P O L I T I C O N S C I O U S

  There's plenty of good people doing good work and I am thankful for them every day. There are also people who are not putting in any work. Yet, the worst kind of people are not the ones who put no work, rather the ones who pretend to. And to these people, I say; "No, thank you." To those who know and understand our problems, to those who have the ability to invoke change, to those politicians and activists I say, "No, thank you."  To those who are outraged by the use of the terms "alien" or "illegal," but spare no outrage for the millions of undocumented immigrants living in struggle in the US; To those who are outraged because of physical symbols that represent white supremacy, but offer no outrage at the very real institutional and systemic racism BIPOC communities continue to endure; To those who are outraged by the gender pay gap, but pay no attention toward its more adverse effects toward women of color; To those who are outraged by ra...

I’ve always been a find a middle ground kind of gal. But how do you find the middle ground when you don’t see a middle?  Do you guys have some secret formula I don’t know about? One that allows someone to believe I am not as worthy or valuable as they are, but still allow us to be friends? Do you know how to ignore the fact that someone may wish you didn’t exist here, or now? How do you ignore real harm that was caused to you and people like you?  If someone says they hate your dad will you be ready to grab lunch with them? If someone says your mom is less worthy than theirs will you be quick to go to brunch? If someone says your sibling should die because it’s their fault anyway are you going to invite them over for dinner?  This idea that politics is some strange abstract concept foreign to our daily lives has long been disproved by our BIPOC communities. Politics affect me and people like me every day. We don’t get to go home and stop being oppressed. We don’t get to w...

  As is the case with hundreds of other grads, I moved back home after graduation, in part, thanks to COVID-19. Before this, I hadn't thought much of this quaint little town, as I had tried my hardest to unlearn a lot of the biases and beliefs that I experienced. I have now been here since the end of March. It's been seven months of what sometimes feels like new observations, but is mostly just the same life I grew up having, just a little different.  I drive through town and I see plenty of American flags, something I was taught represented freedom, and equality, and all that good stuff you learn in history class. That has always been the case, those flags have always been there. And, as a first-generation immigrant, I believe(d) all that good stuff. I saw American flags and thought, yes, I live in the USA, and of course I'm grateful to live here, just as my parents taught me.  But recently, all those American flags I once saw as a symbol of my story, are accompanied by ...