A Necessary Conscience

My dilemma is this…

Last year before I became pregnant with my son, my bestfriend and I hatched an idea to start a lifestyle project centered around cannabis positivity. In 2018, California legalized marijuana and set in motion the start of a billion dollar industry within the state alone. As two people who feel, see, and enjoy the effects that marijuana can have, we wanted to be a part of the legal cannabis industry as it found its way into the mass market. Like many young people these days, we turned to instagram to start our business, and get our ideas out into the open. We began by creating some basic informational posts on marijuana: the different ways in which it could be ingested, utilized, stored, and incorporated into all facets of everyday life from meals to sex. Just when we had begun to see some real traction and were feeling very excited about the direction in where our project was headed, I found out I was pregnant again. In late 2017 I miscarried my first baby and was devastated. When I became pregnant again in the beginning 2018, not only was I ecstatic, but also incredibly anxious to not take any chances surrounding the health and wellbeing of my baby and my pregnancy. I put almost everything else on hold initially, including Edibleelementsonline, our cannabis lifestyle brand. After having made my baby my priority, I have since struggled with how to meld the worlds of childcare and cannabis into my personal and professional life.

Personally speaking, being a new mom has denied me a lot of liberties let alone small pleasures (like sleep, being out for extended periods of time, taking long showers...I could go on), but it has also offered a world of new possibilities, inspirations, and sheer happiness that I have otherwise not known as an adult. In my last job before I gave birth, I realized I wanted to be a writer. It had always been something I found pleasure in, whether it was making up a story, articulating an argument, or just getting something off of my chest the best way I knew how. After the birth of my son, I started to think about becoming a children’s book author. I wanted to create something that would be a joy to share with him, as well as something that would be instructive. I’m a big believer in education- of all kinds. I think that there is something to be learned in any situation, at any age. You are never too young to be intelligent, and to make intelligent decisions; which is the driving force behind the series I have in mind. Having decided upon a storyline for my children’s book, again the dilemma of being involved in a cannabis brand pervaded. But for me, the two interests had been intertwined for years.

I remember the first time I smoked, was when I found some leftover bud in my sister’s room. I was with one of my closest girlfriend’s from my soccer team, and we must have been in either the 8th grade, or freshmen in high school. From there, smoking was only something I did sporadically in social situations or with my high school sweetheart. After I graduated college and was sent out into the open world as an adult, was when I realized that smoking marijuana was one of the rare and simple pleasures that I enjoy. Around that time I had been dealing with a lot of heavy and confusing frames of mind that would range from fear to exhaustion, with anger and excitement somewhere in between. Cannabis, for me, has the effect of putting myself within my head and thoughts, whether they’re new ones, or ones that have been subconsciously looming in the recesses. Some people dread the idea of being confronted with their thoughts, or that inner voice repeating something that’s unpleasant to recognize, like: “I need to get into the gym,” “I owe such and such an apology,” “I’m not happy at this job, in this relationship, etc…” But for me, I relish the experience of diving deep into my mind and sorting through the ruminations. My inner thoughts are my happy place, whether they’re dark or not. Smoking for me is therapeutic, and a chance for me to deal with a lot of my issues. Not to cope or assuage, but to deal. Once I inhale the smoke, I can truly open up my mind and explore not only any nagging voices or issues, but where are they coming from, and how I can appease them (This type of high goes hand in hand with smoking sativa strains of flower which induce upbeat activity, and are great for productivity and flow. Indica strains are for more of a relaxing smoke. They’re perfect at the end of the day for reflection and down time with my boyfriend). I can’t relate enough, how many times I’ve considered a situation differently after smoking upon it. They say that there are at least two sides to every story, a high person will tell you that there are at least a hundred. Alongside cannabis, my cravings for insight and enlightenment have helped me to perceive major obstacles, such as the death of my father, in a new light.

When my father passed away five years ago I went into a really dark space. When he died I was just about to enter the world as a college graduate ready to take on adulthood. After he passed I was still thrust out into the world, but nowhere near ready. I’m not sure about other daughters, but the death of my dad swiftly crumbled a lifetime of confidence and knowledge I had been building in order to prepare myself post-college. Without him, I just felt like a scared little girl. In dealing with his death I felt alone, resentful, and different. Usually it’s not easy for me to be openly communicative, particularly about my emotions, and especially so when those emotions concern vulnerability. So I closed up. As I closed in, I spent a majority of my time thinking, and yes, smoking. But it was during these sessions that I would initially consider pain, then all the other thoughts that would race in. Slowly, some of the thoughts edging their way to the forefront became optimistic. I began to consider all the ways in which my sadness actually connected me to the people and the world around me. Everyone has bad days and everyone has issues, some people are just less affected or upfront. The realization that my heartaches made me no different, made me a more empathetic and understanding person. From there I was driven in a way I hadn’t been in years. Empathy broadened my horizons beyond friends and family, into the world at large.

I wanted to take a stand for people who felt badly, and furthermore, I wanted to help. That fire led me to a position within a museum that expands the perceptions of immigrant culture within the United States, at a time when migrants and ethnic people were (and still are) under attack. That work essentially turned me into an activist. I documented rallies and protests, I wrote about them, and then posted them on behalf of the museum, for the world to know. The response I received let me know, that if I was to have a calling, it was to be writing- with a cause. And why stop at one, when there are so many causes to care for and become a part of? Legalizing marijuana, mental health, women’s rights, immigrant’s rights, the criminal justice system, the profiteering of college athletes, and access to a relevant, quality education (in and outside of school) starting at a young age, are all issues that I want to fight for. To me, all of these issues are interrelated simply by the lack of support or understanding surrounding them. Whether it’s motherhood or marijuana, my intentions stand and are intended to remain so, on the basis of doing my part for the greater good.

