All posts by jdstiles

Adieu Alt-Right

With “Free Speech Week” in Berkeley now safely behind us, I’m finding myself much less preoccupied by white nationalists than I was a few weeks ago. In August, emboldened by their post-Charlottesville visibility and Trump’s characterization of some of them as “very fine people,” they turned their attention to San Francisco and Berkeley– hotbeds of depravity, I suppose.

The official organizers, “Patriot Prayer,” disavowed any affiliation with white supremacists; apparently their main beef with us is that we’re “Marxists.” (I’m not sure how they square that appellation with the fact that we live in perhaps the most expensive housing market in the country, one that has displaced much of the “proletariat”– among other indications that capitalism is alive and well here.)

Anyway, despite Patriot Prayer ringleaders’ insistence that they rejected white supremacy, the anti-Semitic white supremacists who often rally on this group’s coattails came out to rattle us.

And rattle us they did.  In that late-summer week leading up to their arrival, fraught conversations coursed among friends, at packed City Council meetings and through Nextdoor.com feeds about whether it was morally imperative to protest the neo-Nazis face-to-face or whether doing so served their publicity-courting agenda more than it did ours.

I wrote about my conflicted feelings about this debate in a “man-on- the-street” piece that Berkeleyside ran, excerpted below:

While I resent the amount of mental, psychological and physical energy the white nationalists are draining from so many of us right now, I find it both impossible and immoral to wholly ignore them. I’m inclined to trust the advice of the Southern Poverty Law Center and Life After Hate, an organization of former white supremacists whose mission it is to draw current white supremacists out of the movement’s clutches. Both organizations advise not engaging with the rally-goers directly, both to deny them the attention they seek and to remain safe. Instead, they recommend holding counter-rallies at an alternative location.

This seems like wise advice; however, I also sympathize with those who feel that it is imperative to confront the hatred face-to-face and to do so non-violently unless it becomes necessary, as a last resort, to physically defend oneself or others. The tens of thousands of counter-protesters who showed up in Boston made very visible the case that those who espouse hatred are vastly outnumbered and should be shunted back to what we like to tell ourselves were the pre-Trump-era margins of society. Indeed, in response to being humiliated in Boston, white supremacist organizers canceled over sixty planned rallies nationwide. Would the Boston counter-protests have been as successful had they been held at an appreciable distance from the white supremacists? Maybe, maybe not.

While Patriot Prayer officially canceled its marches in San Francisco and Berkeley at the last minute “for safety reasons” (perhaps having second thoughts about being provocateurs in cities where they were ideologically vastly outnumbered by the thousands of residents their presence had galvanized to counter-protest), that didn’t stop alt-Right folks from again taking a stab at airing their grievances with us this week. According to Berkleyside,

When the Berkeley Patriot student group worked with former Breitbart writer Milo Yiannopoulos, “Free Speech Week” was billed as a major event from Sept. 24-27 along the lines of Woodstock for the conservative set. Rumored speakers included former White House advisor Steve Bannon and author Ann Coulter, along with a dozen lesser right-wing lights. But the students pulled their support Saturday. Yiannopoulos showed up to campus Sunday, anyway, wearing an American flag sweatshirt. He stood on the steps of Sproul Plaza where Mario Savio once delivered words that moved a generation. A protester from the group Refuse Fascism shouted Yiannopoulos down, and all he ended up doing was signing a few condoms and singing the “Star Spangled Banner.”

There have been 11 high-profile protests in Berkeley since Feb. 1, when a group of about 150 black clad antifa stormed Sproul Plaza and UC Berkeley officials canceled a talk scheduled by Yiannopoulos because of safety concerns. The university has spent at least $1.4 million on security since then, and suffered $100,000 in property damage. The city of Berkeley has also spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on police overtime and damage to businesses in the downtown came to about $500,000 during the Feb. 1 rampage.

Moreover, Berkeley has become the flashpoint for a national conversation — or battle — about what is acceptable speech and what is hate speech, and what lengths institutions should go to ensure that people like Yiannopoulos, who insults feminists, immigrants and Muslims, not only have the right but the opportunity to speak.

I don’t know about you, but this Berkeleyite is done being provoked by these goons. Judging from the small number of counter-protesters who showed up for Free Speech Week, I’m not the only one who’s sick of the drama, inured by the news helicopters incessantly circling overhead, and peeved by the well of resources being siphoned from Cal’s and our city’s coffers, resources that should be going to financial aid, low-income housing, the public schools and to so many other pressing needs in our communities .

I fleetingly find myself questioning whether my disengagement from the alt-right provocateurs  so drawn to my city means that I’m not truly committed to fighting hate, but nah…it’s just time to redirect the energy that they’re trying to sap to more consequential battles.

What do people in Berkeley think about the upcoming rallies in their city?

