My mom and her purse

Saturday 21 February 2015 kristyLeave a comment

I wrote this on my mom’s birthday, but I haven’t had a chance to post it until now.

mami and me, ca. 1992 — Mami and me, circa 1992

A couple of years ago, it seemed every fancy magazine and newspaper was publishing “CAN WOMEN REALLY HAVE IT ALL?!” articles, and I was feeling pretty dismayed at the possibilities available to parents with careers. At the same time, I was reading a lot of cute lifestyle blogs written by moms who didn’t work outside the home and who described motherhood as this incredible event that completely transformed them as people.

Somehow those essays scared me more than the think pieces about how impossible it is to have a successful career and a happy family. I knew I liked having a job and being financially independent, and more than that, I liked being myself. The thought of a big transformation was scary. What if you liked yourself better pre-baby? And does that mean your babies never get to know the real you? What does that mean anyway?

Luckily, my mom was in town when I was grappling with these ideas, and I was able to ask her, “Did you feel like a different person after having me? Did having a baby change your life completely?”

Without hesitation, she answered, “Are you kidding? Of course not! I just took you everywhere, like my purse.”

Happy birthday, Mami! Thanks for teaching me to live by my own rules.

Love,
Your favorite purse

If you find yourself in Carroll Gardens

Sunday 1 February 2015 kristyBrooklyn, New York1 Comment

If you find yourself in Carroll Gardens between the hours of 9 p.m. and 3 a.m. follow the scent of freshly baked bread hot from the oven to Henry Street. The aroma is overwhelming, and it will lead you to a nearly unmarked door with a doorbell. Ring it, don’t be shy. The bakery is closed, but in actuality, these are the peak hours. A baker will open the kitchen door, and you’ll see racks and racks full of bread and a flock of bakers bustling to make even more. The baker who answers the door will ask you what kind of bread you want and charge you very little. (Bring cash.) In exchange you’ll get a bag of bread and that delicious smell to take home.

It’s been two days since Devin and I did this, and the bag of bread still smells just like the bakery kitchen. I keep going into the kitchen to steal whiffs.

Some things worth sharing

Sunday 25 January 2015Sunday 25 January 2015 kristyAbbita, family, New York, ramblingsLeave a comment

I. I walked into a dining room full of tables with people sitting and talking and asking others to pass the salt. The whole scene reminded me of the fancy restaurant I used to work at on Sundays during the brunch rush, only the people at the soup kitchen actually seemed to be enjoying their food. It was my job to help serve in a buffet line. That’s where I met an older gentleman who said to me, “Hello, I’ve come for my lobster” and smiled. I asked him if he wanted a whole one, and he said, “Oh, yes, of course.” After he’d gone through the whole line and gotten beef, potatoes, salad, and fruit, he turned back to me and said, “Merci beaucoup” with a wink.

It reminded me so much of Abbita, my grandmother. When she had to get a walker to help her get around, she called it her Rolls-Royce with a smile. She lived in a comfortable little apartment, and I never heard her ask for anything, not a new TV or a fancy anything. Like the man I met last week, she seemed to know that you don’t have to have the best, biggest, or newest fill-in-the-blank to be happy, and it doesn’t matter what’s on your plate as long as you have enough to eat and good people to share it with.

Right now, as I write this in a coffee shop, I am listening to a couple talk about how they are going to get a $6,700 couch because it is the absolute best. The world is fascinating.

II. This morning I was having a terrible day. I set an alarm, but it didn’t go off, and it seemed like all my plans were ruined, and I might as well go live off the land all by myself because there was no way I would ever be a productive member of society. I decided I might as well go eat a bagel on the promenade because it was sunny, and I might as well say goodbye to the skyline before running away to live in the forest. I was walking there, wishing I’d been smart enough to buy something to drink with my bagel, when I heard, “Cupcakes and hot cocoa for sale! All proceeds benefitting the Malala Foundation!” The two little girls were about seven years old, and I could tell it had all been their idea, everything from the sign to the cupcakes was clearly made by them, and they smiled really big when they talked about Malala. The hot cocoa wasn’t really hot anymore, but it’s the best thing I’ve had all week. When I paid the market-rate price ($5) instead of their ridiculously low asking price ($1)––didn’t their parents teach them to do market research?––their jaws dropped, and I realized all my missed plans had been worth it.

