The beautiful ballerina in this video is my cousin, Theresa. Thanks for bringing ballet to the street Theresa!

When’s the last time YOU danced in public, when no one else was?

This dance post was going to be my next, and then I read Magpie talking about the Annual Shyne Like a Star Virtual Dance Party at Starshyne Productions. It’s today! So this dance post is in honor.

Check out this cool site devoted to cultural dance!

I’ve been taking Cuban Hip Hop at Center Space Studio. I just got back! It was really tiring tonight because I’ve been out of shape since my little accident. It’s a beautiful mix of hip hop (which I love) and Cuban dance (which I love even though I have no experience with it). Donna Oefinger is a fun and positive dance teacher, and an amazing dancer. She’ll do something in front of the class, and it looks so cool–then I find out it’s a part of the routine and I’m thinking,  “We’re going to do that too?” It’s a challenging class. Most of the dancers in there are really good! During the first class I was lost most the time. I couldn’t do the routine all the way through. Now I can–even if sometimes awkwardly.

Even though I’m not a trained or professional dancer, I am a dancer. It is my destiny. It is in me. I must live it out. Taking a dance class is helping me live it out. I would also like to choreograph dances–I have started a couple, but haven’t finished. I also crave to perform dance–whether it’s in a chorus line, with a dance team, or solo on the dance floor. But…I usually freeze when given the chance.

My favorite way of living out my dance destiny is free style dancing. When I really get into it I feel ecstatic. I feel like I can travel into other dimensions. It can be truly spiritually indulging. I don’t do it enough.

I was excited for the first Day of the Dead procession in Portland on Alberta Street. I was hoping for a carnival atmosphere. It turned out to be pretty carnival like.It took place last night, which was also the Alberta Street Art Walk that takes place every last Thursday of the month. We had an art table set up at 23rd Street.I ran down to 14th Street where the parade was to start at 7pm. I met a woman and her daughter in white and black makeup who were making their way to the same place. They have been celebrating Day of the Dead in some manner for years.

There was no Mexican people presence that I could see, even though this holiday comes from Mexico. People on Alberta Street are mostly White, and like to be a part of different cultures. I met a woman who had on Navajo face paint. She said she practiced different Native American spiritual practices. She had no Native American ancestry. I guess I fit into this White people who are looking for a culture to belong to crowd.

I felt a little uncomfortable when people started naming the dead and then a woman asked all those names to come and be with us. There was a strong smell of incense in the air–like in an orthodox church. There were a lot of people in the parade–at least 50, I think. There were even more people at the end of the parade after others had joined. There were enough people that I was seeing new skeleton and death costumes throughout the night.

There were dancers, accordion players, people dressed in white on stilts. Photos of the beloved dead and lit candles were carried by many.

There were many onlookers–it was pleasing to see. There were onlookers who looked at us very somberly like they were trying to join with us but in a very somber way. Then there were others smiling at us and ooing and awwing.  People took pictures of me.

The parade ended behind a gallery. We went through an alleyway lined with photos of people who have died and candles, through an incense filled tent, and came out into a backyard. There was a little drink truck with pillows set out to make an outside living room. People gathered in a circle around the yard. The stilt people danced in the middle to accordion music. There was an altar for pets, and one for people. There was an contortionist boy performing. I was wondering where his parents were. I just worry about street performing kids.

I carried a picture of my great-grandparents, Stephen and Ana Duris from Slovakia (formerly a part of  Czechoslovakia). In this picture they are celebrating a wedding anniversary. Someone gave Ana a cabbage for a bouquet and gave Stephen lettuce for a boutonniere. My family said this was kind of a joke thing. I don’t know if it was a Slovakian thing. I colored the flowers in the photo yellow. I later realized that yellow marigold are a symbol of death in Mexican culture.

My great-grandpa, Stephen, held me when I was an infant, but that is the extent of my knowing them. I wish I could have know them. I haven’t lost anyone really close to me yet. I chose them as my dead to honor because I wish I knew them. They guide my life in a way because I seek my roots. I have this imaginary nostalgia about what life was like before the United States. What was it like before the Slovakian way of living and thinking was smudged out by the “American way”. I hope to go to Slovakia someday to visit the family.

I chose my clothing because it was colorful. The dress reminded me of a Mexican clown. But once I put the whole outfit together with boots and a head scarf, it looked like Slovakian traditional dress that I had seen on a doll. What a coincidence!

