Taqwa to the CORE. Hard core.

It was like getting tossed into the fiercest mosh pit of your life. Chaotic, loud, messy and trashed, you stick your elbows out, knees high, and try to stick your neck out for a breathe of fresh air while sweaty bodies slam into you, violently. You don't know how or why anyone would voluntarily place themselves in such filth. At first, you are disgusted with survival mode but after a minute you discover the organized chaos of the pit. It goes counter clock wise and if you stay with the flow, you won't get touched. Everyone in the pit has a role and what had come across before as violence is really brotherly love of a fellow punker reaching out to keep you solidly in the mix. People dance arm in arm. People hug after violently slamming against each other. There's a system. A diversity of characters. A spiritually beautiful experience. Adrenaline high. Depth. Passion. Love. Spiritual. Organized chaos. The set ends and you find yourself standing alone in the middle of an empty pit, breathing hard, sweaty and high and you think to yourself, "That was fucking brilliant."

That is what reading The Taqwacores by Michael Muhammad Knight was like. EXACTLY. Like. That. Fucking punk rock.

I just finished reading the book and I have firmly decided that this book and it's timing in my life has slam danced it's way into one of my top ten life changing books. The book is set in Buffalo, New York in a punk rock house. Written in the first person, we follow the punk rock characters through the eyes of an orthodox studious Yusef who silently watches and slowly partakes in the the punk rockness of the house. Yusuf slowly gets "corrupt" or maybe really, he just challenges his ideas of Islam and is able to find what it means to be Muslim for himself.

This book isn't for everyone. The book literally drops you into the lives of punk rock Muslims where dialogues are hyper rich in slang and lingos indiciative of the intersections of the two worlds. As a Muslim punk myself, I found it annoying and difficult to read - I of knowing so many of the Muslim terms and nuances between the punk rock bands - but even I had to turn to google to figure out Islamic terms. It was like Clockwork Orange in it's language and I hated that book. As I moved forward in this book, I slowly started to enjoy the grit of the words, because it was the first time I was seeing a book that talked about mohawks (egg white not gel!), NOFX, and pits while also talking about jihad, hejabs, and peppering it all with "Allahu Alim." It was like the intersection of my two lives (though not to as extreme of a level). I realized that if you didn't "get" these two worlds, you would read this book and you'd enjoy it, but you really wouldn't "get" it the way it was meant to be "gotton." Thus, the book turns into this kinda secret language for the 'special' people and suddenly, makes sense. If you get it, then you really, really, get it. The language, the lifestyle, and the culture. That this is why this book started a movement, The Taqwacore movement, and how it was able to do it.

I myself am not a fan of character driven books. I enjoy plots, a Shakespearean storyline to books. It was annoying at first to read this book and have it eek out the boring lives of these kids. I kept waiting for the "thing" to happen, the plot to arrive. But it never did and about half way through the book I realized, "Oh shit. This is a character driven book." The book weaved in and out of the various characters and their Muslim and punk rock identities - with Yusef being the only character with any noticeable major character change. You had the straight edge hard core, the uber-feminist Hijabi, the activist political newbie chick, the gay Muslim punker, the whacked out homeless ADD kid, the philosophical stoner with the Quran, and of course, mohawked James Dean-ish Jehangir - the one all guys looked up to and all girls wanted and would fuck. With such a range of complex characters, a plot would have really made it a hard to follow the book. I understand that now, and as I got more and more engaged with the characters, it was as if each character has a piece of me in them. ALL of these characters were me. But what I really started appreciating was just how Knight peppered the book with Islamic myths and fables, and either demystified, strengthened or simply questioned them. He intertwined traditional stories into normal punk lives with complex empathetic characters and turned it all it's side. And that is what made it brilliant. He didn't need a plot - the characters could stand on their own.

****

Great book, you must be thinking, but why life changing?

As a Muslim blogger on a South Asian website, I am often the target of inane comments to all of my posts by the non-Muslims or the hyper-Muslims. Either I'm not blogging enough about Muslims, or I'm an Islamofascist. Regularly I get these comments (and I'll delete them if I have the energy to do so) but last month, in light of the Mumbai Massacre I received a particularly virulent comment to my 'Britz' post. It said, "I have been following your posts closely. There is a strong undercurrent of taqqiya. You never have sympathy for the victims of Islamic terrorism." There were two immediate thoughts, 1) what the hell is a taqqiya and what am I being accused of and 2) HOW the fuck could I be accused of being unsympathetic? A little research later, I learned that taqqiya is a term used for Muslims who hide they are Muslims in life saving situations. But the Right has embraced the term to accuse Muslims who are being deceptive in an effort to spread Islam in a devious way.

I was furious. The way I write is not deceptive. I'm not trying to be sneaky about how I write about Islam. I simply write about me. My struggles. My cultural Islam. My political Islam. My identity as a Muslim. And my kind of Islam. It's difficult enough that from the orthodox side of Islam we are pressured into believing that the Islam that we are supposed to follow is supposed to fit some rigid box. Now the people from below are attacking us because we don't fit their perceived notion of what Islam is and thus, we are being deceptive. It's BULLSHIT. How I choose to practice Islam (and write about it) is my personal choice. Don't misread my brand of practice as deception because it doesn't fall under your stupid ideas of what Islam praxis is supposed to be.

