Eve Ensler's piece "Rising" and me

Twice I've planned to perform Eve Ensler's piece, "Rising", and twice I've decided not to.  Here's the piece:

RISING
Written in Kerala for the women of India who lead the way


This could have been anywhere
And was
Mexico City
Manila
Mumbai
Manhattan
Nighttime men
waiting
like wolves
Drooling
for prey
behind
that single dimly painted door
paying nothing
a couple of  dollars
or euros
rupees
or pesos
to have her
Enter her
Eat her
Devour her
and throw away her bones.

This could have been anywhere
And was
A Buddhist nun on a bus
Trying to stay dry for the night
A woman leader speaking out against
The repressive government
A young woman traveling with her boyfriend
One lost her voice
The other her following
The last one her life

This could have been anywhere and was
Pink wooden crosses
A stack of stones
Red wilting carnations
Empty chairs in a square
Ribbons flying in a sultry wind
I ask Anna Nighat Kamla Monique Tanisha Emily
Why Why
Porque Eran Mujeres
Parce qu'elles étaient des femmes
Because they were women
Because they were women

This could have been anywhere
And was
Where she got fired for being too beautiful
Fined for drinking after she was raped
A serious offer to marry her rapist
Got told it was legitimate but not forcible

This could have been anywhere
They do such a thing
When the girls go for fire wood
Step into the lonely man’s car
Drink a little too much at the college party
Wake up with her uncle’s fingers inside
Run from the screaming machete and guns
Be taken at sunrise
Get a bullet in the brain for learning the alphabet
Be stoned for falling in love
Be burned for seeing the future

I am done
Cataloguing these horrors
Data Porn
2 million women raped and tortured
1 out of 3 women
a woman raped every minute
every second
one out of 2
one out of 5
the same
one
one
one I am done counting
And recounting

Its time to tell a new story
It needs to be our story
It needs to be outrageous and unexpected
It needs to lose control in the middle
It needs to be sexy and in our hips
And our feet
It needs to be angry and a little scary the way storms can be scary
It needs to not ask permission
Or get permits or set up offices
Or make salaries
It wont be recorded or bought or sold
Or counted
It needs to just happen
It is not a question of inventing
But remembering
Buried under the leaves of trauma and sorrow
Beneath the river of
semen and squalor
vaginas and labias
shredded and extracted
stolen
body mines
mined bodies
It is not about asking now
Or waiting
It is about rising

Raise your arm my sister my brother
Raise your one
Billion
Your one heart
Your one of us

I used to be afraid of love
It hurt too much
What never happened
What got ripped away
The rape
The wound
And love
I thought
was salt
But I was wrong
I was wrong
Step into the fire
Raise your arm
Raise your one
Billion
One
One
One
Rising.
Rising.
Rising.
Eve Ensler for One Billion Rising

The first time I was planning to perform the piece was at One Billion Rising here in Richmond at the end of our rally at the Coliseum.  Eve had put the piece out there as something to use at rallies worldwide.  It felt like the perfect fit.  I asked my friend and fabulous actress Jackie Jones if she would help me work it up so I could do it well.  She generously worked with me for a few hours to bring drama and pathos and energy and power to it.  I felt excited at the thought of performing it because it's such a powerful piece.  I was planning to have drummers pick up the beat at the very end where it says One/One/One/Rising/Rising/Rising.  I asked a friend of mine to lead the drumming.  She came over to my house one day very close to the rally to practice so we could get the timing down.

I began reading the piece.  She began drumming.  It threw me off.  We started again.  I couldn't feel in sync with what she was doing so I asked her to listen to the piece all the way through first then we'd try again.  My friend sat on my fireplace hearth and listened intently as I went through the outrages and horrors Eve describes in Rising.  When I finished, my friend told me she felt completely triggered from hearing such graphic images.  We tried again.  It wasn't working.  She said she felt like hearing that piece at the end of a rally to empower women, especially the way we'd crafted the rally, would be like going to the doctor for healing, then, at the end of the doctor's visit, ripping off the bandage and leaving the patient bloody.  I could see her point because just reading it generally left me stoked and energized, but not always in a positive way.  It was hard to perform.  I decided to NOT read the piece at One Billion Rising but instead to read what I had written.  Here's what I used:

We have heard here today some of the horrors being perpetrated here in Richmond as well as around the world.  There is so much pain and suffering, it is terribly difficult to hold it all.

But we have also heard tales of joy and empowerment and triumph – Claire’s daughter’s tragic murder led Claire to become a tireless advocate for others.  Carol’s mother’s death has not gone unnoticed, and thousands of children are better cared for thanks to Carol and her mother.  Rebiya Kadeer’s life has been full of pain and suffering, even as now two of her children are imprisoned just as she was.  Despite all that, we have witnessed her determination to take the higher path and to devote her life to the autonomy and safety of her beloved Uyghur people, especially the women. 

