How U.S. foreign policy may have led to Ft. Hood incident

States don’t just exist - they actively exist. It is as difficult for a state to gain sovereignty and existence as it is to sustain them. And how states sustain both tells us a lot about their sense of national security. National security with regards to terrorism breaks down into two types: domestic and international. The former being terrorism perpetrated by American citizens on U.S. soil and the latter being foreign threats faced by the U.S. either on its own soil or abroad.

With all the focus on international terrorism since 2001, it may seem as though American sovereignty and existence are contingent upon the elimination of imminent, foreign threats. But according to FBI reports between 2002 and 2005, twenty-three of the twenty-four recorded terrorist incidents against the United States were domestic. Minus one white supremacist firebombing of a synagogue, the other twenty-three domestic attacks were carried out by extremist environmental and animal rights group.

The sole international terrorist incident involved an Egyptian national killing two at Los Angeles Airport.

Before the pro-war advocates tell you there was only one such international incident because of Bush’s decision to wage wars against Islamic fundamentalism, also know that between 1980 and 2000, 250 of the 335 suspected terrorist acts against the United States were domestic. It appears that the same animal-loving, tree-hugging, white-supremacist type individuals of today have been targeting the wellbeing of the United States longer than Osama himself. And as a result, American national security may be ruling out the probability that it faces a great danger from members of its own state than it does from pro-bin Laden fanatics hiding in the caves of north-western Pakistan.

With two abysmal wars waging onwards in Iraq and Afghanistan, many are asking the same sorts of questions. Namely, is America really that much safer than it was just before the 9/11 attacks? Is it as unsafe now as it was prior to 2001?

Since 2001, national security measures of the United States have focused on preventing imminent threats from abroad. These measures have narrowed their focus on Islamic groups and individuals – making the assumption that because 9/11 was perpetrated by Muslims, the biggest threat to US national security must continue to come from the Islamic world. Additional assumptions must also exclude the probability that increased terrorist activity from Islamic communities were reactionary to pre-emptive American action. After all, if such wasn’t excluded, one could argue that the United States was engaging in terrorism and facing the opposition out of defense.

There is no doubt that the Untied States has provoked a great deal of social and ethno-religious unrest throughout the Islamic world in recent years. Also given the unique and heterogeneous nature of the American citizenry, these measures have adversely affected many Muslim-American communities. Is it possible for such a state as the U.S. to pursue national security interests, aimed at guarding the wellbeing of the state and its people, such that their very nature ends up marginalizing American citizens it seeks to protect?

Aside from the Americans who raid fur factories and bomb industrial ones (in the name of foxes and Mother Earth) it should become apparent that improper national security measures will also lead to reactionary situations. This is where the international and domestic terrorist threats merge into one major concern. I find this to be the prominent issue surrounding the recent Ft. Hood massacre in Texas. Unlike Lierbman’s anxiousness to investigate where Hasan’s assessment went wrong, I wonder where the U.S. went wrong on a very different level.

By preemptively engaging in two massive wars against Islamic states and developing rather discriminatory legislation aimed at marginalizing individuals of Arab and Muslim descent (see: The Patriot Act), the U.S. created a situation in which its own unregulated paranoia is prompting development of imminent threats against it. In a sense, it is contributing to its own difficulty in maintaining its sovereignty and survival.

Had Hasan not been subject to the discrimination and marginalization that he was, would he have snapped? Had the US not pursued a unilateral mission against the Islamic world, would our troops be as keen on weeding out their fellow Muslim soldiers?

It appears that the majority of attacks have always been domestic, but now we’re importing reasons for our own citizens to pursue them even more.

Every quarter counts in the drive to help homeless veterans.

Grant Deering and his Human Services group, Troops United, want your quarters.

On a cool November day, six or seven multicolored coin canisters are neatly placed in a tight row across a table along the Titan Walk at Cal State Fullerton. Students pass by during the midday rush and avoid eye contact. Caralie Kennedy, a member of Troops United, politely asks passersby to donate what they can. A few students stop by the table, fiddle around their pockets or wallets, and drop a quarter or two. But many say “No” or “I don’t carry change.” To which Kennedy replies with a smile, “That’s okay. We’ll be here tomorrow and next week!”

