I spent 5+ years living and working and organizing in NYC. And there is a lot of experiences to reflect on, and a lot of emotions that I still have to unpack. I moved recently and am back in L.A. area. To be honest, my fiancee Casey and I decided we should move to L.A. about 2 or 3 years ago.
During that time, NYC was tough to stay in and everyday was exhausting. I also missed my family and my grandpa terribly. So we made the plan that once the first opportunity came along, we would move. Then after that moment of frustration and promise making, so much started to happen in my life and things started changing. I started making friends again in spaces that were so unexpected. In spaces that were totally new to me, both in people and in politics.
I went through a traumatic experience in my organizing work. I cannot really disclose which people and with which organizations, but it shocked me and changed how I was able to move in spaces. Toxic is not even a strong enough word to describe it, but basically it was the breaking of the most spiritual level of trust that I had in people that I was organizing with. Hopefully one day I can be more open about what caused it. But for now I can only describe how it felt and what had happened to me afterward. I have never been a person who particularly fit in with a specific group, not since middle school anyway. I have always moved from group to group, depending on who I like, or who likes me. And even if my politics or identity or personality or interest matched with a group, there was always something about group dynamics and power that felt so isolating for me. So when I tried really hard to build with a group of people that I thought I could identify with, I learned how wrong I could be. The falling out with these people set my stomach on fire. Every second of thought was a dizzying experience. I could not trust my own reactions anymore, I could no longer attend spaces or actions or rallies that I was passionate about serving. I felt like a fraud for even thinking about going, because there were people on higher pedestals who I felt like I saw straight through. There were even two or three times where I had suicidal thoughts that brought me to the deepest ocean in my mind where no one else existed except for the many other me's. How awful that time was . . .
If it was not for Casey, I honestly don't know how I would have gotten through it. Thank goodness I did. It took a lot of tries though, like purging social media, exploring the city by myself, going to therapy. Maybe I can write about therapy in another post since that was an entire experience . . .
The singular thing that saved me was probably hearing about other events and slowly coming out of my shell again to see other groups. One of the first events I attended was after Trump had gotten elected, there was an event entitled "Staying Woke After Trump", hosted by PPA NYC at the Solidarity Action Center. I had been to that space before for international solidarity events, but I never really attended events that were about other issues besides what was happening in the Philippines.
We split into groups based on borough. I went to the group in Queens, was encouraged by the only 3 other brown people in that circle to keep it going, I called a meeting in my apartment, and that was it.
The first meeting I hosted in a tiny apartment in Astoria had mostly white people attending. It definitely felt weird but I kept trying to organize anyway. One of the meetings we had was held at the DRUM office where we were given a CopWatch training by local folks who were doing Copwatch with the Justice Committee,
(which I later found to be a sham in connection to Communities United for Police Reform and the killing of Eric Garner, in which recent news has only led to President wanna-be DiBlasio promising to "do something" after protesters chanted to Fire Pantaleo at a live NBC-televised Democratic debate for the president election race 2020. And about 2 days ago, the decision was made to suspend Pantaleo. Not fire, not sentence him for murder, but to grant him a paid vacation for carrying our the historic deed that is White Supremacy for the White Nation.
I will expend more on my personal opinions about DiBlasio, CPR, and the nonprofits leading "social justice" work.)
Anyway, that Copwatch training was my first encounter with other organizers in Queens who were not closely connected to the Filipino community. It was mostly white people who showed up again, and it still felt very weird, but two of them in particular stood out. They were saying that instead of meeting about Copwatch, we should instead be joining ShutItDown Crew out of Grand Central Station to protest the killing of Eric Garner. In that moment, I actually agreed with a white person for the first time and I decided if I was going to do organizing work, I need to answer to more calls to action when a Black person is killed by the police. I felt guilt and shame and an intense amount of anger. But my curiosity about this group built up until I felt this great itching, I just had to go! I learned that this because People's Mondays, a regular ongoing non-permitted action led by the NYC Shut It Down Crew.
