Tag Archives | obama

screen shot heard round the world

My computer’s live stream, at 8:15AM Abu Dhabi time.

There may have been some screaming in my apartment. Also? Some joy.

And then I texted Liam, who went off on the school bus this morning, clutching his phone, which was streaming the live feed of election results (I’m green, he’s white):

So there you have it folks. WOOOOOT Obama won.

And then many, many exclamation marks.

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Read full story · Comments { 5 } on November 7, 2012 in Abu Dhabi, Politics

for the people, by the people

Here it is: Voting Day.

It’s up to you, now, people. You can choose gay rights, reproductive rights, earth’s rights, educational equality, pay equality, healthcare reform, civil rights. You can choose to let the women out of the binders; you can choose the 99%.

Or you can Romney the country to the roof of the family 4×4 and hope for the best.

It’s your call.

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Read full story · Comments { 3 } on November 6, 2012 in Abu Dhabi, Politics

Labor Day & A Metaphor

It’s Labor Day weekend in the States: the last hurrah of summer, the beginning of fall, and–given that it’s an election year–the beginning of revved-up campaigning from both the right and the left.

The Repubs just finished their hot-air balloon of a convention (with apologies to hot-air balloons everywhere), leaving the world with a legacy of Lyin’ Ryan, The Empty Chair, and Ann Romney loving that her son spoke “great” Spanish (she knew it was great even though she says she “doesn’t know a word” of Spanish). Happily unleashed from facts–because, as a Romney pollster said, their campaign won’t be dictated to by fact-checkers–the Romney/Ryan campaign bus, full of animatronic Mitts,  trundles onward towards November.

Now, granted, Obama’s campaign has had its share of playing fast-and-loose with truthiness, but in a recent column, Charles M. Blow cites Mediaite as saying that Romney’s campaign is ahead in the “liar liar pants on fire” race, with a score of 46% to the Obama campaign’s 29%. Nearly 1 in 10 statements coming from the Romney camp is likely to be false, as opposed to 1 in 50 from Obama.

No matter how you slice it, that’s a grim statistic. I suppose politicians and world leaders have been lying to their flocks since forever, so maybe now it’s just that we have ways of discovering the lies (except no one can crack the mystery of Mitt’s taxes. Where o where have you hidden them, Mittens? Are they Romney’d to the roof of one of your many cars, perhaps the jeep you use in the Caymans?)  But if I have to choose a liar, I’m going to choose the person who lies the least.

Some of you, perhaps, want to throw your hands up in disgust and say “screw ‘em all,” and stay home watching reruns of “Burn Notice” on the telly. Two words for you, people: Supreme Court. Be as disenchanted with the process all you want, but the person who is sitting in the White House for the next four years will choose two, maybe three Supremes. And anyone who wants even a remote shot at health care, transparent political systems, reasonable immigration policies, clean air/water/land, or relatively stable individual freedoms, should care deeply about who will be picking the next members of that abaya-clad group.

No, Obama hasn’t been perfect. Probably no one other than Clark Kent or god could’ve lived up to the national expectations that greeted Obama’s 2008 victory, and if you’re feeling disappointed, a recitation of his accomplishments probably won’t convince you – so I’m not going to say anything about child tax credits, or killing bin Laden, or Ledbetter, or Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell, and I won’t send you to this list for a fuller account of what this “do-nothing” President has done.

I’m going to ask, instead, if you have any t-shirts that you wear and love, even if the t-shirt is a little rumpled, a little faded, a little bit stretched out?  I bet you do.  Maybe it’s the fave because it fits just so, or maybe because of the memories it connotes, or maybe you love the slogan blazoned across the front or stitched on the sleeve.

I have a t-shirt like that:

Yeah, it’s a little faded, a little wrinkled, a little stretched out, and the letters look a little worse for wear. But I love what it says. After all, hope was the only thing left in Pandora’s box after she released all the evils into the world; hope is “the thing with feathers/that perches in the soul,” says Emily Dickinson. What do we have without hope? We’ve got truth strapped to the roof of a campaign bus, like just another Romney pet, that’s what we’ve got.  And that, my friends, is simply not enough.

here’s what might be enough: come see what’s happening at yeah write this week (this month, too): the mommy bloggers will be blogging without help from our cute tykes and irascible partners. yeah write: one of the forces for good on the interwebs

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Read full story · Comments { 4 } on September 3, 2012 in Feminism, NYC, Politics

in which we discuss unicorns, world religions, and whether barack IS in fact a muslim

About two weeks ago, we got notification from the boys’ school that today, 17 June, would be a national holiday and the school would be closed.