Each of the women you heard speak today is a beautiful example of power used for good.  Each has accessed her life’s purpose, the reason she is on this planet, the reason her life matters, and each is boldly and courageously pursuing her vision for a better world.

Take the time, I beg you, to listen deep within to your own still small voice that knows why you’re here, what you are meant to be doing, and pledge today to do one thing to grow that voice, one thing each day, to give voice to the beauty you have to offer the world.   Just imagine a world where each of us is living the life we were born to lead – giving the world the gifts that only we have to bestow.

THAT is the vision of SEVEN billion rising and of Heaven on Earth.  Thank you.

I think my friend was so right about Rising in that case and that it was kinder and gentler to not use it.

The next opportunity I had was to perform it, memorized, in the Richmond production of The Vagina Monologues in April.  Julie Willard cast me to do that monologue.  I felt honored to be chosen to do that one because it's the final piece in the show and is so dramatic.  I also felt a little bit scared - would I actually be able to memorize it?  how would it be to perform on stage again after 30+ years?

I started going to rehearsals and practicing it, working on memorizing it.  At rehearsals, I noticed that after I read it, I would feel hot and flushed.  My adrenalin would be pumping.  It would take me a while to calm down.  OK.  Something to notice.

I practiced it one on one with Julie.  She gave me excellent direction to say it with less umph, less drama - let the words do the talking.  Maybe I didn't need to "perform" it - maybe I could just put it out there and let the words do the work.  Be more understated.  It was good coaching.  It felt very different.  I was performing it the way a preacher performs a rousing sermon.  Speaking it as if I were talking to a friend, telling her these outrages, telling her I was done, that something different had to happen, brought it home in a different way.  I think it was more powerful.  I don't think it was any less disturbing.

I started to memorize it.  Chris helped me while we were on vacation at the beach.  I started dreaming about the images in the poem.  Nightmares.  Uncomfortable images.  Uncomfortable stories going through my head.  It wasn't fun. The words would flow through my head during the day since I was trying to commit it to memory.  I started to wonder if this was the right thing for me to be doing?

Right around this time, I got the email from the Uyghurs asking me to speak in Paris at their conference.  It was to be 2 days before The Vagina Monologues.  I could come back in time for the play then leave again shortly thereafter for China to see Dylan, a trip I'd already planned.  Then I realized that was too much.  I felt like it would be physically too grueling.  I realized that if I would go to Paris, I could fly more easily to Beijing from there.  It would mean missing The Vagina Monologues, but everything else fit really well.  I spoke with my friend Denise Bennett, a consummate storyteller, actress, and performer, to see if she might be interested in doing the monologue.  She jumped right on it!  Then I contacted Julie to let her know the situation.  She could not have been more gracious. 

I felt tremendous relief to not be doing that particular piece.  It felt perfect for Denise to be doing it.  And it felt wonderful to think of going to Paris to speak before a group of women about women's empowerment, my topic for the Uyghurs.

It occurred to me that, again, I wasn't performing "Rising". 

Then I remembered when I spoke with Eve at the Omega Institute in September.  I said to her, "When I grow up, I want to be just like you."  Without skipping a beat, she looked me in the eye fiercely and clearly and with defiant love and said, "No, be YOU!"

It occurs to me that, with "Rising", I was trying to speak her words, but they just weren't fitting.  What worked, instead, was for me to write my own words and to speak those.  She was so right - her job is to be her.  My job is to be me.  Thanks, Eve, for wise, wonderful words, very well placed.  There's only one Eve, and there's only one me, and the world needs both of us.  And there is also only one YOU!  What unique gifts are you offering the world these days?  I'd love to hear!

May 2, 2013 Last day in China: The Silk Market, Peking Duck

(This is part two of my last day in China.  I figured the post was too long to have all in one!)

When I arrived at the Silk Market, I was supposed to go straight upstairs to Tony the Tailor to meet Dylan.  I had to laugh when I saw someone heading to the subway with one of their bags in his hand!

To get to the Tailor's on the 3rd floor, I had to go through the basement, the stairs which were also lined with goods, the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd floors - I know that's an obvious statement - but doing it was not simple at all.  There were thousands if not millions of pretty things to look at on the way. 