In response to “Inside the Growing Movement of Women Who Wish They’d Never Had Kids”

I can unequivocally say that I don’t regret having children, that for me, the sacrifices I have made are so worth the deep love my kids and I have for each other, the unparalleled joy they bring me.

However, I–and I hazard to guess most mothers–relate to many of the sentiments bravely expressed in this article. They are what we mothers who are close enough to one another confide in intimate conversation, but that are taboo to admit publicly.

Perhaps we should talk more candidly about the costs of motherhood in order to encourage those considering taking it on to do some deep self-examination before signing up for this lifelong, incredibly rewarding, but at times, all-consuming commitment.

Michelle Obama, We’re Preemptively Pining for You

Michelle (I can call you that, right?), I’m pretty sure that I’m going to miss you even more than I’ll miss your husband. As much as you dislike the limelight, please continue to shine in it.

Now that we’ve had you, I don’t think we can give you up. I don’t think we can give up:

Your poise
Your confidence
Your powerful ability to voice the unvarnished truth
Your sense of humor
Your relatability
The ways in which celebrity has not diminished your groundedness
Your devotion to both motherhood and public service
The way you speak out about the bind that you and other primary parents are in while trying to  be both good mothers and fathers and good employees, good leaders
Your marriage, your relationship with Barack
The role model and source of pride you are for girls and women, especially but certainly not only black girls and women.

This list is not exhaustive.

I hope you’ll reconsider running for POTUS, something you’ve refused to do in the past, or at least for senator.

Please?

Or maybe you’ve got something else up your sleeve? If so, it better be something that gives you the platform and influence that you’ve earned–and that we’ve come to expect from you.

Trump has derailed my climate activism

Of the many reasons I personally resent Trump, one is that he’s distracted me from an issue that, as many of you know, was and still should be of utmost importance to me: climate change.

I was initially drawn to Bernie because of his unwavering commitment to tackling climate change with the urgency and on the scale that the crisis demands. Once Bernie fell by the wayside, however, I got so sucked into the daily intrigues surrounding the Trump campaign, that I began to lose sight of what should be front and center this election: how we’re going to #ActOnClimate, build a more sustainable world, and how we’re going to do so in time.

One thing that I miss about Bernie is his relentless insistence that we stay focused on the issues. I hope that Hillary and the moderators of the upcoming debates are able to reel Trump in, or at least demand from him that the conversation be one of substance, whether the topic be climate change or anything else. Of course Trump won’t cooperate but they can at least hold his feet to the fire, right?

Part of me feels that it’s justifiable that my climate activism has been derailed by Trump. Trump poses such a threat to so much that I and others hold dear that stopping him truly does seem like it needs to be the locus of my energies now. Another part of me, however, is resentful and ashamed to admit that passively reading about and denouncing him on social media has supplanted my more active efforts, however feeble, to help combat climate change.

Our planet is in too precarious a state to withstand four years of a Trump presidency, but perhaps it’s also in too precarious a state for us to wait until the election’s over to speak up on its behalf.

The People’s Climate Train: Departure

Early Monday morning, T.J. and the kids drove me to the Emeryville train station before they headed off to school. On the way there, from the back seat, my almost-7-year-old son Dillon asked yet again, “You’re only doing this because it’s really, really, really, really, really important, right Mama?” I assured him that this was so, feeling more confident in my answer than I had been the night before.

I’d been up late packing, trying to decide how to whittle down my belongings so as to travel as lightly as possible, all the while talking myself through last-minute doubts. “Is it self-indulgent to leave my kids yet again, having just been gone for almost a week? And to leave them for a group of strangers who I’ll be shoulder-to- shoulder with for 81 straight hours? Is the impact that these strangers and I are going to make by undertaking this journey, and the impact that this journey will have on me, meaningful enough to justify another absence?”

But when I weighed the short-term costs of not mothering my children for a week with the long-term risks that they and others currently inhabiting this planet will face if we don’t do something now to cool the Earth’s rising fever, my resolve quickened. When I dare envision the continued droughts, the fires, the floods, the increasingly hazardous air quality, the food scarcity, the migrations, and the resulting political unrest that scientists warn lie ahead for our species if the earth’s temperature continues to rise…then I am certain that my kids and I can manage a week’s separation. As Hermen Betten has said, “We are the first generation to feel the full impact of climate change and the last generation that can do something about it.”

The evening before I boarded the train, I nudged my kids to make signs for the rally planned for the big send-off at the Emeryville station, the departure point for the People’s Climate Train. Yes, I confess:  I came up with the slogans for the signs myself but they embellished them as they saw fit. Dillon had the bright idea of drawing himself taking the school bus since he knows that when he rides the bus home, he’s lessening our carbon footprint by taking one more car off the street. Not-yet-3-year-old Sasha drew what she explained to me is my choo-choo train.