I read this book, The Taqwacores, soon after reading (halfway through) Reza Aslan's No god But God. Aslan's book goes into the stories and myths of Islam in a very historical demystifying-type context. Both knowledge banks together, I realize this -- Islam is a construct. You have the words of Allah that came down through the Quran, and you have everything else afterward - the structure put in place through the development of religion. When the prophet passed away, there had not been a structure set up on how Islam was supposed to be practiced without him to lead. It was left up to the followers (largely male) to create and develop that.The Islam we have today is built upon years and years of history. That is how we have Islam. Instead of completely dismantling Islam though, what The Taqwacores is able to do is say that yeah, as long as you believe in the shahadah - the phrase you have to say to become a Muslim - which says "there is no god but Allah and Muhammad (pbuh) is his prophet." Well as long as you say this and believe in this, than you are Muslim. Simple idea of belief. Everything else is allahu alim.

It's also not that the book encourages you to pick and choose what parts of Islam fits with your lifestyle, but it encourages knowledge. The characters all go into deep discussions on what is right and wrong, but instead of pushing for orthodoxy, every topic that is brought up is questioned. And perspective are shared that are outside of the mainstream ideas of Islam, such as Nation of Islam, Five Perecenters, or gay Muslims. It encourages a true breadth and depth of knowledge and lets you know that it's not just okay but encouraged to be yourself, find yourself in both Islam and punk. One doesn't have to abandon one to be a part of the other.

"Punk rock means deliberately bad music, deliberately bad clothing, deliberately bad language, and deliberately bad behavior. Means shooting yourself in the foot when it comes to every expectation society will have for you but still standing tall about it, loving who you are, and somehow forging a shared community with all the other fuck-ups.'

"Taqwacore is the application of this virtue to Islam. I was surrounded by deliberately bad Muslims but they loved Allah with a gonzo kind of passion that escaped sleepy brainless ritualism and the dumb fantasy-camp Islams claiming that our deen had some inherent moral superiority making the world rightfully ours...'

"There's no room in taqwacore for half-assed Muslims playing off as though they never miss a prayer...Be Muslim on your own term. Tell the world to eat a dick."
- Yusef in The Taqwacores (p212)

This book showed me that I could love Allah. And not have to abandon what it means to be me. Islam is a construct, but it's about how I choose to construct. All the rest...Allahu Alim. And that is how it changed my life.

And that commenter that accused me of taqqiya can go eat a dick.

Validated By Our New President Elect

I got a text message from the front line. My front line was three hours behind that on the East Coast. It was 7:50 pm PST, and I was at the taco stall getting food for my volunteers, and of course, there was no buzz or excitement. I was in California, and this was just another day for the glacially slow taco maker. My volunteers were exit polling, not knocking on doors for Obama. I missed the buzz of being in the swing state, organizing as a community for a candidate. I was trying to rush the taco guy who was moving at glacial speed and I was afraid I would miss The Moment. And the moment came in a text message from SpamFriedRice, at the frontline in Tampa FL. Her text said, "They just called VA! We won!"

We won.

We actually won.

I grabbed what burritos he had made and stormed out of there. I got in my car and paused. And took a deep breathe. Obama's voice started singing to me from my phone, "Yes, we can! Yes, we can!" It was my ringtone that I had installed after the Vegas Primaries. I silenced it (I was driving), but the mental connection was made. I had installed the ringtone when Obama was the underdog, right after I had gone out to Vegas to help Obama beat Hilary Clinton back in February. I was shocked by how far we had come. I was shocked into silence.

But I knew he would win. For one reason only - in all my years of doing electoral campaign work, I had never seen a campaign like this. It was grassroots organizing at it's finest, the campaign was crisp, it was positive messaging, and the other side had fumbled badly numerous times in their campaign. I didn't always think Obama would win, but he had a slow and steady momentum like a frieght train, and while Clinton and McCain kept pestering around trying to trip Obama and drag him down, his momentum held him up and steady. So yeah, as a campaign person, and as an electoral organizer I knew that he would win. I knew he would win in a strictly 'wonky' kind of way.

But as me? As a woman of color? As the person that was inspired by his book? As a Muslim? As a person who sacrificed a career of $$ to instead give back to community? As a community organizer? As someone who had registered voters for Gore, and knocked on doors for Kerry? As someone who drove out to Vegas to fight for the underdog candidate in February? And as someone who was told I was silly for having the faith in Obama that I did? As that person? I find this unbelievable. I wanted him to win, and I needed him to win. And he won, and it is unbelievable.

And that's what brought me to tears on my long drive home at the end of an eighteen hour day at 11pm on Election Night. I thought about THIS post, on why I needed Obama to win. I needed him to win because he was like me, that someone like me could become President. That someone can make a life of fighting for social justice, that someone with values of critical race and grassroot values can win the hearts of the nation. That someone can run a campaign on positive messaging. That every vote matters, it really does and our fight for the right to vote for everyone was worth it. That electoral organizing works. That someone who has the same value system that I do has the support of over 63 million voters in this great nation of ours. That a person of color can have a position of power without being a token for it. That a second generation American, like me, can be a real American. I needed to know that prayers could be answered.

It was on that drive, that I realized, "Holy shit. I can have hope for myself again." I started crying because Obama getting elected as President of the United States gave me the ability to believe. In me. That I can do this. That someone with my value and belief system can win over the the hearts of America. That I can do this -- not presidency, but that I can keep doing this work as a fighter for social justice. THIS beautiful amazing work of giving back to the community. Because Obama, he is like me. In him, I see me. And if he could do it. Then. I can do it. He won, and he validated me. He made it ok for me, to believe in me.

His victory gave me permission to start dreaming in myself again.

Oh and that. I needed that so much. More than I ever realized. People like us, we are not allowed to dream like that. But finally, we can. I can.

"One brick at a time... this is just the beginning," Obama said last night. It's what I've been doing, creating change one person at a time. Hearing Obama saying it last night, made it ok for me to keep changing on...