No donation is too small for Troops United and their fund raising event, “Quartering Our Troops”—a nod to the Quartering Acts in North American colonies that required colonial assemblies to provide food and shelter to troops deployed within each colonies’ borders.

As a class project for a Human Services course, Deering and Kennedy, along with four other Human Services students, are raising funds to benefit the largely unnoticed homeless veteran population.

This awareness, however, did not come too swiftly to Deering and his group mates. Assigned to set up a service to aid the “Troops & Veteran” community, Deering and his group had a little trouble getting started. Luckily, he picked up a local newspaper and read a front page story about David Michael Whittaker, who was once a homeless veteran and his 80-foot American flag that flew high and proud in Newport Beach. Though bound to a wheelchair, Whittaker travels to different states to bring awareness of the homeless veterans’ struggles. Deering e-mailed the story to his group and they all quickly rallied behind the cause.

After searching for organizations that support homeless veterans, Troops United came across New Directions Inc., a non-profit and community-based organization that provides comprehensive services for veterans in need including vocational training, housing assistance and substance abuse rehabilitation, as well as transitional workshops to help veterans rejoin the community. New Directions also has 156 beds in its Regional Opportunity Center in Los Angeles, where veterans get housing assistance as they get back on their feet.

With current reports putting homeless veterans at 23 percent of the national homeless population, organizations like New Directions will likely see more veterans returning from Iraq and Afghanistan.

Although the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs aids an estimated 100,000 homeless veterans, roughly 160,000 veterans still do not receive ample assistance, if at all. Many are male adults, though females account for 4 percent, and come from poor communities. Shelters and transitional home organizations across the country have attempted to bridge this gap, but constant community support and outreach are needed to make such organizations effective and successful.

So far, “Quartering Our Troops” is getting a positive response from students on the CSUF campus and online.

Members of the group use social networking sites and modest advertising to raise awareness and so far, it’s working. The key to their positive following? Connectedness and shared experiences.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they [the students] know someone in the military,” Deering said.

Numerous students have come up to their donation table with stories of who they know in the armed services. And this is why, with only three days of fundraising, the group has already raised approximately $500. If every student at Cal State Fullerton donated a quarter to help homeless veterans—and the campus currently has 35,000 students attending—Troops United would be able to raise over $8,000 in donations.

They hope to help fund transitional workshops, purchase computers and new software to help with job searches and training. Their efforts continue on campus this week, but the work does not stop there.

“We are going to direct our efforts toward military bases and see what kind of support we will get there,” Deering said.

Though their Human Services class ends in December and their fundraising ends early next month, Deering has hopes that this will not be the end of Troops United’s mission.

“I hope the next group of students coming in the class will pick this up and continue the fundraising,” he said.

It is a humble effort to involve the community, help give veterans access to services, and give back to our nation’s heroes—one quarter at a time.

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To contact Grant Deering of Troops United, e-mail him at futuredocgrant@hotmail.com
For more information on New Directions, Inc. and how you can help, visit www.newdirectionsinc.org

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Francesca Gacho holds a B.A. in English from Cal State Fullerton. She is an intern at Minority Dreams Magazine, where she hopes to spread her journalistic wings, explore and hone her writing ability, and gain insight into the myriad of issues in today’s soundbite-focused world. Her writing interests include human interest pieces that delve into culture, arts, current events, and community service.

Remembering Veterans’ Day

As flags fly half-mast around the nation, we celebrate Veterans’ Day, or what was initially called, Armistice Day—the day that marks the signing of the ceasefire agreement to end the First World War. Signed on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, it has come to symbolize peace between warring nations and to commemorate the fallen. But what has been traditionally, and in spirit, a day of remembrance seems to have passed unnoticed for some people. Outside of a few moments of silence by Congress or the President’s remarks from the White House lawn, for many people, Veterans’ Day has served as a day-off, a break from work or school, getting paid time-and-a-half (if you’re lucky), or perhaps even an opportune time to take advantage of several Veterans’ Day sales. What has started as a day to celebrate peace has become synonymous with flag-laden advertisements for 40% off on widescreen TV’s.