At the Amtrak station
1) "Goodbye Mama! We'll keep fighting climate change together when you get home," and 2) "Have fun on the choo-choo train, Mama!"
My kids’ signs

When we reached the passenger drop-off zone in front of the Amtrak station (T.J. thought it best to get the kids to school rather than have them stay for the kick-off rally), I pulled my children in close for one last embrace, kissed my husband goodbye and turned toward the station, backpack on, dragging my rolling carry-on behind me.

Inside, were two hundred of what at first glance appeared to be the usual suspects: white-haired, light-complexioned lefties, including one especially fiery sixty-something woman dressed as the Statue of Liberty, as well as many younger of their and my ilk. They were talking animatedly with each other, filling the space of the station not only with their alert bodies and buzzing voices, but also with their luggage, including, in some cases, crates and coolers packed with all-natural peanut butter, presumably organic produce, and other foodstuffs. We had been advised to bring at least some of our own provisions if we didn’t want to rely strictly on Amtrak fare for the four-day trek. My own Trader Joe’s tote bag was well-stocked with trail mix, apples and Kind nut bars.

I must have appeared to be somewhat adrift as I scanned the scene because I was soon approached by a motherly woman with a radiant smile, draped in a shawl with a Native American textile design. She welcomed me warmly, and glancing at my relatively light load, informed me that if I had no baggage to check, that  the kick-off rally would start before long. I later learned that she is Pennie Opal Plant, a Bay Area-based activist of Yaqui, Choctaw and Cherokee descent who has fought for over 30 years for anti-nuclear and environmental progress as well as indigenous rights. Among other affiliations, she is a lecturer with the Community Environmental Legal Defense Fund.

I’d soon have the opportunity to bear witness to her oratory gifts during the rally that took place adjacent to the tracks just before we boarded the train. Of those of us gathered to undertake this journey to the People’s Climate March in NYC, and of the millions of similarly-catalyzed people each one of us represented, she declared, “We are Mother Earth’s immune system,” which struck me as a particularly apt and fresh analogy. In summoning us to take responsibility for future generations, she reminded us that, “We are the ancestors of the children who have not yet been born,” again using language that brought new life to a familiar but critical message of the climate action movement.

Pennie Opal Plant had been preceded by Ayya Santussika Bhikkuni, a white woman with a shaved head whose slight frame was draped in a rust-colored robe. I’d remembered seeing her at the pre-trip, meet-and-greet potluck in a Berkeley park that I’d attended a few weeks previous, where I’d been too busy running after Sasha and Dillon to have meaningful conversations with my future fellow travelers, including Sister Santussika. Now as this gentle presence stood before us, she explained that before she had become a Buddhist nun, she had been (and still is, of course) a mother, and now a grandmother. Of her dedication to stemming the damage wrought by climate change, she explained, “As a grandmother, I’m committed to doing everything I can to turn this thing around. As a Buddhist nun, I think of this as a pilgrimage…We’re going to be transformed by the time we get to New York. And what’s the holy site that we are going to see?” The hundreds of thousands of people standing up in the streets of New York, she said, demanding meaningful action on behalf of all living beings on this planet.

An Amtrak representative interrupted the rally at this point to relay logistical instructions, such as which cars to board. (While we make up a sizable percentage of the riders on this train, we are sharing it with regular passengers unaffiliated with our group). He also implored us to write our congressmen and senators to continue to fund long-distance train travel, currently on the chopping block. He was not the only Amtrak employee emboldened by the politics of this particular group of passengers to speak more freely than he might otherwise. As we streamed en masse down the platform toward our just-arrived train, dragging our luggage behind us, another Amtrak employee beamed at us and proclaimed, “Be our ambassadors in New York. Board this spaceship headed toward a brighter future,” and other encouraging words.

As we made our way down the platform, I fought back the collective memory of a time in world history when boarding a train en masse was not a first step toward a brighter future but rather toward genocide. Instead of lingering on this disturbing image, so incongruous with the hopeful mission that we were on, I focused on a more immediate task: to find a friendly young woman for a seatmate.

We had been told that as the train was full, those of us sitting in coach (as opposed to in sleeper cars, who were already in pairs) would need to sit with someone. As eager as I was to talk to a wide range of individuals while on the train (thankfully, our group was more diverse than my first impression had led me to believe), when it came to picking a seatmate, the person with whom I’d be sharing not only a good portion of my days, but my upright nights as well, I really needed another woman, ideally one within my age bracket. Fortunately, before reaching our car, I gravitated toward Emilie, a woman my age or younger, it seemed, with lively blue eyes behind rectangular glasses. We slipped into an easy banter and she was only too happy to find a seat with me once we’d boarded.

So far, so good.