I got to talk to people during and after the parade. Everyone was really open and friendly. I started to leave the celebration alone but I ran into some friends! I hung out with them for the rest of my time on Alberta Street. They really made my night!

November 1st and 2nd is when “Dia de los muertos” is traditionally celebrated in Mexico. If you have a blog, would you join me in posting something about someone who you love, or someone whose life has guided you who is no longer in this world. If you like using art to express your self you could make an icon, or a collage or painting about this person. For more ideas see this blog.

I’ll be participating in The Day of the Dead this year by going to the Day of the Dead walk, and going to the play “La Carpa del maestro” put on by the extraordinary Miracle Theater/Teatro Milagro. I’ll also be participating in the Thrill the World, but doing the zombie dance from Thriller is not really what I call honoring the dead.

Another blogging idea: If you are interested in blogging or networking about social issues that pertain to human trafficking and slavery, make an account with One Voice To End Slavery ning site.

 

Maybe you know the meaning of this saying “call and response”. I didn’t before I saw the movie Call and Response. I’ll tell you this much, it relates music to slavery. 

If you haven’t seen Call and Response, please see it. If you are interested in fighting modern day slavery, I know you would want to see it. It’s probably the most well done documentary I’ve seen on modern day slavery. It incorporates music which is a really unexpected way to address this issue. 

Some of the music artist in this film are: Moby, Natasha Bedingfield, Cold War Kids, Matisyahu, Imogen Heap, Talib Kweli, Five For Fighting, Switchfoot, members of Nickel Creek and Tom Petty’s Heartbreakers, Rocco Deluca.

It’s absolutely beautiful and moving and heart-wrenching.
It’s totally not for profit either.

I saw it at the Hollywood Theatre in Portland and the director was there, so that was quite a special thing!

I don’t know how long the movie will be running, but this weekend was supposed to be the weekend that it’s showing. So don’t delay in finding a showing near you!

I have a connection to Myanmar. Several times during my 7 month stay in Thailand I had to cross the border at Mae Sot, Thailand to Myanmar in order to renew my visa. Although I really wanted to see the country, I probably didn’t stay in Myanmar for any longer than 15 minutes.This is how my visa runs usually went: I would ride a bus from Bangkok to Mae Sot at night. After that 8 hour bus ride, a missionary would come pick me up or I would get transportation with a traveling buddy (if I had one) to the border. At the border there were some diners and merchants. To get to the other side I just walked across a bridge that was over a river. Usually someone from the Myanmar side would accompany me across and try to get me to visit sights inside the country. These guides spoke English and I enjoyed talking with them. Many of the people wore yellow make up on their faces. Some women carried things on their heads. Once I got to the other side I would go to a small office to get my visa stamped to prove that I left Thailand. Then I walked back to Thailand and got a stamp to say that I reentered. I had to return almost immediately to Bangkok after that.While I was in Thailand I was aware that there were “Burmese” refugees living there, and immigration from Myanmar was illegal. At the time foreigners (or people from the U.S.A.–I can’t remember) were only allowed to stay for less than eleven days, or something like that. It was dangerous to have a Christian church there.

What do we want?
Democracy!
What do we want?
Democracy!
What do we need?
Freedom!
What do we need?
Freedom!
China! China!
Stop selling weapons!
China! China!
Stop selling weapons!
Free, free…
Free Burma!
Free, free…
Free Burma!
Free, free…
Aung San Suukyi!
Free, free…
Aung San Suukyi!

October 6th 2007

Today was an international day of protest for Myanmar’s freedom, or Burma’s freedom. The Burmese protesters use the name Burma instead of Myanmar.

I planned to lay off of the social activism but…I was drawn to the “free Burma” protest in Portland today.
When I learn about cases of political disaster that have occurred in the past (the Apartheid in South Africa, the hootsies and tutsies, massacres in Guatemala…) I have thought to myself, ‘if I was an adult when that occurred then I would have made some noise about it.’ I want to be a part of social revolution history.