Something has been haunting me this entire week. Since news broke of the horrific attack on Nia and Letifah Wilson, the image of two young girls being stabbed repeatedly, one to death, at random, in the public eye, has left me hanging on the verge of tears. When I heard of this tragedy, I did as I often do out of habit, curiosity, and consideration; I placed myself in the shoes of the victims. When I think of the experience,\ what has stood out more than anything is not the barbarity of the violence or the utter creepiness and insanity of John Cowell, but the thought of Letifah. Only 26 and bleeding out from her own wounds at the neck and various other places on her innocent body, Letifah disregarded herself and tried helplessly to save her younger sister as she died in her arms. The image is very vivid for me. I haven’t nor do I wish to see surveillance footage of Nia Wilson’s death, news coverage from a press conference with BART police paints enough of a picture. On Monday I remember a certain officer saying that Nia Wilson’s sister did in fact come to her aid by trying to obstruct the blood that was leaking from her younger sister, despite her own injuries. The description was more than enough for me to truly empathize.

I too am a little sister, by three years. I am 26, and my sister is 29. We grew up in the Bay Area and for a time we both lived in Harlem. We’ve ridden BART together plenty of times, but in recent years a majority of the time we’ve spent together was while we were on the Subway. I remember that when I first moved to New York she would tell me horror stories about Subway rats crawling on peoples faces as they slept during their commute. She also told me about a certain New York tradition where locals get on the train and use knives to slice the faces of people they do and don’t know. There’s even a nickname for the gash: $1.50. By telling me these stories she was obviously teasing me. But I know that if anything would or were to happen to us on the Subway, BART, on a plane, riding scooters, walking on the sidewalk -anywhere- the lengths she would go to, to protect me as my older sister, are no laughing matter. Which is why I’ve been so deeply saddened by what has happened to Nia and Letifah. I know in my heart and my head what it would be like for Letifah to neglect her life for the sake of her little sister, because I can easily imagine mine doing the same. What I can’t comprehend, is my sister  holding on to me desperately as I died for reasons that neither of us could expect or explain. Envisioning Nia as she passed is harder to imagine because her part of the story was so quick. Her life, like her death, was too short as her murder was entirely senseless. There is no understanding the way or reasons for why Nia died, because nothing can justify the loss of her.

In the days since Nia’s death many people have looked to a lack of BART security for blame. After all, her death had been one of three on the transportation system in just five days. Personally, I question the notion of increased police surveillance on BART as a solution to the violence. Whenever I think of BART police I simultaneously think of Oscar Grant. He had also been a victim of senseless murder upon the train’s platform, but at the very hands of a cop, instead of a convict.

On New Year’s Day, 2009, Oscar Grant and several others were pulled of a BART train at Fruitvale Station. They were supposedly being questioned for fighting that had erupted on one of the cars. Instead of a proper interrogation, he was forced to place his back against the wall, then shoved face first into the concrete with his hands cuffed behind his back. Then, in front of a crowd full of people, Officer Johannes Mehserle executed Oscar by shooting him in the back of his head as he laid face down. Officer Mehserle was later acquitted of murder thanks to a team of lawyers that argued Mehserle had accidentally taken Oscar’s life by mistaking his revolver for his taser. A curious mistake I always thought. A gun and taser are obviously different to the touch, as are their safety and trigger components, which should have been readily detectable to Officer Mehserle after training in the Police Academy in addition to his experience on the job. Yet his mistake shouldn’t speak for the ineptitude of an entire force. Maybe extra BART police would prevent further violence, but in these hostile times I can’t help but be wary. My beliefs for a safer future are much more simple.

Photo by Allison Lee Isley for the Winston-Salem Journal

I think that the best way for us to protect ourselves and our loved ones, to honor the lives of Nia and Oscar, and to improve the public places in which we interact, is for us to do better at policing ourselves. Even though deaths like Nia or Oscar’s are unforeseeable, there is no denying that we live in a country with a large culture of violence. The increasing number of civilian terrorism at elementary schools, high schools, concerts, restaurants, hospitals, veteran homes, grocery stores, and backyards has become frightening, especially when you consider that the terrorists are often kids, parents, or even police. Instead of urging change, all of this destruction has only seemed to heighten a call for more arms and defense, while inevitable violence becomes the new norm to be expected. Random attacks and the mindless loss of our society’s youth aren’t, and shouldn’t be normal. Our country is transforming into a fictional, apocalyptic version of itself that we had previously only read about in science fiction, or entertained ourselves with in movies like The Purge. But just ask the family of Nia and Letifah Wilson; the pain, the loss, and the fear, are very real. Nobody, and no family expects to lose themselves or their relations at Trader Joe’s or on public transportation, but it keeps happening to a growing number of Americans. For their sake, and ours, we have to do better.

It’s hard to imagine that a child soap actor from Canada turned rapper/r&b singer, would one day become the most unstoppable force in American hip-hop. Yet here we are. It’s been just over a week since Aubrey Drake Graham released his latest album Scorpion, and in that small window of time he has already shattered any previous records and competition. In just one week his fifth album has been streamed over a 1,000,000,000 times and counting. At the outset of the project’s release the internet fluttered with shock, laughter, and conversation over the news that he had in fact, fathered a lovechild several months ago, maybe or maybe not with former adult entertainer and fellow Canadian Sophie Brussaux. Perhaps because of lyrics like:

“I wasn’t hidin’ the world from my kid

I was hidin’ my kid from the world”

album streams skyrocketed, when only a month prior Drake was being shamed for previously unreleased pictures of him in blackface, and whispers of a child that he was keeping hidden. Both attacks on the rapper were launched by his fellow rapper and former music idol, Pusha T. Why the beef was engaged was never truly clear, and has long since departed from being relevant. What matters to audiences now, are the latest quote worthy lyrics and appealing beats that Drake fans can always count on him for. His ability to overcome veterans like Pusha, talents like Meek, racial insensitivity, and his secret life, only prove the power of likability, and how he has become a master of it.

