Native who, now?

While discussing the Civil Rights Movement in class the other day, a student accidentally said "Native Americans" instead of "African Americans."  We were discussing some core concept words (segregation, integration, power, powerless, persecute) and one of my co-teachers took this opportunity to bring Native Americans into the discussion.  

"Who are the Native Americans?" she asked.

"Stone Age!" comes a reply from a bright student in the back of the class.

"Native Americans are still alive?!" quickly followed.

So taken aback, we stared at each other - eyes wide, mouths gaping - for a good 15 seconds (which sounds like no time at all, but leading a discussion of 30 sixth graders, it is an eternity).  Finally, we continued the conversation, explaining that Native Americans live today in cities, towns, and reservations, and struggling in this off-the-cuff context to do justice to the history of our country's first people.

I've spent a great deal of time reading about Native representation in children's books and texts, especially Debbie Reese's excellent blog, American Indians in Children's Literature and the resources published by Oyate press.  I've written extensively on race and representation in books for children and young adults.  Yet, I've never seen first hand the effects of this Native erasure so clearly displayed.  It was horrifying.  I don't expect my students to know much about the Native genocide, AIM, the forced sterilization, and modern life on say, Pine Ridge Reservation.  But I do expect them to know that Native people exist.  I'm terrified of an education system that so fully disappears the more unsavory aspects of our history.

Ripples

I realize I've been on and on about consumption choices lately, but I think it's incredibly important and I've started straying from my sphere of like-minded bloggery goodness and I'm baffled by the lack of scope displayed in so many me-centric posts and comments.  So I'd just like to say again, "Your choices affect others."  Say it with me, one more time,

"Your choices affect others."

The cloth for your clothing was grown and processed by someone.  Your clothes were made and shipped and sold by someone.  Your food was grown and picked and shipped by someone.  If you're not veg*n - your food used to be someone.  And it was raised, slaughtered, butchered, packaged, shipped, and sold by someone.  The same goes for your shoes, your music, your books, your toys, your knickknacks and pots and pans . . . . your everything.  Our choices have far-reaching consequences. 

So when someone comments on a post asking if people buy organic produce by asking, "Like, does it really matter if your banana, whose peel you're throwing away, is organic?" I say, yes.  Yes, it does.

You can certainly argue that a sweatshop job is better than no job, or that migrant farm work is still work.  However, the results of the United Farm Workers Take Our Jobs campaign seem to speak for themselves.  With national unemployment still at nearly 10%, the UFW has not been overwhelmed with applications.  Maybe because a bad job is a bad job?  With a net worth of $8.2 billion , Phillip Knight (the CEO of Nike) is the 52nd richest man in the world  He could probably afford to make sure his workers are paid a decent wage.

And that's the thing - yes a job and a wage is better than nothing.  But this working for pennies an hour, without any rights or privileges, no sick time, no vacation, no bathroom breaks, in horrible, poisonous conditions . . . it's making other people incredibly wealthy.  The choice isn't a terrible job or no job.  That's a false dichotomy.  There exists the third option of  . . . a good job. 

We are complicit in this and we, as consumers, can help to effect change.  Every little bit helps.  We can throw stones and make ripples.  Enough of us can make waves.

Speaking Out

I've written before on the death penalty and our prison system as it pertains to children and people of color.  Anti-death penalty is another label (like vegan and pro-choice) that I am happy to use, a mantle I wear proudly.  I have more experience with the justice and prison systems than most who know me would expect, and I think that this experience informs and shapes my veganism-as-anti-oppression philosophy.  It is part of the reason I strive to buy organic and fairly traded produce and clothing, avoid retailers that rely on sweatshop and child labor, and buy handmade and local when possible.  It's all connected and in this imperfect, hyper-commodified, capitalist world, I want my dollars to do good work.

I mention all of this only because of a disturbing dream I had last night.  I was a lawyer working a trial in some German Expressionist courtroom.  I have no idea the whys or wherefores, or even the outcome of the trial.  The only thing that is still stark and clear in my mind is this moment: the judge, wild haired and crazy-eyed, stands and leans cartoonishly out over the bench at me.  He points at me, all imperiousness.  "Sometimes the only thing to speak to a man's innocence is that man.  That does not negate the fact of his innocence.  Ten years from now, when the lies are revealed and the truth is known, the world will look at you."

It was terrifying . . . and true. 