To help you get a sense of this place - it is not an outdoor market at all - it's not like a Farmer's Market with sweet local farmers selling their wares.  No, not at all!  It is a very slick place with row upon row of class-walled boutiques crammed with goods - clothes, souvenirs, shoes, sunglasses, scarves, jewelry, silk rugs - you name it, they have it!  And most of it, I think, is copies of North Face or Louis Vuitton or whomever.  Some of it might be real, but I wouldn't bet on it. The prices are not all that great - this is, after all, where tourists come to shop - so they know what they can get!  There are 2-3 assistants in each and every 200 sq ft shop ready to speak to you in pretty good English.  They also seemed to know other languages, at least the numbers.  I just had to wander in and out of a bunch of them to see what was there.  When Dylan and I had been there before, we'd gone straight to Tony the Tailor without browsing much so, now that I was alone, I wanted to gaze and touch and explore!  One store I went into had silk jackets - just like the one I bought at 798.  I asked how much.  The woman told me $80 then immediately said she'd give me the real price - $40.  I felt sick - I'd paid $75 after good hard bargaining.  I knew in that instant I'd overpaid.  This store had some other colors of the same jacket.  Dylan called.  I resolved to come back later.

I met Dylan at the Tailor's where he was already talking to his friend, the tailor (I don't think his name is Tony - he just works there.)  He and Dylan have established quite a relationship since Dylan has bought three handmade suits from him and many, many shirts, plus has brought friends to have things made - including me!  I was fitted for a silk skirt my second day in town and was there then to pick it up.  I went into the dressing room to try it on, excited to see how it looked.  It felt divine.  I'd gotten them to put in a different colored lining - gold - and to make it reversible so I'd get two skirts, really, instead of just one.  The silk felt so smooth and lovely as it fell over my hips and swept my legs.  I left the dressing room and twirled for Dylan, imagining wearing it to Sufi Dancing and practicing being a swirling Dervish!  I realized that the cut was not flattering on me - there was no tailoring to it - just an elastic waist - so it makes me look a little bit frumpy/lumpy.  Not my favorite look if I have a choice.  I resolved to start working out.  And to make the best of it with the skirt.  It feels great.  Dylan admitted that it isn't the best cut for me - sorry! - oh well.  I'll wear a longer top over it and will focus on the feel of it.  Made me wish I'd gotten a zipper put in, but then I couldn't have reversed it.  It's tricky getting stuff made without being able to try it on - you can't know if the cut will be good or not...

I'd tried to get a different skirt made, one that my friend Kathy Benner had lent me - it's black, two layers, with the top layer being scalloped unevenly to give it an interesting flair.  I tried to describe it and to draw it, but to no avail!  The best he could do was quote me $300 to make it.  Dylan, of course, talked him down, but $120 was the lowest he'd go, if I remember correctly.  No thanks!  I had so wrongly assumed I could get clothes made for a pittance since Dylan's suits were only $150 for the suit and two shirts!  Another expectation dashed!

But overall I'm pleased with the skirt.  It is quite lovely, and I know I'll love wearing it and feeling it flow over my body and thinking about the fun of buying it with Dylan!

These pictures are of Dylan talking with the tailor, trying to help his friend Michelle get a better price for a silk shirt she was having made...  Of course the tailor told me what a great bargainer Dylan was, as  pretended he was gasping for his last breath from the loss of so much money!

Revelry in the midst of very serious negotiations!

They finally arrived on an agreeable price, and Michelle ordered a splendid red silk shirt.

 From the tailor's, we went out into the rest of the Silk Market.  My friend Joni had given me the task of finding some beautiful silk material for her for an altar cloth.  I had found a scarf that felt right to me when I was there before, but there were two other scarves we were bargaining for at the same time, and Dylan couldn't get the price down far enough.  I'd continued to think about the scarf all week and knew I had to go back to get it.  We found the place but they didn't have the scarf anymore, though they had others like it.  I described what I was looking for and, fortunately, he had another one.  When I saw it, it was every bit as beautiful as I had remembered - about 5 ft x 5 ft, aqua border with fabulous flowers in the center. I hope she likes it as much as I do!  I think it's gorgeous!  It's a tricky thing to get something so personal for someone else!

I also wanted to get some scarves for myself.  Dylan had done some great bargaining last time, but hadn't been able to get the price he/we wanted, so I'd ended up with nothing.  We tried again.  He almost got kicked out of the store again, but I pulled the trump card.  The saleswoman and Dylan had agreed on a price for several scarves.  We were still bargaining for one last one.  Dylan had her down to 70.  We'd gotten it down to 60 for two scarves at another place.  The sales person told us that must be one of a different quality and showed us a lesser one.  I didn't think so, but doubted myself because it had been several days before.  She turned to me and asked me what price I was willing to pay.  I told her I'd pay 60.  She said no, no, I couldn't be serious.  What would I really pay, last price?  serious price?  I told her to give it to me for 60 and I'd get Dylan out of there!  She laughed good-naturedly and sold it to me for 60!  (I checked later at the other store and saw that it was the very same scarf that I was going to get, with another one, for 60 - oh well!  It's impossible to know what things are really worth!  I'm thankful for pricetags here in the US!)

