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.

Fort Hood Soldier Refuses Deployment to Afghanistan

President Obama has ordered 21,000 more troops to deploy to Afghanistan this summer, seeking to more than double the 32,000 deployed in the next few months. The move is controversial inside the military and a handful of soldiers — like Specialist Victor Agosto of Miami, Fla. — have refused to deploy. Agosto, who has already served one tour in Iraq, told his superiors that the U.S. military occupation of Afghanistan is “immoral and unjust” and “does not make America safer.” He faces a Special Court Martial, with a maximum punishment of one year in prison and a bad conduct discharge.

Why did you decide to join the army?

I’d been in college for two years and I was tired of it. I wanted to be something. I wanted to see the world. I was in Miami Dade College and I really didn’t have a clear idea of what I was going to do. I was just focusing on my classes for my associate’s degree. I had always wanted to join the army, but I had initially wanted to graduate from college first so I could have a commission, but then I just decided to go in and be enlisted.

Is your opposition to the war in Afghanistan based at all on your previous military experience in Iraq?

I would say, not really. I was in Iraq when I turned against it, but it wasn’t because I had a traumatic experience or anything like that. I never shot anyone. I never got shot at. I never felt I was in any danger or anything like that. I was on the FOB [the base] the whole time. I was doing I.T. work: configuring computers, routers, servers, switches, providing customer service.

So you didn’t see or do anything while you were in Iraq that caused you to have any particular opinion about it one way or the other?

I guess the main thing that got my mind going was seeing how much money the contractors were making, and how little sense that made to me. And I guess that just got me thinking, exploring in that direction. Something is not right here. It’s a jump from that to concluding that the war is not right but that’s what got the ball rolling.

And once the ball got rolling, how did you get to the next step?

Well, I was reading books, like Noam Chomsky’s Hegemony or Survival. That was the one that just totally shattered any conception I had about moral superiority or good intentions.

Obviously there are many theoreticians writing various things about American policy. Why did this resonate with you?

Well it was just that the stated reasons for the war didn’t make sense.

And so the reasons that you concluded after doing your reading were what?

Ultimately, just for more control and to project American power. Obviously, there’s oil in Iraq. And American corporations stand to benefit a great deal from controlling the oil fields, but the main thing is just that there are benefits to obtaining control, and it’s the same in Afghanistan.

But the big difference of course is that there is no oil in Afghanistan.

That’s right.

So how did you go from having this particular feeling about the war in Iraq to refusing to deploy to Afghanistan, which is of course a different war. And there are a lot of people who would say ‘Iraq is a bad war but Afghanistan is a good war, because the people who attacked us on 9/11 were based out of Afghanistan.’

Well, to me there really isn’t a difference. To me the main thing is control, just to project power. If you look at what the goal of the war in Afghanistan was -– to make American people safer — an occupation can’t accomplish that. Those things can’t be accomplished through military means. The occupation in both places just increases resentment against Americans and actually endangers the soldiers that are there because the occupation fuels the insurgency. We go after an insurgent and kill several innocents in the process and it just creates more insurgents. And the process would continue like that indefinitely. And I think that those in power know this. And so the reason that we’re there can’t be to make the American people safer.

And that’s what you wrote in a statement to military counselors that you would not deploy to Afghanistan because it is “immoral and unjust” and “does not make the American people any safer.” What would make the American people safer in your opinion?

Victor Agosto’s handwritten declaration to a military counselor.

Well I think that the terrorist networks gain recruits from populations that have been oppressed. Until these grievances are addressed, there will always be a fresh supply of people who will join up with these extremist groups and decide that they want to attack America. There is really no battlefield solution to terrorism.

People say, ‘Look, I know the U.S. military operations in Afghanistan are not necessarily the most productive, but imagine there were no American soldiers there -– the Taliban would just take over again.’