National holidays on short notice. One of the perks of life in the U.A.E.

I’ll give you a minute to think about how parents in a large metropolitan area in the States, say New York, might react to a holiday delivered so casually. The brouhaha about banning soda would pale by comparison.

When the boys came home from school last week, excited for the long weekend, I asked them what holiday was being celebrated today.

Boys: It’s the day that Mohammed rode a unicorn to Jerusalem and met with all the prophets and they had like a prophet party.

Me: A unicorn?

Caleb, emphatic: Yes! Or maybe some other magical creature, no, no, Abdullah in my class said it was a unicorn. And that Mohammed met with God, too.

Me, again:  A unicorn?

Liam, patiently, the way one speaks to the elderly:  The word is buraq and that’s the word for unicorn or any magical creature.

Caleb, unconcerned about translation issues: What is a prophet, actually?

Me, realizing yet again that what my children don’t know about religion (any religion) would fill all the holy books, combined: Well, a prophet is a holy person who–

Liam: Noah was a prophet!

Me: Um…sort of, I guess, and some religions see Jesus as a prophet, but Christians see Jesus as the son of god–

Caleb: Whose idea was it to be Christians?

Me:  The followers of Jesus called themselves Christians but they were originally Jewish –

Boys: JESUS WAS JEWISH?

Me: Yes but in this part of the world–

Boys: Jesus was from ABU DHABI?

Me: No, but this part of the world, the Middle East, is where Islam, and Judaism, and Christianity all began, thousands of years ago.

Boys: So is Mohammed from Abu Dhabi?

Me: He was born in a place called Mecca, which is a holy city to Muslims, but he also lived in a place called Medina.

Caleb, getting at the heart of the issue: Did Jesus ever ride a unicorn?

Me: I don’t think there are unicorns in any Jesus stories. Just donkeys.

The boys are unimpressed. Unicorns are cool. Donkeys, not so much. The boys wander out of the room to worship at the altar of “Star Wars the Old Republic,” which is our household’s primary religion. I turn to my holy book in search of answers to questions about Mohammed and the unicorns.

Wikipedia, praised be its name, says that the unicorn holiday is actually Isra and Mi’raj, which celebrates the night that Mohammed rode a magical steed to “the furthest mosque,” in what we now call Jerusalem. Apparently, at least in the realm of Wikipedia truthiness, this journey is also where Mohammed bargained with God about how often Muslims should pray. God originally asked for fifty times a day and Mohammed got him down to five.

Mohammed’s magical steed was called buraq. You can pronounce it “barack.”

And there you have it. Some Tea Bagger confused unicorns with Presidents.

(And no, I’m not saying anything about believing in unicorns being more or less ridiculous than believing that Obama was born in Kenya.)

Buraq also, according to my online holy book, can be translated as “a beautifully faced creature.”

So while it’s clear that Barack isn’t a Muslim, it seems entirely likely that he could be a buraq. After all, as I said to the boys: have you ever seen Barack and a buraq in the same place at the same time?

 

***

When you’re done reading through these various Wikipedia links, check out my review in The National of Lauren Groff’s entertaining and thought-provoking new novel, Arcadia. For that matter, if you’re searching for a good book to read on vacation this summer, look over there at the Amazon box. No, not the little ordering box, but the long box, with books in it, just to the right. Lots of good reading in that box. Help yourself.

 

 

 

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Read full story · Comments { 4 } on June 17, 2012 in Abu Dhabi, Children, Education, expat, Kids, lost in translation, Parenting, Politics, religion

maybe THIS murder will change things?

I wasn’t going to write anything about Trayvon Martin. His murder happened a long way away, and the newspapers here in Abu Dhabi are filled with plenty of stories of murder and mayhem (Syria, anyone?). Plus, you know, he’s African American and the murder happened in Florida, and so really, who am I, as a white woman in the Middle East, to weigh in on the terrible thing that happened to him and his family? Isn’t that the way the logic goes? That if it doesn’t directly relate to our lives, we don’t get involved?