Why I'm Voting Obama and Not for McCain

My cousin recently asked me a question that made me think. She asked what were the top five reasons I was voting for Obama and what were the top five reasons I wasn't voting for McCain.

It was interesting to me because the big question I've been asked throughout this campaign cycle was why Obama and not Clinton. I know clearly the answer to that one, as I have written about previously. But why not McCain? Any why Obama now compared to McCain?

Well you asked. So here you go...

Why I'm Not Voting for McCain

5. The Tokenized Bridget - There was one major sticking point for me at the RNC, the parading and tokeninzing of Bridget McCain, the teenage Bangladeshi adopted daughter to the McCains. I do not really have a problem with white people adopting Bangladeshi orphans - at least that wasn't the issue I had this time around. What I had issues with was how Cindy McCain used Bridget's adoption story to reflect how the McCains were saviors and rescuers. Bridget was discovered - a word that is often used by colonizers discover 'new' lands. To read more on my thoughts on this topic you can check out my Letter to Bridget and the subsequent closing comment to the thread.

4. The Right to Choose - I haven't had an abortion. But if by some chance I do end up pregnant, I know here in the US, no matter what state I live in, I have the choice in what I choose to do with my body, in a safe manner. John McCain's stance is to overturn Roe v. Wade, the landmark case that made the right to an abortion a federal issue. Sure a president can't simply overturn a Supreme Court ruling, but if McCain was elected he has the chance to appoint the next Supreme Court judge, which currently leans conservative already. I believe this issue is too big to be demoted to a state's right issue - we need to protect the rights of women in EVERY state in this nation.

3. Healthcare for All - Healthcare in this nation is a privilege. And though those of us with union jobs with access to benefits can attain this privilege, there are millions of citizens, largely young adults or the blue collar workers that are unable to access healthcare services. McCain's healthcare only keeps in mind the buying into of plans and prioritizing familial units - his healthcare plan has a huge loophole - by privatizing healthcare he leaves out a plan for the people that work three part-time jobs, barely make a living wage, or even worse, people whose healthcare keep them from working a job. I should know, this is the case of my middle sister. Her lifelong chronic asthma kept her from excelling in school because she was sick so often, which is now keeping her from excelling in a career because her education is "sub-par." Her two jobs working as a temp employee and sandwich maker never included benefits, and now that she is 24, she has no healthcare. This past month her latest asthma attack kept her in bed for weeks on end, having her lose her only source of income, and my parents paying the costly medical bills for her chronic asthmatic condition. A condition that there is preventative medicine for, but none of which our family can afford since she has no insurance. It's a ridiculous cycle which McCain's plan has no solution for.

2. Palin is Idiotic - McCain's centered stance on policy issues forced him to pass on his first choice of veep of Lieberman and listen to the Republican powers that be (ahem, Karl Rove...) to pick an absolutely idiotic vice president. The party like her because she was conservative, a personality and woman. But underneath all the lipstick you will find an ugly bulldog. One who thinks that man walked the earths at the same time the dinosaurs did, one who wants to sue polar bears to take the bears off the endanger species list so that she can expand drilling into preserved lands, and the one who believes in an abstinence only education which obviously didn't work on her own 17-year old daughter. But teen pregnancy is okay if you are a Republican, just not if you are 17, living in poverty and turn to welfare for support. And like Matt Damon stated, If McCain is president, there's "a one in three chance he won't survive through his first term", leaving this idiotic person to run our nation. And that thought is incredibly scary.

1. I Like Nature and Hate Global Warming - The positive thing is the environment was brought up as a key issue in both conventions this year when in past elections the environment was never discussed. But "drill baby drill" is not my idea of environmental reform for the better. We have an energy crisis because over the umpteen years we keep creating environmental laws and mandates which private corporations simply chose to ignore and our government chose to turn a blind eye and not regulate. And though McCain in the past voted favorably on some environmental issues like against arctic drilling and acknowledges the reality of climate change (he really should give his veep a talking to on that issue), he's been abstaining on voting on anything favorably recently. Forget McCain's drilling to find energy, let's invest in Obama's clean energy for environmental reform for a long-term strategy. We can generate energy from wind and solar? We don't just have to drill? What a novel idea...

Why I'm Voting for Obama

5. The Economy, Stupid - Is anyone else finding it ironic that the Republican president is bailing out Wall Street and that our tax money (about $9,000 for every household in America) is going into this trillion dollar crisis? It's ironic you see because the Republicans are anti-big government intervention, but I can't help but see bailout is the rich man's term for "welfare." If McCain is elected, it will be more of the same from the Bush administration. But if Obama is elected people that are struggling will get a much needed tax cut and the economy will get the boost it needs. The graph here shows that Obama will only increases taxes for the top 1% of the population and it will provide the just needed economic boost this nation needs.

4.The Perpetual War - Obama has been against the war from the get go, as have I. But here we are, thousands dead, billions of dollars still pouring into Iraq and still no long term solution to an end. Last summer I read Imperial Life in the Emerald City which goes into the depths of the stream of failed policy efforts due to nepotism being prioritized ahead of actual skill sets. And all this craziness of poor policy foundation building for Iraq has led to an incredible money sucking mess. Obama would get us out of Iraq responsibly, and appoint all the right policy expertise that Iraq so desperately needs.

3. Universal Healthcare - Obama's healthcare plan would allow everyone to have access to healthcare. See my number three for why not to vote McCain.