But in light of the recent Fort Hood shooting in Texas, Veterans’ Day this year takes a different tone. Though already a day for commemorating and honoring the servicemen and women of the Armed Forces, it is a somber reminder of the sacrifices given to our country. And this year, Veterans’ Day takes on a mix of tragedy, painful acceptance and reverence for the great sacrifices given.

Twelve soldiers and one Army retiree died in a shooting rampage in the Soldier Readiness Center at Fort Hood military base in Texas, where soldiers are processed for deployment. Much of the shock surrounding the horrific incident is from hearing that “one of our own” is the alleged shooter, that this could happen in a military base—the towering symbol of safety, security, and order. Speculations about the gunman’s motives continue to be debated, but there is no explanation clear enough or comprehensive enough to assuage the loss of friends, families, and colleagues. And this loss has and continues to affect many more families of soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Though we have been embroiled in two wars for years, these wars seem to escape the daily minutiae of American lives. For many, life goes on as usual, punctuated by news marquees of casualty reports on television. What escapes most of us is that soldiers from combat return from deployment every day and rejoin mainstream society as students, co-workers, family, and community members, often with trepidation. Many come home from combat bearing the burdens of war and of life-changing experiences only so few can understand. These are the untold and unrecognized obstacles our veterans face. It is unfortunate that it had to take a tragedy to bring our attention once again to the realities of war time. Though the 13 casualties did not fall by the hands of a foreign enemy, such violence would not be foreign to a war zone. Just like the soldiers who died in combat, they leave families behind to piece together what has happened, to pick up and carry on with their lives, cherishing and honoring loved ones. We tend to think of war as a feat we fight and win, but not always as something we suffer. What the incident at Fort Hood has painfully given us is a chance to look at the tolls of war so close to home.

President Obama, in his speech at the Fort Hood memorial service, described November 11 as a “chance to pause and to pay tribute—for students to learn the struggles that preceded them …. for citizens to reflect upon the sacrifices that have been made in pursuit of a more perfect union.” November 11 passes as a somber day of remembrance for all the fallen, civilian and military, but today, we should also take time to remember the loss and sorrow we suffer from our ongoing wars and what has been given to fight them. Maybe this way we will carry with us those who have sacrificed much for the good of many, remember those who have returned to us, and truly see the meaning of this day beyond elegant speeches, moments of silence, and discounted widescreen TV’s.

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Francesca Gacho holds a B.A. in English from Cal State Fullerton. She is an intern at Minority Dreams Magazine, where she hopes to spread her journalistic wings, explore and hone her writing ability, and gain insight into the myriad of issues in today’s soundbite-focused world. Her writing interests include human interest pieces that delve into culture, arts, current events, and community service.

Walking away from the world of money

One day you loose your job and your last hundred dollar bill breaks into two 20’s and a 10. Then your money crumbles into the last dimes that send you off the cliff.

Watching myself slip into poverty feels like following the lethal injection as it disappears into the skin. Poverty is its own society and system and if you don’t know the system as you leave the world of money, you’re so lost, you suffocate.

Everything is complicated and uphill now. If I get work today, how would I afford the gas to get there? How would I survive for two weeks or a month as I waited for my pay?

What amazes me is how much money, change, how many extra rooms, couches, cars and jobs people have. But so few help and even fewer do anything of substance.

Even when someone does help, there is an amount of guilt mixed with resentment within me. I need a job so that I can create free will for myself.

Even my relative who is letting me sleep here wants me to move already. It has been a month and she wants to get her second bedroom back and maybe turn it into an office for her pyramid scheme business.

So, do I look for a job or a place to live?

I have no place or rights at the restaurants or the movie theaters either. I have no reason to go into almost every populated place I find. Tomorrow, for just one day, imagine a world like that.

The world sees the beating heart of a poor man as an unfortunate continuation. If things get worse and my clothes get dirty, finding even a bathroom will become a moment of guilt that I will have to pursue.

You sometimes feel that you have slipped into a place somewhere between a dog and a man. And so you wait patiently for a world that is so bothered by your existence that it finally calls you to your bowl. But you will eat knowing it is only because you barked, whimpered and gave the world your guiltiest eyes.

I have heard people say that the homeless or the poor deserve these circumstances, are lazy or want them. But I am here because someone hired me and then did not pay. Then another job was starting but it did not. I would bet most of us are here because of something similar.