I also asked Dylan to come down with me to look at the silk jackets.  I couldn't find the same store, but I found another one with the same goods in it.  I found the very same jacket plus some others - a black one with striking red flowers was my favorite, plus a great silver silk skirt that twirled marvelously!  Dylan went to work on the price.  The skirt ended up being too expensive, but the jacket he got down to 200 yuan or about $32, less than half what I paid before.  That made me a bit ill.  Until the saleswoman asked if I wanted her to cut out the tag.  It said 100% polyester.  She said they had to put the tags into them because the officials came around to make sure they all had them in there - these were also re-makes of "real" fashions, apparently.  I tried on one thing that was very expensive and was confused by the price - she told me it was "real", not fake, that's why it was so much.  Again, perception is everything!  I realized that the jacket I'd bought before was silk.  This was polyester.  Both are stunningly gorgeous, and I love them, but at least I was able to ascertain the reason for the price differential so I didn't feel quite so foolish for the first purchase!    I realize I am probably not really cut out for all this bargaining!  I used to think I was so good at it!  I'm so grateful Dylan was there with me to help me out.  He seems to enjoy it - though he did say he gets exhausted by it too sometimes - he has to be in the right frame of mind to take it on or he isn't as good at it as he wants to be and feels like he doesn't get a good deal.  I can completely understand that!

From the Silk Market, we took the subway to the Hutongs, an area in the oldest part of Beijing, very old, low (1-2 story) buildings that form the core of the city.  There's a small lake there around which are many restaurants and night clubs.  Our plan was to meet lots of Dylan's friends, including one of his former teachers, WeiWei (I probably spelled that wrong) for a special dinner of Peking Duck.  One must have Peking Duck when one is in Beijing!  I read it on a shopping bad - "Climb the Great Wall.  Eat Peking Duck.  Shop at the Silk Market."  Thanks to Dylan, I was able to check all three off my list!

the magician

I can NOT do that!

The group ended up being smaller than we expected, but lovely nevertheless.  The restaurant we went to is supposed to be the best in Beijing for Peking Duck.  It's quite large - three floors, I think. We first went down to the basement to wait our turn. Then we were called and went by elevator to the third floor.  Below us was the main floor which we could see from the balcony.  That's in the picture below.  Next to all these tables, there was a round stage where entertainment took place.  Each act was only 3-5 minutes but was fascinating.  The first one I saw was Chinese acrobats doing those crazy contortions I'd only seen on YouTube previously.  The second one was a couple doing ballroom dancing.  The third was a magician.  Meanwhile we were working on ordering food.  We got one duck to share along with a vegetable dish and some rice and an appetizer.  Steven was with us so we wanted to make sure to get enough food!  The appetizer was duck skin served with sugar.  You were supposed to dip the very, very fatty skin into the sugar and eat it like that.  It was strange, tasty, greasy, satisfying, all at once. The other appetizer was one I hadn't expected - duck feet.  I pick one up with my chopsticks, thinking it was the duck meat and that I was so adventurous to eat duck, when Dylan, or Steven, mentioned it was duck feet.  I wanted to gag but didn't.  I figured I was too far in to back out, so I took a bite.  They talked about how we were lucky because these had been de-boned - they'd gotten them before with the bones in them and had had to work hard for each scrap of meat they'd gotten.  These were white with a slight pink cast to them.  They were chewy, like cartilage, a little bit, but mostly they were tender enough.  And they were surprisingly tasty.  I couldn't quite let go of the thought of what they might have walked around in or scraped up with those very same feet, but I also was aware of the fact that they actually tasted pretty good. 

The stage with the magician on it.

I expected the duck to come to the table looking like a duck for us to carve.  Instead I was surprised to see that it was served on two fairly small white platters with ceramic duck heads.  The meat was already very neatly carved, just the meat, no innards.  The vegetable dish was pretty spicy - some greens and mushrooms, very tasty, just spicy.  Dylan told me after the meal that he hoped he'd helped me expand my tastebuds on this journey. That's for sure! 

Nor can I do this!  She has cloth platters on her feet she is twirling while balancing on one hand.

After dinner, Dylan and his friends planned to go dancing or bar hopping or something like that so he walked me to a cab so I could get back to the hotel to pack and get a decent night's sleep.  I thought about going with them, but, again, I figured they'd have more fun without me, and it would be wise for me to get packed and not be exhausted the next day.  Good choice - Dylan only got 3 hours sleep, and barely got that!  He was tired when he came to get me the next morning in the taxi!

My hotel room with the thermos full for hot water, the comfortable bed, the nice space. 

