Slumdog Realities

When the movie “Slumdog Millionaire” wrapped, child actress Rubina Ali went back to the slums to live with what we just called acting.

Recently, a British tabloid sent its ‘reporters’ to the slums to carry out a sting operation. Not to expose the conditions within the slums of one of the fastest growing economies in the world but to pretend they wanted to buy Rubina after posing as a Dubai sheikh.

They say the father agreed. The father says they used tricks to create the image that he agreed. (It’s odd that they played an Arab in the deal and not a American actor trying to adopt.)

Then the tabloid left India, printed their story and cashed their checks. Meanwhile, the father was arrested and Rubina’s mothers grabbed each other’s throats in the streets.

Now we, as a society, condemn the father. Hollywood stars offered to adopt the kid, which is a lot like buying the kid.

But few have asked how we Americans would react if we lived in a slum and someone offered us almost a million dollars to adopt our child. Don’t people kill in America for much less?

Did we wonder why Ms. Ali didn’t get out of the slums after the movie? Also, who put her back on a plane to return to the slums?

There is a scene in “Slumdog Millionaire” where a child being kicked by police yells at the American tourists, “This is the real India.” The Americans then gave a little money but nothing was actually solved.

The movie told us to do more but like tourists paying top dollar to enjoy the exotic, we were too enchanted by the Indian fantasy.

Again, we picked the delusional orientalist India at the expense of the real thing. Like the anthropologists of yesteryear, we wanted the exotic miracle.

So we loved the fictional millionaire and forgot the reality of trading sex for food and the mothers killed in riots.

India has been used by the West to make Westerners rich since the tea, silk, spice, salt and human trade. Slumdog was trying to wake us to the greater problems.

The real India has a young girl who starred in an Oscar winning movie who then flew from Hollywood back to the slums where she again had a chance to get out but it was a prank by a Western tabloid.

Little of India’s realities make it through your scented yoga studio and little of Slumdog’s realities made it through the Hollywood glitter.

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Read more on this topic here.

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Credit: Abrahim Appel, 30, a freelance journalist residing in Fullerton, California. He recently acquired his B.A in Afro-Ethnic and American Indian Studies from Cal State Fullerton. He works as a live-in caregiver and is researching masters and PhD programs in Arab-Diaspora Studies or International Relations with an emphasis on ethnic relations while considering a career with the Peace Corps.

Hip Hop Fundraiser to hit LA

Youth leaders from Cambodia’s first hip hop and break dancing school are currently touring the U.S. to showcase their talent and promote their cause of empowering at-risk youth through creative curriculum and positive interactions. The seven peer mentors of Tiny Toones are hosting a hip hop community fundraiser in Los Angeles, May 3.

Before obtaining Visas, however they danced for the U.S. embassy in Cambodia to prove their legitimacy. Homie, T-Boy, Diamond, Fresh, Suicide, Khay & rapper K’Dep have all been with the school since its inception and first laid foot on U.S. soil on April 14.

“They’re pretty blown away by all the interactions here,” said Board Member Ryan Tong. “They were invited to an international B-boy jam called ‘Breaking the law,’ which was in Michigan.”

The school was founded in 2005 by former Long Beach resident and member of the Crips gang Tuy Sobil, or ‘KK,’ whose parents immigrated to the U.S. when he was an infant. His family failed to complete the appropriate paperwork and in 2004, KK was deported after being arrested for armed robbery.

But KK found his calling in his parent’s homeland. He strives to be the best role model possible for children from broken families while providing a safe haven away from the streets.

Tiny Toones grew out of the children’s need for positive role models in a country where many adults or older brothers are addicted to illegal activities like drugs or human trafficking, said Tong.

All children, regardless of their gender, economic status, family background or physical handicaps are encouraged to attend and embrace their lessons as a stepping stone to achieving their life’s dreams.

The curriculum includes free English and Khmer language classes, HIV education, drug prevention courses plus elements of Hip-Hop including break dancing, rapping and DJing.

Tiny Toones is now funded by Bridges Across Borders, an international non-profit. The South Asian branch sought grants to help the school move out of KK’s house and into its current home.

The May 3 fundraiser will run from 5 p.m. to 10 p.m. at Chuco’s Justice Center in Inglewood and is open to the community. Attendants will be encouraged to connect with children in Cambodia through art activities including T-shirt decorating, video testimonials and crafts. Live performances, special guests and a ‘Get Funky’ freestyle room are also open for lovers of dance, music and friendly battles.

All funds raised in the U.S. will help staff English and Kmer teachers and as the number of students increases, to building a new Tiney Toones center on their own private land.

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For more information on the event or photos visit the official Tiny Toones website.

Read a New York Times article on Tiny Toones here.
Watch Tiny Toones in action on YouTube here.
View a photo slideshow from photographer Stuart Isett (under Multimedia) here.

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Credit: Urmi Rahman, a freelance journalist residing in California. She received her B.A. in political science with minors in English and journalism from Cal State Fullerton. Urmi, 25, is also the editor and co-founder of Minority Dreams Magazine. Contact her at Urmi AT minoritydreams DOT com.

Hip Hop Wealth

How “wealthy” are the most successful hip-hop artists? Take Jay-Z, Lil’ Wayne, and 50 Cent. Are they wealthy or just rich? At one time Master P was considered one of the “richest” hip-hop moguls. I haven’t heard much about him lately so I wonder about the longevity of his wealth. Will his financial gains flow smoothly and lavishly to his children (Lil Romeo etc) and his grandchildren?

How should we assess wealth in hip-hop? Switch over to MTV or BET on any given day and you will be inundated with videos and documentaries that proudly give evidence that a particular hip-hop artist is financially successful. Never mind the intellectual content of his lyrics; he could be prattling about “magic sticks,” “superman,” or “getting low.” The content doesn’t seem to matter. The truth is that the success of the artist is measured by the number and caliber of his “whips”; the number of rooms in his “crib”; the shine in his “bling”; and his ability to throw “paper” around in the music videos. And let’s not forget the number of “honeys” that sashay and gyrate around the screen. Perhaps, in the context of hi-hop, we should think of wealth in non-traditional ways.

The traditional concept of wealth carries with it a connotation of old and multi-generational financial excess. It makes you think of sturdy old mansions with massive pillars and mile-long driveways. Although there are some instances of such wealth in old African American families, most members of the black community in the United States have not been able to attain that level of wealth. There are valid and logical reasons for this fate, which are rooted in historical events - brutal slavery, unfair segregation, and rigid inaccessibility to the hallowed and exclusive spaces of privilege.