Personally speaking I have had my own hesitations when it comes to being a fan of Drake’s music. He’s been around for over a decade now, and is a driving force behind many memories from college and bitter exes. All of which make me both uncomfortable and amused when I reminisce over them. What leaves an aftertaste, is how uncannily his music can mimic life. Like many people, and admittedly boys that I know/knew, he seems to lack the ability to stand for something. In some songs his mood is irreproachable: he lives life without regret, and makes moves through women, music, and false friendships without conscience. In those cases he’s “got a lot of blood and it’s cold,” and the only things he loves are his bed and his “momma.” But on the same album he has title tracks like “In my Feelings,” where he demands to know if Kiki loves him and if she’s riding, and that she’ll never, ever leave from beside him. On tracks like “Emotionless,” he claims that when there’s “breakin’ news in his life” he never runs to the blogs, but his lovelife is splattered across countless albums. His confusion over whether he can commit to being the bad boy or the good guy causes problems for not only his self, but for listeners. What is it that Drake really wants people to know, or think about him? He wants to be the greatest ever, but no matter how many hits he has, they’ll always trend and never stick because like him, they’re dependent on a mood and time. But still, he does produce those hits. Every album has something for someone to like, whether it’s the rhythms or the lyrics. Which is part of the problem. You can’t please everybody, and when you try to, you generally leave someone irked at some point even if it’s yourself.

I picture being Drake to be exhausting. All that pleasing, worrying, and hiding. I imagine that all of the confrontation in his life as of late has to have been somewhat good for him. Confrontation forces people to act and to convict themselves to something, even if it’s being the bad guy. Playing that role might cause him to lose his spot as everybody’s favorite rapper, but it also might just be what pushes him to the status he’s always chased after. Now more than ever people want to be attracted towards raw honesty, even when it’s not pretty. The trend is to be superficial: fake hair, fake news, fake bodies, fake pictures, fake everything. So to stand out one has to be genuine. I don’t believe that it’s a coincidence that people still buy Yeezys, and support both the albums and designs of Kanye West even during one of his most controversial years yet. People, and especially his fans appreciate his willingness to say what’s on his, and candidly speaking, many other people’s minds. As an artist and a person with a platform, it is his responsibility to do so. Even when he’s upsetting and alienating, there’s something endearing about his vulnerability which truly brings him into the hearts and lives of the people who choose to follow his career. He is an example that being the best isn’t a popularity contest. It’s always about quality over quantity.

Women like me aren’t supposed to run for office.

Photo: Medium.com Article The Digital Left Endorses Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez

Yesterday the Democratic Party went into a tailspin. Supreme Court Justice Anthony M. Kennedy, a known swing voter, announced his plans for retirement and opened the floodgates for a slew of Republican nominees. A Supreme Court Justice nominated by President Donald Trump would put the balance of the court in favor of conservatives, which would deal yet another blow to an already upset Democratic Party. In addition to the chaos, is Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s primary win for the Congressional seat in New York’s 14th District. The win shocked many, including the 28 year old herself. But America loves an underdog- especially New Yorkers. The shock came after months of primary coverage between the activity of 10 year veteran, Congressman Crowley, and what the media only mentioned as his “opponent,” who was of course Ocasio-Cortez. It is somewhat understandable why she may have been looked over by the press. Her opponent was a veteran in Congress, and had remained undefeated for a decade. She was a relatively recent college graduate with some community service and campaign experience, but had no other prior experience in politics. Apparently that is no longer necessary in the America of today. So what is? What does Alexandria’s campaign and its success say about American voters and our changing politics? These are questions that many of us are asking ourselves, and her. Fortunately, she has and remains vocal, something that she claims was key towards her success.

First and foremost Ocasio-Cortez felt the need to address the power of Congressman Crowley as an incumbent. Attempting to defeat the undefeated can be daunting, but in New York change and adaptation are a part of daily life. She and her supporters felt that Congress had become out of touch with the people of District 14. Her solution was to take to the streets and meet those people personally. She knocked on doors, started conversations, and registered voters. In an interview with CNN she noted that the “only way to defeat an incumbent is by outworking them,” with good old fashioned grassroots campaigning. Grassroots tactics were also a large part of President Barack Obama’s Presidential campaign, and were what helped him in large part to overcome household name Senator Clinton. We have also seen how persistent rallies and exposure have been critical towards President Trump’s popularity before, and since his Presidential win. People want to be given the opportunity to know their candidates and representatives personally. This is especially so amongst communities that feel “dismissed,” as Ocasio-Cortez calls them. An important faction of her voters were the people that she noticed had been overlooked. Campaigns and politicians always seem to mention communities of color, youth, the working class, and non-english speakers, but do not always make the effort to address them directly as she decided to do. The direct contact with, and representation of these communities was the driving force behind her upset. She began by meeting many of these types of voters for herself, and then focused her campaign on their needs and relevant social and political issues like: ICE, Medicare, and the current Presidency. She found that the people in her district were concerned with the need for government healthcare, fair treatment towards immigrating peoples, and a President that acknowledged their mainly immigrant/democrat/progressive population as opponents instead of citizens that he is responsible for protecting. Ocasio-Cortez then took a strong stance on these issues in a “clear message” that she communicated to her district through flyers, conversations, videos, and social media. Though her community and stance were very different from that of our current President, they both have dominated through advocacy for pocket populations. President Trump looked to a middle America that had felt abandoned. He promised that he would “make America great again” for them, by returning glory to the factory industry, closing our borders from immigrants, and by cutting taxes. These were the things that they wanted to hear, and as President he has delivered. Ocasio-Cortez hopes to do the same, but for causes that are almost polar opposites to those of the Trump Presidency.