So that was my trip to China!  I hope you've enjoyed reading about it.  I appreciate your taking the time to take this journey with me.  I've enjoyed reliving it and writing about it.  Now if I can just get over jet lag, I'll be ready to get back to my life here in Richmond!

April 30th, Beijing Arts District 798

Today was art day. Dylan and I intentionally got a late start so we could sleep late. I thankfully managed to sleep til 9:30 even with the "joop/repperbahn" outside my window. That is what I have discerned it to be saying. I am still not a fan of it, but I am very thankful that I'm learning to tune it out a little bit better. I'll imbed a video so you can hear it in the background, though it just isn't as loud or insistent on the video as in person. You'll just have to visit for the full effect. Anyway... I shouldn't go on and on about that. Though I will if Dylan keeps singing it like he's doing right this second. He says he wants me to have something to remember from China. THIS is not the right thing!

Anyway...
We decided to go to Beijing 798 Art District. Every city should have one! Apparently there was an industrial area which artists took over as they are wont to do in decrepit areas around the world. This place is now a vibrant,exciting area full of art and shopping which draws people from all over the city (and beyond, I would guess). We saw plenty of foreigners there for sure.

One of He Wenjue's images from Burma

The art was remarkably good. Top class. People whose art is in museums worldwide. One of them was He Wenjue in a show called "Daily Images". He painted very large images almost photorealistically then he scraped off the paint most of the way, leaving a very clear image but with some smearing. I wish I could show you an image of it but they were insistent in all these galleries about not taking pictures of the art. I really liked his work. Powerful stuff. Many of the images were of everyday life. One of my favorites was a woman sitting in the middle of a lovely arbor taking a picture of the plants. It doesn't sound all interesting, perhaps, but it was wonderful. There were also several of Burma and of Buddhas and temples there. Terrific.

I also liked the art of

Ying Tianqi. This poster doesn't give a very accurate sense of it, I don't think. In China they have been tearing down old areas of cities as fast as they can in order to build new, modern areas. They don't seem to be considering the ancient history inherent in the places. They tear down 2000 year old areas without giving it a second thought. The Uyghurs have suffered from this, but in this exhibit I learned that it is happening all over China. This artist made an entire exhibit all about it. When I first walked in, the first thing I saw was steel cages heaped on top of each other with heaps of old, broken, discarded furniture heaped inside of them along with other debris. There were also several TV sets with videos of people in their homes before they were demolished. Apparently the furniture and other stuff came from the ruins when the houses were destroyed. It was touching to see the old people in their homes then to compare those pictures with the junk in the cages.

The other parts of the exhibit handled the same theme in different ways. In one blackened room blocked off from the rest of the exhibit by a black curtain, there was a film running of a man who was hired by the government, he thought, to find a way to conserve one of the old areas of a city previously slated to be destroyed. He spoke with such sadness as he described the process he went through and how it was all for naught. Just his face telling the facts with English subtitles.

Another room was also black, barely lit. It contained a boardroom set up - table, chairs, water bottles, lamps, portfolios, pens at each place, all grey/silver/black. There was a strong light cast upon the scene. The description in English explained that there are "shadow meetings" where people make the real plans for what to do with these regions, away from people like in the previous film who only think they're working on it. Powerful.

They also showed a video of a city in ruins, seven years after being torn down - it had not yet been re-created in the form of "new" China. There was no indication when construction would begin.

The artist also painted many abstract paintings that looked like segments of walls with lots of texture, in grey and black, with strips of smooth color behind them.

An exciting part of the whole day for me was to see how many people were there in the arts district. It was a gorgeous day, first of all- Dylan says it's one of the most beautiful days since he's been here - lucky us! But there were so many people actually inside, looking at the art. It was remarkable. Not just talking to each other and ignoring the art like happens at openings in Richmond. No, they were looking at and talking about the art, more like in a museum. I would so love to see something like that in Richmond. Dylan pointed out that there might not be quite the depth of talent in Richmond at this point, but perhaps it would develop, given such a world-class opportunity. Shockoe Bottom Art Center could have been the start of such a region.

It was great seeing interactive art as well.  Mounted onto one building were forms reminiscent of the Men's and Women's icons for bathrooms.  They were life-size, so people went up to them and climbed in so they could be photographed in them.  That drew quite a crowd!  I love this boy's expression as he's trying to fit into the man's shape.

In addition to all these great shows and street merchants, there were also some terrific shops. I went into one where there were exquisite scarves. Scarves are a big thing here, it seems. As they are in Paris. My friend Kathy Benner is really onto something with the fabulous scarves she's creating which I've been wearing all around the world!