For black urbanites, this access to wealth is even further-fetched. However, hip-hop has created an unlikely avenue to unprecedented financial gains. I am reminded of a phrase from Tupac’s poetry – “the rose that grew from concrete.” If hip-hop artists are able to make money from the dire circumstances that surround them in the inner-city, should we excuse them for their questionable lyrics? If the commercial formula of mindless lyrics set to fantastic beats brings them financial relief, should we expect them to deliver more socially-conscious, message-laden lyrics? If this is their way to their wealthy place, why do we as an audience begrudge them their success? After all, much of the wealth that is accumulated by those old American families (the ones that own those mansions and driveways) is also rooted in not-so-pristine origins. Why should we hold hip-hop artists to a different standard?

I’m interested in what folks think about this. How should wealth be defined and how does hip-hop intersect with your definition of wealth? To inspire your responses, I thought I’d include the poem I referred to earlier:

The Rose that Grew From Concrete by Tupac Shakur

Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete?/ Proving nature’s law is wrong it learned to walk with out having feet/ Funny it seems, but by keeping it’s dreams, it learned to breathe fresh air/ Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else ever cared.

(This post originally appeared on Black Arts Blog Network)
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Credit: Stephanie Shonekan, Ph.D., is a professor of Humanities and Cultural Studies at Columbia College Chicago. She earned her Ph.D. in ethnomusicology and is the director of Black World Studies.

From Homelessness to Stability: Inspiration Corporation

Triggered by the desire to serve people with dignity and respect, an unassuming police officer found a unique approach 20 years ago to helping the homeless.

In 1989, Lisa Nigro decided to barrow her nephew’s little red wagon. She filled it with sandwiches and coffee then dragged it around Uptown Chicago. She handed the homeless men and women not just good food but also a dash of hope.

Her once impulsive move has transformed into a non profit raising millions annually while preserving the core values. With three sections including housing, employment and social services, Inspiration Corporation now serves 3,000 people a year. Nigro was also featured in a True North Snacks commercial during the 2009 Oscars.

Although there is no definite answer to how many people are homeless in the U.S., an approximate of 3.5 million people, with 1.35 million of them children, are likely to experience homelessness in a given year, according to the National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty in 2007.

Learn more about Inspiration Corporation in this week’s MD Spotlight, where I caught up with Executive Director and CEO John Pfeiffer, who has been with the agency for over three years.

Tell us about Inspiration Corporation (IC).
We touch the lives of about 3,000 people a year. We see ourselves as a catalyst for self-reliance and help people make transformation possible from homelessness to stability. They gain greater skills for the marketplace and durability to succeed, not just for [their] first job but to climb the ladder and have earning potential.

We have three sections, employment, housing and social services. With the economy slipping, we’re seeing a double digit growth in all those areas. A lot of people are at risk of homelessness – they need emergency grants and we’re serving many more meals. We’re on track to serve 40,000 meals this year [at Inspiration Cafe]. We’re trying to be as helpful as we can for the people coming to us.

What sets IC apart from other non-profits helping the homeless?
One interesting point is our culture. Our core value is treating people with dignity and respect. Homeless people are really treated undignified – homelessness is very identity stripping, it could be isolating and you lose a sense of yourself. We try to create a warm area for the person, when you come to Inspiration Cafe, you can choose your meal from a menu, you can choose the quantity, we serve it in china, no plastics. It’s uplifting with art work and caring volunteers who know your name. Another point is when people come here and graduate [meaning, get a job or a house] they have privileges to use our services for life.

You can talk to a staff member, access meals or food from our pantry, access dollars for emergency or transitional grants [ for clothes for a job interview] or money for school. We try to provide tools that are durable and transitional. We [also] have people that come in once a month or twice a month – these people are no longer homeless and they become a role model.

How did your organization make the transformation from one kitchen to what it is today?
We had an intern from the University of Chicago who decided to replicate a model of another cafe here. We decided to merge in 2003. Our primary restaurant serves homeless  people. We also have a public restaurant that serves to people who work – it helps raise money. We [also] have an employment prep-program and provide community voicemail [services].

We had organic, incremental growth all around the city.

What’s in store for the future?
As part of our capital campaign, we’re looking for another culinary restaurant on the west side of Chicago.

Biggest challenges up to date?
Managing growth, maintaining environments that are really responsive to the people in need. With growth comes more management.

We have to preserve the inspiration, we have to make sure that the program and culture doesn’t suffer – and that everyone gets that personal attention. So we don’t want to grow too big. A smaller ratio of staff is more helpful, has a better outcome.

What do you like most about your job?
Well, I like a lot [of things] about my job. I like talking to participants. They pass through certain thresholds – people are so ecstatic when they graduate, go to school, get jobs. They have kids but are not in custody of them. They have the capacity then to bring their kids in for a meal – it’s heartwarming.

We have over 900 volunteers and tons of  people who give very deeply of themselves. It’s a real pleasure to get to know these people. They’re very socially minded and it’s great to be in their company, it keeps me charged.

What’s do you like least about your job?
Oh, the volume of correspondence, I get 100 emails a day. We try to be lean and mean so we [usually] don’t have assistants or interns. But we have a lot of  people to share the burden and it’s the best people  to work with. I’ve worked with government and other nonprofits but this is an A-team – really smart and dedicated.

How has your organization spread the word about its cause?
The traditional way. [We have a] printed newsletter, annual reports, e-newsletters, a Facebook cause page and we hooked up with Yelp.

How much do you raise annually and how is this money raised?
A little over $3 million. It’s a big mix between public and private. Forty-five percent is government, the rest is earned through (10%) restaurant sales and private funds.

What did you do before you joined IC?
I was on staff for America’s Second Harvest - ‘Feeding America.’ I was in charge of national fundraising.

What are some of your favorite causes?
I’m a big supporter of Doctors Without Borders, Amnesty International, Oxfam International. I’m a big supporter of providing opportunities to people that may not have it otherwise and have a passion for political dissidence.

Favorite pastime outside of work?
Cooking. We’re all about food at inspiration, I lived in Thailand so I love to cook Thai food.

Do you have any mentors?
Lots, from colleagues to board members.

Favorite book?
Brideshead Revisited. It’s a great story about growing in the world.

Anything you’d like to add?
Inspiration is all about helping people reconnect and transform their lives – we’re all about the impulse of our finder, [Lisa Nigro], who twenty years ago reached out and said, “Hey, I’m Lisa, tell me about you.”

There’s not a lot of people who think beyond the thought of helping and doing the action. Lisa says it’s about acting on impulse – [it's] then we exercise our humanity. If we stay withdrawn and stay passive, we don’t connect. It’s a great engine for peace making and progress but running a non-profit is tough.

