Okay. So right now I can go to just about any news outlet and see something about Sarah Palin resigning, which I honestly could not care less about, but a former US Representative is being held in a detention center in Israel, along with 20 others – INCLUDING A NOBEL LAUREATE – after they tried to bring humanitarian aid to Gaza through international waters. Mind you, this attempt comes after President Obama demanded that Israel allow humanitarian aid to reach Gaza. And for me to actually find ANYTHING about this, I have to go on search engine hunts on the websites for major news outlets and dig through the blogosphere.

Am I surprised that this happened? No. Do I think that this is the worst thing to happen in Gaza? Hell no. But I am flat out amazed by the fact that no one is talking about this. The imprisonment of these individuals is part of a major issue, and the fact that no one is talking about it scares the hell out of me. To find information on CNN, and just about every other news source, I have to run a search. It seems like Fox News, surprise surprise, is giving it the most coverage, and they’re focusing on what McKinney is doing wrong (“refusing” to sign her deportation papers, because, oh, SHE IS REQUIRED TO SIGN AN ADMISSION OF CRIMINAL GUILT AS PART OF THAT. But that’s not really clear in the articles).

So what’s going on? How do we get more people to know about this? Did everyone really on vacation for the 4th early? Can we take a minute out of talking about Palin to talk about this for the love of God?

Earlier this week, I got the opportunity to screen Slingshot Hip Hop for about 100 incoming ninth graders at my school. And after the screening, students of mine approached me to say they talk about the Palestine-Israel conflict at home with their parents, but get worried/angry when they feel like no one in school will give them an honest opinion of what is going on. Because they WANT one. They have opinions and they want to learn more. They want to get involved. But if no one talks to them about what’s going on, they’re not sure how to do that.

Maybe I’m late to the game on this, maybe everyone has other things going on, but whatever it is, the silence surrounding the Israeli imprisonment of the Gaza 21 really worries me.

From the International Action Center:

Release Cynthia McKinney Gaza Aid Ship SPIRIT OF HUMANITY

I just learned about this and wanted to pass along information to anyone and everyone – ’cause I hadn’t heard anything about this until an hour ago. Does anyone know more? Anything that’s being organized to bring more attention to this situation? Anything?

June 30th – “Israelis Intercept Gaza Aid Ship”
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/8127145.stm

July 2nd – “Cynthia McKinney Calls WBAIX from Israeli Prison”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JkPvzSZRuDo

July 2nd – “McKinney held in Israel, to be returned to U.S”
http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/meast/07/02/mckinney.israel.gaza/index.html?iref=newssear

The schedule for the Kids’ Track at the Allied Media Conference is just about finished and it is now time for me to ask all of YOU (and your friends and your friends’ friends and any other generally wonderful people who like working with youth) for help!

As you may or may not know, the Kids’ Track is a children-centered space at the Allied Media Conference which recognizes kids as media makers by providing them with the skills to create media work influenced by their own points of view. The Kids’ Track aims to help create an intergenerational atmosphere at the AMC by linking children with the work of the Youth Media Track and the INCITE!, Media & Education, How-to and Media Policy tracks. Finally, by providing childcare during non-session times, the Kids’ Track will enable the participation of parents in the Allied Media Conference.

The AMC has hired an AMAZING Childcare Professional who will be with participants for the weekend and I’ll be there the entire time too. However, to best provide for Kids’ Track participants and their parents, we NEED volunteers, especially during lunch caucuses, dinner caucuses and evening events.

If you are interested in helping out, or know someone who might be, please contact me at katie(at)alliedmediaconference(dot)org. I had a wonderful time at the Kids’ Track last year, and I can assure you that if you volunteer, you will have a GREAT time – the kids who attended last year were smart, hilarious and sweet – and I know that at least some of them will be back this year! Please check out the times listed below for an idea of when we will be most in need of volunteers:

FRIDAY:

Lunch – 12:15PM – 2:00PM
Dinner – 7:30PM – 9:30PM
Bowling Party (we may have a separate kids’ party – that is TBD) – 9:00PM – 1:00AM

SATURDAY:

Lunch – 12:20PM – 2:10PM
Dinner – 5:30PM – 8:00PM
Music Showcase – 8:00PM – 1:00AM

Again, if you would like more information or are interested in helping out, please send me an email at katie(at)alliedmediaconferene(dot)org

Read this.

Saturday, May 16th. 7-9 PM.

Featuring readings by contributors Black Amazon and Mamita Mala.

RSVP to katie@alliedmediaconference.org for the address.

Space is LIMITED so let us know soon!

To update my last post: The deadling to submit session proposals for the Allied Media Conference has been changed to April 10th.

Proposals can be submitted online.

Please feel free to post and share this information anywhere you think would be helpful!!

Have You Proposed A Session for the AMC Kids’ Track Yet?