Photo: The Daily Beast

In the end we have seen the result of her hard work. It did not take experience so much as dogged ambition and accessibility for her to win. In the country that invented the social media apps that captivate the world today, visibility and access are key towards anything and everything we do within the public sphere. Alexandria knows this, as does Donald Trump. Both politicians have relied heavily on a previously unforeseeable amount of combined digital and personal exposure that has created an impassioned and proactive voter populace. When it is a conflict to get people to leave their homes, keep their plans, and be physically active amongst the millions of options and applications that prevent (and save us) from any real human interaction, the numbers that both Trump and Ocasio-Cortez have been able to pull speak highly of their tactics. The numbers also speak up for that inner voice inside of us that still might crave the genuine, be they conversations or deeds. There are still some things that require that personal, human touch, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez suggests that we act on them, and firmly. Times are truly different for all sectors of American life. The advancements that tech and socials created have sent waves felt throughout our society from the bottom to the top. In previously elitist and almost untouchable circles such as politics, academia, and business, young upstarts like Alexandria are making inroads. It no longer takes an impressive bloodline, suit and tie, or apparently even relevant job experience, to get to where you want to go. What has remained true is that getting somewhere depends on who you know. In this age you can “know” millions of people, and so much more about them than was ever possible. What is interesting is that it seems to be young people like Ocasio-Cortez who are benefitting from this. For a generation that has grown up and with technology, taking advantage of modern advancements has been second nature. So now, the saying “you are never too young to make a difference,” rings truer than ever.

Imagine this:

Your name is Alison Ettel. You are a middle aged white woman, with blonde hair and blue eyes. You live in the waterfront Embarcadero neighborhood of San Francisco, California. You are the CEO for a production company that supplies cannabis products for pets… It’s a hot Friday in June. A baseball game is underway as are premature PRIDE festivities. You are plagued by what others can only assume is a life of harassment and hardship, between the white privilege, CEO position, and waterfront property in the nation’s most expensive city to live in. But above all else, what really dampers your days, is the incessant noise of city life. Noise from the fans at ATT park you can handle, the noise from celebrations throughout the city you are able to bare, but on the street outside, over, and over, and over again, are the haunting cries of a child repeating:

“Come and buy my water.”

It’s just too much. As a neighborhood hero you take action into your own hands and decide to do something about the menace. It’s time for you to step in and call the police on this little girl who must be stopped at all costs. You take to the streets and pull out your handy dandy cellphone, but are almost thwarted by the young hoodlum’s posse- her mother. She dares to catch you on camera as you are in the midst of saving the day. You duck, you hide, but alas- she confronts you. “Don’t hide, the world is going to see you boo,” she taunts. But you’re ready to fire back: “Yeah, and um, illegally selling water without a permit?” Not on your watch. Or almost not. Unfortunately the police never show up because they don’t understand the urgency of the situation; but at least you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight knowing you almost took another criminal of the streets.

Pictured above: Alison Ettel, neighborhood hero

It has been a tough weekend for Alison after she called the cops on an 8 year old girl. It’s been an even harder past couple of days for children in this country. Apparently little girls are no longer able to sell cold beverages outside of their own homes for summer savings, even if it is under the supervision of a parent. In today’s world that just isn’t good enough. Documentation is necessary whether it’s a permit to sell water, or valid entry into the U.S if you ever want to see your parents again. Footage and conversation has sparked all over the news and media concerning the treatment of children and families crossing over the Southwestern border of the United States from Central America. For the past week President Trump and U.S Immigration and Customs Enforcement have forgone due process of the law, in order to treat immigrants coming into the United States how they see fit. Their vision: to separate parents from their children, in holding cages where they await further notice in total obscurity, while they sleep under foil for warmth. In his defense, Donald Trump tweeted “Most children come without parents…,” therefore he feels that any child belonging to an unspecified group of people be detained and isolated “immediately.” 

Donald J. Trump’s Twitter account @realdonaldtrump

For they could be future criminals like the little girl who dared to sell water without a permit, or worse… In order to prevent such atrocities from happening, the President of the United States has suggested (again via Twitter) that “when somebody comes in, we must immediately, with no Judges or Court Cases, bring them back from where they came.” Reversing, or rather obliterating the entire American Justice System that has been in place since the country’s founding, is how our President believes we will “Make America Great Again!” But to do something again constitutes a return or repetition of something previous. What he wants to return to, is not cohesion or order in the capitol, but chaos. If chaos ensues, as it has, he hopes that the American people will turn to him, their president, as they should. But instead of guiding all of us, he is manipulating a sect of us. He has deceived his voters into believing that he shares their values and their beliefs, when in fact, he doesn’t seem to have any. For all of his anti-immigrant hate speech, it is ironic that two of his three wives were immigrants, and that three of his four children came from those relationships. It’s the most simple and basic details that do not add up, but like Alison Ettel, he cannot hide.

Wedding photo of Donald J. Trump and first wife Ivana Trump

What does it say about a person who preys on the ignorant, young, or weak? What can a person gain from doing so? Does picking a fight you know you can win gain a person power or respect? I don’t think that’s the case, which is why I believe that people like Trump and Ettel villainize those they aggress in order to convince others that they are right in doing so. But cameras, phones, and the accessibility of modern technology and information in this country, enable us to make decisions that are more informed and independent than ever before. When a woman tries to have police called on an eight year old child, she has to be prepared for for the scrutiny and accountability that will ensue if she is caught on video, like she was. From there she is in the hands of the public. In a matter of minutes the internet made known her identity, personal Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook accounts, as well as her employer, which has since fired her for her actions. Thanks to the internet even the President must be held accountable. His personal history, his previous positions on marriage, drugs, sex, women’s rights, family, race, and government, are all available with a click. In order to keep order, we have to remember not just the power that he has, but that we do too. We choose and vote for our President, government officials, representation, and laws. If we also choose, we can do so in a fashion that is more comprehensive and empowering than ever before. Information is out there.