Best practical advice to pass along?
Act on your impulses, find a way to help. If you can’t do it yourself then help somebody else who’s already doing it.

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Credit: Urmi Rahman, a freelance journalist residing in California. She received her B.A. in political science with minors in English and journalism from Cal State Fullerton. Urmi, 25, is also the editor and co-founder of Minority Dreams Magazine. Contact her at Urmi AT minoritydreams DOT com.

A Vietnamese Artist’s Call for Unity, Tolerance and Understanding

Brian Doan, 40, was born August 22nd 1968 towards the end of the Tet Offensive in the Central Vietnam city of Quang Ngai. The Tet Offensive was a turning point in Vietnamese history as it marked the end of the war and the beginning of what would be a new kind of struggle for an entire generation of war-weary South Vietnamese refugees. Doan and his family, however, remained in Vietnam while his father suffered through ten brutal years in a Communist reeducation camp. Their struggle was one of trying to cope with living under a regime that regarded them as second-class citizens.

Since 1963, his father was stationed in Quang Ngai during the war as a security officer with the Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN). When the war ended in 1975, he and his family moved to Saigon while his father was serving time in the camp. Not more than a few years after they settled, they were forced to return to Central Vietnam into a “new economic zone.” Families that were of the former South Vietnam middle and upper class were sent there to work as farmers.

Not content with their situation, the Doan’s escaped towards the South again, migrating from city to city, town to town until they finally settled in Long Khanh—a small, developing community of Catholic Vietnamese about 100 kilometers outside of Saigon, known by then as Hồ Chí Minh City. This is how Brian remembers his childhood in Vietnam—always being on the move and never having a permanent home.

These days, Brian lives in an upscale Long Beach, California neighborhood with his wife and two children. Between being an associate professor at Long Beach Community College, he is an internationally exhibited photographer who has built a reputation as a controversial and provocative artist within the California Vietnamese community.

His photograph in the recent group exhibition F.O.B. II: Art Speaks at VALAA Center in Santa Ana sparked fierce protests from local anti-Communist Vietnamese and eventually lead to the city ordering the closure of the exhibition.

Thu Duc, Vietnam, the title of the photograph at the center of the controversy, depicts a Vietnamese woman wearing the yellow star of the Vietnamese communist flag. Next to her is a bronze statue of Hồ Chí Minh, founding leader of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam and a despised figure within the Little Saigon community.

These two images have the potential to incite a fiery rage of protest in the local community as was demonstrated in the massive fifty-three days of protests against Truong Van Tran, then-owner of Hi Tek video rental. Tran defiantly displayed the Communist flag of Vietnam and posters of Hồ Chí Minh in his store saying that by doing this he was encouraging a freer Vietnam by showing the freedoms that existed in the United States.

Brian, on the other hand, did not share the same intention as Tran in making and exhibiting his controversial photograph. His was a personal observation and interpretation of the sentiment of young Vietnamese people living in a rapidly developing Communist country. In fact, he was more interested in exploring the similarities between people in this globalized world rather than exposing the differences.

Despite accusations of being a Communist sympathizer, Brian is not. At the same time, he isn’t on the side of the anti-Communists either. In his words he’s “…just an artist.”

With that said, what defines the work of an artist is usually their life experience and what they draw from that experience. This crucial aspect is the one thing that was missing from the opposing disputes playing out in the media. Telling his story might have helped to avoid this whole fiasco and brought about much needed understanding.

[The following is a Question & Answer session led by Wayne Huang]

Question: What was growing up in Vietnam like on a day-to-day basis?

Brian Doan: It was pretty hard. I mostly remember that we didn’t have anything to eat. When we arrived in Long Khanh around the mid 80’s, it was kind of a jungle area. It was remote and away from any civilized condition. When we arrived, we were still young and afraid of many things. It rained a lot, we were surrounded by trees, and kids didn’t have clothes, but we were able to live peacefully for a couple of years because we didn’t have any harassment. We lived poorly, but we weren’t harassed by the government like we were in Central Vietnam. Central Vietnam was where most Communists were based. More towards the South, people were more relaxed. There were fewer Communists. It was tough, but we survived day-by-day.

Q: Out there in the jungle area, was there a big community?

BD: It was a small Catholic community. My mom decided to live in a Catholic community because at least they could protect us. They really helped us when we didn’t have our father around. My big brother tried to escape Vietnam many times and spent time in a reeducation camp as well. My mom was a vendor selling used clothes on the streets town-to-town so she wasn’t home mostly. My sister, who was 17-years old at the time, had to take care of the five of us [siblings]. I remember I learned quickly how to trap animals and hunt. That’s all the meat we could gather for meals. We didn’t have rice to eat. We ate mostly corn. Things got better when two of my brothers separately escaped Vietnam to Japan in ’79. We got some money from one when he was living in the Philippines in a refugee camp. He was able to send us money to buy food.

Q: In your interview with Richard Chang of the OC Register, you said of the woman in Thu Duc, “she lives in the Communist country, but look at her. She’s looking away, dreaming. She wants to escape Vietnam. Hồ Chí Minh is next to her, but Communism is no longer in her.” How much of this has to do with your own feelings of living in Vietnam?

BD: I went back to Vietnam four times. The first time was in ’98, second in 2001, 2004, and last year 2008. I’ve seen Vietnam change like China or other countries around in the last 10 years. I think it’s due to the way the economy has gone. It’s not like the time we lived there. Now people are able to have an education, dress nice, or start a business. You see some rich people with Mercedes Benz’s, you see new houses, luxury hotels, cafes, internet cafes. You go there and you’re surprised people pay $10 for a meal. I mean, it’s more expensive than it is here. I see now young people working for banks or foreign companies, trying to get scholarships to travel and study in some country. There are a lot of tourists too, a lot of Westerners in Hanoi and Saigon. It’s funny, now there’s a luxury town outside of Saigon. Only Taiwanese, Chinese, and Koreans live there. My friend and I was there visiting, taking pictures and my friend says, “Hey Brian, you feel like we’re walking in Brooklyn, New York?” There was a Louis Vuitton store, Mercedes Benz’s, BMW’s, Hummers lining the street, sushi restaurants. My friend and I were like, “Wow.”

Q: Twenty years ago, this was non-existent?

BD: Before it was just empty. Now there are skyscrapers and the people…all foreigners. It’s funny that there are no Vietnamese there. There are some Vietnamese working there, but it’s mostly foreigners working in Vietnam who live there.

Q: When you say “…Communism is no longer in her,” is this the popular sentiment of people there today?