It is believed that 1 out of 10 people in this country, very soon, will be unemployed.

Of the nearly 10 percent unemployed now, many will slip forever away from their productive lives. Many will silently slip through the cracks of the richest country in the world.

The goal is to not be one of them.

Examining racial divides created and made worse by man

Race is a funny word. Man-made, just like everything else we’ve created using our own languages. I believe it is an attempt, at best, to distinguish ourselves from a common genome.

When I was very young, a race was something I saw horses or greyhounds compete in. I grew up in the suburbs of Colorado - hardly a prime suitor for diversity in the 1980s. But, nevertheless, I hardly ever felt like the ugly duckling because of the amount of melanin in my skin or the child that everyone looked at funny because I didn’t physically fit in. Looking back, I’m sure plenty of factors played into this relatively comfortable childhood, particularly the idea that I came from an Asian background. Asians have a very different sort of stereotype associated with them, especially those of the Indian subcontinent.

In my teens, people didn’t look at me and think, “She’ll never make it through middle school” or “I wonder if her parents are crack cocaine addicts”. People looked at me and wondered which Ivy League I’d be attending and how many hours a night I spent studying. And in a funny little way, I began to disapprove. Mostly because I was put on a pedestal I wanted neither to justify nor own. And when I didn’t make Ivy League for college (mostly because I didn’t apply to begin with), people wondered if I was the “special” case among Asian Americans.

It was in freshman year of college that the entire schism between racial groups became very apparent to me.  Prior to this, I didn’t know what “racism”, “white supremacy” or “affirmative action” really were. Of course, I’d studied the Civil Rights movement and gave my allegiances to honorable figures like Martin Luther King, Jr., but they didn’t apply to me. I was neither black nor Hispanic. I came from an immigrant family that specialized in skilled labor and whose parents were sworn in as American citizens when I was in the second grade. Parents who had their Masters degrees from American institutions and who lived a relatively comfortable life.

I may have not personally experienced racism growing up, but that isn’t to say I wasn’t exposed to it. Americans are not the only ones with a long history of racism. It’s a global phenomenon. Many Pakistani Muslims, for example, find Indian Hindus to be inferior, “dirty” and “backwards”. “Monkey worshiping filth”, as one particular individual in my family used to put it. Why this hate? Hinduism and Islam clash historically, politically and religiously. Their followers must, as result, categorize themselves as superior to the other faith in order to justify their own beliefs. This is not to say peaceful coexistence does not exist. But there are a fair share of extremists and racists riddled in the both populaces, some of whom also happen to make-up my family.

This sort of racism also isn’t something to discuss with others. It’s a dinner table conversation, behind closed doors. It is understood, but never publicly acknowledged. Growing up, I found it to be a fascinating paradox that I vicariously lived, through my own parents. They’d smile, make small talk with Hindus and non-Muslims – and then behind closed doors, the hate would fill every corner of every room in the house. At the time, I was too young to realize that what they were engaging in was racism. Thankfully, their words weren’t too impressionable, either.

I did have a personal face-off with racism in the latter years of high school. It stemmed from the ignorant and widespread racism following the 9/11 attacks in 2001. These days, it doesn’t matter if you’re Pakistani, Bengali, Indian or even Sri Lankan – to the ignorant racists in this country, you’re a “terrorist”. In 2002, I was stopped at Bush Intercontinental Airport and subjected to SWAT team interrogations, for absolutely no reason except that my name was Maha. A white Delta employee at check-in was kind enough to report me (for national security’s sake, of course). It’s a very belittling and awful feeling, to be subjected to racism. Suddenly, your personality and your achievements are trashed for your name and what your skin color is. And often times, there isn’t a single thing you can do about it.

But I’ve learned, through attaining my own independence from unfortunate aspects of my bicultural identity, that racism is very much psycho-social. Individuals with racist tendencies have failed, for the most part, to establish their own personal identities. It is easier to elevate one’s ethnic, religious or national background to a higher level over another than to endure deep introspection geared towards understanding and strengthening insecurities surrounding personal identity. At the microcosmic level, this could be controlled. If an individual exhibits racist behavior, he or she can be consequently restrained.

At the macrocosmic, state-level, however, it becomes a rather nasty problem.