Back to my reflection: The next few PPA Queens meetings had less and less white people, as I kept calling nonprofit organizations like Make the Road NY bullshit, and also the Democratic Socialists for America, and also Showing Up for Racial Justice (SURJ) and also JFREJ (Jews showing up for racial justice) - mostly because they were white led. But in my exposure to the weekly PPA meetings on Wednesdays held in Midtown, I was learning more about the nonprofit organizations and the non-profit-industrial complex that continued to churn in NYC. Nonprofits are primarily led by white people, and white people often do not like to follow leadership of Black and Brown people. I was seeing this phenomenon occur in my own home during the PPA Queens meetings, and I am so glad I was recognizing it and calling it for what it was. The funny thing about white people is they always want things to be spelled out for them, they always want to be told the solution to issues that have nothing to do with them. But they will also ALWAYS have some kind of issue with a solution proposed by a Black or Brown person, they will always have a critique of it somehow. And the worse thing, is they will always back out on their promises as an ally, and they will always take credit for work they did not do. And they will always benefit from it.
This is when I learned that white people do not get to declare themselves allies. I get to decide when I think a white person is an ally. And so far, I only have about 4 in my closer circles who fit that description. And I am so happy to also call them my friends.
I want to make clear that when I talk about "white people", I am not just talking about the ones that I think are liberal, or the ones I think are racist, no. There's not really a distinction for me that separates all that out. I am talking about White Supremacy, and all the little tiny nuances and crumbs that come from it. Throughout my time organizing in NYC and moving through spaces, I was seeing it everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I had always seen it and I had always known it, but now I could actually NAME IT. Words like racist, prejudice, ignorance . . . those are just filler words for me now. They actually mean something else. Something that most people in this country do not want to acknowledge exists. Like looking in the mirror or the reflection and seeing it as a portal to another dimension. "White supremacy?! Oh no! Not here! Not in my house!" - because they fail to hold famous White Supremacists, like dylan roof and whats-his-name-does-it-even-matter White guy that killed 19 people in the El Paso shooting after writing a racist manifesto and buying bullets for an AK-47.
(This will probably be a common thing for a majority of these posts - forewarning. And thank goodness. Makes it more fun for me to write!)
Anyway I will switch it up - the PPA Queens meetings weren't all that bad. There were some Brown folks who started to show up regularly, which made the work much better. There is one person in particular who came to one of the meetings in my house, and I cannot describe it as anything else than fate. She is my match, and probably one of my soul mates too, I dunno. So incredibly beautiful and smart. Her fire matched mine. Since our meeting, we have organized meetings together, attended actions, led Swipe it Forward actions in Queens, and we have done our own CopWatch. Besides that, we shared so much about our lives and what we have been learning. Meeting her is probably one of the greatest things to happen to me because of NYC. I have God to thank for it. And she is going to be a bridesmaid at my wedding! There is no one else I can think of who is the most exciting and mysterious person that matches me in so many ways, including our skin color. She is the definition of life's rarity.
I started to attend other organizing spaces, and met with local organizers in Queens whom I had never even heard of before. But I lived in NYC for so long, without knowing them?! I felt cheated. Anyway, the first local space that I went to in Queens was joining a meeting with ICE Free Queens. That is where I met organizers who were also holding down one of the most important community spaces of our time, Centro Corona (previously Immigrant Movement International, which was also previously a project of Queens Museum). Today I am happy to say that this space has its own autonomy, membership, and it's own programming. It is the most beautiful community I have gotten to know in NYC. And to this day, the people I met there literally saved my life.
The organizers I met at Centro Corona and with ICE Free Queens (which we later named as Queens Libre) has taught me more about movement building and base-building than what I was learning in the Filipino-American led spaces. I learned about transformative organizing, and I saw things like "Emergent Strategy" come into practice. Each one of them was so special, it almost seems unbelievable that so many incredible people can fit into one space, day-dreaming and day planning about abolition in the Corona community. I suddenly found a space where every part of me was welcome, where I was able to breathe and rest and reflect. And where I was able to love again. This space taught me that I didn't need to be doing work or completing tasks all the time. They made me feel like simply existing was revolutionary enough, which we all know is not really realistic, but how beautiful of a feeling it is! Finally, I found a space that made me feel alive again! A space that taught me how to love others better and how to love myself even more. It was a space where accountability was a priority, and community care was a fine art. It didn't even matter which physical space we occupied, our container could change and shift, but not us. We were like water. We were a magical liquid. Whether we existed in someone's apartment, in a center, in the park, we were a thing of beauty and creation.