Quick WEF Recap—A Placeholder

Well, my plans to blog from the World Economic Forum (WEF) were thwarted by fact that my days in Tianjin were a mad dash of attending back-to-back panel discussions on topics such as food scarcity, resilience and alternative energy, punctuated with a WEF-sponsored tour of Eco-City, a development-in-progress which aims to be “A thriving city which is socially harmonious, environmentally-friendly and resource-efficienta model for sustainable development.” At night, there were social functions that were billed as not-to-be missed, like Japanese Night at the Nikko Hotel, and the grand spectacle that is the Cultural Soiree, which we dutifully (and happily) attended. On the final night, T.J. and I managed to squeeze in a bit of sightseeing, since up until that point, all that we’d seen of Tianjin was from the windows of the shuttle buses that whisked us to and from our hotel and the convention center.

It was an exhilarating trip, one that certainly deserves at least a few blog entries of its own. I did write two posts on the flight home, only to find upon arriving stateside that my hard-drive had been wiped out, and that those entries were not recoverable. T.J. suspects that the Chinese government had something to do with my computer woes. While in the Meijang Convention Center, we were able to access websites forbidden to the Chinese people—like Google, the New York Times, Facebook, and Twitter—which goes to show just how much pull the WEF has with the powers that be there. I don’t doubt that our Internet activity was being closely monitored, but still, I’m having a hard time fathoming that I posted or researched anything so objectionable as to warrant my hard drive being erased.  But maybe I’m naïve?

My two days at home were spent trying to recover data, loading up on enough snuggles with the kiddos to tide each of us over for another week apart, and preparing for the next adventure.  Because of the tight turn-around time between trips, I’m afraid that I won’t be writing this blog in a strictly linear fashion, that I’ll instead be circling back to my experiences at the WEF after documenting the People’s Climate Train journey in real time.

En route to Tianjin

(Note: This entry is being posted a few days after it was written. Things have been so busy since  we arrived in Tianjin that this has been my first chance to visit my blog this trip. I hope to update it soon!)

My husband and I are onboard a flight to Beijing, our final destination being the World Economic Forum in Tianjin, China, where he was invited to participate in the Annual Meeting of the New Champions 2014. Lucky me, I get to tag along for the ride.  We had the good fortune of attending the World Economic Forum (WEF) in Switzerland earlier this year for the first time, and T.J. must have done something right, since he was invited to participate in this gathering as well—and to, once again, take me along.

Seeing as I was attending the WEF for the first time, I went into the Davos adventure in January with no particular agenda. I was open to (but intimidated by) whatever experience awaited me in a convention center packed with the highest density of the world’s movers and shakers imaginable. Here heads of states, CEO’s, cultural icons and intellectual powerhouses are wined and dined; discuss, as is the WEF’s stated mission, ways of “improving the state of the world”; and behind closed doors, make high-level business negotiations, all in a pristine Swiss alpine setting. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, a surreal divergence from my very unglamorous, mostly stay-at-home-mom existence of cleaning up potty accidents and prying unidentifiable dried foodstuffs off the dining room floor.

But I am headed into this WEF event with something of a mission. Since our trip to Davos, I have become galvanized around the need to join others who realize the urgent need to stem the effects of climate change and curtail further greenhouse gas emissions in order to sustain life on this planet. As luck would have it, climate change (along with technology and innovation) is one of the primary themes of the Tianjin meeting. I’m looking forward to attending sessions on managing limited water resources (of particular interest to me since I live in drought-stricken California), building more sustainable and resilient communities, and working toward energy solutions. Of course, it will be fascinating to hear these discussions in the country that is the world’s highest emitter of greenhouse gases, and which just this past weekend, made a historic commitment toward reducing its carbon output.

I’m hoping that T.J. and I won’t feel the effects of China’s carbon pollution too viscerally while we’re there, however. We decided to cancel our plans to sightsee in Beijing following the meeting in Tianjin, in large part because after learning just how bad the air pollution really is in Beijing, and taking into consideration T.J’s rather severe asthma troubles, we decided that we didn’t want to risk navigating an unfamiliar health system should he have an attack.

Of course, our soon-to-be 3- and 7-year olds will be happy to have us back sooner rather than later too; as secure as they are with my mom, who is taking care of them while we’re gone, they were reluctant to let us leave, especially our son (the almost-7-year-old). He wailed every night of the week leading up to our departure. It was pretty wrenching leaving him.

I will only have two days with him and my daughter when we get back to Berkeley and then I’m off on the People’s Climate Train, a 4-day, cross-country Amtrak ride with fellow climate change activists culminating, on September 21 in NYC, in what organizers project to be the biggest climate march in world history, scheduled to coincide with the UN Climate Summit 2014. I’m wondering how the discussions of climate change at the elite gathering at the WEF will compare with those among the grassroots train riders and protesters I’ll be meeting next week—a fortuitous juxtaposition.