What the NAACP Means to Me

As a brown-skinned immigrant who has spent 25 years working for racial justice, I owe a good deal of my life to the legacy of the NAACP. So I attended and watched the organization’s centennial convention in New York this week, with both gratitude and the urge to contribute.

My family emigrated to the United States from India when I was five, which would have been impossible if the 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act hadn’t removed country quotas under the pressure of the civil rights ethic.

When I became a community organizer at age 20, I found an inspiring set of groups to work with—few would have existed without the movement’s example and infrastructure.

Yet, my very presence in this country, and my activism, symbolize the demographic and political trends that have changed the racial justice struggle since those days some 40 years ago. Today’s context includes great numbers of non-black people of color, complicating the way in which racism plays out. Certainly there have always been activist indigenous Asian, Latino and Arab communities, but there’s no question that recent immigration has driven our numbers up, expanding our presence in small cities, suburbs and rural areas where we never used to be.

The dominant racial dynamic of the 21st Century is not solely black and white, but a complex hierarchy in which multiple groups of color shift around according to geography, economic status and political power. While communities of color all relate to racism, we don’t experience it in exactly the same way.

I’ve spent most of my career building multiracial organizations and alliances, working with black, Latino and immigrant communities to win new health programs, to protect labor rights, to control the police and to reform school systems. In the early days, I made the “same boat” argument for sticking together—racism oppresses us all in one way or another. But eventually the very real differences between our positions would arise. Immigrants had language problems at the local hospital, but black people were routinely denied high quality treatment through discrimination that was much harder to prove. Black men experience racial profiling while driving, while South Asian and Arab Americans get it at the airport, and law enforcement justifies those actions in different ways.

Sometimes, in some places, people of color exercise their power in ways that hurt other people of color. At some point, cooperation based on abstract solidarity turned into competition based on specific grievances about the higher step someone else appears to occupy on the ladder.

We can prepare for that moment and deal with it constructively, and dozens of groups across the country have managed to do just that. Being ready means building a broad agenda to expand resources, educating ourselves about other communities, and, most of all, acting as if we’re in the same movement, if not the same boat.

I’ve been privy to a great example in the restaurant industry through my participation in and writing about the Restaurant Opportunities Centers United (ROCU). In any high-end restaurant in any city, we will find the same racial arrangement: white people, whom employers consider attractive enough to speak to diners, in the living wage jobs at the front of the house; immigrants of color at the dangerous low-wage jobs in the back of the house; and black Americans missing entirely, relegated to fast food.

The obstacles we face in accessing the industry’s benefits vary according to employers’ faulty perceptions of our relative worth. Breaking down that hierarchy requires thinking it through, which almost always leads to a complicated set of solutions. Training programs, new hiring and promotion policies, immigration reform and the enforcement of anti-discrimination laws are just a few strategies that ROCU pushes in cities like New York, Detroit, New Orleans and Chicago. ROCU meetings take place in multiple languages, and organizers make constant adjustments to make sure the group is truly inclusive.

That’s the essential challenge facing the NAACP too: being a racial justice leader in a multiracial nation. Its new president, Ben Jealous, is committed to revitalizing the organization—nothing and nobody gets to be 100 without getting a little weary—in ways that connect its current membership to the rest of us. He uses the broader language of human rather than civil rights and works hard to inspire young people, who barely blinked through his speech to the Youth and College Division at the convention.

I’m not attached to the NAACP changing its complexion. The organization doesn’t have to be fully multiracial to meet the challenge set by Jealous. Black people need their organizations, and other communities of color also need black communities to be well organized. As we do our work, though, we need to do it together, regardless of how we’ve arranged ourselves. The solutions we come to will differ, but we can stand up for them together, grounded in our commitment to dismantling the racial hierarchy as thoroughly as we can over the next 100 years.

The author, a social justice activist from the Indian American community, explores the role of the venerable rights organization and the kind of leadership necessary going forward in a multiracial nation.

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Rinku Sen is the president of Applied Research Center and Publisher of ColorLines magazine.
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This article appeared on New America Media.

Exploring racial divides in America

What is your race? Check all that apply.

I’m brown. Latina. Hispanic. Whatever. There’s no way around it.