Suddenly, I found myself going to actions again, even the ones where other people from previous hurtful spaces where sharing the same street. I had gained a sense of confidence in myself again and a confidence in what I stood for. The movement no longer felt like a clique, like an exclusive nasty thing that made my stomach hurt and made me dizzy. The movement looked like roses, it smelled like corn, it felt like breezes through trees. It was air again.
There is no point of having air without having fire.
That singular fire moved into my life like a breaking dawn.
This led me to learning about and getting to know the only people's led grassroots, Black women peoples organization for Black Liberation, called Bronxites for NYPD Accountability, "affectionately known as Why Accountability". This peoples organization has changed my life, and possibly my lifetimes prior to this one. Getting to know this organization over time has been one of the singularly most liberating experiences of my life, and it deserves it's own blog post for sure!
Essentially, it is solely due to the influence and organizing power of Why Accountability that has opened my eyes and my critical mind, and I slowly found myself entering the Stop the Raids Coalition, where I had the opportunity to work with members of the Incarcerated Workers Organizing Committee, an organization I had deeply admired for its work in connecting with persons incarcerated and enslaved in the modern slave plantations today, the "mass incarceration system". It meant supporting community members and family members who suffered from their family being stolen from them, forced to work for free. It meant supporting youth who were being targeted by the NYPD since they were children, and men targeted by the NYPD since they were youth, primarily those living in NYCHA public housing. To this day we continue to support those stolen and imprisoned from large NYPD raids, that we term as "gang raids" because the justification for these disappeared youths is their loose and alleged affiliation with "gang members", all of which is a lie.
I have witnessed white cis-male judges report the fate of tens of young Black men, sentencing them from two years to twenty years in prison for often alleged gang affiliations, alleged narcotics possession, and alleged everything else under the sun. But the only crime to the white man's mind is a person being Black. I know this because I witnessed that judge further elaborate on his decision to imprison a Black man for his "musical lyrics" as being "violent", for his use of the n-word 26 times in a song. This white judge went as far as to repeat those lyrics and read them out to further the satisfaction of the prosecution, and to embarrass and harass this young man's family. He read out the n-words every single time with emphasis (as my good friend said once, he said the R's) almost as if he was chanting from the mouth of his ancestors and loving it. This Black mans' family and friends had to stand there listening to the White judge read out the lyrics like sentencing, as if to say his "vulgar" language insinuates that he has not shown moral cause for him to be released.
All the Black man said, in his defense, is after serving his time in prison, he wanted to pursue teaching in music. The White man responded and said his music was vulgar, and should not be taught. And therefore, his argument for his freedom was moot. But really, the White man did everything in his power and then some to prevent a future Black teacher of liberation from teaching other Black people in society to rise up and resist. The White Man fears this most of all, and did everything in his power to prevent it, not only for the Black man on trial, but to use him as an example in front of his family and children and friends, to quell their future resistance and his impending doom.
All I can say is this has empowered my resistance and strength. It angered me in ways I never felt anger before. Frankly, witnessing this I felt like throwing up. And that is just one example, there are many I hope to write down in order to document my own history. Trauma can really fuzz up my memory, so in hopes I do not forget my own experiences and memories, I will write them down.
These are my thoughts, just spelled out straight as I think them. No edits. And thank goodness, this is just for me. Yet I have no way to separate this out from my economic pursuits, my family life, my current engagement and future marriage and from the community I share. I will continue this blog to reflect on my past traumas, to learn from what happened, and to think strategically about my steps forward in all areas.
I end this blog post with my intention to heal myself, and to move forward even stronger and sharper. I have yet to write a full blog post about the traumas of my work experiences, the traumas of white supremacy in multiple spaces, and the traumas of the non-profit industrial complex and its attack on communities. I hope as I spell out those experiences and what I learned, I can peel away the layers of pain and anger and find grounding in my strength again.
As I create my new life here in SoCal, I hope to not lose sight of my mission and to not lose sight of myself and the lessons I have learned in NYC. I hope to continue to build my friendships with my comrades, and to navigate the world around me. I hope to continue to dream about Eric Garner and Erica Garner, and I will continue to pray for my leaders; Mumia, Assata, and Ramsey, among many others. I have deep gratitude to all of you who have supported me.
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