P.S. I worked at the soup kitchen for a couple of hours last week. I say “work” instead of “volunteer” because there was something in it for me (who do you think I am, some kind of altruistic chump?). Devin and I shop at a food coöp, where our groceries are very, very cheap. In return, we have to volunteer once a month. There are lots of jobs you can do in-store, like being a cashier (the prices are low because most of the labor is done by members), but there are also jobs you can do outside the store, like volunteering at the soup kitchen.

2014 in Review

Wednesday 31 December 2014Sunday 31 January 2016 kristyyear in review2 Comments

A couple of weeks ago, it hit me. “It’s been a really hard year.” I was on the subway, and as soon as I thought it, I tried to un-think it: “Everything worked out okay. Everyone I love is okay. I have a home and food and friends and family. How can I be so ungrateful?” I felt ashamed.

When I reached my destination, a friend of mine asked me how things were, if so-and-so was better; if situations had improved. I answered that they had and then recounted matter-of-factly all the new problems that had come up. (I’m sorry for being vague. It’s just that these stories aren’t mine to tell.) She looked at me and said, “Oh honey, you’ve had to be old before your time.”

I was surprised to hear her say that. She’s a real New Yorker, by which I mean strong and honest and definitely not sentimental, and she’s had a much harder year than I have. But she recognized that I’d been going through some challenges, and somehow that little gesture made me feel better. I guess it gave me permission to feel the way I felt.

Every year I do one of these year-in-review posts. I’m doing one this year because there are lots of wonderful things I want to remember (and everything did turn out well, thankfully), but it didn’t feel right not to include a disclaimer. I guess it’s my way of saying, I hope you give yourself permission to feel however you damn well please about your own year. It’s okay if it wasn’t the Best Year Ever and you’re just glad it’s over.

Okay, disclaimer done. Roll the highlight reel!

12 Pictures from 2014

January
Victoria gave me the biggest hug and kiss to ring in the new year. Después de abrazarme dijo, “¡Yo le digo a Tía Kiki que la quiero mucho!”

February

Devin and I dressed up as Kahlo and Trotsky for a dinner party. Our friend had picked the Rivera-Kahlo-Trotsky love triangle as the inspiration for her meal, but no one else wore costumes. We did it on a whim and just happened to have fresh flowers for my hair!

March

I fulfilled my goal of taking my mom to a little island, and it was a dream.

April
Mementos from my favorite night during a cold, cold spring.

May

It’s always a treat to see my cousin Vanessa on the East Coast. This was at the 50th wedding anniversary party for her parents-in-law.

June
My birthday’s in February, but we didn’t have the party until June. The theme was party animals!

July
Devin’s family invited us to beautiful Maine (my first trip there!).

August
Devin and I got to meet our new nephew Carlos Manuel. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much love so quickly for anyone on Earth.

September
After an arduous apartment search (and sooooooooo much help from our friends), we moved into the apartment of our dreams. This is the view from our bedroom.

October
A Halloween of costumes. Pictured: my take on Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

November
Mami & me after a topsy-turvy Thanksgiving.

December
Presents under the tree at my first Christmas in Wisconsin.

In 2015, I hope you eat your favorite food. I hope you laugh so hard your stomach hurts and your eyes water and just when you think the laugh attack is over, you start laughing all over again. I wish you 365 good hair days and lots of time spent with all your favorite people. I hope you read a book that makes you cry because it’s that good, and I hope you write that letter you’ve been meaning to write. I hope you don’t feel overwhelmed if you see something unfair. I hope you know you can make things better, in your personal life and in the wider world.

