I have a strange relationship with the military. Not typical for your elitist, liberal, un-real American girl. For one there is my cousin, who was overseas while his child was born and is now, thankfully, in Florida with his wife and his young family. I wrote about his goodbye party as my admissions essay, about how strange it was, the feeling that it was a pre-death wake. Yet we could not speak death's name, it was silently forbidden. Now, we all have reason to hope that we will only attend a wake for him when he has died an old grandfather, with grey hair and crepey hands.
And then there are the men I have been involved in. Or perhaps I should say boys? A string of ROTC members, and students at military colleges. A strange history for a Vassar girl. There was P., who swept me off my feet one New Year's eve, after a summer of dangerous flirtation, and remains fluttering on the periphery of my life. And then there was T., who I met at one weekend for a wedding and cried over on Monday, sad that his tender hands would grip a gun. These are the important ones, but there where others.
The always surprise me with their gentleness, the strength of their manners. How they know to buy a girl a drink just so, so she does not feel hunted. How they speak of their mothers. And how they surprisingly hesitate, waiting to know that this kiss, this touch, is the one you want.
I think of T.'s hands, and how on the first night we just caressed the hands and arms of each other, sleeping in a living room full of other people after a bachelor/ette night in a bar, and unable to do more. I remember how it seemed his skin barely touched mine, but I still felt like I was burning, and I longed to burst into flames.
But then I cry afterwards because I fear that all this gentlesness will be ruined, that these hands that caressed by hair and my hands and my breasts will become forever stained by blood. I long to put my hands on their foreheads and wipe away all they know of how to kill, like I would wipe away a sheen of sweat.
With them, I want the impossible. I wish to save them all, to claim these hands forever on behalf of gentleness and love.
If I allowed myself to fall in love with one of these men, it would destroy us both.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Thoughts on Thanksgiving
Last week, we had Christmas break. We returned to campus, stuffed, rested, and for the most part glad for the holiday. Not everyone enjoyed it so much, though. I heard someone on campus greet his friend, "So how was genocide day?"
This is, of course, a variation on the anti-Columbus day theme, which I'm generally down with. After all, Columbus didn't actually discover that the world was round, he didn't "discover" the Americas, and he wasn't even the first European in the western hemisphere. So getting rid of or not celebrating Columbus day? Fine with me.
Thanksgiving is a different case, though. Now, I have to admit my bias. I like Thanksgiving. Even though I don't eat meat, I like the food, and the family, and seeing old friends from high school over the weekend. And of course I love that Christmas officially begins at 11:50 Thanksgiving Day when Santa pulls through Herald Square in the parade. But we all know that's not a good enough reason to support a holiday some people experience as racist. And especially as a white anti-racist, I have a responsibility to examine my own beliefs and reactions, because I've picked up the free floating racism and ignorance in our society. But I think I can still defend Thanksgiving, or at least one particular conception of the day.
The argument against Thanksgiving is a pretty compelling one. People opposed to it basically say it's a day commemorating the exploitation of one people by another, a day that celebrates the survival of a people, the Puritans, who slaughtered thousands of others directly and paved the way for the further colonization of North America.
But this isn't the spirit of Thanksgiving. To me, it represents an opportunity that was lost, a moment in history when events could have taken another, more just turn. It all depends on what cultural myth you're using when you think about the holiday. And because everyone has a slightly different version, let me tell you mine.
Once upon a time, a small band of people called the Pilgrims had to leave their home country because they could not practice their religion there. It was hard to leave everything they knew behind, and harder still to cross the ocean to a land they had never seen. Some died on the way, unable to survive exposure on the high seas. Most of them made it, though, and were filled with joy. They set out rebuilding their lives in this new place, but this was another challenge. Their ship had arrived late in the year, and soon winter fell. The homes they had hastily built could not keep out the cold, and their food stores were dangerously low. Luckily, they were not alone. For another group of people, the Wampanoags, this place was their home. They saw their new neighbors were suffering, so they gave them food and helped them survive the wind and snow. When planting time came, they taught the Pilgrims how to plant in the sandy soil. They taught them about plants like corn, which became an important crop to their descendants for generations to come. When the harvest came, the Pilgrims were overwhelmed by the bounty, and awed be the generosity of the Wampanoags, without whom they could not have survived. So to give thanks, they shared their harvest with them, celebrating with a large communal meal. Every year when we sit down at the table with our families to remember what we are grateful for, it is this meal that we are re-enacting.
