part of what is so confusing about life. It is so easy to grow up, get an education, get a job, live in a family and participate in this �American culture.� With that participation comes position and role, and with position and role come inequality, injustice, and the hard choices. I try my hardest to resist the hatred and insensitivity around me and to add something more positive and productive. But thankfully I am not undergoing evaluation because I do not know that I have done much in my 33 years. We have a long way to go and I am ready to keep working towards the dream that Dr. King made so vivid in his life. I�ve grown tired of people being tired of political correctness. As though the shift in a trend of discourse gives freedom to say stupid things. In my office, what exhausts me most is the constant use of the word �gay� and �queer� to mean stupid or idiotic. For example, ideas are so �gay� but not because they are happy or having anything to do with gay culture. Changing a deadline on a project is �gay� or an awkward paragraph is �gay� or food that doesn�t taste good is �queer.� I�m also tired of the hostility of people who are overweight in my office. My boss says "I hate fat people because they are lazy and do not have enough energy to devote to the job. They disgust me. I am afraid that they will explode around or just begin barfing because they eat without stopping all day.� And then one of the staff members will say �eeewww how queer.� And the other one will say �it�s so gay that those fat freaks eat cookies and stuff.� In my own protest I informed each of them that I am no longer engaging in unproductive, non-work-related discussions with them because they all offend me. They probably said �Piper is so freaking queer.� And what they don�t realize is that they are �right.� Out of respect for the day, I am choosing to repress all of the other stuff I hear and not give it any more life. I only write about the work stuff because this course of action is a recent turn of events for me and really it is a big step towards a braver, more confident me. I have been reading Mechaieh and Dichroic lately. For an insightful and meaningful discussion on the recent affirmative action �pronouncement� from President Bush, visit Mechaieh . I�ve worked hard on my poetry this weekend and it feels great. I have been feeling much more happy since getting back into poetry. But it takes time. I find myself needing more time with coffee and a notebook and am pondering an attempt to pry myself from bed at a small hour in the morning in order to give poetry that special energy of the mind just after rest. However, I cherish late nights and it is cold in our drafty old house, especially since we set the heat back to 55F at night. I know that I will set the alarm only to turn it off when my body freaks out from the cold and then oversleep. I managed to forget until just now that I have to give a presentation in a class about service-learning tomorrow evening. That being, I need to a) not panic over having too many things to do at work and b) use the rest of my evening preparing for poetry boot camp. 8:36 p.m. - 2003-01-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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