Maybe I could say, as Mom-101 did so persuasively, that I’m a mom and so one mother’s pain is also my own.  Or maybe I could say that I’m a mom who wants her sons to grow up without fear of someone thinking they look “suspicious” (my kids have darker-than-white skin and shiny black hair.  They don’t look African American but I suppose you could think they look vaguely Arabic. And you know that all Arabs are terrorists, right?)  Charles M. Blow, in the Times, writes about his fear of his own children ending up like Trayvon…I suppose that all parents worry that something terrible will happen to their children, but for some parents, that worry is more real than others.

Here’s the thing: it seems to me that as long as our country refuses to moderate its insatiable appetite for guns,  all our children are at risk.

Because beyond the simple heart-breaking fact that Trayvon is someone’s son is the fact that his death is–again–about our country’s love affair with guns and vigilante-ism, about our insistence that “they” (whoever they are at the moment) are dangerous and that “we” are always on the verge of being attacked.

Frightened people imagine attackers everywhere, which seems to be how George Zimmerman, Trayvon’s killer, looked at the world.  Zimmerman saw Trayvon as the boy was walking home from the convenience store, where he bought Skittles and iced tea; the gated community neighborhood was unfamiliar to Trayvon because he was visiting, spending some time with his father and his father’s fiancee.  Mr. Zimmerman, a volunteer for the neighborhood-watch patrol, saw Travyon walking home and thought he “looked suspicious.”  Now, in some places, “neighborhood watch” means folks strolling around the block chatting with their friends and picking up errant trash.  In this neighborhood, though, the volunteer had a concealed weapon and was cruising around in his SUV.

What made Trayvon look suspicious? I mean, Skittles are a pretty friendly looking candy, don’t you think? Well, apparently Trayvon was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, with the hood up. Up, of course, is a clear danger signal. I’m sure the color of Trayvon’s skin had nothing to do with Zimmerman’s concern.

Well, folks, we know how it ends. What with one thing and another (and in defiance of the police operator, who told Zimmerman to stay in the car until an officer arrived in the neighborhood), Zimmerman got out of his car, chased Trayvon, and then Trayvon was dead on the ground.  Zimmerman claims he shot the boy in self-defense, which when you kill someone in Florida can be an extenuating factor.

Self-defense? A 28 year old man with a gun against a 17 year old unarmed boy?

Zimmerman has not been arrested and no charges have been filed against him.

The Republican nominees for President have not said a word about Trayvon. I guess they’re too busy discussing the best ways to keep women barefoot and pregnant.

Astonishingly, however, Obama hasn’t contacted Trayvon’s family either, which reveals (again) the minefield created when racial politics intersect the politics of gun control.

Trayvon–and all the other children who have been the victims of gun-related violence–deserve more than silence. What happened to Trayvon deserves to be screamed about, shouted about, twittered, tumblr’d, pinterested, and facebooked. He deserves more than his own hashtag (although he’s got one now); and his family deserves more than the police chief saying “the evidence doesn’t establish so far that Mr. Zimmerman did not act in self-defense.”

If Zimmerman hadn’t been armed, Trayvon would be alive. It’s as simple as that. I realize that I’m shouting into the howling wilderness, but I’ll say it anyway: with stricter gun laws, Columbine would have ended differently; Virginia Tech would have ended differently; and so would have that Florida evening in February.  Remember how after Columbine and Virginia Tech people were sure that this time, gun laws would become stricter?

Should we even bother to hope that Trayvon’s death might finally, finally stir people to speak out against the gun lobby?

I know they say that guns don’t kill people, people kill people. But you know what? It’s really hard to kill someone with a bag of Skittles and a hoodie sweatshirt.

 

Update: on Monday, the US Justice department opened a probe into Trayvon’s death. George Zimmerman still sleeps in his own bed, in the comfort of his own home.  Update unrelated to heart-breaking tragedy: yeah write is open for linkups, so click on through and follow the conversation.  Then come back on Wednesday to vote for your favorite posts.



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Read full story · Comments { 32 } on March 18, 2012 in Abu Dhabi, Kids, Politics, ranting