 As a start, here are a few helpful links:

https://www.npr.org/2018/06/20/621810030/ice-carries-out-its-largest-immigration-raid-in-recent-history-arresting-146

https://www.ice.gov/detention-facilities

Photo from Donald Trump’s Twitter Account

Two weeks ago, on June 6th, 2018, Kim Kardashian helped to initiate the release of prisoner Alice Marie Johnson. Alice had been serving a lifetime prison sentence upon release, of which she had already paid 21 years of her life. And what was her crime? Conspiracy to possess cocaine, and attempted possession of cocaine. It was her first criminal offense. The reasons for her sentence, and the harshness of the terms, almost overshadow the fact that Kim Kardashian has now become one of few successful advocates during the Trump Presidency, and an activist for prison reform. The whole situation speaks mounds about the progressive decay of our justice system. But it would be unfair to blame everything on our current President. After all, the American criminal justice system has reeked from its inception. Our justice system operates under the assumption that you are innocent until proven guilty. This might seem to have the advantages of fair judgement and unbiased assessment, but in reality, that doesn’t tend to be the case. What the system really protects are white collar criminals that can afford the best of lawyers and legal teams that keep them from prison time, while first time offenders convicted of conspiracy and attempt are sent off to the Folsoms and Quentins of the state.

It is difficult to have faith in the efficiency and success of a reform system, that itself is in desperate need of reformation. How are we to accept that our justice system is making strides by imprisoning first time, non-violent offenders, while companies like Goldman Sachs, Wells Fargo, and ATT have been given slaps on the wrists for crimes far greater in scale and abuse. Alice took it upon herself to become a drug abuser, which is and has been a nasty epidemic in America for generations, but as is the wealth gap. Wells Fargo execs remain fat and secure after deceiving the trust of millions of customers, stealing their information and earnings, and doing the exact opposite of what they claim to do and be as a solid financial institution. Wealth and celebrity are what protects people in this country, not justice. That is why it took the interest of a starlet like Kim Kardashian to change the fate of a woman like Alice, otherwise she would have surely spent the rest of her days in a state institution, learning or reforming what I do not know. How does a person make amends if she or he will never be able to leave prison in order to do so? If it is impossible to amend for your crime, does the desire to do so become obsolete? And if the desire and possibility are removed, then does the whole system crash? What is it that we are really trying to achieve with our criminal justice system?, because the results are glum.

Paris Hilton’s Mug Shot, 2007 

According to a report by the United States Sentencing Commission in 2016, “Almost one-third (31.7%) of the offenders studied were reconvicted (as opposed to just rearrested), and one-quarter (24.6%) were reincarcerated. For one-third of previously incarcerated individuals to return to a life of imprisonment means that punishment and isolation aren’t exactly the most compelling tactics to keep crime from recurring. To continually sentence, imprison, and babysit criminals is costly not just to the lives of said convicts and those they immediately affect, but all of us. As citizens we are constantly putting ourselves at risk by not finding real solutions towards violent, debilitating, and expensive problems. We might want to reconsider how the millions of dollars that we pay in taxes towards jails and prisons are being spent. Thinking back on some of the great offenses I’ve committed in my life, I wonder what it was that made me learn from my transgressions. When I was younger I had a penchant for petty theft. I stole small clay figurines from a pottery store, lipgloss from Oldnavy, and stud earrings shaped like popsicles from Urban Outfitters, that were just too “me,” to resist. Obviously it took me a while to learn, but at 26, steal I do not. I think it’s because I have finally come to the conclusion for myself, that I would prefer to live a dull, square life, where I don’t have to think twice over my actions. As a general rule of thumb, I consider a situation and if I feel the need to justify my actions, find loopholes or wiggle room, I steer clear. But how do I know how to come to the right conclusion? That would be due to some solid parenting and prime moral examples that I have had the blessing of being exposed to. When I did steal that Oldnavy lipgloss, and those clay figures, I didn’t quite get away with either heists. My mom found both in my bedroom, and as the sole source of my discretionary income, she knew that I had not purchased objects she didn’t recognize buying for me.

I don’t remember the lectures or the punishments, but I know that there were both. More than anything, what I remember was having to return the items, to both stores, on my own, with an apology to the salespeople. The humiliation stung enough to leave a lasting impression, much more than any defiance or fright I felt from punishment. Humiliation meant that I knew that I felt ashamed for actions that I was in the wrong for, and wanted to be better than. But how can so many other people who have committed minor crimes, or even major, grow from their errors, if they weren’t given the models to know better? Certainly in prison, there are no such models. We hear of education programs and certifications available to inmates, and I actually know of a friend who has turned his prison sentence into training to become a firefighter, but he’s a rarity. If state prisons, are anything like state schools, I know that the education, funding, and programs are not nearly as beneficial as they should or could be. Imagine if correctional facilities were actually treated as the educational institutions that they are in theory. If the valuable American citizens and taxes sent into them were put to good use, we might have more people giving back to society instead of draining from it. In many cases it takes people who have hit the lowest of the lows, to be the most empathetic, driven, and ambitious. If criminals were treated more as works in progress, instead of as herded animals, we might have safer streets, less civil unrest, and a couple more dollars in all of our pockets.