BD: Of course Communists still control the government and society, but the Vietnamese population is like 80 million people now and the Communists are only maybe 3 million members? Most Vietnamese want to move forward. Young people have no idea who Hồ Chí Minh is or know about Communism. They are more interested in getting an education, moving forward. Also I see more consumerism. They want to have Japanese cars, motorcycles, nice watches, nice clothes, and hang out in clubs. That’s all they care about. I’ve asked them, “You think about freedom?” “…about the Communists?” They avoid the question. They say “No.” They accept where they are.

Q: When you say they want to escape, you don’t mean they literally want to escape Vietnam?

BD: No, no, most of them want to go to the U.S. to study. Before they could go to Russia or China or Korea for college, but the majority of students want to go to the U.S. and study there. If they’re lucky, they’ll marry someone and get a job and never go back. In my time there, we had to join Communist youth groups. They organized people and you had to be a member of a group to be able to socialize in school. They really controlled you and you had to be loyal to the government, to Hồ Chí Minh, but now you don’t have to do that. People had to join those kinds of organizations to be able to get a job from the government.

Q: Nowadays, it kind of resembles a capitalist society, right?

BD: Exactly. If you speak English and your GPA is high, a foreign company will hire you then. Before, if you had a Communist member in the family, you get a job. Now with foreign companies they hire people with quality, not background.

Q: Now going back a little bit, you said you tried to escape Vietnam and you were imprisoned two times.

BD: I tried to escape Vietnam 11 times with my family. The first time I got caught was in ’78 at 10 years old. My brother and I spent like two and a half months in prison. The second time I got caught was in ’86…no ’83 or ’85…I don’t remember. I got seven months.

Q: How did the authorities treat you when they caught you?

BD: Horrible. They mostly allowed Vietnamese to try to escape Vietnam. They typically put us in a small cell. I remember when I got caught in Central Vietnam there were 98 people in a small room. We didn’t have enough space to live. People were layered up like sardines.

Q: Were you trying to go by boat or trying to cross the border?

BD: By boat. The border patrol saw our boat sinking. They sent us to prison. By that time, I was about 15 or 16 years old. I denied my background because I was afraid if I told them my real background, my father would have problems. He had already been released from the reeducation camp and I was afraid they would harm him some way. I gave them my fake I.D. so they wouldn’t be able to track down my address. They tried to investigate who I was, what my real name was, stuff like that so I was kept a long time.

Q: Were you with your siblings or by yourself?

BD: My sister and my dad got caught.

Q: Is your whole family in the U.S. right now?

BD: Yes.

Q: How did you eventually get here?

BD: In 1991, my father applied for a program for political refugees. We came here at the end of ’91, three days before Christmas.

Q: You came here more than a decade later than the original Boat People, who mostly settled in Little Saigon as you know. You came here for the same reasons, but the circumstances in which they came were different than the circumstances in which you came. How does this disparity affect how you relate to the community and their concerns?

BD: We first landed in San Francisco, and then we went to live in San Jose for a while. My brother flew from Japan to visit us. We had friends here. One was a friend of my dad who was able to escape in ’75. We are different, I have to say. They spoke differently, they were more successful, and they looked good.

They did not treat us very well. They would say, “You have to do this or that,” “If you don’t speak English, you’re in trouble. You’ll just end up washing dishes in restaurants.” I said, “No, I want to go to college.” They would say, “No, forget about college, go and wash dishes.”

Six months we lived in San Jose and then we decided to move to Little Saigon. My cousin thought we could find help in a bigger community. A couple of my father’s former army subordinates had successful businesses so I had opportunities for work, but I ended up not working for them. First, they didn’t want to hire me, because how would they treat me? It was better for them to hire Mexicans so they could do whatever with them, but hiring me meant they had to watch out for my dad because my dad was their boss before. So I couldn’t find a job through my father or with Vietnamese who came here before me because I think they didn’t know how to treat me or my brother. They couldn’t treat us badly because we didn’t have strength like Mexicans to carry boxes around. We were skinny and just came from Vietnam so we could not work as much as Mexican workers.

Secondly, they couldn’t treat us badly because of my father. They knew him. So we couldn’t find a job. It’s weird that they kept saying, “You have to work this and that and forget about school.” They gave us a bunch of advice, but it wasn’t really helpful. Even with my own brother, it’s kind of different. He would say, “We came here when there were no Vietnamese at all, we worked hard, went to school, and now you guys are lucky. Now with Little Saigon, you’re able to have Vietnamese food.”

But you know when they came, the system provided welfare with help from the Carter administration. Vietnamese people could get support from the government. By the time we came, we only had six months of welfare to better our English, to find work. Not a lot of time. The people who came here first really looked down upon us.

Q: How did you feel about that?

BD: Kind of small. Not to say that I hate them, but I felt they shouldn’t have treated us like that or talk like that to us. Once I was at a party that my father’s friend invited us to. He had a big house. Pointing at me, he said to his son, “You remember this guy? He used to be in kindergarten with you.” Now he was a doctor, owned a business. His son said “Yeah…yeah,” but he barely remembered. How could he remember when we were kids, 5 or 6 years old? He spoke English. Of course, I didn’t speak English at all. His girlfriend was Caucasian and he was dressed in a suit. I didn’t have clothes. We just came from Vietnam. I really must have looked like a monkey to them. They tried to be nice, but I thought, “Please, at least talk to me in Vietnamese.” They kept talking to me in English and I didn’t understand, then his father said, “You know…now he owns three houses.” I just felt like, “Is it really necessary to tell me that?” It was just intimidating to see how successful they were. We just got here, new, cold, and looking horrible.

Q: Were you the first in your family to go to college?

BD: No, two of my brothers who escaped to Japan have a degree. In the United States, I’m the only one to go to college.

Q: How did you become interested in photography?

BD: When I came here, I dreamed of being a writer like Hemingway, but I figured out that it was too late to become fluent in English. I came here when I was 23 or 24-years old and was working a lot and going to school part-time. I liked to draw. I took some art classes; I loved painting, then I found a passion for photography with some encouragement from Jerry Burchfield at Cypress College. I was working on several projects and Jerry said, “Brian, I think you should go for photography instead of computer science.” I took computer science like all Vietnamese guys, but then I asked myself, “Do I really want to do computer science? I think I like photography.” My mom, dad, and sister all went nuts. They asked, “What are you going to do with photography?” At that time, to an Asian family, engineering was a career. Photography or art was something fun, but not a career. I really drove them nuts. They kept trying to call me to talk about it, but I’m stimg_8228ubborn. If there’s something I want to do, I’ll do it.

Q: What does Thu Duc mean?