I don’t really see that as worse than what we’re doing now. As I said before, until we actually address the grievances of people in that part of the world, we’re really not going to defeat terrorism. Being there does make things worse. It wouldn’t be an ideal situation to just leave and then perhaps the Taliban would re-establish control over the country, but that to me would be better than what’s going on right now.

How do the other soldiers that you interact with at Fort Hood feel about your decision to refuse to go?

They’ve been generally positive. I really don’t get a lot of negative feedback from people. I know that negative feeling exists but people don’t usually come up to me and tell me that. And when they have, they always set it up saying they really respect me and stuff, but they disagree with what I’m doing. It’s never a bitter type of response.

Why did you decide to contest this head-on instead of just passively resisting during your deployment to Afghanistan, since as you describe it, you’re more of a back office soldier?

I guess a combination of things. I concluded some time while I was in Iraq that these wars were wrong, but I wasn’t ready to make that jump because I feared the consequences. But after a while I got to meet a lot of people in the peace community who would be supportive of me if I were to take such an action. That, combined with the fact that I just wasn’t sure if I could live with myself if I were to deploy, if I actually got on a plane and went over there. It made it almost a no-brainer for me and something I needed to do.

You’re facing a Special Court Martial, where you face a bad conduct discharge and a year in prison. Suppose you were to get a bad conduct discharge and some amount of prison time. How would you compare that to deploying to Afghanistan?

I’d say it’s more than a fair deal. I mean, if those are my two options, I’d say that’s a no-brainer right there. I would much rather go to prison for a year than go to Afghanistan for a year.

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This article originally appeared on New America Media. Victor Agosto spoke with NAM editor Aaron Glantz from the U.S. Army base at Fort Hood, Texas.

Disabled Vet Standing on His Own New Feet

Chapter I

On May 23, at 6:00 a.m., Chang Wong and his tank crew were out on patrol when they were struck by a roadside bomb.

“I remember looking through my tank sight and a second later, my head was pushed way back, away from the sight,” Wong recalls. “I looked around and noticed that my both feet were severely damaged.”

Wong tried to stand and run, but couldn’t lift himself up. So he started yelling for help. “When they finally pulled me out, I was in so much pain and adrenaline I started cursing and yelling,” Wong says. “Throughout the entire ordeal, I was conscious until the field nurses and doctors put me to sleep.”

Doctors at the field hospital at the giant U.S. military base in Balad amputated both of Wong’s feet. They had initially hoped to save his right foot, but because of the severity of the fractures and poor blood circulation, they had no choice but to remove it as well.

Little did Wong know, his life was hanging by a thread. The blast from the Improvised Explosive Device (IED) did more than damage his feet; it sent shock waves that rippled throughout his entire body causing further complications.

L.A. Vets Project - Sgt. Chang Wong from New America Media on Vimeo.

Both lungs collapsed, which nearly ended his life; Wong was also given 55 units of blood. Because of the severity of the situation, the Army doctors had an extremely difficult decision to make: whether to use a medical device not approved by the military and face possible reprimands, or continue with conventional methods that were not helping Wong recover.

After eight very precious days, Wong was airlifted to Regensburg University Hospital in Germany, where he would be treated with the unapproved medical device, the “nova-lung.” This machine is intricate and unique for its size (it looks like a compact disc player with four tubes) because it mimics and performs like a set of real lungs. The “nova lung” is connected to the veins and arteries, found near the groin. And as the blood circulates throughout the body, it passes from the patient’s veins through the machine, where it releases carbon dioxide and picks up oxygen. For the next two crucial weeks, Wong was fighting for his life once again. He had fevers over 100 degrees, non-clotting nosebleeds, and tubes going into and coming out of his chest.

Once Wong was stabilized, they transferred him to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany, the U.S. military’s largest hospital in Europe. Finally, on June 22, 2005 – nearly a month after the IED blast – he was moved to his final destination, Fort Sam Houston, near San Antonio, Texas, where he would receive the remainder of his medical care and begin the long road to recovery.