The deadline for Allied Media Conference proposals is quickly approaching, but there’s still time before March 25th to submit your proposal!

Now in its second year, the Kids’ Track is a children-centered space which recognizes kids as media makers by providing them with the skills to create media work influenced by their own points of view. Last year, sessions included Print Making, Street Art for Kids, and Letter Writing as Activism. Other popular activities included theater games, painting with water colors and a discussion about school and education. We like sessions that are hands on, engaging, artistic and that provide opportunities for participants to learn and teach.

Session proposals can be submitted through the Allied Media Conference website: http://alliedmediaconference.org/propose. Please include what age range your session is for in your proposal.

So yesterday, I saw Notorious. This morning, I read Sylvia’s post on Notorious. Five minutes ago, I decided I’m gonna make a movie. Called Infamous.

Infamous will tell the tale of Large1, a rapper on the rise from Never Ran, Never Will Brownsville. It will give a glimpse into the life of Large1, and how, after getting out of prison and meeting his daughter for the first time, Large1 signs a deal with a producer named Swollen (had he been a West Coast producer, his name would have been Swolly-E, an abbreviation of his full name, Swollen Ego). Then he starts dating Small K, a maybe sixteen year old girl who is also from Brooklyn. She raps too.

Large1 starts to blow up, and brings his friends along – among those who gain fame with Large1 is notably his friend, Tiny Teez, who will never appear to be older than twelve, though he is often responsible for driving everyone around.

Along his path to stardom, Large1 marries a woman named Hope and becomes close friends with a West Coast star named 4can, who is produced by Cup (short for “Cupcake,” ’cause he’s real sweet). Small K gets upset ’cause he screwed her over big time. She lashes out at him. She is now, about eighteen.

Tension builds as Swollen tries to kill 4can, but fails, and Cup puts ole Swolly on blast at an awards show. 4can releases a record that includes tale of him, er, canoodling with Hope. Large1 gets mad at Hope. Hope leaves Large1, and so on and so forth until…

Large1 is shocked to find out the 4can has been shot and killed in Reno. Instead of staying put in Brownsville, Large1 flies out to San Francisco, where he too dies. Everyone is heartbroken and “surprised,” excepted for Misters Swollen and Cup, who orchestrated both murders with the San Francisco PD and the cast of Reno 911. Turns out 4can was trying to finish up his contract with Row Boat Records AND start a branch of Row Boat East, and Large1 was trying to make changes and get out too. But both Cup and Swollen know that dead rappers sell more albums.

Flash forward to the recent past: Large1’s mother is considering filing for bankruptcy as she struggles to support herself and her grandchildren. She turns on the television to see that Swollen has been named to another list of richest people ever, and she remembers him coming up to her at Large1’s funeral and saying “If you ever need anything, I’m here for you.” The phone rings. It’s Swolly himself, asking her to sign off on the rights to a movie about Large1, with the contractual stipulation that Swollen gets final say on all dialogue and is allowed to inject his own uber-deep motivational messages and thoughts into the movie wherever he chooses.

Mother Large1 hangs up the phone and on Saturday, February 14, 2009, I don’t end up spending $12.50 at the AMC on 34th Street.

Roll the credits.

I have been avoiding writing this post for longer than this blog has existed.

I’ve touched on ideas surrounding gentrification. I’ve written about where I live and I’ve written about changes in the neighborhood. I read little light’s piece, “I, colonist,” months ago and the thought  “I’m avoiding this. I’m avoiding this topic” stuck in my brain. And in the spirit of gentrification, I kept avoiding it.

I talk about how the police presence has grown in my neighborhood, how it pisses me off that every time I go outside I see another giant hideous condo being built or another lot that’s been cleared for co-ops but may sit open for a good long while because of the economy right now. I talk about how rents continue to skyrocket in the area, and how people like to think it’s only become a “good” place to live or visit in the past few years because that’s when lots of folks who look like me have shown up. My damn “How Do You Preserve Your History?” section is about gentrification. But I don’t talk about the fact that, as much as so many of the signs and results of gentrification in my area infuriate me, I am a middle class white woman in my early twenties who just renewed my lease for the next two years on a bi-level two bedroom apartment in a historically Black neighborhood.

I live in Brooklyn, by Pratt, on a street that everyone you talk to will tell you is part of a different neighborhood. My landlord said “Fort Greene.” An ex-coworker said “Clinton Hill.” When a man was shot on my corner in August, the news said “Bedford Stuyvesant.” On November 26th, I will have been here a year – the longest I’ve lived anywhere since I was 18 and left my parents’ house for college. I decided I wanted to move here in April 2007. I was living in Philly at the time and came to visit Sydette. We went out to dinner in Fort Greene and then went on a Wifey Wander, which meant we marched our asses across creation. She showed me parts of the area she’d always loved. I pretended that if we kept walking around the neighborhood, somehow I would just magically live here. I’d walk up to the door of a building, the keys to my place in West Philly would miraculously fit the lock, and my cat would be inside waiting for me.

