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Thursday, November 20, 2014

In Half- Half-Truths

this past week i've jotted down ideas that've possessed me with the intention of expanding those ideas here in my blog, but either (1) i haven't had time or (2) i didn't know how to expand those ideas. let's go wit (3) both of the above!

so, here we go.





I periodically listen to the radio theatre version of the Chronicles of Narnia (and i still cry every time I hear it.) I got around to listening to The Magician's Nephew and heard this part with new ears:

"Son of Adam," said Aslan, "you have sown well. And you, Narnians, let it b e your first care to guard this Tree, for it is your Shield. The Witch of whom I told you has fled far away into the North of the world; she will live on there, growing stronger in dark Magic. But while that Tree flourishes she will never come down into Narnia. She dare not come within a hundred miles of the Tree, for its smell, which is joy and life and health to you, is death and horror and despair to her."

Everyone was staring solemnly at the Tree when Aslan suddenly swung round his head (scattering golden gleams of light from his mane as he did so) and fixed his large eyes on the children. "What is it, children?" he said, for he caught them in the very act of whispering and nudging one another.

"Oh--Aslan, sir," said Digory, turning red, "I forgot to tell you. The Witch has already eaten one of those apples, one of the same kind that Tree grew from." He hadn't really said all he was thinking, but Polly at once said it for him. (Digory was always much more afraid than she of looking a fool.)

"So we thought, Aslan," she said, "that there must be some mistake, and she can't really mind the smell of those apples."

"Why do you think that, Daughter of Eve?" asked the Lion.

"Well, she ate one."

"Child," he replied, "that is why all the rest are now a horror to her. That is what happens to those who pluck and eat fruits at the wrong time and in the wrong way. The fruit is good, but they loathe if ever after."

"Oh, I see," said Polly. "And I suppose because she took it in the wrong way it won't work for her. I mean it won't make her always young and all that?"

"Alas," said Aslan, shaking his head. "It will. Things always work according to their nature. She has won her heart's desire; she has unwearying strength and endless days like a goddess. But length of days with an evil heart is only length of misery and already she begins to know it. All get what they want; they do not always like it."

"I--I nearly ate one myself, Aslan," said Digory. "Would I--"

"You would, child," said Aslan. "For the fruit always work--it must work--but it does not work happily for any who pluck it at their own will. If any Narnia, unbidden, had stolen an apple and planted it here to protect Narnia, it would have protected Narnia. But it would have done so by making Narnia into another strong and cruel empire like Charn, not the kindly land I meant it to be. And the Witch tempted you to do another thing, my son, did she not?"

"Yes, Aslan. She wanted me to take an apple home to my Mother."

"Understand, then, that it would have healed her; but not to your joy or hers. The day would have come when both you and she would have looked back and said it would have been to die in that illness."

And Digory could say nothing, for tears choked him and he gave up all hopes of saving his Mother's life; but at the same time he knew that the Lion knew what would have happened, and that there might be things more terrible even than losing someone you love by death. But now Aslan was speaking again, almost in a whisper:

"That is what would have happened, child, with a stolen apple. It is not what will happen now. What I give you now will bring joy. It will not, in your world, give endless life, but it will heal. Go. Pluck her an apple from the Tree." 

So, upon hearing this, I wondered, "If Adam and Eve had not given into the serpent's temptation...do you think, in time, God would've let them partake of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil?"

Because God knew Good and Evil. Knowing Good and Evil doesn't make one evil/bad/mischievous/suspicious.

Because Satan did tell a half-truth: they will be like God in knowing Good and Evil. They will be like God- as in, they themselves will be a pair of gods.

But just like how I can't be Amy or Susan or Avery or whoeverthehellIadmire I can only be me. I can aspire to be like God who is kind, and gentle and all-knowing, but yeah-. I can't be Amy or Susan or Avery. I can admire what they do and do what they do in my own way, but I will never be them.

And then I wonder...what would it have been like to know about Evil without being tempted to do Evil.





I have also been in the middle of reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.

Now, mind you, I've just started this little food-kick of mine so my opinions on food production and sustainability; etc. are, well, dim, compared to bright-white light bulbs-opinions. So, feel free to correct me if I'm 'wrong' or something not-right.

Anyway, anyway, Ms. Kingsolver is on neither side when talking about large food companies like Monsanto, or those golden arches, but I have wondered... I understand you use real food- you just reshape it into something familiar and friendly coast to coast. Yeah, I know you get your potatoes from real potato farmers.

I understand that the preservatives you put in your food aren't too harmful.

And, I do eat at your restaurants. I am hardly one to deny someone treating me, or a quick french-fry-impulse-fulfillment. But...that's a lot of only one kind of potato.  And with the mass production of all that one-kind-of-potato, how's the soil doing?

But, are you only telling me half the truth?