A Really White Christmas

Monday 29 December 2014Monday 29 December 2014 kristyChristmas, Devin, family, Victoria, Wisconsin1 Comment

I spent Christmas in a gingerbread house. For real. Devin’s parents’ house is a little wooden cabin in the middle of the snowy woods, and as soon as you walk in, you are absolutely surrounded by sugar. Would you like a Christmas cookie with sprinkles? Maybe chocolate chip is more your style. Or perhaps you prefer cookies dipped in chocolate. No matter, they have it all. Candy bars and candy canes galore. If you like cold sweets, there’s ice cream. And if you like warm sweets, there are cinnamon buns, pancakes, and blueberry muffins covered in sugar crystals. Maybe you’d rather have sugar in liquid form. For that there are dozens of jars of maple syrup (from the trees outside) and a jar of honey (from the neighbor’s bees). It’s like being a kid in a candy store, only all the candy is free.

This is my first Christmas away from my family, and I joke with Devin that it’s my first White Christmas because it’s the first* Christmas I spend in the States, with White Americans. Of course, “White American” is an ethnicity with many subcultures, just like “Mexican” is. Devin comes from a community that grows food, buys gifts at L.L. Bean, and has thoughtful discussions about politics and climate change. They also go out of their way to make me feel welcome. On Christmas Eve, the family friends who invited us over for dinner made lots of mini food because they heard I liked little things (seriously)! On Christmas morning we ate beans for breakfast (because Devin told his parents that beans are my favorite food). And Devin’s family has included me in their own traditions. We cut down a Christmas tree the day after I got here, and there’s a fire burning all day long. It’s been magical to sit by its glow and listen to carols. Once I was singing, “Frosted wiiiindow panes, candles gleaming inside, painted candy canes on the treeeeeeeee” and realized we were surrounded by all those things! Well, okay, replace “candles gleaming” with “LED’s glowing” (they are environmentalists, after all).

The town closest to this little farm reminds me of Casas Grandes, the town closest to my aunt Menry’s house, where my family usually spends Christmas, only all the restaurants here are sponsored by Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer instead of Coca-Cola. (You could argue that Mexico sponsors Coca-Cola and not the other way around because Mexico drinks more soda per capita than any other country.)

Of course, nothing makes up for missing your family, especially when you’ve never had to be apart this time of year before. My cousin Vanessa knows this firsthand, and she sent me the best box ever to open on Christmas. It was called the “First Christmas Away From Your Family Survival Kit” and contained a funny book, the best Mexican candy (including mazapanes for those who prefer sweet to spicy) and chocolate Abuelita. She also sent me some earrings because she is the greatest.

By far the biggest difference between U.S. Christmas and Mexican Christmas is bedtime. When Devin’s parents were going to sleep on Christmas Eve, my family in Chihuahua was just sitting down to dinner. Devin and I managed to stay up to Skype with them, which was awesome. My niece Victoria rushed to the screen and said, “¡Estoy comiendo zanahorias como tú!” (I’m eating carrots like you!). I always worry that she’ll forget about me because I don’t get to see her as much as I wish, so it was really special to know that she thinks about her weird vegetarian aunt.

Otherwise, Christmas here is pretty similar to Christmas there. A big part of that is due to globalization and how effectively U.S. corporations export American cultural traditions, but another big reason is that I’ve always been surrounded by a loving family at Christmastime, and this year was no different.

*It’s not my first Christmas in the U.S.A. if you count the very first Christmas of my life, which was spent in the States, but I don’t because I was nine months old and had to fact-check where I spent it before writing this.

Second Update on Unlimited Voices

Saturday 27 December 2014Saturday 27 December 2014 kristyLeave a comment

A week ago, thanks to the Unlimited Voices donations, I was able to distribute cards to protesters at the Pink Houses, on the one-month anniversary of Akai Gurley’s death, in the lobby of the building where he was murdered by police. Earlier that week I gave cards to Eric Garner’s family and supporters in Staten Island.

The most moving part of my week was singing along with Erica Garner, Eric Garner’s daughter. I posted a very low-quality video on Youtube (the sound is good!). The song is called “I Can’t Breathe,” and it is really beautiful.

We got some good news: the New York Justice League, who helped us distribute the first batch of cards, met with Mayor de Blasio and presented demands to end police brutality.