That night, I didn’t think about how anyone already living in the area would feel if my keys made that magical switch.

Six months later, I was offered a job in New York. The woman who eventually became my boss got excited when, during my second interview, she asked where I would want to live if I moved and I said “Somewhere near Fort Greene.” She owns a huge house in Clinton Hill, rents out parts of it to pay the mortgage and views the neighborhood at least as much as a real estate venture as she views it as her home (she probably wouldn’t ever use those words, but she would say that real estate, or “flipping properties,” is a hobby of hers).

Right now, I don’t view anywhere as home. My parents’ town is where I grew up, Philly is comfortable, and Brooklyn is where I am, a place I’m growing to love and where I’m hoping to root down.

Right now, I have been writing this post for almost three hours. Writing and re-reading and deleting and writing more and deleting and banging my head against the wall. Because it is my instinct to start talking about gentrification and go from “I will admit that I’m a part of gentrification without outright saying it”, to spinning a tale of why I moved here, to verbally eviscerating a past coworker.

It is easier for me to identify a problem than it is to admit I’m a part of it. It is easier for me to talk about what others are doing wrong or should reconsider without looking at myself. It’s hard as hell for me to go “I moved here because I loved how the neighborhood felt to me, I’m staying here because I love it more everyday, and I can afford to stay while people whose families have lived here for generations cannot.”

Last night, Sydette and I went to see Danny Hoch’s new play, Taking Over, at the Grand Street Campus Auditorium. It was a free show, presented as part of the Hip Hop Theater Festival. While we waited in a line that wrapped around the corner of Grand Street and Bushwick Avenue to go in, she listened to the conversation the people behind us were having and got irked. I was doing my own eavesdropping on the conversation the white Williamsburg residents in front of us were having about “reviving local culture and flavor” and wasn’t sure my jaw would ever unlock. We noticed that a whole bunch of the people who were getting called out from the line to move ahead (because of the types of reservations they had or their press credentials) were all middle aged, “artsy” looking white folks. She eventually said “you know, this is getting us, but we’re not talking about the role we play,” and then the line started to move, we realized we were going to get in after all, and we started talking about the hoards of beautiful men who were in attendance.

But Danny Hoch’s not the kind of artist who you see perform, get a little engaged by and then return to your own world exactly as it was before you entered the theater.

There was a talk back after the show, and Sydette shared the point with the audience that she had been making before we got into the auditorium. She said we don’t talk about responsibility, and we don’t talk about the individual roles everyone plays in gentrification and what that means. She said more than that, and she said it better than that, but those were the points I took to heart. Because as often as all of this is on my mind, I don’t talk about my responsibility. Sometimes I think that’s because I don’t entirely know what it is, but it’s probably closer to the truth that I don’t want to know what that is. As I write this it occurs to me that my responsibility isn’t a singular matter – I moved here, I’m staying here, and what I do and don’t do in my neighborhood are all things happening now. I try to shop as much as I can in and around the neighborhood. I pay attention to interaction between the police and residents, especially when I see the police watching or interacting with local youth. I’ve done volunteer childcare for events at local churches. I also agree to pay really high rent, patronize expensive new restaurants, and have an apartment with way more room than one person needs. I try to make myself feel better by saying “This is where I will stay for a long time, I could raise a family with this much space.” I could raise a family with as much space as I have. I could also raise one with less, and at the moment, that’s a pretty ridiculous excuse for me to ignore that it is point blank a privilege for my highly single, non-family raising self to occupy this much space.

As I re-read the previous paragraph for the sixth time, I know that privilege is exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid all along, and also how I’ve been able to avoid it. I can be one of the loudest voices yelling “well, this is class privilege, white privilege, gender privilege, etc etc” at the top of my lungs but saying privilege exists and even pretending to acknowledge my own means nothing if I can’t sit down and be honest with myself about the role it plays in where I live. It’s not just a privilege for me to have the large apartment I have, it’s a privilege for me to have one here in general, and to be able to move where I want, when I want. Because I am here. And if I can’t be honest about what all of that means, then I can’t even pretend to be remotely responsible to the neighborhood I claim to love.

From ColorofChange.org:

Republicans in Michigan are working to take away the right to vote from state inhabitants who are in danger of foreclosure. Last I checked, it was illegal to deny anyone the right to vote based on property ownership.

A full explanation, with references, can be found here.

To take action, click here.

UPDATE: As I finally make my way through all the blogs I read each day, I just found this article, by Kai Wright, on TheRoot.com. It’s about voter suppression based on foreclosure, as well as what other states are doing to achieve similar results.