2. Voting Rights Advocate - It's no surprise that I'm a big on voting rights for everyone, especially the Asian and Pacific Islander community. When Obama first started his law career it was in the realm of civil rights and voting rights, which I always kinda knew but never really delved into. But when Obama mentioned at the APIA Town Hall Forum that he considered himself a big voting rights advocate, it made me feel all mushy inside. No politician ever sees voting as a "right", but rather a tool that will get them elected into office no matter what it takes. Obama's supreme ethical standards when it comes to topics around voting are those that I also feel deeply passionate about. It was at the forum that he mentioned issues such as how asking voters for I.D. when voting is a bad move and how individual states need to implement better transparency for voting laws. Obama would end deceptive voting practices if elected. And that's something I am totally on board with.

1. He is Me - Dreams From My Father was a life changing book for me, for one reason only. In his biography, I saw me. I saw my passion for community organizing. I saw him entwining altruism in all he did, like I try. I saw a leader who understood my perspectives on racial justice. I saw a person of color trying to make a real systematic policy change in a white supremacist society. He is the child of a Muslim, like me. And as I've seen his campaign progress I am struck by two strong values he's running it with. The first is the value of grassroots - this need that power is built from the bottom up and every voice of every single person matters. It's this grassroots value that is getting my non-voting friends asking how they can help or my immigrant father making hundreds of calls on behalf of Obama. The second value is that of positive messaging. This positive message of hope and change has inspired the youth, the dispassionate, the hopeless in a way this nation was needing desperately.

I've said this before and I'll say it again - "I need him to win because I have made it my life mission to fight against social injustices. I have made a commitment to make this work my life, my passion my work... And I need him to win, because he has made it his life work to do the same thing too... If Obama wins, I know that I’ll have a future and that my life path was not futile. If Obama wins, it means that someone with a life mission committed to fight social injustices can become president. And that gives me hope for my future. And I need that. I need to believe that more than ever.....

I want him to win because I am selfish and because in Obama, I see a little bit of what I aspire to be. And I have to have hope for that future for me."

My Story on Hope and Change

I had left fifteen pages of the South Asians for Obama call list on my family's dining table before I left for work. Super Tuesday was tomorrow, and I had plans to call South Asian voters to remind them to vote for Obama. I raced back home after work, so that I could make as many calls as possible before 9pm, and have my little sister help me out too. But someone had got to the list first. I looked through the call lists and saw notations marked on the sheet -- Muslim, Call Back—in my Dad's distinctively FOB handwriting. Three pages of it. I was stunned. In all my years of political organizing, my father, the quintessential Bangladeshi uncle had never taken part in any of the political activities of door knocking or phone banking that I had organized. Yet here he was, so inspired by Obama that he made over 50 calls this morning before he headed out to his blue collar job at Home Depot. My dad phone banked South Asian voters for Obama.

Huddled around the dining table, sister and I made rapid fire calls to Jayeshes, Hamids and Vikrams reminding them that tomorrow was Election Day. Some were nice, some were not, and almost all of them had voted by absentee earlier in the month. And every time someone said they were voting Obama, we high-fived each other. My dad came home from work at 8:30pm, and immediately we put him on the phones. “Call all your friends!” I implored.

He proceeded to call through his phone book of members of the Bangladeshi community. I would hear him as he sat in the living room making his calls. “Khalka vote dibeh?” Are you going to vote tomorrow? He’d ask his friends. “My daughter is making calls for Obama –“

“No, Abbu!” I whispered loudly. “YOU are making calls for Obama!”

“Oh…I am making calls for Obama,” he said into the phone. “I made them all day, and I’m voting for him tomorrow. I want you to vote for him too.” By 10pm, my family had made over 200 get out the vote calls on behalf of Barack Obama that day.

+++++++++

“Did you know that in 1991 a 31-year old lawyer registered 150,000 new African-American voters, changing Chicago's political landscape?” my friend sent me in a chat the other day. “His name was Barack Obama. Now, I have big plans for you.” I was shocked. 150,000 newly registered voters. As a youth voter advocate for a third of my life, I have registered my share of new voters. But I hardly registered 150,000. Maybe, in my total lifetime, I have registered 10,000 voters. Maybe if I’m being optimistic and including everything, it could maybe 15,000 over the past ten years. My efforts in the non-profit I started registered 2,500 voters alone in 2004. But to have registered 150,000 people, Obama had to have registered 411 voter EVERY DAY for ONE ENTIRE YEAR. That’s 17 newly registered voters an hour around the clock.

I don't want Barack Obama to win. I need Obama to win.

And I need him to win, because he is like me. An older, more efficient, better organized, more charismatic version, but all the same, in him, I see me. He registered voters, like me. He’s a community organizer, like me. He’s a writer, like me. He’s been fighting against social injustices since he was in college, like me. He dedicated his life to shifting the political paradigm of the nation one vote at a time. Like me. And I need him to win, because I need to believe that someone like me can win something like this. That someone like me, that looks, acts, and believes like me can be elected as a President.

I need to believe that someone with grassroots values in community organizing – organizing for the people by the people at the local level – can be the leader of this great nation. That we can have a White House with values outside of the Beltway Mentality. That we can have an activist president that works across partisanship lines. That someone who registered voters can also manage to lead a nation. That someone who practices Critical Race Theory in his daily work, will be able to bring these ideas of race into how the nation is run leading to the change that our nation desperately needs.

I need him to win to restore my faith in electoral politics. Because it’s been ten years of my career, and my faith in doing electoral work is sorely jaded. I need to believe that a leader that can bring my family together to the point of action – to the point of making calls together – can win this thing. That a campaign built on positive messaging of ‘hope’ and ‘change’ can move a nation into a movement. That a leader that can inspire a new generation of youth voters to mobilize to the polls in ballot breaking numbers can actually win an election. That the youth vote is a viable voting bloc. That our nation is not built on a two family dynasty as it has been since I’ve been 18. That my electoral work and my vote can actually count and make a difference. This I need to believe.