I have no idea what the other half of that truth is, but what does that matter? I'm already receiving this half of the truth- I think it's enough to know it's a half-truth to be upset I'm not worth the whole-truth.

I don't mind the convenience of food because just like I would read for hours on end, I would love to spend hours cooking, perfecting that crockpot of mac & cheese but other things need to be done, like paying bills. I just-. Don't arm me with tools that only do a slightly good job, but put all the money in your pockets.

Ordering from the dollar menu will just help me put my money toward diabetes medicine.





And then I came across the 'Whiteness Project'.


Race is sticky. Stickier than bathing in honey, but like the picture above ^^

I am so glad you think all humans are equal, but did it ever occur to you that the majority of people don't think that? I am more than thankful that if/when you come across me you won't ask if I speak English well, but by denying that people do actually ask me that you are diminishing the problems I do face; the problems I wish I didn't face. You, oddly, become one of those problems.

"That doesn't happen to you. That shouldn't happen to you."

"Thank you. I know."

Are you doing anything to help it not-happen to me? 

And I am different. People are different. Cultures, and geographies, and food--all very different. 

It's not that I want to be treated differently; I don't wish to be different, not in that sense. I just want to be a human being, color-blind and stuff, but I can't. 

And because I can't I have to do something about it. 

I wish you didn't feel guilty for being white, but maybe now you can know what it's like to feel guilty for being not-white. 

And what is so wrong with feeling guilty, anyway?

Maybe it's just me, guilt is when you understand how hurting people feel--really, the people you hurt, consciously or unconsciously. When someone doesn't feel guilt that does not immediately imply innocence, just a lack of understanding. A lack of empathy or sympathy. A lack of justice. 

We are all fed a half-truth, suggesting that race and culture don't matter because they are all the same because we are all human. But that is not true at all. I think all these problems started because we tried to treat too many different people in the same way. 

I know lynching is illegal now, but lynching wasn't the only form of racism. If anything, racism today is far more passive aggressive and personal, as opposed to physical. But passive aggressive racism doesn't make the news. Ferguson does. So when we talk about Ferguson most people don't understand how something as extreme as this could happen because they don't know the millions of passive aggressive actions that took place beforehand.

I know stuff like that shouldn't happen, but knowing doesn't stop things from happening. 

And as for fulfilling racial quotas, do you think people of an obvious race appreciate only being hired for their skin color, so that it looks like the said company isn't racist? No, no. 

These are half-truths. We're all talking about the bandage without acknowledging the deep, bleeding wound the bandage is trying to heal. 

I'll be honest. I didn't need 'The Whiteness Project' to tell me how white people feel. I know how you feel. Everything you said is everything I have felt. You may feel colorless, like the chair in the room that's always been there, but that's not so different from feeling colored and the new chair in the room. 

People are people: everyone will always feel abused in one way or another, but your inability to empathize with how I am abused does not make me any less abused. 





from my journal, 21 August 2014:

"Now that I am aware of my hoity-toity-judgmentally-female-dog Christianity I can work on it and be a real little Christ. So, that’s exciting. (I wish I could introduce you to everyone I’ve met.)

...Presently, I cannot decide if my experience in the office has been a blessing or a ‘curse’ (as much as any curse a young, middle-class, first-world Asian American would experience) because I find that I am always in the unique position of viewing both (sometimes all) sides. That sounds arrogant—it sounds as though I’m implying I empathize with all sides. I am not implying that; I am saying rather that I am consistently put into situations that challenge my original perspective. I do not seem to be allowed to keep my first impressions. I am doomed to speculate over my first impressions, attempting to maintain a second, third, and fourth.

They (whoever ‘they’ really are) did not lie when they said, ‘The help know everything.’ “Why, Justine, do the help know everything?” “BECAUSE YOU DON’T BLEEPIN’ PAY ATTENTION TO THE HELP THAT’S WHY! AT THAT POINT WE ARE WALLS WITH ELECTRIC SOCKETS THAT YOU USE TO RECHARGE YOUR FIRST IMPRESSIONS.”

First impressions?

Yes, first impressions, because I have been wondering a lot lately about ignorance and ‘revelation’ (so to speak for lack of a better word) and I have concluded, or at least came up with this awesome sentence: “My lack of experience [in racism and/or prejudice] does not diminish the experience of tens, hundreds, thousands, millions.”

I have been protected most of my life to have experience little amounts of racism and prejudice: most racial comments directed at me are, “Oh! I thought you were younger. It’s because you’re Asian. Asian people are eternally youthful.” “You look so exotic.” “I didn’t think you could be from the Philippines; your English is too good for that.”

And if I age- if, when I’m thirty I start wrinkling- am I not really Asian?

‘Exotic’ is a word used to describe foods and atmospheres: I am of neither category.

I think you meant to say, ‘You speak English too well to be directly from the Philippines.’ Although, for the record, I have cousins born and raised in the Philippines who speak English without ‘an accent’. So. There."

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