I’ve been reading news about Myanmar (formerly called “Burma”) lately. I’ll let you know what I’ve heard about Myanmar through news and people. There is a military government in Myanmar. There has been a lot of human rights abuses in the past. It is a very poor country. In 1988 a student revolutionary group protested, and thousands of them were killed for it. Over 10,000 people in Myanmar were killed that year by the government. Aung San Suukyi (her name is in the chant above) helped found the National League for Democracy, won the Nobel Peace Prize, and was elected Prime Minister. The military wouldn’t let her assume the role of Prime Minister and put her under house arrest where she remains to this day. This year people have started protesting again because the price in gas and food has been raised to unaffordable prices. The monks were the ones who were on the front lines of the protests this time. Now the protests aren’t only about gas prices, but government reform. The government has been arresting protesters.

The group that met in front of Nordstrom’s across the street from Pioneer Square in Portland was no more than 40. At least half of the protesters were refugees from Burma. I felt confident participating in the protest because it was led by Burmese people. I wouldn’t be so confident if it wasn’t started by Burmese people. I’m happy to see people fight for their own freedom. I’m happy when immigrants don’t forget about the people in the country that they came from.

When I first joined the group I took pictures. When the people started chanting, I chanted with them. Then, a girl in front handed me her sign, and I took her place in front. The sign I held had photos of poor village children in Burma–some had horrible skin diseases. I asked someone about this later, I was told that the people in the villages are treated like animals by the government because they aren’t provided with any basic needs. They have no option to go to the doctor for horrible rashes.

There was a man next to me who held the red “student flag” with the fighting peacock on it and he was from Burma. He said he had fought on the Thai/Burmese border in a revolutionary group. He had also lived in a refugee camp in Thailand. We had a connection because he used to live somewhere on the border that I have actually been before. He has been in the U.S.A. for six years.

I also talked to the man who did most of the the chant leading (yelling) for a while. He was one of the student protesters in 1988. After protesting in Burma, he protested at the Burmese embassy in Bangkok, Thailand. I think he was there to seek refuge. But it was illegal for Burmese people to be in Thailand, apparently except for refugees. Immigrants from Burma who were caught would be whisked right back to the motherland–even though it was probably their worst nightmare to return. He was able to come to the U.S.A. as a refugee. He told me that although he escaped the hardships in Myanmar he doesn’t want to forget his people who can’t escape. He doesn’t want 1988 to occur again but he doesn’t think it will because this time the world is aware of the situation in Myanmar. He talked about how the people in the government only make decisions that benefit themselves but do not consider benefiting the people. A country is the people, not it’s government, he said.

A young man who was passing by stopped to talk to me. He asked about why we were protesting and I said, “Burma”, and he said he didn’t know about the situation in Burma. I told him about it, and then he asked me what we were trying to accomplish by protesting. I told him that I didn’t know because I wasn’t an organizer of this protest. Personally, I told him, I wanted to raise awareness and make some noise, and support the Burmese protest. I was a little unprepared to answer his question and even said some stuff that sounded stupid. He seemed to be challenging me to think more about why I was protesting and if it’s really effective or not. I’m glad that he cared enough to say something, and I think his question is a really good one. I felt like I was misunderstood though, and that’s not a good feeling.

The Burmese leader I talked to said that they’re going to protest every Saturday until the government changes. What he hoped that the protests would accomplish were direct change of the government, and UN involvement I think.

I would like to keep thinking about the effectiveness of protests and what more could be done in this case than a protest. Got any thoughts?

I’ll tell you about my special connection to Myanmar in my next blog.

some people (i’ve been reading about various anti-immigration groups) are afraid that with the influx of Hispanic immigrants the “European American” race is threatened to become extinct.

Most people believe and science has shown that the human race started with one person. Was that person White? Hispanic? Black? From that one person the human story was started. People seperated into groups and “ethnicities” were formed. There were groups and races of people that once existed and we will never know about them. There are races of people today who have not always existed (I think everybody).

Races of people have come and gone. To try and keep the white race “pure” is not only futile but it’s unimportant. Well that’s just my opinion and it can be argued.

I have to admit with the mixing of people groups the result is sometimes the weakening of cultures (which I think is negative). But this watering down of cultures probably happens when one of the cultures in the mix is modern. what i mean by “modern” is industrial and profit driven. These modern industrial money serving cultures have already traded in (at least some of ) their unique and relevent culture for “progress” (trying to stay afloat in the worlds economy). So when they marry with a traditional culture they usually drag them into the modern culture. Otherwise, I think that sometimes the mixing of two cultures can result in an even richer culture. And of course the mixing of races usually make beautiful babies.