We are busy and exhausted as usual. After vacation and a short week at work, we are back in the swing of things. Trying to find some balance. Reveling at Jonah's amazing development; it has seemed to hit warp speed. She is stringing words together like an old pro. "All done milk." "Big box." "Help, please." "More bubbles." "Bye-bye Mama." It is something to behold.
I have no big event to recount, nor do I have any pictures to post. I am the last one awake tonight, and even though I am tired I am enjoying the quiet of the house. I just finished writing a paper abstract for the upcoming AAA (American Anthropological Association) meeting this fall, and am resisting the urge to work on Chapter 3—which I've been writing for about four weeks now.
I know this is not really the forum, but I just felt like saying that I am sad. I am sad that my government is willing to go to the brink of a shut-down over the funding of abortions (a legal procedure, the last time I checked), but will gladly sell out to big pharmaceutical companies rather than using its power to bargain down the price of medications. I am sad that NPR is being defunded and unions are losing their rights to collective bargaining while the people who contributed to and benefited from the financial meltdown are doing better than ever. I am sad that there is no money for schools, but we are flying missions over new countries every day. (Why is that, again?) I am sad that the best response we can muster to a spate of gay teen violence and suicide is a web campaign promising that "it gets better." (When is that, again?) No, this is not new. And no, I am not discovering this for the first time. It just feels so stark and hopeless right now. Freedom is a good thing. I value the freedoms that living in the United States provides me. I really do. But radical freedom is dangerous. It releases each of us from the obligation to care for anyone but ourselves. In fact it compels us to step on each other as we fight to stay out of desperation and poverty, to maintain our membership in groups that are socially desirable for fear that ours is the next cost that the nation cannot bear. I am sad. I worry for myself, for my family, for my child. How can I teach her the value of right action—to care for others, to defend those who are powerless, to cooperate, to believe (I mean really believe) that differences between people are what help us to learn and grow not just as individuals but as a collective—when the collective of which we are a part invokes these principles not as foundations of action, but as so many advertising campaigns? *sigh* All of this is to say that if NPR goes off the air I'm going to go f*cking bonkers.
I have no big event to recount, nor do I have any pictures to post. I am the last one awake tonight, and even though I am tired I am enjoying the quiet of the house. I just finished writing a paper abstract for the upcoming AAA (American Anthropological Association) meeting this fall, and am resisting the urge to work on Chapter 3—which I've been writing for about four weeks now.
I know this is not really the forum, but I just felt like saying that I am sad. I am sad that my government is willing to go to the brink of a shut-down over the funding of abortions (a legal procedure, the last time I checked), but will gladly sell out to big pharmaceutical companies rather than using its power to bargain down the price of medications. I am sad that NPR is being defunded and unions are losing their rights to collective bargaining while the people who contributed to and benefited from the financial meltdown are doing better than ever. I am sad that there is no money for schools, but we are flying missions over new countries every day. (Why is that, again?) I am sad that the best response we can muster to a spate of gay teen violence and suicide is a web campaign promising that "it gets better." (When is that, again?) No, this is not new. And no, I am not discovering this for the first time. It just feels so stark and hopeless right now. Freedom is a good thing. I value the freedoms that living in the United States provides me. I really do. But radical freedom is dangerous. It releases each of us from the obligation to care for anyone but ourselves. In fact it compels us to step on each other as we fight to stay out of desperation and poverty, to maintain our membership in groups that are socially desirable for fear that ours is the next cost that the nation cannot bear. I am sad. I worry for myself, for my family, for my child. How can I teach her the value of right action—to care for others, to defend those who are powerless, to cooperate, to believe (I mean really believe) that differences between people are what help us to learn and grow not just as individuals but as a collective—when the collective of which we are a part invokes these principles not as foundations of action, but as so many advertising campaigns? *sigh* All of this is to say that if NPR goes off the air I'm going to go f*cking bonkers.
1 comment:
Saw this a few days too late -- would have loved to talk about this last Thursday. But yes.
Language isn't much of a salve, but it's something. So much out there rushes to assure you that everything's great, stay upbeat & consumed with detritus (what *are* the Kardashian baby plans?) and buy a little more while you're at it.
It's a radical act to acknowledge sadness and frustration, especially in a forum like this.
Just sayin'.
-R
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