BD: Just a location where I took the photograph. It’s in the outskirts of Hồ Chí Minh City.

Q: Tell me about the subject in the photograph. Who is she?

BD: Last year when I was in Vietnam I hung out in coffee shops. I met couples and individuals at the shop. I just approached them and said I was working on a project and if they’d be able to pose for me. Some of them said yes some of them, no. So that girl is one of the people I met. I don’t remember her name. Maybe she gave me a fake name or something, but I just made an appointment and shot her.

Q: Out of your series of portraits of Vietnamese people, this one strikes me as the most overtly political. What was going on in your life or what feelings did you have at the time that resulted in the idea for the photograph?

BD: I got the idea before 2008. I collected a lot of things about Communists and things from the Vietnam War and I wanted to do something with that. Two-thousand eight was the first time I was able to go back to Vietnam as a scholar or a photographer, to observe and look at things in a mature way, not like a student. Sitting in the coffee shop interviewing people, I saw a lot of things were different. Now, when I see the Communists, I no longer hate them. I don’t like them, but my hatred is gone.

The people here, they keep that hatred inside. Some want to kill them. It’s time to stop hating. Both sides have been doing wrong, but we should talk. The younger generation like the girl in the photo is my message. She’s in a Communist country. The things she wears may be Communist, the things next to her may be Communist, but she’s not a Communist.

I wanted to show something political, but I also wanted to show that the sad thing about Vietnam is that it is divided in two parts, North and South. Like North and South Korea. The North was supported by the Chinese and Russians; the South was supported by Australia, U.S., and the free world. We were fighting with AK-47’s and M16’s. None were made by Vietnamese. Both were given to the Vietnamese to fight each other.

So why do we keep fighting? The war is over. The Communists won. The South Vietnamese in Little Saigon lost and ran away to live here. The yellow flag to me has no meaning. I didn’t grow up with that yellow flag with three stripes. No, I grew up with a Communist flag. We have to accept the reality that 80 million Vietnamese live in Vietnam and that some of them like the Communists, some of them don’t. We have to ask the question, “Why are brothers fighting brothers?” That was my point.

In my series about Vietnamese people, most of the pictures are weird…like me. I’ll never be normal. How could I be normal growing up in society that treated me like a second-class citizen? I could never be psychologically normal like people who grew up here. I think most Vietnamese are somewhat psychotic. In many Vietnamese families there is always a conflict between father and son, wife and husband and we somehow isolate ourselves in different corners. I don’t know why. I wanted to show that in my series.

Q: What do you want your critics to understand about you?

BD: I hope they accept me as who I am, respect different voices from a younger generation and different political views. Asking people to understand me is hard. We are multicultural here, a salad bowl. That’s what’s beautiful about the U.S. I understand the Vietnamese here escaped from the war. They’re not really into art. Most want to talk about politics and how to overturn the Communist regime. They came to the F.O.B. exhibition to look for something to protest. We had a beautiful gallery about gay, lesbian Vietnamese. We had different rooms with wonderful work from artists much more talented than me. I was nobody there, but they just targeted me because of the red flag. That blinded them to the whole exhibition. I asked for them to tolerate, to look at the other works as well. Look at the issues the young generation is dealing with such as being gay, identity issues.

It’s not about politics, Communists, a red flag or a yellow flag. Don’t show me a red or yellow flag and tell me to accept one. My flag is the United States flag. People called me a traitor. I didn’t get money from the South Vietnam government; they didn’t pay me to fight the Communists. How can they call me a traitor? I grew up a Communist. Nobody can call me a traitor because I escaped them, and South Vietnam…I didn’t grow up with that government. They got money from the U.S. government to fight the Communists, not me. They lost the war, not me. I’m just a victim. I mean, be able to accept the generation that wants to forget and move on, be able to accept the pain from the North Vietnamese too. I’m just an artist that wants to speak my views on the issue on [which] we’ve been divided.

National Cleavage Day?

I was going through the pages of Alternet when I came across an article on something I’d never come across before: National Cleavage Day.

The blogger who was writing about this was furious. National Cleavage Day (which took place on April 3rd) was a “holiday” being promoted by Wonderbra as a form of female empowerment.

The Wonderbra website explained the campaign with the following:

WONDERBRA has won a firm victory for social upliftment. Their NCD [National Cleavage Day] Party, whose constant, non-discriminatory support policies assure that both the left and the right remain empowered and uplifted, will now be in effect immediately.It was only through this extensive campaigning for a woman´s right to be wonderful, that NATIONAL CLEAVAGE DAY, on Friday 3rd April 2009, has now been declared a PUBLIC HOLIDAY.

Now, I won’t deny that Wonderbra’s public relations and advertising teams are good with words. That’s not my issue here. They’re paid to make anything sound good.

What I don’t like about this whole campaign is how it attempts to cover up purely commercial interests with flimsy claims of female empowerment. I’m all for a woman’s right to choose what to wear (or not to wear), but the way Wonderbra is using women’s bodies to sell their products completely contradicts what their National Cleavage Day is all about. Women’s movements have long been trying to desexualize the female body in public, and all National Cleavage Day does is promote highly sexualized images of women in the public sphere.

I thought the way the author of the Alternet post presented the issue was rather telling.

I shit you not.

A quote from the sponsor’s spokesperson (Wonderbra’s Samantha Peterson): “It gives women a chance to be beautiful and glow in the furtive, yet appreciative, glances their cleavage evokes from men,” she said.

Male gaze ruled crucial! Film at eleven!

Sigh.

At its core, National Cleavage Day isn’t about female empowerment. It’s just another campaign following the not-so-ancient adage, “sex sells.”

(This article originally appeared at Crisscrossing Borders)

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Credit: Nour Merza, a 21-year-old freelance writer whose family’s globe-trotting tendencies have allowed her writing to be influenced by places as varied as Saudi Arabia, Chicago, Los Angeles and the United Arab Emirates. She also enjoys singing and improving her Arabic. Currently, she’s studying International Relations at the American University of Sharjah.

Redefining the Family Structure

Their story spans back 15 years. After a first introduction in college, they became best friends. Two years passed before their relationship matured into love. In 2008, they were married in California when it was deemed legal for same-sex couples.

Jay Foxworthy, 38, is a San Francisco police officer while Bryan Leffew, 36, stays home with the kids – 4-year-old Selena and 8-year-old Daniel.

They were a private family once. Their focus changed dramatically however, when a 52.5 percent vote in November passed Prop 8, which eliminated the previous rights of same-sex couples to marry. They then realized the threat of having their marriage and its protections invalidated.

Now the two broadcast their lives regularly on YouTube. It’s an ongoing effort to destroy stereotypes of the “gay agenda,” a term commonly used to label all lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) individuals negatively.