So that's my cultural myth about Thanksgiving. It's a story of grace and compassion and the awe inspiring capability humans have for kindness. It is also, to me, a sad story because it is not true - because the Pilgrims did not show their thanks. I personally feel shame about this, because I am a Mayflower descendent. I literally owe my existence on the earth today to the Wampanoag people, and I am ashamed that my anscestors treated them so cruelly.
But this story has a powerful moral lesson to offer - it is saying that things could have gone another way. And I am aware of the economic and cultural and political reaons that they couldn't have actually at that time, so when I say "could," I'm talking about the wide range of possibilities that exist in the human heart.
Thanksgiving commemorates the way the United States should have begun. And because we cannot forget how we have failed, we need to commemorate the day.
This is, of course, a variation on the anti-Columbus day theme, which I'm generally down with. After all, Columbus didn't actually discover that the world was round, he didn't "discover" the Americas, and he wasn't even the first European in the western hemisphere. So getting rid of or not celebrating Columbus day? Fine with me.
Thanksgiving is a different case, though. Now, I have to admit my bias. I like Thanksgiving. Even though I don't eat meat, I like the food, and the family, and seeing old friends from high school over the weekend. And of course I love that Christmas officially begins at 11:50 Thanksgiving Day when Santa pulls through Herald Square in the parade. But we all know that's not a good enough reason to support a holiday some people experience as racist. And especially as a white anti-racist, I have a responsibility to examine my own beliefs and reactions, because I've picked up the free floating racism and ignorance in our society. But I think I can still defend Thanksgiving, or at least one particular conception of the day.
The argument against Thanksgiving is a pretty compelling one. People opposed to it basically say it's a day commemorating the exploitation of one people by another, a day that celebrates the survival of a people, the Puritans, who slaughtered thousands of others directly and paved the way for the further colonization of North America.
But this isn't the spirit of Thanksgiving. To me, it represents an opportunity that was lost, a moment in history when events could have taken another, more just turn. It all depends on what cultural myth you're using when you think about the holiday. And because everyone has a slightly different version, let me tell you mine.
Once upon a time, a small band of people called the Pilgrims had to leave their home country because they could not practice their religion there. It was hard to leave everything they knew behind, and harder still to cross the ocean to a land they had never seen. Some died on the way, unable to survive exposure on the high seas. Most of them made it, though, and were filled with joy. They set out rebuilding their lives in this new place, but this was another challenge. Their ship had arrived late in the year, and soon winter fell. The homes they had hastily built could not keep out the cold, and their food stores were dangerously low. Luckily, they were not alone. For another group of people, the Wampanoags, this place was their home. They saw their new neighbors were suffering, so they gave them food and helped them survive the wind and snow. When planting time came, they taught the Pilgrims how to plant in the sandy soil. They taught them about plants like corn, which became an important crop to their descendants for generations to come. When the harvest came, the Pilgrims were overwhelmed by the bounty, and awed be the generosity of the Wampanoags, without whom they could not have survived. So to give thanks, they shared their harvest with them, celebrating with a large communal meal. Every year when we sit down at the table with our families to remember what we are grateful for, it is this meal that we are re-enacting.
So that's my cultural myth about Thanksgiving. It's a story of grace and compassion and the awe inspiring capability humans have for kindness. It is also, to me, a sad story because it is not true - because the Pilgrims did not show their thanks. I personally feel shame about this, because I am a Mayflower descendent. I literally owe my existence on the earth today to the Wampanoag people, and I am ashamed that my anscestors treated them so cruelly.
But this story has a powerful moral lesson to offer - it is saying that things could have gone another way. And I am aware of the economic and cultural and political reaons that they couldn't have actually at that time, so when I say "could," I'm talking about the wide range of possibilities that exist in the human heart.
Thanksgiving commemorates the way the United States should have begun. And because we cannot forget how we have failed, we need to commemorate the day.
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