Since 1790, the American government has been racially classifying and socially constructing labels for us – people of all colors and looks – to help “identify” or “place” us in society, with each U.S. Census allowing for more racial categories. Are they necessary? I don’t know, but they’re there and it’s not realistic to easily eradicate a racial system that has existed for centuries.

I don’t look black, white or oriental. I’m brown, or whatever other title is applicable. That’s what I am, that’s how I’m seen and it’s what I know. And I’m OK with it.

I do have to say, though, that there is a slight hostility between the numerous ethnic groups that are placed under the umbrella term Latino. Guatemalans or Salvadorans are not the same as Mexicans or Cubans.

Despite people of Hispanic/Latino origin coming from different countries and diverse cultural backgrounds, most people don’t understand the differences between us, especially those who lie outside the brown umbrella.

We’re mostly perceived as Mexicans because of the booming Mexican population in California. Yes, there are similarities. Yes, we have almost the same exact experiences with the challenges we face, our parents or just simply growing up.

But we’re different. Our cultures are completely different. Our ways of speaking are different. Our value systems and ways of thinking are different. Our food and music is different. Just because we have some similar qualities like dark skin, hair and eyes doesn’t mean we’re all the same.

Just as Koreans aren’t the same as Chinese or blacks aren’t the same as Haitians. Yet, I’m still assumed to be Mexican, which is the prevalent thought, I suppose.

I don’t think I’ve ever faced blatant racism or discrimination, though. However, maybe indirectly I have.

I’ve usually been followed physically, with the eyes or by a camera whenever I go into stores, most of which are owned or managed by Asians in my area. It is the most irritating thing to be looked at as if I’m going to steal something and even more irritating to be followed while they’re pretending to just be cleaning or organizing.

I’m not dumb and I’m not blind. And I definitely don’t need to steal your cheap things that I can easily buy, is what I usually think. Is it them just being paranoid or is it me and the stereotype I carry that calls for that type of surveillance?

I don’t know, but it’s there.

I’ve also been to wealthy Brentwood neighborhood stores, most of which attract white customers, and have been looked at almost immediately.

Maybe they don’t get too many people like us in their stores? Do I look diseased? Or is it the fact that I’m a beaner/wetback/illegal in their store? Is that too harsh?

Maybe it’s just the reality of how I’m perceived by some.

When my mom came to the U.S. from El Salvador she started working as a housekeeper for wealthy families and continues to work for one in Brentwood. However, she was once fired from her job with a well-known sportscaster; his wife thought she was stealing, which she wasn’t.

She also takes the bus daily and as she waited at her bus stop with other housekeepers, she would come in conflict with an older white woman who lives in the apartment complex near the stop. She repeatedly told my mom to get off of her property or she’s going to call the police and immigration officials.

It’s kind of typical for people to try to intimidate those who look a certain way or don’t speak English as well. These things can’t be sugarcoated.

Furthermore, I don’t know how much President Obama’s election has changed for people. It was a milestone and the blood, sweat and tears of millions of people coat the huge hurdles that were crossed to get to this point.

He is a man who encompasses the wealthy, poor, whites, blacks, Asians and Hispanics. He’s the one who brought the world together, marking one of the most momentous days in American history.

But he is just one man. It’s going to take all of us to change the status quo and progress to a compassionate and accepting future, especially being that this country was founded on diversity.

However, recent events show that some people in society aren’t interested in accepting certain racial groups, making it more difficult to believe that Obama’s election alone will make us move forward.

For example, the Orange County Register reported that on July 4, two men – one bearing a swastika tattoo on his left shoulder – allegedly committed a hate crime against Maria Guadarrama, a 45-year-old custodian in Ladera Ranch, Orange County. She said in a press conference that as they stabbed her they yelled racial slurs, calling her a worthless Mexican.

On the day Americans across the country celebrate the nation’s independence and freedom, two men decided to attack a woman because of her ethnicity and attempt to silence a race as a whole.

Irony at its best.

Celebrating Freedom for America and Iran

This Fourth of July, I spent the day in solidarity with the people of Iran. I added a touch of green in honor of the fiercely brave and yet everyday people of Iran.

A lot of people lost their lives last month. Even more are in prison. I don’t see the point of celebrating American freedom if it does not include honoring the Iranians who have sacrificed for their freedom.