“The way [many] people make gay people seem is not true, it’s frustrating,” Foxworthy said. “They think gay people go to bars all the time, have sex and go to clubs. But there are so many different stories.”

These stereotypes encouraged the couple to upload videos to the web. Dubbed “Gay Family Values,” the episodes are of mundane family practices.

It is of Selena’s fourth birthday. She unwraps boxes only to find another inside, which eventually lead to a small stack of cash.

Then there is Christmas morning. The kids are neatly opening gifts when Selena corrects Daniel about where her gift was purchased. Target, not the barbie store, she says.

“We’re not all stereotypical, we do the day-to-day activities that any other family does,”  Foxworthy said. “…We want the values and protections [of marriage] and be represented [by it] in the state.”

Coming Out

Fellow officers at the police department know about Foxworthy – he isn’t afraid anymore to disclose his sexual orientation.

Back in high school however, he was uncomfortable with the very idea. Raised in a conservative household, he was trained to think negatively of homosexuality.

He joined the military after graduation. It was the first time he witnessed positive images of gay people. In 1992, Foxworthy returned home and realized he had to be honest with his family and himself.

His father disowned him as a result while others showed support.

But it was their marriage on October 26 that altered most perspectives. It helped their relationship gain validity and a sense of respect.

“When we actually got married, people said ‘wow, they’re real about this’,” Foxworthy said. “I own a home and work but people don’t think you’re serious unless you’re married.”

A few years before, a female friend inspired them to consider adoption.

“We knew we would be together for the rest of our lives, we made a life commitment,” he said. “When we got past our idea of, ‘it’s not possible,’ we did it.”

The Adoption Process

In 2006, the couple adopted Selena and Daniel from TLC Child and Family Services, a private adoption agency in Sebastopol.

Same-sex couples can jointly petition to adopt in the state. The option is also available to LGBT individuals.

Certain organizations are even amping up their marketing campaigns to get their attention. One is the Human Rights Campaign, which is the largest LGBT civil rights organization in the U.S.

The HRC partnered with the California Department of Social Services and Los Angeles County Adoption Services to launch “Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Family” – an initiative designed to find permanent families for children by promoting LGBT couples and individuals to be foster or adoptive parents.

“The goal is to promote fair policies and practices within childcare sections for LGBT parents,” said  Ellen Kahn, the family project director for the HRC. “It’s in direct response of the shocking number of children in the foster care system who may age out without knowing a family.”

In the U.S., there are over 500 thousand children in the foster care system. Over 100 thousand of these children are available for adoption, according to the Dave Thomas Foundation.

“We want to open the doors to all families, [whether they're] gay or straight, to make it clear that they can adopt,” Kahn said. “It’s about what children need – parents who can provide love and support. And [we want people to know] that sexual orientation is not a basis for who can be a parent.”

Although TLC is not part of the HRC initiative, their policy has always been tolerant.

“We got our adoption license in 1998 and it’s always been our policy not to discriminate against people based on ethnicity, sexual orientation or anything,” said Denise Miney, the adoptions and foster care program director. “We are strong proponents of diversity and want to provide services to the whole community.”
TLC has coordinated 37 adoptions a year for the last three years, which is good for a private agency, she said. They also have several programs from transitional housing for older youth to outpatient mental health services. With their Ukiah department, TLC serves 600 children annually.

Miney supervised the adoption process for Foxworthy and Leffew. She also attended their wedding.

“My family is going to stay my family [even if Prop 8 holds],” Foxworthy said. “It [would] marginalize how people look at us. It would [also] change how we look at our constitution, our government and fellow citizens. [Also], we don’t expect people to like everything about us [but] for them to think of us [as less than], that’s hard.”

Together for 13 years, the Leffew’s represent a new kind of family structure. Their values however, tend to mirror that of their conservative upbringing.

They live in Santa Rosa – located in the northern wine country.

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Credit: Urmi Rahman, a freelance journalist residing in California. She received her B.A. in political science with minors in English and journalism from Cal State Fullerton. Urmi, 25, is also the editor and co-founder of Minority Dreams Magazine.

Nomad with a Rebel: Iman Al-dabbagh

The work of a photographer can be [positively] deceiving. One shoot may require capturing the hearts of lovers into still images while another displaying verbs rising from anti-war rallies. They tell stories through pictures. They document the injustices, promises and realities of lives everywhere from Saudi Arabia to California.

Meet rising photojournalist Iman Al-dabbagh, who strives to document both positive truths and unjust realities. She was raised in Saudi Arabia by an Armenian mother and a Palestinian father. After moving to California, she got her B.A. in Graphic Design from Cal Poly Pomona in 2004.

She has photographed weddings in Jeddah, “starving artist” types in Los Angeles and the morsels of food on her plate [that's a habit]. Learn more about Iman in the MD Spotlight.

How did you get started in photography, what attracted you to it?
Back in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia I was always interested in the humanities and arts classes. I wanted to study filmmaking, but I ended up studying Graphic Design cause it sounded “safe” (I did like it). I got into photography during college years when I attended lots of concerts and realized that I took “cool live shots” of PJ Harvey, Alanis Morissette, and other musicians. I also got into photography when I wanted to use my own photos for my Graphic Design projects. My point and shoot film camera got too expensive to deal with, so I purchased a digital one. Then I realized that I was starting to [keep a] journal with my camera, so I used that as my visual diary. I didn’t consider photography professionally until two or so years after graduation.

I’ve heard you take your camera everywhere you go, is this true? Why?
True, because I forget a lot. I’m lazy about writing, I’m very visual and not as articulate and eloquent with words. So the camera was a good, cheap and fast way to document my daily life. This started in 2004. It progressed to different ideas and projects, like photographing everything I eat and also photographing time lapse like changes that happened in the way I looked and felt in correlation with what I ate (I like making “before” and “after” pictures). I like change.

What are you working on right now?
The long-term personal food/image project; the documentation of Nisreen’s journey of recovery in California - a girl from Gaza who’s being treated in the US  through Palestine Children Relief Fund; another project that will be revealed only when it’s done; and finally, Project Souarna that I’ll talk about in depth later.

What’s a typical job like for you as a photographer?
It’s different every time.

What equipment do you always take with you to a job?
Camera, some lenses, and sometimes a flash. I also pretend that “patience” and “feeling positive” are equipment so I take those, too.

How do you secure jobs in photography?
My instant reaction [to this question is]: jksdjkdsjflsl;alS’sIswl;”a’! But really, there is no such thing in my life at the moment. Deposits work for big jobs. If I needed security, I’d have to get a government or 9-5 job. Or maybe something I’m still not aware of. But continuing to network is a good way. Some people say that’s just crazy. I think they’re right. But who says crazy is bad?