But later that week, we got really tragic news: a man shot his girlfriend and killed two N.Y.P.D. officers before killing himself. It’s always horrific to hear about things like this, but it was especially devastating to hear major news outlets report that this man was acting in connection with—or inspired by—Black Lives Matter protests, even though the evidence suggests he acted alone. What we do know is that before aiming a gun at police officers, he shot his girlfriend Shaneka Thompson. When I heard that, I immediately thought of Sex and World Peace, a book that explains how the biggest determinant of violence outside the home is violence against wimyn inside the home (you can read more about it here).

The Black Lives Matter movement is a peaceful movement against violence. We were sad to hear about the murders of two police officers, just as we are sad to hear about any murder. One of the most eloquent Black Lives Matter activists put it this way:
That is exactly how I feel and how all the protesters and family members of murdered civilians that I have met feel. I’m very inspired by the peaceful protests and vigils over the past week in New York City, which demonstrate our commitment to peace and to positive change in society. The two are not mutually exclusive.

Right now Devin and I are visiting his family in Wisconsin for the holidays, but when we get back, I’ll continue distributing MetroCards. We’ve exceeded our goal, so I’ve been able to buy even more cards than expected, and I found a way to save $1 off the cost of each card. Thanks to that I’ve been able to get unlimited ride MetroCards and some roundtrip cards. If you’d like to donate, it’s not too late. I’ll gladly continue to distribute cards as long as activists continue to protest. For now, all signs point to a long-term movement. We’re willing to march until real change happens.

In solidarity and love,
kristy

12.13.14

Sunday 14 December 2014Saturday 27 December 2014 kristyactivism, Beyoncé, Black Lives Matter, friends, Millions March NYC, party2 Comments

Yesterday afternoon I joined fifty to sixty thousand people in New York City to affirm that Black lives matter at the Millions March NYC. Later I joined fifty-leven girls to commemorate the one-year anniversary of Beyoncé by Beyoncé, the visual album (okay, so it was more like a dozen friends, not fifty-leven girls).

The march was incredibly important, but I don’t think I can do it justice here, except to say that I am inspired by the wimyn of color who are leading the peaceful protests and creative acts of civil disobedience. At the marches I vacillate between grieving for all the lost lives (here and in Mexico, my other home, which still lives under the reign of La Inseguridad) and being hopeful for the systemic change necessary to end structural racism and oppression. It is exhausting, and I know I am only able to hope because I’m not alone, and because the many people leading this movement are motivated by love.

It felt strange to protest and party on the same day, but I guess it’s like Emma Goldman said, “A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having.” Especially if you’re dancing to the first pop song to sample a speech on feminism as its second verse. That’s revolutionary in its own right, don’t you think? I think Emma G. would be down. Luckily my friends agreed and came over for a little party. Some of us dressed up like different characters from the videos, and we projected the whole visual album on a wall. We also ate snacks featured in the album (including the platinum edition songs): sliders, kale, watermelon, Skittles, Blow Pops, cake by the pound… That part kind of felt like Día de Muertos. The whole night reminded me (for like the millionth time) how lucky I am to have friends who go along with my ridiculous ideas and don’t seem to mind that my guiding philosophy seems to be “A party without a theme is a party not worth planning.” (Sorry, Emma.) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If you think this sounds way fun (and it was), you should totally throw your own Beyoncé party and show me the pictures, please and thank you. I hope Beyoncé by Beyoncé can be our generation’s Dark Side of the Moon or whatever.

XO,
kristy

snaxxx

Update on Unlimited Voices

Thursday 11 December 2014Thursday 11 December 2014 kristyactivism, Black Lives Matter, New YorkLeave a comment

On Tuesday night, with the help of a friend, I was able to deliver the 20 cards we’d raised money for through crowdrise.com/unlimitedvoices!

The page is still up if you’d like to contribute. Each seven-day unlimited card costs $31, and I’m hoping to distribute 20 more by tomorrow night so that the activists can use them to get to ‪#‎MillionsMarchNYC on Saturday‬. You can learn more about this project here.

Incidentally, yesterday there was a story on WNYC about how the less money you have, the more expensive it is to use public transit in New York. Unlimited Voices is a small and temporary solution, but the cards are already making a difference during a historic week of action. Thanks to everyone who has donated, signal-boosted, and been (too) kind to me over the past three days.

