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d e v o n
YOU ARE THE REASON
Mike Driver
Not today Justin

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Peter Solarz
we're not kids anymore.
Today's Document
noise dept.
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@awokeandtestified

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I am going to go very far away it's only a matter of time (but really it's a matter of money)
Mindanao
My mother's mother , I will write of them forever
we have been warned to never call her "grandma" but only "Amie" but then later, "Ming," her real name, her birth name, reclaimed, but I still call her "Amie" cause my mom named my childhood cat "Ming," so it's awkward. [awkward] She and her mother have a strained relationship, we only ever knew Amie from letters, her ALL CAPS handwriting and little cartoon drawings, perfectly clean and charming lines, she is an illustrator, a fine artist too. Sometimes we'd talk on the phone and her voice sounds just like one of those elegant lead role woman's voice from a 1960s film, but more knowing. I selfishly loved her packages, always bags full of beaded jewelry and teeny tiny rings she'd twisted from wire for me, she'd say we have to make our own jewelry because American stuff won't ever fit us. This will fit your wrist, your pinky perfectly. One for each sister. She was the mysterious dragon lady cold cutthroat but intriguing so distant . She visited once but before I was born. My mother says every time she got pregnant [6 times] her mother would yell into the phone "WHY? ANOTHER BABY? WHY ARE YOU THROWING YOUR LIFE AWAY?" There is much misunderstanding between their two natures. My mother's mother still believes her daughter is brainwashed by suburban sheep America, how could she just marry like that and become religious and move to California to have a house and a driveway and raise 6 kids? My mother was never allowed to call her mother "mother" let alone "mom" "mommy" "mama," noooooo, just "Amie." They were pals, girlfriends at best. They would go to the coffee shop to gossip and Amie would pick out clothes for her and photograph her and they never embraced, let alone spoke of love, nothing sappy. "I raised your mother to be intelligent and mature, ohhhh you should've seen her. She'd always be sitting with us adults having adult conversations, we never treated her like a child. She got to travel, she got to see art. She was so smart, she skipped a grade." My mother is a cancer. My mother longed for make-believe play, for child friends and a big, fun, affectionate family. My mother longed to be a mother much different. She escaped into books. My mother's mother is Chinese. She survived the trauma of her hometown burned and bombed to smithereens. Her father was in the USA at the time, gettin a degree in education. She was also much closer to him than to her mother, she has always seen him a saint. It hadn't been their plan, but she and her mother, my great grandma, made the journey to the USA to escape the violence and to be with him. They would end up never returning home. My mother's mother was raped when she was in high school. In Texas where there were no other asians, where there were no abortion clinics. The family name was shamed. Already seen as dirty immigrants, this didn't help, my great grandma sent her away to have the baby but not to keep it, this tore them further apart, mother and daughter, trying both to assimilate yet pressuring traditional Chinese ideology to still apply in this new life. My mother's mother perhaps never wanted to be mother. The narrative was always that she abandoned my mom, after she finished high school, she moved out said "my job here is done" she has always hurt my mother. Yet her cancer heart still longs. She would call just to be disappointed. Open gift packages only to see that nothing thoughtful nor personal was chosen for her. I have heard from the women in my family that mental illness runs in the family. I wonder if and how i have evaded "it." Women are not contradictions, they are just straggling between their nature and their nurture, it will be sloppy; it might be mean. My mother is mean. She doesn't hurt me anymore, because i see what she has survived. She sees what her mother has survived. My mother gave me a beautiful childhood full of play, imagination, dirt, craft, and exploration. My mother, though, like she learned from her mother, maintains distance. She can only come so close to you, she can only let it one or two dimensions of her children, into her knowledge of them. She is afraid of her children. Perhaps that they'll hurt her, or see her, or leave her? My mother has never had friends. My mother is violent. She is terrifying. She is a hurricane, she will tear you to shreds and leave the room herself in tears and you'll hate her yet you'll pity her . She is a child. She is a rock, she is a champion, but she is a child who may never feel loved , who may never be able to look you in your eyes , and you cannot blame her. My mother's mother gives no fucks what anyone thinks of her. She teaches me. She is truly out in the world as an individual, always true to her conviction, yet still wondrous and curious about th little things . She is an artist, but really, she is just herself. I pray that if I have a daughter I am not mean to her. Maybe it is inevitable. Maybe we have to be mean to each other because we will have to be tough to survive , we will have to learn to recognize and have gratitude for the incredible qualities of women, and not blame them for what has been pressed upon them. No matter what lifestyle we choose,someone will see us as too conventional, too repressed, weak or subservient . Or we'll be a villain, a sharp tongued miserable witch lady recluse , selfish and untame.
With all the Power Rangers nostalgia going around let’s take a minute to remember Thuy Trang, the beautiful actress who we all know as Trini the original yellow ranger, and unfortunately lost her life at 27 years old in a car accident in 2001. Rest in peace 💖