Right now, I am a newly 26 year old full-time Master’s student, that is 5 months pregnant with my first child. It’s a really exciting time. I’m on the verge of accomplishing some of my greatest goals in life: earning a Master’s degree, creating a family, and with a lot of optimism and luck, hopefully starting a great career as well. Yet no one has it all. As a pregnant, full-time student, I have had to make difficult decisions and compromises, mainly not being able to work. Spending my time studying instead of working has enabled me to do really well this past semester, as well as to have a perfectly healthy pregnancy so far; but it has also left me without the health benefits that my job was providing. As an expectant mother, to not have provided healthcare is obviously scary, but there are options for me and others like me. In my home state of California the government can provide medical assistance, unemployment insurance, supplemental nutrition and education towards pregnant women, and monthly benefits for food, among other programs. Otherwise, or formerly known as welfare. Our state has shied away from the term “welfare,” and has changed the names of programs like Food Stamps, to CalFresh, in an attempt to re-establish government benefits as friendly instead of disconcerting. The change to do so says a lot about how many of us feel about these programs. Before I even began the process of applying for medical assistance, something I need and contribute to as a tax paying citizen, I felt a hesitancy and guilt towards doing so. When visiting websites like https://www.benefits.gov/, certain words become marked and repetitive: low-income, poverty, needy. When seeking advice on the process of applying for benefits, I was told to beware of dressing “classy,” during trips to Social Services. Case workers are apparently known to deny certain applicants depending on their appearance and approach. If a person seems like they can afford healthcare, than an application may be thrown out. It is advised to condescend to workers, who hold the state of their health and wellness within their power. Not surprisingly, I found this objectionable - and true. During trips to the Social Services offices, I remember being addressed as a “good girl,” for properly filling out my paperwork. Even though I’m an educated adult and soon-to-be mother, because I needed government assistance I was seen as simple and pitiful. I’m sure that pity is what finally resulted in the acceptance of my application after three different tries. On my third visit I came in with puffy eyes because I was stressed and crying, not in an attempt to conjure sympathy, but because I was truly frustrated and concerned with the fate of my health coverage. I also conceded to the advice that I exaggerate the woes of my personal life to my case worker, so that I would be a more likely candidate for government assistance. During my not-so-sob-story I told the case worker of the day, that I was currently in between residences, which led to the magic word of approval: homeless. Which, I guess I am in a way (I’m somewhere in between living with my boyfriend at his apartment, moving out of my own home, and us finding a new one to live in together, without roommates or parents), which is fine. But having to grovel for charity affirmed all of my negative opinions. Any attempts to make government assistance normalized and acceptable suddenly became moot. Instead of feeling responsible for taking the steps to simultaneously progress my education, my future, and my personal life, I was left with an aftertaste. It’s funny, everyone loves free things, but no one likes to feel like things have been handed to them- especially out of pity. Earning a scholarship, or not alerting the cashier or waitress that they left something off of my bill, seems like a win, but receiving assistance from my government, for programs I pay for with my income, made me feel needy. And yes, I do need help, as does everyone; so where does the shame come from?

Considering all the complaining that I, and anyone else I have ever known to pay taxes, has done about paying taxes; it’s nice to knowingly be on the receiving end of them every once in a while. So often we give up portions of our hard earned incomes and don’t know what happens to all of that money, which is supposedly meant to enhance the quality of life for ourselves, our neighbors, and our communities. I’m from the San Francisco Bay Area, which according to TIME magazine, has 3 out of the top 5 most expensive cities in the U.S to live in: 1. San Francisco, 4. Oakland, 5. San Jose. In these cities we pay a fortune towards government spending, while homelessness becomes abundant, our public schools go underfunded, and our transportation systems lag. The discrepancy between costs of living and the quality of life for everyone that lives here, makes me think twice about my opinions on government assistance. Instead of focusing on justifications for why I would have to associate with welfare, I should be more concerned with how the welfare of our state can and should be expanded and improved. To me this begins with the divisions between citizens and government, and “haves” and “have-nots.” In reality, there are no such divisions. Those in government are citizens like the rest of us, and it is their sole job to be representative of that and us. Everyone “has,” and there are times and aspects where everyone “has not.” If our state wanted to be more progressive, and inclusive it would be best to abstain from such classifications, and to just offer help because its beneficial not just to those who are looking for it, but for all of us who give it. If there was a way to improve the education of our young people, to eradicate the housing crisis and homelessness, to create a smarter, more confident, and able-bodied populace, wouldn’t you be supportive of it? Especially if the programs and the funding were already in place? To do so would put the pride and authenticity back into the term local, instead of making it a quaint or marketable slogan. When immigration, outsourcing, gentrification, and overcrowding are at a high, everything local -people, places, and products- should be an obvious endorsement. That can be just as easily done, as said.

Today marks 3 days and 136 years since the Chinese Exclusion Act. For those of you who are unfamiliar, this act was the first ever piece of legislation by the United States Government that excluded a particular ethnic group from entry into the country. The Act prevented Chinese people from admittance, unless they met certain, for some- impossible- requirements. Entry was only given to: diplomats, students, and merchants -all men. Immigrants already in the process of making the harrowing journey across the Pacific, were imprisoned or turned away, once they arrived at Angel Island. The act had gone into effect immediately.

1882 was a response to ever growing hostilities and racism within the U.S. As the country expanded and moved west, so did new jobs and housing opportunities. This was attractive to many living in the 99% on the East coast, in the slums of New York and the backwaters of Louisiana, but also to those suffering abroad. Almost everyone had heard of the American dream, and many were daring enough to chase it. Especially enticing was the chance to strike it rich in the California Gold Rush. Brave souls from around the world gave up everything to try their luck, which only a few ended up having. During that time, tensions sprang up amongst immigrant communities and fortune seekers. The Irish and Chinese immigrants often got into brutal fights, and all out wars, where mobs tore scores of Chinese from their settlements and murdered them in the open. The hatred continued after the dust settled, and created the cities of Sacramento and San Francisco.

Chinatowns are now known as tourist attractions, and colorful neighborhoods of large cities. Initially, they were areas of major cities restricted to certain ethnic groups, aka ghettoes. San Francisco’s Chinatown was the first such example. It was a slum and a shantytown designated for Chinese immigrants who were met with violence once they left it’s borders. Soon, it became a desirable plot of land as the rest of the city developed. San Francisco’s elite, the white businessmen of the Leland Stanford era, saw Chinatown as both an opportunity and a threat. The little town occupied prime waterfront real estate, that bordered upon the city’s downtown district and the mansions of the bourgeoisie. Signs of progression also began to show within the dragon gates, as Chinese merchants, business people, and entrepreneurs accrued wealth for themselves and their community. Chinatown, and others like it were forced to develop within their communities, because the people and their business were not allowed to develop beyond their borders. The fruits of their labors did not go unnoticed. City elites and the other working classes grew suspect and envious of the successes that many Chinese immigrants had risked and spent their lives for. Campaigns to remove the Chinese from their ghetto, all of San Francisco, and even the country, raged. Hate campaigns, and violence plagued Chinese within the city and around the country. Reasons for their removal fluctuated between pegging them as a menace to the greater population’s health and sanctity. Rumors flew that the Chinese cooked dogs and rats, and were the root of vile diseases. The men were also seen as a danger to white society, out of fear that they would have sex and breed with white women. That would have confused the sanctions of the social hierarchy, and posed an even greater threat to white male dominance.                                                               