Here are some pictures from the night we distributed the MetroCards.

My friend Hyunhee, who also donated, volunteered to help me deliver the MetroCards.

This is Thierry, possibly the most committed activist I’ve ever met. The night we marched together, he and his team NAAPS had protested in Staten Island, Brooklyn, and Manhattan all in a single day! Now they have 10 MetroCards to go all over and keep their incredible momentum going. They’ve been out every day and we are all invited to march with them in Manhattan on Saturday for #MillionsMarchNYC. Let me know if you would like to march with us at smoothliminal@gmail.com so I can send you directions to our meeting place. They are also planning a benefit to raise money for Eric Garner’s family. You can see them in action here.

NAAPS gave me a t-shirt to thank all of us. Thierry explained that the question mark at the end of the statement is meant to provoke thought about how this can really be happening.

Here are members of the New York Justice League. They have been on the ground 24/7 leading thoughtful actions including the die-ins at the Apple Store and the #royalshutdown at Atlantic Center Mall to demonstrate that we are not OK with business as usual. I’m really grateful to New York Justice League for their leadership and know that they will make sure the cards get to dedicated grassroots activists.

On top of their organizing work—which has also helped Brooklyn Nets basketball players protest on the court while we rallied outside—New York Justice League has articulated our demands to New York City and the N.Y.P.D. You can sign the petition at gatheringforjustice.org.

Thanks again to everyone who has contributed. I’ll update you as soon as we reach our second goal and distribute the second batch of cards.

Unlimited Voices

Monday 8 December 2014Tuesday 9 December 2014 kristyactivism, buses and trains, New York, public transit, Race1 Comment

It’s no secret that I love public transportation. On my 19th birthday, my best friends threw me a party on the number 19 bus in Portland, and I moved to New York because it has the best mass transit system in the United States. In fact, as far as I know, it is the only city in the world where the trains run all day and night. My other favorite thing about New York is all the opportunities to organize for social change.

However, I didn’t realize just how essential mass transit is to social justice efforts until this weekend.

After attending the #BlackLivesMatter protests in New York City, I noticed that some of the hardest-working protesters––all people of color––were having a hard time getting money together for the train. That prompted me to think about how unlimited MetroCards are New York City’s golden ticket. With an unlimited weekly MetroCard, you can pay $31 to go anywhere in the city for seven days without having to think about money. Without one, you have to pay $2.50 per trip. How much harder would it be to speak out against injustice if it meant going without dinner or walking home late at night in the cold?

Last night, I launched a small fundraiser to get low-income protesters unlimited MetroCards, so that they don’t have to choose between raising their voices and getting home safely or going to work the next day. It is called Unlimited Voices and you can check it out here.

A few people have asked me, “Why unlimited cards?,” pointing out that we could get a lot more cards to a lot more people if we gave cards with smaller amounts or just swiped people in at major subway stations. The reason I think it’s important that they be unlimited is that there are actions happening all over the city every day, and anyone who wants to be at one—whichever one—should be able to go. I also know that amazing grassroots organizers are already mobilizing and manifesting in incredible ways. They don’t need my suggestions, and in fact, I need their leadership.

In less than a week, I have learned more about organizing and peaceful protest from the activists I’ve met on the streets than I have in my whole life.

Thank you so much to everyone who has donated. I am really hopeful about the impact our efforts will have and hope that together we make sure that those most affected by structural racism and this city’s vast wealth disparity have the ability to speak out without being limited by the high cost of mass transit in New York City.

In solidarity,
kristy

Letter to my White friends

Thursday 4 December 2014Monday 15 December 2014 kristy#BlackLivesMatter, activism, New York, Race, Tasha, White privilege1 Comment

Yesterday the latest failure of the U.S. justice system erupted: the policeman who murdered Eric Garner using an illegal chokehold will not be indicted by New York State. That means he might never go to trial. Police shouldn’t be killing anyone, regardless of whether or not you committed a crime. That is not their job, but it is especially disturbing when the victim is an unarmed civilian who isn’t hurting anyone. This is the second time in just a couple of weeks that a White cop has literally gotten away with murder after killing an innocent Black person in the United States. And just two days ago, another police officer killed an unarmed Black man in Arizona. These are not isolated incidents. If you haven’t already, I implore you to read this short article, listing 25 ways innocent Black Americans have been killed linked to the incidents they mention. It was written by Ijeoma Oluo, a mother who wonders how she can explain this to her sons.