I need him to win because I have made it my life mission to fight against social injustices. I have made a commitment to make this work my life, my passion my work. I am in it for the long haul, and I will be sustainable doing this. And I need him to win, because he has made it his life work to do the same thing too. And as silly as it may sound, I think that if he won, if Obama became president, it would restore my faith. It would tell me that I didn’t pick the wrong career path. That I can do this for the long haul. If Obama wins, I know that I’ll have a future and that my life path was not futile. If Obama wins, it means that someone with a life mission committed to fight social injustices can become president. And that gives me hope for my future. And I need that. I need to believe that more than ever.

And yes, logically I picked Obama over Clinton because his book was better than Clinton’s. His politics, his values, his writing style in his book were more in line with mine then those in Personal History. But secretly, it’s not about his policy stance, or how he voted while in Senate. Secretly, I want him to win because I am selfish and because in Obama, I see a little bit of what I aspire to be. And I have to have hope for that future for me.

Taking a Gamble on Obama in Vegas

Six am and the streets of Vegas are empty and dark, except for a spattering of cop cars pulling over drunk drivers. It’s desert cold and we are bundled up trying to get warm up with weak drive-thru coffee. Common’s song “A Dream” comes on the ipod. “I have a dream…” the Dr. says with Common beats over, wafting through the radio speakers. How appropriate, I thought to myself. We were had just crossed MLK Ave. on our way to our satellite office, and it was MLK weekend. And we? We were campaigning for Barack Obama, the first viable black candidate for president. It was Saturday morning of the Nevada primary caucus, and we were fighting to have our dream of Obama as our next president to become a reality.

Little did I know how classically ironic the day was about to get.

****

We rolled into Vegas 1am Thursday night. Caucus doors locked their doors at noon, giving us less than 48 hours to move. Every waking moment between Friday 8:00 am to Saturday at 10:00 am was spent hanging red white and blue “Stand for Change” door hangers on potential caucuser doors. My car had a system- one person would drive, the other two would run out and together we hung up 250 door hangers. If someone was in the driveway, I was dispatched to turn on the charm with the usually male voters in the driveway. At one house, there was this old black man, cute in that old loved to talk kind of way. He was a Republican, since Nixon he said. All the kids in the house were voting for Obama, but not him. He loved Obama, but didn’t think he would be able to lower the price of gasoline. He then whipped out a pocket full of gambling tickets from the local casino- “When I cash these in, I’ll have $6,000. I’ll have money. That’s why I’m Republican.” At least, that’s the gist of what he said.

The other man I talked to was up at 7am to fix the flat tire on his car. “So, if I go to the caucus, does that mean I have to go again?” he said.

“Yeah, this is the primaries. You are caucusing for your party’s presidential candidate…” I said.

“So I can’t just do it once and have it count?”

“Uh..no… you gotta go, and stand in a room representing your precinct to be physically counted.” He looked back at me with a blank look on his face…

“So I can’t just vote and be done?”

“Uh...” I looked back at him quizzically. It was hard enough to explain the voting process people. But to explain the Nevada caucusing process to a layman like him was just confusing. There was no simple way of educating this caucuser. “Just show up at this site by 11:30pm. And caucus for Obama.”

“Yeah. Ok. I like this guy. I’ll try.”

Friday night, after it got dark, hanging flyers was out of the question. So instead we made our way Chinatown. With a big posse of APIAs, we flyered in front of Ranch 99. It was cool- my success rate was minimal though and I secretly wished there were more South Asians that identified as APIA so that we could have gone to the Indian grocer instead.

At 8pm we started our calls. In the chiropractor’s office turned Obama satellite office, we sat on the masseuse table, whipped out our cell phones and proceeded through our call lists. It was a room of about ten APIA Californian women, all calling strangers on their personal cell phones. Someone once told me that girls that supported HRC were smart and cute, but those that supported Obama were slutty. Looking around the room though, I saw fierce and passionate for a movement -- two qualities I think are far more attractive than simply “smart and cute”.

The first page on my list was people in an old folk home- and they all picked up the phone. At the bottom of the list was a lone Republican – male, and 66. “You see,” he responded when I asked if he was caucusing, “I would, but it’s cold outside, and I don’t want to leave the building and I’ll get sick….”

“Actually sir,” I replied, “the caucusing is happening right in your building. Downstairs. You don’t even have to leave go outside.”

“Oh really? Oh. But. I like Obama, and I would caucus for him, but I’m a registered Republican. So I can’t.”

“Actually sir, you can. When you go downstairs tomorrow, you can re-register as a Democrat right then and there and support Obama.”

“Oh really? That sounds easy…I think I’ll be able to caucus then…” I hung up the phone with the biggest smile on my face. I had just swung a 66 yr old Republican male into caucusing for Obama. Suhweet.

We weren’t the only “Border Staters” supporting Obama efforts in Vegas. We met folks from all across the nation who had come to Vegas to support the campaign. It was fabulous to talk to all these out of state-ers. One woman in her 50s but with a tight ass body and a jacket with fur around her collar, sat down next to me the first day. “Where are you from, really from?” she asked intoxicatingly.

“Bangladesh,” I responded hesitantly, because I hate that question.

“Oh. My husband is Egyptian,” she said with this expensive drawl. “And you look just like my kids- beautiful.”

This other woman was from Arkansas- she had been moved by Obama when he spoke at the DNC in ’04. There was another kid from San Diego. Our posse had a college student from UC Davis. We picked up a stray graphic designer from SF who took a layover in Vegas to help the campaign. Border Staters were everywhere for Obama.