But was there any truth to the racial rumors and slurs? Is there ever? Did Chinese immigrants plague society, or was the rest of society plaguing them? We have seen this before, and unfortunately still deal with these issues today. A common justification for the trade and enslavement of African people in this country, was that their dark skin signified filth and indecency. Therefore it was only right that white men were justified in treating them as property and not people. In recent racial tensions, we have seen a lot of turmoil between the United States and Central America, specifically Mexico. This has prompted dubious police questioning and treatment of people who may look or act like they are not citizens, mass deportations, and talk of an electric border wall. All of this talk started around 1882, with the Chinese and the exclusion act made in response to their desire to be a part of this country. The repetition must force us to analyze the common denominators within history. Are ethnic minorities in this country truly always dirty, violent, vulgar, and menacing? Or does that depend on whatever minority is in influx, which correlates in the presence of job and student positions? Perhaps the common denominator isn’t always who is to blame, but who is in charge. Is it that white men of a certain position really do reign supreme because of their ethnic and geographical origins, or is it that they have convinced the rest of the world to believe so? Why have we believed them, and when will we stop? I hope that we have seen the solution is not to fight hatred with hatred, but that once again, knowledge is power. Slavery is not, and was not, ever a choice; but it is only physical. Slavery of the mind, and our surrender to it, is entirely dependent on what we chose to know of ourselves and our worth. Really, the American dream is possible for almost everyone in this country, as plenty of women, men, minorities, and majorities have proven. It just is not, and never has been, easy for most of us. No amount of genetics or pigmentation should ensure, or prevent our ambitions. Nowhere in biology or evolution does it specify that the pale survive, only the strong.

Maybe it is because I’m pregnant, maybe because I am a feminist, or maybe because I’m hyped up on gender performance reading materials, that I feel defensive about the role of being/playing a mom. Before I started reading the work of Judith Butler and Diane Torr, even before I became pregnant; I thought a lot about hypothetical situations in which my mothering my kids might be questioned in public. It was after the readings that I’ve mentioned, did I correlate this to gender perceptions and presumptions that are often unfairly placed upon women more than anyone else. There have been plenty of times when I’ve been at Safeway, Target, dining out, or at the movies, and I have witnessed children, well, being children. This usually means “misbehaving,” but really when I see a kid eating dirt, running around, crying hysterically, or not using their “indoor voice,” it’s because they’re under the age of six and are unaware of the social structures, policies, and norms that adults expect of other people. So then we, or at least I have, fixed the blame on someone else, usually their mother. This is absolutely unfair, and misplaced. Something for which I am now ashamed of, as a person who has dealt with a lifetime of unwanted attention.

In The Argonauts, by Maggie Nelson, she points out an odd reaction that people have, to other people’s children. Which is ownership. When we see parents with their children, more often than not, mothers with their children, we think to ourselves “you are holding the future, one must be kind to the future” 89. In this sense, when we see children, we think of them as common property, towards our common future. That notion enables us to feel entitled to judge others, and to involve ourselves in their business and their families. I now place myself in the shoes of parents trying to handle their children in public. I have seen strangers meddle into other people’s matters, by suggesting that a parent do this or that, or that their child is this or that. At my last job, I was asked by one guest visiting my museum, to intercede into what I felt was a private family matter.  An uncle was scolding firmly, his nephew, for hitting his mom, the child’s grandmother. I had actually been listening to the whole situation unfold, as it was right next to my desk, and I had to admit I was impressed by the way in which this uncle was working with his nephew through the incident. “Why would you do that? “Why would you think it is okay to hit your grandmother?” “What makes you feel that you have that right?” Was he angry when he spoke to his nephew? Yes, obviously, the child was being violent towards his own grandmother. But, he seemed genuinely concerned with the boy’s behavior, and ensuring that the boy knew better, to prevent this situation from happening in the future. Apparently this upset one of the other guests, who believed it was my place to tell the man he shouldn’t talk to children like that (“that” being what, I’m not sure, with anger?). I replied to the guest that I didn’t feel comfortable doing so, at which point the guess said, “WELL I DO!” Then he interrupted the family mid-conversation to tell the uncle, “I don’t know where you’re from, but we don’t speak to children like that in San Francisco, California!!! Go somewhere else!!!!” The uncle, only impressing me further (even though my opinion in this situation doesn’t matter at all) replied that he understood, apologized for ruining the other guest’s visit, and walked his nephew outside.

Now... if that had someone been intervening between myself and my kids, I would have acted with entirely less restraint and patience towards the man that felt it was his place to enter into my personal domain. This had been an interesting exchange because it was in between two men, discussing parenting styles, not an anomaly, but something I have to say, I’ve never witnessed. I have seen, on many occasions, women being badgered for the behavior of their children, and battered for their treatment of how they handle situations of bad behavior. Being faced with the suspense of having a child myself, and their erratic moods, actions, and who knows what else, all I can feel for mothers is sympathy and admiration. Too often women are constantly being placed on certain pedestals that they can’t possibly reach, and then once close to them, are admonished for their failure, sometimes for even trying. Most societies, see motherhood as the zenith of a female’s life, if not her sole purpose. Up to that point, everything she does should be and often is, centered around working towards that goal: appearances for mating potential, nice behaviors for mating potential, fit physique and health for mating and conceiving, domestic expectations for the benefit of a future family which will be her responsibility. All of these calculations are expected of women, and then judged by a majority of the people she will pass, let alone interact with, on a daily basis. Was her appearance sloppy? Was she nice? Is she smart? Can she balance that with the duties of an attractive housewife and mother? These are constantly tallied, and often not in secret, by those that she will meet. She is relentlessly made aware of the perceptions of others, on how well she is doing as a woman, a girlfriend, a wife, and especially as a mom. As a mother, the role of the woman is intensified, as is the scrutiny. This is undoubtedly by other women as well as men, as I have just admitted to doing myself, and remonstrating myself for. I do so, because if we can’t freely and openly get advice from each other on the trials and tribulations of being women, than we are left to rely on the frequently unwarranted instructions of men who are unfamiliar with our situations, like the brash museum visitor.