Eric Garner was killed pleading for his life in the street in broad daylight on video, and the cop who murdered him with his bare hands is not innocent until proven guilty. He’s just exempt from the whole thing.

These were Eric Garner’s dying words.

The news broke a few hours before the Rockefeller Christmas Tree Lighting, a famous national tradition taking place just miles from where Eric Garner died. Activists called for the tree lighting to be canceled with the hashtag #NoJusticeNoTree on social media. We also asked celebrities to refuse to perform or use their time on stage to stand up for Black lives and against police brutality.

A friend and I went to protest the tree lighting. We got as close to the tree as we possibly could and tried to start some chants, but we seemed to be the only protesters there. When we yelled “Black lives matter/More than a tree,” we were told, “Now is not the time and place.”

“This is a Christmas celebration.”

“There are children here.”

But when is the right time and place? I love Christmas, but so did Eric Garner. He used to dress up as Santa Claus for his grandchildren. What about the families who won’t get to have a merry Christmas just because one of their family members dared to stand on the sidewalk? What about the Black American children who are themselves murdered by police? When will we stand up for them?

People of color around us looked at the ground sadly and said, “We understand, but protesting here won’t bring him back.”

And they’re right. No protest will ever bring back Eric Garner or Michael Brown or Tamir Rice or Aiyana Stanley-Jones or any of the other countless victims. Human lives are precious because once they’re gone, they’re gone forever.

I don’t know what the right time to protest is—but I know the wrong time to stay silent. We can’t let more innocent Black people die. We can’t live in a country that lets White cops go free after killing someone, without facing so much as a day in court. That is the system that we are living under today, and if we don’t do something, it is the system that will continue. The tally of deaths will rise and rise while we wait for the “right time” to demand justice.

In the end, the Rockefeller tree was lit.

We left before it happened. It was isolating to be the only ones in distress while everyone around us sang Christmas carols. Then, we found all the protesters who didn’t make it past the barricades into Rockefeller Plaza.

We marched with hundreds of people taking over streets and chanting, “Black lives matter! Black lives matter!”

“No justice, no peace, no racist police!”

Repeating Eric Garner’s last words. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”

And Michael Brown’s. “Hands up, don’t shoot.”

We can’t let these words fade from our memories.

My friend and I found Tasha and walked across Broadway while all the cars stopped at a green light because there were too many of us. We were no longer alone. Traffic came to a complete halt as we took over the Westside Highway. And aside from the great mass of people who enveloped us, there were drivers honking in support, bus drivers raising their arms in solidarity, restaurant delivery people yelling as they zoomed past, even taxi drivers rolling down their windows to give us high fives.

It was a powerful reminder.

Every time you protest, you are representing all those who can’t.

White people are extremely safe on U.S. streets. We benefit the most from this unjust system that forces people with dark skin to fear for their lives while we have the “luxury” of being free. If we understand that everyone should have the right to exist, it is our responsibility to speak out.

The friend with whom I protested last night is biracial but often perceived as African American. After the protest she pointed out several times during the night when she was treated differently from me despite the fact that we were standing side-by-side saying and doing the exact same things. That is White privilege.

To my White, able-bodied friends: get out there and march. Stand in solidarity with the people of color who don’t have your privilege. Follow Black leaders and be a number in the streets. Even if you are completely jaded and believe that the protests won’t do anything to change the system, get to the streets. Do it to show support for the people who lost their loved ones simply because their skin was darker than ours. Do it because you love listening to rap songs about inequality. But how can you sing along in good conscience if you don’t speak out against it? Do it because you have the luxury of staying home and never being bothered by the police. Show the world the most basic fundamental truth: Black lives matter. The system is not doing it, so it is up to us.