This picture doesn't do the shop justice, and, again, they wouldn't allow photos. They had one scarf/shawl I would have loved to buy, but it was about $2000, not quite in my budget. The picture I've drawn to include of it shows the basics, but nothing about the gorgeousness of it.

It was basically a rectangle with two beautiful sides, bordered by fox fur that was dyed blue, black, grey, and white. One side of the shawl/scarf was cashmere, dull aqua/periwinkle with a pretty rose pattern on it. It was nice, but not spectacular. The other side - oh my gosh! That's what made it worth $2000! It was filled with row upon row of handmade roses in variegated shades of blue, grey, black, and white. What I mean by roses - I tried to draw them, but the photo is blurry. Imagine taking a piece of shiny silk that's multicolored and about a half inch wide and maybe twelve inches long. Fold it in half so it's 1/4 inch wide. Roll it into a spiral so it ends up flat and looks sort of like a rose. Then do that 1000 times and sew each one onto this flawlessly beautiful shawl. Add buttons in fascinating places so that it can be worn as a shawl, a cape, a jacket, or a scarf, that side out or with the cashmere showing, though I can't imagine not wanting the spiral-rose to show. It was one of the most captivating pieces of clothing I've ever seen. I wish I could have gotten a picture of it. They had several gorgeous scarves, many of them over $100. I left as politely as I could after drooling all over them. Just kidding.

The store next door to them had very interesting and beautiful clothes too. There's a type of material which might be some sort of stretchy polyester - that makes it sound like 60's horror - it's not that at all. This stuff has vertical folds in it that react in fascinating ways when worn. They had a lot of jackets out of that stuff. They, too, could be worn many different ways. They, too, were about $100-200. I tried a bunch of them on. Some of them bulged in unattractive ways, but others hung in interesting ways. They were definitely eye-catching. Then they showed me a jacket in silk that is textured as if it's got thousands of tiny folds in it but basically it hangs like silk. It was silver/grey with flowers all over it on one side. The other side was bright pink. It's reversible. It's one of those jackets that hangs over the butt scooped in the back and open in the front, falling in a wavy way. The pink inside forms the collar one way and vise-versa. I couldn't pass it up. The price was more reasonable than anything else I tried on -around $75 - and it is so striking! I'm very excited about it. I'll now have a fabulous thing to wear to my next art opening! All I have to do now is get one lined up and paint some new paintings! Easy peasy!

After my big,exciting purchase, we headed back to Dylan's in a cab. We'd taken one the as well, but the traffic was horrible to it took about an hour and a half.a. Thankfully the ride back was better - it just took about a half hour. Each cost about $10. I'm thankful for reasonably-priced cabs here!

After chilling for a bit at his room and talking to his lovely roommate, Taka, we went to a fun restaurant to meet his friends who are leaving tomorrow (all except one of them). We had a fun meal for six with so many varied dishes - exploded lamb, Kung poa chicken, cucumber salad, tomatoes piled high with sugar, some other chicken dish, green beans and eggplant, maybe a couple more. They'd assured me that the food wasn't very spicy and warned me off the one that was. Man, am I sensitive! They were spicy to me! Tasty, but spicy. I finished up two bottles of water washing down the spice. My interpretation is different than others', but that's OK. It was very tasty anyway. Maybe one day I'll get used to spicy food. That would be welcome!

After dinner they were heading off to a club for one last night together and I took a cab back to the hostel so they could enjoy themselves without inhibitions. It's hard to share a last night with someone new when you have so many wonderful memories and stories in common. They were kind enough to invite me though. Nice people! Dylan has lovely friends!

So that was it for today. I'll put a few more pictures in here cuz there were other interesting images from the day. Again thanks for reading! ( I can't put the pictures next to the captions using the ipad. Hopefully you can figure out what goes with what!)

The Chinese seem to have a penchant for cute little bunnies. They show up all over eye place like in this statue - not bunnies, but people/bunnies. On the right are little sets of bunny ears which are attached to hair clips. Girls, young women!, actually wear them in their hair. It's a bit odd to me to see almost-adults dressing like bunnies. Dylan says that cutesie is in for girls. They're supposed to play fragile and needy. Their boyfriends carry their pursues for them, for example. What's odd about that for me, other than the obvious, is that women here seem more equal to men than anywhere else I've ever been. For example, the mechanic Dylan went to for his moped is a woman. When we had to go to another place,a young woman came up and discussed his moped with complete confidence and knowledge. It's so rare to see a female mechanic in the states, I barely knew how to react. One of our cab drivers was a woman too. She was as aggressive and assertive as any I've seen. I don't know that I've seen female cab drivers in the states. There are also many female road construction workers and sanitary workers. There just don't seem to be any jobs closed to women here the way they are in the states. I know women can technically do them in the US, but the rarely do. It was disconcerting to see the stereotypes broken like that - it made me aware of my own prejudices/ preconceived notions. It was primarily refreshing - and noticeable.