My Fourth of July was in honor of an Iranian blogger who wrote to the world believing it would be her last post. In the face of death, she spent her last night doing the things she loved. Her last prayer. She made her hair look pretty one last time. She painted her nails. And then she danced one last time to her favorite song before she walked out to the street ready die for her vote.

My Fourth of July was in honor of the Iranian who video-blogged from the rooftop of a night-darkened Tehran. I sat in prayer and remembered the silence between the cries of Allah-o Akbar (God is of most value) that pierced the night. I remembered how the people’s cries sounded like the soul of Iran moaning in frustration.

I remembered her voice as it cracked with emotion and tension.

I remembered watching people beat, pulled from their cars and then a women named Neda dying on my TV screen. I remembered the man screaming over her. I remembered Neda’s eyes rolling into the back of her head. I remembered the thousands of people that bullet passed through before landing on her chest.

I remembered the beatings becoming more brutal as the Iranians chanted in the streets to not be afraid.

The police would grab protesters while other protesters would attack the police and save their countryman from being taken away.

I remembered the militia driving down the street on their motorbikes only to have people from a bridge above throw bottles - trying to save the trapped crowd below.

This year on the Fourth of July, I honored Iran and how they are scratching at the walls of freedom with bloody fingertips.

This Fourth of July I honored Iran for they have yet to succeed. I did not celebrate 1776. I celebrated bravery and freedom and the ideas of freedom that connect America and Iran through the everyday people who today make up a worldwide nation of my patriots.

Iranian-American protesters debate Obama’s stance

Analyzing the Serve Act

The Obama Administration hopes that the Edward M. Kennedy Serve America Act will have Americans embrace service of country again.

The 5.7 billion dollar bill is creating approximately 200,000 new AmeriCorps service positions over the next 8 years. It’s an opportunity as the country wrestles with the most threatening financial crises since the depression.

The Serve Act also creates innovative incentives; such as provisions that let seniors volunteer and forward the rewards to family or mentored youth as educational scholarships.

In President Obam’s estimation, the Serve America Act represents “the beginning of a new era of American service.”

“What this legislation does is to help harness…patriotism and connect deeds to needs. It creates opportunities to serve for students, seniors, and everyone in between. It supports innovation and strengthens the nonprofit sector. And it is just the beginning of a sustained, collaborative and focused effort to involve our greatest resource – our citizens – in the work of remaking this nation,” the president said.

Volunteerism is a belief system and a life lesson turned national strategy for team Obama. It is a song they have been chirping since the campaign and a policy they have promised to pursue since winning the presidential nomination.

It is still yet to be seen if the bill truly holds enough resource’s to create a cultural shift of embracing volunteerism. But President Obama’s devotion to “elevating” community service is being given a lot of responsibility for the growing positivity Americans are voicing about joining organizations like the Peace Corps and AmeriCorps.

The Peace Corps alone has seen a 40 percent increase in applications over the last year.

“If you were to compare the days January 20′th, 2008 with January 20′th, 2009 - the day Barack Obama took the oath of office - there is a 175 percent jump in application starts when comparing those two days alone,” said Kate Kuykendall, a Peace Corps public affairs specialist in Los Angeles.

Ms. Kuykendall, who served in China, said that she came back from her service with much more depth in her global understandings and believes that people will benefit in the long run from their experiences serving others.

“The Peace Corps may be for only two years,” she said, “but many continue the life of service for the rest of their lives.”

The president, himself a longtime community organizer, may believe that if he can create opportunities for community service, an actual philosophical change in the country itself is possible.

But the bill deserves to be criticized according to those who see the Serve Act representing a small “band-aid” where major surgery is needed.

“If we took only 10 percent of our total military budget and put that towards social improvement spending, we would be running out of projects for improvement,” said  James Circeloo, the Answer Coalition’s national board member and founder of Marchforward.org.

Mr. Circeloo, a former soldier, says that little help can truly come from this bill if being a teacher is less profitable then being sent to fight wars.

It’s fair to praise the positive aspects that this bill will represent said Mr. Circeloo. “But, when on any given night 200,000 veterans are living homeless,” there needs to be a dose of reality concerning where this bill falls short.

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