At 10:00 am on Saturday morning, with a “fired up, and ready to go” we were sent off to our caucus locations. We were hyper- in fact we had been hyper all weekend long for the campaign. I had gone with one of my best girls from LA – together our hyperness was on overdrive, and we would skip to our car screaming out, “Did you know Obama invented the internet and wifi?!?” The four of us in our car were going to observe at Clark High School. We had four precincts we were in charge of observing, and our roles seemed relatively simple- each candidate was allowed two observers per precinct. We were to help out Obama caucusers, the Obama precinct captains, and observe as bystanders. Two folks were assigned to help precinct captains, and the other two, me included, were designated runners.

We get to the high school by 10:30 and it is chaos. It was a big high school, and all the caucusing was going on inside the auditorium- or so we thought. There was after all, no signs directing us where to go. There were no tables set up, no signs labeling precinct tables. Or to be more exact, there were only two tables that were label in the auditorium. I tracked down the guy Democratic Party chair guy and hassled him for the locations of the precincts in the room. He was able to give me a list – a list that he kept personally scrawled on his clipboard – it was posted nowhere. 6393 was down the hall in the library, 5014 was in the corner, and about five of them were in the basketball gym in the other room. None of the tables were labeled. And 6031? Even though I was told to monitor it, this guy said it didn’t exist. This proved problematic when in a couple of hours later, a women was looking for precinct number 6031. Dems recommendation? Re-register her at another precinct just so that she could be counted in the caucus.

She wasn’t the only one that didn’t know where to go. In fact, since nothing was posted, everyone walked into the gym not knowing where to go. People would line up at tables for precincts other than their own, to only go to the front of the line and realize they were in the wrong one. Others didn’t even know what precinct they were officially at- and there was not ONE map posted in the entire place of the neighborhoods. This woman in a white sweater standing in the middle of the hall became the makeshift map person. Any time someone didn’t know what precinct they were in- we sent them to stand in line for the woman. Her line was long.

No precinct maps on the wall, and poor labeling of precinct caucusing locations within the school, creates absolute chaos. And absolute chaos feeds into party politics. For instance, all the Democratic officials representing the precincts (CA version of poll workers) were wearing bright yellow Clinton shirts. This of course, is bad. They would then yell at Obama people for hanging our signs up, even though we were completely within our means. And then there was the cranky ass bitch at 5014, which had the privilege of having its own room. This woman with the AFSCME lanyard, look at us skeptically as we walked in the room. We had a box of Obama stuff we were told to leave in the room as soon as we got there. This woman yelled at us to get out of the room. We told her, that each candidate was allowed two observers to set things up. “No! That’s illegal! Get out of my room! Get out of the school! I’m calling the cops on you!” She chased us out. She left me alone because I had the authority of one that carries a clipboard, but she got it in her head that my APIA girl friend had to leave the school. Throughout the caucusing period, I would look over my shoulder and see the woman physically chasing her outside the building and threatening to call the cops. Even though HRC, Edwards and Obama reps told the cranky white women that my friend had every right to be there, she still insisted that she be kicked out of the building. Of course, there was a table of HRC stuff laid out on a table at 5014.

I took the job on as a runner – as a voting rights advocate I couldn’t believe the extent of voter suppression the party used upon itself. I would go back and forth trying to find people that looked lost and directing the in the right direction. Spanish speakers had no translators, and were told they could throw away their ballots. People were told they could leave after they signed in- which is not possible in the caucusing process where you had to be physically counted. People ran out of voter registration forms, and at another precinct an HRC person grabbed the whole stack of completed voter reg forms and said, “I’ll take care of these.” The caucusing is a counting process where you have to be at least 17 yr old to participate. Folks inflated their count by including kids, or observers. Precinct 6401 was a mess – and HRC precinct captains got into a fist fight with the Obama captain and forced him to quit and leave. Which of course means, that HRC ended up running the whole precinct, so it’s no surprise when it went Clinton. This old man with an oxygen tank slowly walked in- he was obviously an Obama person. An HRC person said that he didn’t need to be there to have his voice counted, that he could leave. He said that no, he would stay. I stopped an old man wearing an Edwards sticker as he walked out at noon – “Sir, they close the doors at noon! If you leave now, you won’t be able to caucus!”

“Fine then. This is bullshit,” he responded as he stormed out.

Others stories came through from other observers. This one guy was out front of a precinct location selling Obama shirts. “Hey, man. Can I get a free shirt? HRC was giving out free shirts,” a black man asked him.

“No… These shirts are for sale. You can buy one,” he said. “Why are you going to support Clinton anyway?”

“Cuz she paid me,” the guy said. “$25.” That’s right. HRC bought votes.

This other observer was at a precinct where they had a Spanish translator. “We are here to select the democratic nominee for the Democratic Party,” recited the precinct captain off of a letter that she was supposed to read before caucusing. The translator in Spanish proceeded to say, “We are here to vote for Clinton.” The HRC Border Stater observers spoke up – you can’t do that, they told her. I guess the in-state folks didn’t see the problem in it.

Caucussing is meant to be a community process- after everyone is counted the first time, caucusers have the option to talk to people supporting other candidates to win them over and bring them over to their side. This is done mainly because it takes 15% of the total number of caucuses to count to have a viable candidate. This led to some volatile situations. The good is when precinct 6394 just needed one more to make obama a viable candidate. They went over to talk to an Edwards supporter and convinced him to come over to Obama’s side. That was the good.