This is one of the window dressings in a store at 798. It reminded Dylan and me of Dia de Los Muertos. Lots of people were taking pictures in front of it. These next two pictures are of a woman then a couple being photographed, probably for an ad. It'll give you a sense of the cutesie thing going on.


Dylan and I had a lunch at a very cool cafe situated on the roof of a building in the tree tops. It felt so much like a place Laura and I went to in Monteverde,Costa Rica, it was like deja vu. Very strange! It was a great vantage point from which to see the goings on in the street. A bit plus of the cafe - the toilet was Western style; it was clean; they provided toilet paper; there was a sink for washing my hands; they provided paper towels to dry them too. I am acutely aware of these luxuries this week! It'll be a long time before I'll take them for granted again!

My ultra-handsome son! (One of them, anyway!)

Interesting juxtaposition of language spotted on a wall. I'm impressed by how well this person understands the nuances of English!

That's it for today! Have a great day!

April 20, 2013, my speech at the Uyghur Conference: Self Expression is an Act of Courage

Self Expression is an Act of Courage


― Mahatma Gandhi said “I want freedom for the full expression of my personality,". My speech today is about just that.

There once was a woman named Anna who lived in constant fear – fear of doing something wrong, fear of being seen, fear of being yelled at, fear of getting in trouble. Day after day she became more and more afraid and shrank down inside herself, becoming smaller and smaller until soon she was no more than a speck of dust on the furniture. Her baby daughter cried ceaselessly and she despaired of ever making her happy. Each day Anna tried harder to please her husband, to comfort her children, to satisfy their needs, to clean the house more thoroughly. She saw there was not enough money to meet their obligations for they were poor. Indeed her husband worked hard but was unable to earn enough money to meet their basic needs for food, clothing and shelter. Her children were hungry. She was hungry. What food they had, she gave to her husband, but he complained it wasn't to his liking.

Though she had very young children, she knew she must find work just so they could eat. She took her children out into the street with her to find work and eventually found piecework she could do, ironing shirts for one of the wealthy families in the city. She carried the heavy bundle of shirts along with her weary children back home, arriving exhausted but elated to have found a way to help her family survive. She spent the rest of the dat ironing, feeling a surge of hope for the first time in ages that she would be able to buy food for her children the next day.
When her husband arrived home that evening, she told him the good news. He responded by striking her, throwing the shirts on the floor and stomping on them. he told her harshly that no wife of his would work – he would provide for them – was she trying to make him look like a fool in front of his friends? She was to return the shirts, just as they were, the next day and never try such a foolish stunt again.

She wept herself to sleep, her stomach growling with hunger, her children whimpering in bed beside her. The days became a monotony of fear, hunger, and a deep, deep sadness.
One day while sweeping her floor, Anna heard strains of music from the neighboring apartment. She stopped and leaned on her broom, listening, a faraway look in her eyes, remembering a distant time, a place, a joyful feeling… She caught herself and resumed sweeping, work needing to be done. But the music persisted and Anna found that she was sweeping in time to the beat. Her baby daughter looked up at her and wondered. Her older daughter came into the room, surprised to see a glimmer of a smile on her mother’s face. Anna laid down her broom and took her baby into her arms. She began swaying in time to the music, some primeval force filling her with joy. Her older daughter held her mother's leg at her thigh and swayed to the music with her mother. The three were united by the rhythm of the ages, coursing through their veins, their ancient memories. The woman moved her hips. Her body became a conduit for the holy within her. Her mouth opened. Sounds escaped, the likes of which she had never heard – haunting, terrifying, achingly beautiful, sublime tones, speaking of longing and sorrow, great suffering but greater joy. She sang the songs of her mother, pouring from her lips, bathing her daughters. Standing in the middle of her humble abode, colors and light streamed forth from her as she recalled the wellspring of the eternal pouring forth from her loins, her mouth, her breasts. Her baby suckled from her, gasping and giggling with glee as she filled herself richly from her mother’s milk. The older daughter watched in amazement as the colors flooded the room, bursting forth now from every crack and crevice, full of the joy of self-expression. She opened her mouth and discovered the same flow of beauty pouring forth from her own lips.

The three, bound by blood, swayed and sang and drank in the elixir of life all around them and knew it was very, very good. Never again could the world be dark or lonely or full of sadness or despair because they had discovered the eternal wellspring inside themselves that was deeper and richer and more true than any temporal circumstances could ever be. Blessed be.
**********
Drink it in, my sisters, my brothers. Drink in the elixir from the wellspring of creativity, the source of our being.