As an expectant mother Maggie Nelson cites the difficulties she has with coping through the balance of living her life while simultaneously preparing for the future of someone else’s. That put her in the position of feeling both possesed and alienated by the people and world around her. Everyone felt that they had a stake in her pregnancy: concerned citizens of the future, people with medical experience, people with the experience of having been children or around them. It was exhausting enough to consider her own future and life, worry about her baby’s, and then also the concerns and judgements of others. I know that I already feel anxiety about who my children will be, how I can help lead them in a right direction, and how this might go wrong. What I am confident about more than anything, is that no one is, or will be more interested with those matters more than me, their mother. This is something I practice remembering when I see a mom losing her patience with a whining kiddo, or an uncle reprimanding his nephew for hitting his grandma. It’s nice when people are concerned with the health and safety of others, especially children, and can even be the right thing to say or do something. But if a parent is plainly parenting, or a family member is in the midst of teaching a lesson and raising that child, I think it’s best to remember that whatever our intentions might be as bystanders, we are just that- bystanders. I’m certainly not going to offer to take home, feed, clothe, raise, and put through college the next child I see who isn’t being raised to my satisfaction.

Recently I was watching a new show on my favorite channel, Viceland. The show is Slutever, and it's an hour long docu-type-series that researches different themes, topics, and fetishes within the sex lives of various people and subcultures. This particular episode asked the question, "Can money improve your sex life?" This was a question that the show's host posed to a few random people on the street, many of whom, like myself, answered "no." Myself, and the others interviewed, responded negatively because we were in agreement that a gold leaf dildo, or diamond water lubricant isn't what makes sex great, but rather the people that are enacting it. I thought there isn't anything in the world that I could possibly need, or want that would improve my sex life, besides my personal physicality and interest. I've since noticed that this was a privileged view, and also an incomplete one. I hadn't fully taken the time to consider all the reasons why I would be content with my sex life, and the ways in which money has contributed to that.

Photo credit: Danger Diabolik

Money has the unique and strange quality of being considered simultaneous with control. With money comes power, and an ability to make demands and be obliged. The desire to be demanding and obliged are also often simultaneous with sex, as is control. Money can usually afford people control over themselves as sexual participants, and perhaps over others. This can be control as in birth control, or even control as in the manner in which you have sex, or how you want to be perceived. When I had thought of money and sex, I thought of sex workers and the sex industry: escorts, exotic dancers, porn stars, prostitutes, dominatrixes, and every other type of fetish that money can buy. I thought about control over time and place. The straightforwardness and ease that money can oblige sexual participants who are looking for something in particular, which can be met for the right price. These are accoutrements and activities that I don't take advantage of in my sex life, and that I naively believe a majority of others might not as well. This is why I responded "no" when asking myself, if money can improve sex. But then I read Testo Junkie by Paul B. Preciado.

Preciado is concerned with capitalism's involvement in sex. Mainly, what came first, the malady or the treatment?, and how the two are cyclical when it comes to sex. The pharmaceutical industry is one of the biggest and most lucrative industries on the market today. Everyone has a complaint, and thanks to drugs, enhancements, and marketing, everyone also believes that they can be better. Not only is there something for the something that you initially believed you had, but now there are preventative measures from further issues, or a vitamin/pill/procedure that would put an end to all of those fears (but of course there's a maintenance fee/procedure for upkeep). In the case of people who are transgendered, androgynous, or gender abolitionists, the issues are beyond quick fixes and coverage. For these people, their health, wellness, social, as well as sex lives, are a constant struggle between supply & demand. The amount of procedures, medication, necessary conservation, and money spent on all of those necessities, is astounding. The most notable matter involved when I consider spending money on my sex life, is whether or not I have to spend the $7.00 copay for birth control, and then having to remember to take that tiny pill once a day. The matter is so small, that I didn't even remember I spend money on sex. A part of that insignificance, also stems from the comfort I take in being not only happy with my gender and appearance, but my finances. If I wasn't able to afford birth control, I wouldn't forget about the $7.00 a month expense, let alone the ability to apply for it. These are things I take for granted as a gender-normative, heterosexual- but I shouldn't.

Photo credit: Picssr

I had not considered how my sex life was benefitting from the advantages of living in a first world country, in a middle class home, where I've always had access to healthcare, and importantly- birth control. I've been on birth control since my teens, and this has given me a sense of freedom and security that allows me to have sex with a relative amount of safety from serious consequences. If I had not been on birth control in my past relationship that lasted through ages15-23, both myself and my ex-boyfriend would have lived in a constant state of fear and what-ifs. Our sex life would have definitely been impacted by the tension of a possible baby while we were in high school, then college, and then experiencing the onset of our young twenties. Now that I'm older, and in a new relationship, where my partner and I did entertain the possibility of starting a family (and now have), we were able to do so with the certainty that we both have medical coverage. If and when we did get pregnant, we would be able to care for ourselves and our baby with the help and direction of medical professionals. This was another huge load off of my shoulders, and the oppression of my sex life. But for many people healthcare, prescribed birth control, and even condoms aren't an option, because all of those things cost money. Being able to afford those things, has also afforded advantages concerning sex. From personal experience, I can say that access to birth control and the capital to cover it, has made sex better. Sex for me is a joy, and not a fear, all thanks to medical expenses.

Photo credit: Monik/Markus Flickr