Chapter II

Chang Wong’s mother, Lien Chu remembers receiving a telephone call. For one whole week, she said she cried her heart out. The military sent her and his father, David Wong, to Germany, where they spent three weeks, in and out of the hospital, caring for their son. After leaving Germany, both parents accompanied him to Texas.

For the first few weeks, his mother would accompany Wong, day and night, and speak to him until he slowly fell asleep. She would stay with him for the next five months.

As Wong was weeded off heavy sedatives, he began to realize that both his legs were amputated below the knee. And at the young age of 23, he found it extremely difficult to accept this reality. He immediately went into denial.

Wong speaks about his battle through depression with such strength and resilience. “I was scared; I was terrified; I was afraid that if I fell back asleep I wouldn’t wake back up again… I didn’t eat, didn’t drink, and didn’t feel like talking but also didn’t want to be alone. And it wasn’t until the 4th of July weekend that I fully accepted all the events leading up to present day and moved forward. I had friends and relatives, who flew in to see me but at that time, I didn’t care for visitors. I begged my mother to leave me behind, to go back home and carry on with her life. She defiantly refused and kept telling me that she would do no such thing. I then turned to my friend, Sara Zigman, and asked if she would convince my mom to leave me be; she also refused.”

“At this point, I gave up and decided to lay there, restless. My mom, thinking that I was finally calm decided to pour some water into my mouth and with no such luck, grew increasingly angry, upset, and tired. She wound her hand back and slapped me across the face; the pain registered, it felt real, I came to the realization that I was not dreaming, that this wasn’t some horrendous dream or trick my mind was playing on me.”

Following that incident, Wong gradually accepted his outcome and decided never to look back and pity himself.

Lieu Chu poured out her heart to take care of her son, consistent with Asian family values — filial piety, parental care and interdependency. These notions define specific rules of conduct in social relationships and place great importance on the family. The family provides support and assistance to each individual member; in turn, individual members provide support and assistance to the entire family. These relationships, interactions, and obligations are lifelong; and the goal of individual members is not necessarily autonomy or independence.

Charter III

After graduating from Alhambra High School in 2000, Wong had plans to attend a local community college but because he had just received his permanent resident status, he was charged as an out-of-state student. Not wanting to pay such a high fee for a community college, he decided to take that year off and enroll for the following fall semester.

Before the new school year began, a few of his friends approached him about serving in the United States military. They told him his college tuition would be paid for, that he would acquire leadership skills, and see different parts of the world. After giving the idea of serving in the military some thought, Wong took on the commitment. Without notifying his parents, he enlisted in the United States Army. His parents were shocked and extremely upset when they found out. It is atypical for someone with a Chinese heritage to enlist into the military voluntarily because in Asia, military service is a requirement.

August 2001, Wong was sent to Fort Knox, Ky., for basic training and one-station-unit training (OSUT). After completing the grueling, four-month training, he was deployed to South Korea for a one-year tour and from there, he deployed back stateside to Fort Irwin, Calif., where he remained before deploying to Iraq. On January 2005, his unit was activated and deployed to Iraq. Wong was a tank gunner in the 1st squadron, 11th Armor Calvary Regiment.

Born in 1982, in Malacca, Malaysia, Chang Wong is of Chinese decent. His family immigrated to America when he was two. Before enlisting into the U.S. military, he had just received his green card and was not yet naturalized. Prior to his deployment to Iraq, Wong sent in his application to be naturalized and was waiting for an interview and a swear-in date. He received notice in May and was relieved that he would soon become a United States citizen. But because Wong had joined the military, he never had a chance to make that interview; therefore, immigration authorities requested an immigration officer from Italy to set up a naturalization ceremony for him at the hospital in Germany. Wong was finally naturalized on June 13, 2005, three weeks after losing his legs in Iraq.

His naturalization ceremony was atypical. He doesn’t remember it because he was sworn in a medically induced coma.