I realized as I awoke, that I am far too much the armchair activist and, that I need to start speaking my mind more.  Amongst friends, family, and colleagues, I often hold my tongue (which may seem surprising to those who know me!) in an effort to keep the peace.  Sometimes in an effort to keep a powerful conversation from being derailed, sometimes in an effort to just let something hurtful, ignorant, or wrong-headed slip on by because I am too tired, anxious, or angry to deal with it.  When it is the latter, I am not being honest with myself or with those I love.  And I am certainly not doing all I can to make my small slice of the world a better place.  So less commiserating with the converted in empty halls and behind closed doors and more honest engagement on issues that matter to me (in real and internet life).

A somewhat disjointed rambling on food ethics

My summer is halfway over . . . that's not as depressing a thought as it could be.  I've done some traveling, seen some old friends, seen my family, and rediscovered both the library (oh lord, that's embarrassing) and my kitchen (slightly less embarrassing, after all, I've been busy).  I've spent the better part of the last month getting into raw food.  I figure if I start out now, I'll be well-equipped once winter sets in.  We'll see how that works out for me.  As I've worked my way towards 60% raw, I've noticed some interesting trends in the blogs, forums, and communities I've stalked for information.

As a vegan I label.  I label myself, I label foods and products, I label others.  Mostly I label them "vegan" and "not vegan."  I don't eat honey.  I don't eat oysters.  I don't buy leather/silk/wool goods.  These things are "not vegan."  While there may be debate around them (honey, mostly, unless you are an idiot) there is none for me and every vegan I know.  When honey was the only animal product I ate, I was "not vegan."  I got sick of explaining that I was vegan except for honey, and eventually the arguments I was using to except honey didn't hold water with me anymore.

That said, I acknowledge that veganism is a journey and a process and that I cannot live a life free from harm.  Bugs are killed in the production of fruits and vegetables, small rodents are killed in the harvest of grains.  Jetblue's seats are leather.  But just because animals die in the harvest of grain does not mean that I should also eat a cow.  After all, all of those animals died in the harvest of that cow's feed, and the cow suffered and died as well.  If I'm working towards doing no harm, there is an obvious choice there. But I do acknowledge that there may be no vegan perfection.

I've noticed a distinct disdain for labels in the raw food communities I've been perusing.  There's definitely a sense of "you do what you can do" and "we each do our best."  And I respect that to a point.  But when you make the conscious decision to eat an animal product, how is that doing your best?  If you disdain labels, but call yourself vegan (for convenience's sake?) and eat honey, you mislabel me.  You mislabel veganism.  You spread the idea that vegans eat honey, or (for those fish-nomming veggies out there) that vegetarians eat fish, and I can no longer rely on that label to help me move through this omnivorous world a little more smoothly.  Hello, Tom's of Maine.  So while you may call yourself vegan and eat honey and be totally okay with that, when you spread that idea around you make other vegans' lives just that much more difficult.

Which brings me to my actual point . . . organics.

The difference boils down to, I think, whether you see your food choices as a personal matter.  For me, my ethical veganism is not personal.  It's not about me.  It's about this world we all share.  It's about doing what is right and best for everyone.  Going vegan is one of (if not the) best things you can do the environment.  Choosing local, fairly traded, and organic goods is the best way that I can support sustainable agriculture and the rights of farm workers.  I do not pay attention to those lists that tell you which produce gets an organic pass because I buy organic not to stop myself from ingesting pesticides, but to stop them from being used.  Many of the fruits and veggies get a pass because they are thick skinned and pesticides do not penetrate.  That doesn't help the people growing, picking, and packaging that fruit.  It doesn't help the fields and forests.  It doesn't help the insects and wildlife.  My food choices affect other people and living things.  I can't ignore that.  Do I only buy organic?  No, of course not.  Sometimes it's not available, sometimes I can't afford it, sometimes it's the choice between organic or local.  But I do try to make the best decision for everyone, not just for me.

It all comes down to intersectionality and social justice.  If I want to work against oppression, I want to work against it in all of its forms.  I have no problem with everyone doing what little they can because every good decision helps.  It's the fact that this discussion is largely absent from the raw food communities I've been participating in that gets me.  It's absent from a lot of vegan communities, too.  But I've found places like Vegans of Color and the Post Punk Kitchen forums that take a much wider view.

As I discussed this with Patrick Eamonn the other day he looked at me expectantly, silent when I finished.  "Oh, I see," I said.  "I should start that conversation."

"Exactly."