What sets you apart from other photographers? Do you have a niche?
You tell me. But what I hear people tell me all the time is that my portraits are “feel good” photos and very in the moment. People who are attracted to my work are generally NGOs, Graphic Designers, young couples, new moms, non-conforming performers, activists, poets, musicians, and artists in general. I tend to attract the “starving artist.”

Biggest challenges up to date?
Technical issues, and financial issues - I am not a business-minded person.

What do you like most about what you do?
Experiencing a fraction of other people’s joy or misery and meeting new people; changing sceneries - not being trapped in a cubicle; traveling - getting flown over to do weddings or other events; and the practicality of digital work when it comes to delivery (over the internet) - working from home and getting published worldwide.

What do you like least about what you do?
Carrying heavy and expensive equipment that cause back aches; head and eye aches after long photo shoots; and not having a consistent income.

What are your most notable milestones?
One event, I remember, [that] made me so sure about what I wanted to do with my life was the 3-day VII Photo seminar in 2006. I met the late photojournalist Alexandra Boulat, who gave me a few words of advice. When she left this world a year and a half later, it made me realize how I’ve taken people and opportunities for granted.

What’s in store for the future?
I’m not the planner type, but I do have something planned for the near future. Another international photographer, Aisha Mershani, had asked me to join her in starting a project to teach Iraqi and Palestinian refugee youth documentary photography. I’ve always wanted to work with kids because I think they are awesome people to be with and I’ve been wanting to go back to school to study Social Work. I thought I’d combine my skills and passions together. I also had always wanted to do something like this, so it’s a great opportunity and an honor to be asked to do. We called it Project Souarna (”Our Pictures” in Arabic).

Tell us about Project Souarna.
The workshop is meant to enhance the artistic and journalistic skills of young Iraqis and Palestinians growing up in refuge to show us their hidden world, and to give them a voice and give them a sense of empowerment. We are hoping that making pictures will provide them with a sense of responsibility, and increase their self-esteem and autonomy. The workshop is taking place in Amman, Jordan from mid July to mid August and we’re going to have an exhibit for their work next Spring in the US and Jordan. We’re working on the funding right now and accepting and appreciating the support. I am also currently working on putting together a curriculum and ideas for how to make this as useful and fulfilling as possible. Join our Facebook group and spread the word.

What projects have you been involved in? Tell us about your favorite/most valuable experience.
I signed up for Foundry Photojournalism Workshops in Mexico last summer because I never had the training in this field before. I can say that was a valuable experience because it was the kind of environment I needed to get me immersed into the world I’d been wanting to be exposed to. I wanted to take classes in photojournalism where I could also “work” and get assignments. Mexico was perfect in ways that also taught me how to communicate with people without even knowing the language. My awesome teacher, Guy Calaf, taught me new ways of approaching stories and presenting my work. I met many international working and student photographers and lived with complete strangers for ten days. Exactly what I was looking for. I met really brilliant people whom I am still in touch with on a regular basis.

How have you spread the word about your work?
Friends, family and acquaintances did that for me (word of mouth). But other ways include volunteering for local events in the beginning, having a website, business cards, and networking (I meet lots of people because I travel and attend many art, music, and community events).

How many clients have you had in the past? What kind of events were these?
I don’t think I can count but I can categorize them: relatives, friends, friends of friends or friends of relatives or relatives of relatives, acquaintances, community organizations, artist friends, musician and poet friends, filmmaker friends, magazine owners who are friends with someone I know, people who find me on social networking websites, people who are friends with people who find me on social networking websites, etc. The kind of events were mostly local community based (Arab, Muslim, and Armenian communities in California).

Any embarrassing or funny moments?
The first wedding I did in Jeddah, I fell on the bride while standing on a chair trying to take a higher view. It was caught on video by the videographer. No one good hurt, we all had a laugh.

Best practical advice to pass along?
For photography in general, shoot every single day and work on the technicalities and light to expand and know your niche. As for documentary photography specifically, start with what you know best and love most, start with yourself, your home, your community and surroundings then branch out (that was Alexandra Boulat’s advice to me). And if you’re in the very beginning stages, put yourself out there by volunteering and making yourself visible. Perseverance is a keyword here.

What did you do before you got into photography?
I was and still am a Graphic Designer.

What are some of your favorite causes?
Anything that’s about justice, equality, and fighting (non-violently) for rights of the underprivileged and oppressed regardless of ethnic origin, nationality, class, gender, sexual orientation, physical and/or mental appearance/condition or age.

Favorite pastime outside of work?
Photography is still a pastime even when I’m not working, but for the sake of sounding less obsessed with photography, I’d say reading, eating out (it’s true), and analyzing the deep messages behind great movies with friends.

Do you have any mentors?
Many throughout the years, really. A soon-to-be-Pastor friend has been my mentor (even though I’m Muslima). My college advisor has been my mentor. A distant cousin photographer whom I only met recently is a mentor. Mostly everyday strong people who will refuse to sit at the back of the bus.

Favorite book?
It’s hard to pick one: Orwell’s 1984, Gibran’s Spirits Rebellious, Nawal Al-Saadawy’s Awraqi-Hayati, Coelho’s Veronika Decides to Die, and Millman’s Way of the Peaceful Warrior.

Passions in life?
I’m passionate about being a progressive member of Earth (there, I’ve risked sounding like a “hippie”) and about learning more on how to be a better member of our planet. I’m passionate about making people appreciate and accept each other’s differences. I’m also passionate about reminding myself that I have the right to choose for myself and don’t have to fall into society’s expectations if I don’t want to. Also, trying to constantly stay inspired because that causes motivation, which enhances my creativity.

What inspires you to stay in this field every day?
Meeting inspirational people. Meeting messed up people. Knowing that my work is important because it can make a difference and because it’s recording history.

Who would you like to meet one day?
There were four on my list, I met two and now two more are left: Egyptian doctor/writer/activist Nawal Al-Saadawy and UC Berkeley documentary photo professor Mimi Chakarova.

Who would you like to be contacted by?
Anyone with similar interests as mine, anyone interested in collaborating on a project, whoever wants to hire me as a photographer or designer, anyone interested in funding my projects and hopefully a photo agency, like VII Photo.

Explain the name Nomad with a Rebel.
I’m constantly moving around, carrying a Canon Rebel, to make a living.

Anything you’d like to add?
Yes, thank you so much for this interview.

To contact Iman or check out her work, visit www.photosbyiman.com and www.dissentdesign.net.