Jason was wearing a Vote or Die shirt when he walked in. I immediately walked over to him, gave him an Obama sticker and walked him over to the part of the gym representing his precinct. Later on during the caucusing, a HRC representative came over and tried to convince Jason that Clinton was better then Obama. “Hell no, I am not voting for a Clinton again. When Clintons’ were in office, blacks were incarcerated at the highest rate!” he said. The woman’s flippant response? “Well, if you don’t do anything wrong….” Yeah. She said that.

I walked over to precinct 6401 which had a sizable number of people, about 130. There was a group of about 10 Edwards supporters sitting in a corner and they were not enough to be viable. Time to broker. “Obama folks. Come talk to them. You have five minutes.” This one black woman started talking about the various issues which drew her to Obama and I decided to stay silent and watch from the sidelines – I was after all the outsider. This one fat white woman stood up out of the Edwards bunch. “I read this e-mail on the internet, and it said that Obama swore on the Quran. And I’m a Christian. And I just don’t know if I’m supposed to believe that. Because we can’t have someone like that in office.” My blood started to boil, but I stayed quiet.

“No, no, that’s just a smear campaign,” a culinary worker/obama supporter responded. Everyone else nodded sympathetically.

Another Edwards supporter up front spoke up. “What does it matter? This is politics. Not religion. I’m a Jew. And I’m going to pick someone based on if their politics are good. Not on religion.”

“But we don’t want another 9/11 to happen. If he gets elected, he’ll be on the inside.”

My jaw dropped. My fists clenched. And I about jumped over everyone to bash her head in, but, figured I would be then called a terrorist and instead, stormed out of the room. I’m an outsider- can’t get involved, I repeated to myself. In the corner I sat fuming at this woman’s comment. What did it matter if it was a smear campaign – so what if he swore on the Quran? Did she know that there was a Muslim standing right there when she said that? How would she feel if someone had said that about the bible in front of her? If- no, when I run for office, does this mean I have to deal with this kind of bigoted bullshit WITHIN the party – bullshit normally reserved for Republican rhetoric? I stormed back in the room to give her a piece of my mind. I looked around but the caucusing had finished and I didn’t find her. But I did find the Jewish woman. “Thank you.” I said. I really appreciated that you spoke up. I’m Muslim and when I run for office I’m going to put my hand on the Quran to be sworn in.”

“Oh, honey. I always speak up,” she said.

As the caucuses slowly wrapped up, people filtered out of the high school. But there was one precinct that remained lively with Obama chants, and several alignments. Precinct 6403 had enough for nine delegates. But the problem was, even after the brokering of non-viable caucusers, they were tied. Four for Obama, and four for Clinton. So how did they decide who would get the delegate? They whipped out a fresh deck of Hilary Clinton faced cards, and they drew cards. That’s right. Best out of three. Obama rep would pick, and then a Clinton rep would pick. Of course, it was a deck o cards with the HRC face on it- who do you think the delegate went for? It figures that this is the process in a state like Nevada. In ties in Iowa, they simply flip a coin.

By the day’s end, we were shell shocked. We went to Paradise Cantina and just waited as the results came in. They projected HRC as the winner, which was no surprise to me consider they were running the messy caucuses and it worked to their advantage. But things looked up when word got out the Obama had won more NV delegate seats the Clinton. This made me skeptical of the media even more – not only did they not report any of the caucus mess, but they skewed media so it was favoring HRC when I knew that from the inside there was so much more to the story. Things also looked up when I bumped into four of my friends – Electoral Friends – that I hadn’t seen since the last presidential election season. It was kind of cool to see friends aligned and working together for the same candidate.

As a voter organizer for the past nine years, I was stunned by the downright dirtiness involved in the Democratic caucus of Nevada. I never thought the party would sink so low as to advocate for voter suppression of their own people. It was ironic, because MLK was such a big proponent of the Voting Rights Act, and it was during his time that Bloody Sunday happened – the march in Montgomery Alabama where hundreds of blacks were beaten for marching for their right to vote. On this MLK weekend, of all weekends, where we were caucusing for a black man to be president no less, I observed the most rampant voter suppression and intimidation of my long career.

Usually I’m far more private with my allegiance to candidates- I’ve been a non-partisan advocate for my entire career. But after seeing the activities of this weekend, I just felt like I had to speak out. When I first picked Obama as my candidate over the summer, I went through a “scientific” process. I read Obama’s Dreams From My Father, and Clinton’s Personal History. Obama’s book inspired me – it inspired me as a writer, as an organizer, and as a person of color. In his book, I saw me, and my values of organizing, faith, and altruism. He wasn’t just inspiring, but in him I saw everything I was trying to achieve in my life. Clinton’s book I couldn’t even finish. Sure, it reflected her skill set, but it lacked passion and I couldn’t relate to her values. But essentially, I did believe that both would make great candidates, I just felt for Obama more.

After this weekend, I’ve developed a deep passion to get Obama into office. His campaign was run on the ground with values, and his supporters were adamant about his perspective of the issues. People like my dad, who never would have got involved in campaigns before, were excited and getting involved. The dirtiest on the ground campaign tactics I saw came from the HRC camp. I believe that voter suppression and intimidation to win is about as low as it can get to win. Using Islam as a smear tactic is wrong. Both of them together really light’s my fire to make sure that we don’t get another Clinton into office. The Clinton supporters couldn’t even come up with why they were voting for her, except for her viability in beating a Republican. Seeing the shit that went down in Vegas really enlightened me to how serious of a fight this is and how important it is that we win.