Charter IV

In April 2006, Wong returned back home to the city of Alhambra. That following summer, he enrolled at Pasadena City College, the school he had planned to attend before joining the military. After completing his general education requirements, he applied and was accepted to California State University, Fullerton, where he is pursuing a bachelor’s degree in business. He is expecting to graduate no later than 2011. While attending Cal State Fullerton, he is staying with his aunt in Rowland Heights.

Chang Wong received his first prosthesis in August of 2005; the first pair of legs was temporary. After several major and minor adjustments and improvements, he received a pair of permanent prosthesis in early 2006. When he bathes, he sits on a chair and removes his prosthesis; afterwards, he puts his prosthesis back on.

After using the prosthesis for a period of time, they need to be adjusted, refitted and modified, but the prosthetics manufacturing company requires the approval of the Department of Veteran Affairs before they can begin any type of adjustment and modification requests. In order for this to occur, Wong needs to be seen by the VA prosthetists and this takes between several weeks and several months. He hopes that this process will become more efficient and less time consuming.

Oftentimes, Chang Wong will wear pants over his prosthesis, which makes him look like any able-bodied person. However, this “healthy” appearance also brings him problems.

For example, one time, when Wong drove himself to the campus, he parked his car in a disabled parking spot. Since he appears young and “healthy” looking, other people who are around, frown, look down upon him, and even harass him for parking in the disabled spot. Security guards and campus police have also questioned him—“How did you get this handicapped parking permit?” He had to produce his veteran certificate of disability, and sometimes he even lifted his pant leg to reveal his metal prosthesis before they believe him. As a veteran who sacrificed life and limb for this country, he feels he has been wronged but also understands why.

In the summer, Wong wears shorts and runs at a park near his home, using specialized running prostheses that resemble skis. Children are often curious and even follow him around to watch him run. Wong isn’t embarrassed by his appearance but finds it uncomfortable when adults stare at him like he has been cursed.

While at school, he does not participate in sports; but he plays wheelchair basketball with friends and occasionally swims and skis.

Chapter V

Today, Chang Wong is being compensated for his disability from the Veterans Administration and Social Security. In addition, he receives free medical services in military hospitals. Fortunately, even in this economic downturn, Wong is able to meet his financial obligations and live somewhat comfortably.

Wong, like many other wounded soldiers and marines, were in a fight for survival. Fortunately, due to advancements in body armor, medical procedures, and such, his chances of survival increased dramatically—compared to soldiers and marines who served in Vietnam or World War II.

With that in mind, soldiers would come back from the battlefield alive but with very serious, visible amputations and disfigurement. In addition, they came back with less visible injuries—post traumatic stress syndrome. Similar to the experiences of veterans before him, they all face the long and sometimes, very lonely road to recovery. Like all major obstacles in life, overcoming this or any hurdle requires perseverance, support, and a strong will to keep pressing forward.

Wong is a strong-willed individual who wanted nothing more than to recover—physically, mentally, and spiritually—and return back to his normal life. He began setting recovery goals that were very unrealistic and when he did not meet his goals, he pushed himself even further and harder. His ambition, focus, and dedication were unreal and he fully recovered in less than eight months.

But Wong’s journey is not over. As the years go by, it will become even more complicated. Not only will he have to overcome any difficulties that may take shape but also now he must deal with the degrading stares, misunderstandings, and discrimination.

Wong’s home is located in U.S. Rep. Adam Schiff’s district. The reporter called Yvonne Hsu, the congressman’s district representative, and asked how Schiff’s office can help veterans, such as Chang Wong. Hsu asked Wong to call the office—she would like to speak to him in order to determine what types of benefits he is eligible for. She also hopes Wong and other veterans know that if they require any assistance from the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA), they are welcome to contact their elected officials.

Chang said he would give her a call after midterms.

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This article originally appeared on New America Media.

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.

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.