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March 25 2017 wow hi
I didn’t finish my lengthy to do list today but I lived a chunk of my life in feelings ,,,,it just isn’t linear. My dad called me today and I picked up. I called my mom for the first time in like 6 months or something and we talked briefly and then I called her again when she got off work and we talked for almost two hours and I learned SO MUCH about MY ENTIRE FAMILY BOTH SIDES and she spoke to me like her own real person, she didn’t get nervous and change the subject or get mad at me or use her dismissive tones , she didn’t sound manic giddy not even for a second , her laughs felt healthy, she asked me QUESTIONS ABOUT MY LIFE, she said “my therapist said..." I am so proud god I’m crying my mom is finally going to therapy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I learned about her mother’s trauma and how that was passed on and everything just makes sense and it feels better to know the truth even though it breaks my heart .
I cried today because I miss Mindanao so much that it fatigues my body and clouds my senses sometimes , there are so many logistics keeping me from living there for as long as I’d want but it’s all I want I want to be spending time with people and doing things but I’m always so caught up in all these emotions and I spend HOURS just thinking and then hating myself for wasting my life away why can’t I be focused . Idk idk but I’m gonna accept myself as myself just for tonight .
Half in, Half out.
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American Bison herd (Wyoming) Matt Anderson
Mandaya tribe, Mindanao

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Compostela Valley, Mindanao
It was in compostela valley that we witnessed military occupation of a Lumad village, harassment, resistance, and then , evacuation I can't sleep
Women of a Tagalog family, Bacoor, Cavite, Philippines 1899
J. Tewell photography
made outfits worn by Solange’s 6 male band members for her headlining performance at SXSW.
Before "intersectional feminism" and "white feminism" were in my vocabulary, before I knew my feelings were valid, I remember I had a white girlfriend who would talk to me about situations of oppression and I was lo key rude ever time, like would say "I mean, worse things are happening in [insert community or nation of color] but nobody talks about that..." and she'd be like "what does that have anything to do with this...?" And I couldn't say, I didn't know how to explain what I felt . She got so fed up once and finally snapped "EVERY TIME I TALK ABOUT SOMETHING HAPPENING TO WOMEN, YOU DONT CARE ! ITS LIKE YOURE A MISOGYNIST , why do you hate women??? You should really ask yourself why you don't want to sympathize with women and recognize their oppression." That shit fucked me up. I felt SOOOOOOOO guilty after that, I really thought there was something wrong with me. I tried to say something about how it felt strange for me being in class with women talking about things like they're the only ones affected by violence but this was BEFORE I had the clarity and the courage to just say to her YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT MIDDLE CLASS WOMENS EMPOWERMENT WHERE THE FUCK R U WHEN I WANNA TALK ABOUT CAPITALISM AND ETHNOCIDE AND COLONIZATION AND PROFILING AND EXPLOITATION OF IMMIGRANTS like SHE COULD NEVER SYMPATHIZE
Girlfriend: what's your type?
Me: criminals

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alright never forget this iconic ass scene
<3