****

One of the last things I did to mark the momentous Vegas weekend before I left was to buy a souvenir shirt. It has a picture of Obama on front, and it says, ‘He’s black and I’m proud.’ I bought it from a South Central Angeleno dreadlocked man that had driven out for the caucus. “Oh girl, you look so good in my shirt. Let me take a picture of you.” I stood there for the picture. “Girl. You must be LA. Cuz you just posed like an LA girl.” I looked down and sure enough, I had my thumbs hooked in my jean pockets like Tyra on a Sports Illustrated cover. That’s right, I’m an LA girl. And here in LA we have fourteen days left until Super Tuesday. I’m going to wear my shirt, and wear it proud. I’m going to do everything I can to organize my peers, family, and friends to vote for Obama.

Because as the girl friend of mine that went with me to Vegas said when I asked her why she was supporting Obama, “I believe in a change for movement.”

As do I. As do I…

Spreading Democracy

For those who don't know, I've been addicted to an online YouTube documentary, Hometown Baghdad. I enjoy the ADD format of the films -- there's a new one, every few days, only about 3-5 minutes long. This series follows the life of these 20-something Iraqis living in Baghdad under the American regime. I stumbled upon it and was sucked in. I pulled an all-nighter watching the all the videos that had been posted on the site that night.

The series is coming to a close- they just launched film #37 of 38 "One of Thousands" this week, and it is by far the most moving as of yet. I've felt like crying a few time watching this series, and today was no exception.

If you don't watch of the rest of the series, fine. But you must see this episode. Maybe it made the most impact because I've been following the series, and feel a connection with the characters. I would suggest watching the series in order. BUT, if you can't. WATCH THIS EPISODE.



This goes out to all the Americans that think that we are in Iraq spreading democracy. I can't tell you how many people I canvassed in Florida stated that as their reason for voting for Bush in 2004. Does this look like Americans spreading democracy to you?

It breaks my heart.

We Love You. We Hate You.

I've been doing some research, and I came across some fascinating articles with interesting titles in the archives of the LA Times. I've been going in chronological order since turn of century for this history of browns in Los Angeles.

JUDGE SCALPS HINDU.; Makes East Indian Doff His Bright Yellow Turban in Court--Pate Bald as Marble. Feb 17, 1914

Another Queer Chapter Written in the Love Affairs of Founder of East Indian Cult. Apr 2, 1914

BATCH REVOLT IN CALIFORNIA.; Uprising in India Planned at Sacramento Last Year; Har Dayal, Leader, a Former Professor at Stanford; Full Story of Plot Made Public in Calcutta. Jun 16, 1915

HINDU RAILROAD IS DISJOINTED.; ALLEGED CONDUCTOR OF THE SMUGGLING LINE CAUGHT; Confessions of Captured East Indians Reveal an "Underground"System by Which They are said to Have Made Way into this Countryat High Cost. Nov 24, 1915

EAST INDIAN ARRAIGNED.; Prosecution of Mohammedan for Contraband-running Said to be First Case of Its Kind in History of Immigration Service. Mar 17, 1916

OIL FOUND TO CURE LEPROSY; Imported From India, It is Said to do Marvels; Boston Physician Asserts He Cured Two Cases; Medicine is Product of East Indian Plum Tree. Jul 11, 1920

NONCO-OPERATION WILL WIN, GANDHI DECLARES.; Leader of Remarkable East Indian Movement Explains Demands for America's Benefit. PLAN WILL WIN, SAYS GANDHI. Mar 5, 1922

TRIP FROM INDIA IS FUTILE; Student Makes Mistake of Going to Mexico on Way to Michigan University; Can't Enter Now Oct 19, 1924

PASADENANS STIRRED BY ELOPEMENT; Senorita Duenas Married to Reputed East Indian Count Dec 12, 1924

Swami Buys Swanky Automobile Dec 6, 1925

FOREIGN STUDENTS HIGH BORN; Notalde Hindu and Japanese at U.S.C. Jan 15, 1930.

GANDHI'S SALT REVOLT WIDENS; Another of His Sons field on Sedition Charge Nationalist Leader Remains Free from Molestation Women Greet Him Singing Revolutionary Songs Apr 10, 1930

Ardent Love Making Laid to Asserted Fake Hindu May 1, 1930

LEGACY TANGLE ENDS IN SUICIDE; Woman Divorces Hindu to Obtain Money Inheritance Withheld Due to Other Bars Body Found in Apartment Following Shooting May 5, 1930

HINDU'S MURDER MAY BE SMUGGLING LINK Mar 13, 1931.


WITNESS SWEARS BY ALLAH HE CAN'T TELL MARIHUANA Nov 18, 1931

Did Hindu Do Sucha Deed?Dec 1, 1931

HINDU 'MESSIAH' LANDS IN EAST; Shri Meher Baba to Conduct Campaign in America Indian Coming to Hollywood and May Enter Films Long Silence to Be Broken With World Message May 20, 1932.

HINDU FOUND HANGED IN SACRAMENTO AREA Sep 27, 1932

HINDU WARNING TO WOMEN Nov 29, 1932

DANCER WEDS HINDU PRINCE; Husband to Open Film Studio in India Jan 7, 1933

NEWS OF THE SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY; HINDU MURDER RING QUIZ BEGUN latest Killing Charged to Political Cult Fresno Prosecutor Asserts Death Decrees Enforced Holtville Case Held Part of Reign of Terror Jun 14, 1933

NEWS OF THE SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY; HINDU MURDER RING QUIZ BEGUN latest Killing Charged to Political Cult Fresno Prosecutor Asserts Death Decrees Enforced Holtville Case Held Part of Reign of Terror Jun 14, 1933

NATIVE SONS URGE ALIENS SENT HOME; Organization Discusses Immigration Problems at Ukiah Convention May 23, 1934