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Credit: Urmi Rahman, a freelance journalist residing in California. She received her B.A. in political science with minors in English and journalism from Cal State Fullerton. Urmi, 25, is also the editor and co-founder of Minority Dreams Magazine.

Local Event Promotes Art for Peace, Educates Communities

The intensity of truth emanating from spoken word combined with artistic expressions and real stories illuminated a warehouse sitting in a corner of Inglewood into a sight of inspiration last week.

Held at Chuco’s Justice Center with a universal goal of raising awareness about the crisis in Gaza, speakers from various humanitarian organizations arrived at “Compassion and Expression: Art for Peace” on March 7 to educate and encourage positive action.

“We all have the power to make effective change. Peace begins with me,” said Laura Ava Tesimale, a speaker from the One Global Family Project, a pilot project under Manav Sadhna.

The group provides aid to struggling local organizations around the world that provide services to  needy and marginalized communities.

Tesimale traveled extensively to African and South Asian countries with her daughter, who witnessed and questioned the attacks on the World Trade Center at the age of 11. The trips have allowed both mom and daughter, now 18, to understand and appreciate different cultures.

“There’s so much negativity about Pakistan, I wanted her to see for her own self how great these people are,” the elder Tesimale said. “I wanted to not only touch the hearts of the children there but start it with my own daughter’s heart.”

Islamic Relief, an international relief organization, was also present hoping to raise awareness of crises around the world.

“My goal tonight was to share more information about the humanitarian crisis [in Gaza] and how great the need is, what kind of suffering the people are still going through and to not forget them even though the issue might no be in the news right now,” said Communications Manager Mostafa Mahboob.

He emphasized that people in the midst of deeply controversial issues are still humans in desperate need and the rest of society should help.

Speeches were followed by art activities, spoken word and music played by DJ nPrevail.

Activist Vivien Sansour recited poems of war and personal struggles as attendants made cards to send to Israel or Gaza. Several voiced their thoughts through video messages, that would be sent overseas, to show solidarity with those in war prone nations.

Tasneem Noor, 25, of Culver City created a small card with the words, Love with Faith.

“For me, faith is where my hope comes from,” she said. “If whoever receives [this card] smiles [and] if it strengthens their faith even a tiny bit, it’ll be worth it.”

Local artists Mark Gonzales, Omar Offendum and Skim stirred emotions with songs of humanity –  questioning war, consumerism and personal identity. Their words danced to the beats of hip hop and R&B.

Gonzales attends several community-building events but also aims to create understanding by approaching hostile communities.

“It would be hypocritical of me as a grandchild of immigrants to not support other people, [from] those in Gaza [to] the women in Watts, [LA],” he said before his anticipated performance.

This evening of self expression and education was hosted by Be the Cause, a not-for-profit service organization based on the dedicated work of volunteers.

“[We encourage] being the change you wish to see in the world,” said one of the organizers Kristeen Singh, 30. “We were able to create an event raising awareness about the humanitarian crisis in Gaza and let people know what organizations are doing and how we can help.”

The event’s art activities, from writing poems to painting, all had a common goal of creating a message that lived on long after that evening. A message the organizers hoped would lead to understanding and dialogue.

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Credit: Urmi Rahman, a freelance journalist residing in California. She received her B.A. in political science with minors in English and journalism from Cal State Fullerton. Urmi, 25, is also the editor and co-founder of Minority Dreams Magazine.

Waltz With Bashir: A Review

“Waltz With Bashir” is an animated documentary that unfolds the true story of Israeli Director Ari Folman and his battle with demons of war.

In 1982, Folman was a 19-year-old Israeli soldier invading Beirut. “Waltz With Bashir” begins decades later with a friend’s nightmarish remains of attacking Lebanon. Folman cannot remember anything. He can’t remember if he was 100 or 300 yards away, or nowhere near a massacre at the refugee camps.

It is more than just a recounting of one man’s story, it’s a critique of personal and cultural memory.

Through Mr. Folman’s coming to grips with his own war demons, we see how Israelis and Palestinians recreate memories in order to demonize each other as a way to express their own pain and frustrations.

The healing starts when, for the first time in the movie, someone else besides Folman drives his car. This represents a notion of letting go. The audience is asked to let go of false memories and prejudices as well.

Next comes fear and the cracklings of violence.

“And then the horrific silence of death,” Folman narrates.

Folman and the other Israeli soldiers stand naked in the Lebanese ocean as they stare at the now famous destruction of Beirut. Destruction caused by a group of young boys.

“When the morning light appears, you see the destruction you’ve caused without ever knowing where you are,” Folman says with a tone of vulnerability.

These soldiers are born again to never be who they were before.

“War is nothing like you’ve seen in American movies,” Folman says on the website. “[It has] no glam, no glory. Just very young men going nowhere, shooting at no one they know, getting shot by no one they know, then going home and trying to forget. Sometimes they can. Most of the time they cannot.”

The movie’s honesty and openness is important for us to appreciate, according to Edina Lekovic, the communications director of the Muslim Public Affairs Council.

“Here we have an Israeli soldier reflecting and seeing his responsibility in something devastating and disturbing,” she said.

She agrees that people can often simplify the Arab-Israeli conflict into slogans. And that’s why movies like this enrich our conversations by adding multifaceted layers of perspective.

“Films like this are important because they reveal the human side of the conflicts and reveal the real people and families that have suffered great losses,” said Kevin O’Grady, the Regional Director of the Anti-Defamation League of Orange County and Long Beach.

At the end, the last scene becomes real when animation can no longer fully convey reality.

Israel had surrounded the camps and then lit flares to help a Lebanese Christian militia kill what Folman believes were 3,000 civilian Palestinian refugees. The massacres of Sabra and Shatila have reverberated through nightmares and repression ever since.

Take from this movie that all massacres are the same. Suicide bombings and the deaths in the Palestinian refugee camps are not any different. Humanity is equal.

Take away from this movie that there are no inhumane enemies and your angelic warriors are imperfect.
“Waltz With Bashir” makes you think of war and see no hero’s or rational. No flags waving in the soft breeze being kissed by an approving sun.

War is not the idea of John Wayne. War is filled with scared boys who fire their weapons at all times and at no one. They go home and try to forget but most never do.

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Credit: Abrahim Appel, 30, a freelance journalist residing in Fullerton, California. He recently acquired his B.A in Afro-Ethnic and American Indian Studies from Cal State Fullerton. He works as a live-in caregiver and is researching masters and PhD programs in Arab-Diaspora Studies or International Relations with an emphasis on ethnic relations while considering a career with the Peace Corps.

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