In the midst of oppression, despair and loneliness, even then, even in the darkest night, there is a place of joy within us that yearns to spring forth. We are wiser than we know. We are more beautiful than we can begin to imagine. We are blessed beyond measure.

Take a moment now to access your Source to feel your own well. Move to the natural rhythm inside you. Allow your power to come forth. It is as deep as a woman giving birth, as broad as the heavens, as beautiful as the sun streaming on an infant’s face in the summer sun. It is the moon, the stars, and the sun combined into one powerful force, streaming forth, blessing you with eternity. You are this source. You are this wellspring of power. Once you have experienced it, you can access it always. Regardless of the circumstances, you can feel that well. You can express it in song, in dance, in poetry, in paint, in stone, in movement, on paper or canvas, in clay. Stand before your medium and allow the Source of your being to fill you with love and wisdom and empowerment. Listen for the next right step – a stroke of paint, a line of poetry, form in clay, song on your lips, movement in your hips, a moment of protest, an assertion of your rights. Let it forth.

Imagine a world where women and men always go to this wellspring before they act, where their acts of courage spring from this source, where actions and love pour forth from the same spot. THAT is a world I would like to live in!

Our Uyghur sisters and brothers have this same wellspring of creativity and life force to draw from, but they do not have the freedom to express it. Can you imagine the pain of feeling moved to dance or sing or paint or say what is true for you, and knowing that if you do, you might go to jail or even be condemned to death? – For something as natural as expressing your inner Truth! The situation in East Turkestan is dire. People are arrested daily for any form of protest which the Chinese government feels threatened by. The government is so frightened of losing power, it will do anything it can to suppress disagreement with its actions. It has torn down entire neighborhoods of historical buildings and has relocated families to new regions in order to break up communities. It has denied children the right to go to Mosques in an attempt to curtail religious practice. It gives Han Chinese preference in receiving jobs, leaving Uyghurs struggling economically as well as spiritually. it has turned dance, once a traditional form of self expression, into a parody of its former self, something to please tourists. The Chinese government has suppressed self expression in almost any form. Uyghur women bear the additional brunt of their policies. For example, they may be forced to have abortions if the government believes they already have enough children. Whose right should it be to make that determination?? It is even harder for women to find work than men, so young women sometimes take work in other provinces, thinking they can help their families, only to find they were tricked and cannot come home, Instead, they must survive as factory workers under the most inhumane of circumstances. The brutality the Uyghurs are forced to experience is inexcusable and must be stopped.

This is a travesty. It is not right for people to be denied freedom of expression, freedom of religion, freedom to be their authentic selves, or any other human right.

We here in this room who, presumably, live in countries where there are more freedoms, must let the world know what is happening in East Turkestan. We must tell others about the repression our sisters and brothers are experiencing. We, who have freedom of expression, owe it to those who don’t to tell their stories. It can be daunting to break the silence and to take a stand against oppression, but what other choice is there? To remain silent and watch as the Uyghur people are decimated and obliterated? NOW is the time. NOW is the time to speak. To write. To paint. To sculpt. To tell others what you know. To put pressure on China by turning world opinion against their actions in East Turkestan. People cannot protest what they do not know. We MUST share what we know with others.

I realize that might be a daunting request. I personally find it a little bit unnerving to take such a stand You see, my son, Dylan, lives in Beijing right now. He is studying Chinese at Beijing University, and I am going to visit him in just a few days. Yes, I am going to China. And I am speaking out against China right now. I was worried I might not get a Chinese visa if the government found out I was going to speak here today. I have worried I might have problems when I get to China. But I cannot allow those concerns to hold me back. That would be giving into the abusive oppression I’m speaking out against today, and I refuse to do that. Oppressors win when we fear the consequences of standing up to them.

So I’m employing my motto:“Feel the fear and do it anyway.” I want my life to mean something. I do not want to arrive at the end of my life and regret what I didn’t do that I could have done that might have made someone else’s life better. I have found my voice. I can and will use it. I encourage you to do the same. Thank you.

###########THE END#############

Susan Singer is an artist who paints female nudes of all sizes and shapes, a writer who shares her inner life openly, and a speaker and activist who encourages others to be their unadulterated, authentic self. She lives in Virginia in the United States with her husband and three cats while her three children are scattered all over the globe. She believes passionately in the right of all people to live fully self-expressed.
April 20, 2013
For Sixth Annual International Uyghur Women’s Conference.

 

Video of me giving this speech at the Six Annual International Uyghur Women's Conference, Paris, France, April 20, 2013

One Billion Rising Program

One Billion Rising Program

8:00 – Downtown Awareness March - Meet at Nina F Abady Festival Park- in front of the Richmond Coliseum - 6th St. Marketplace, Richmond, VA 23223

11:00 – doors to the Coliseum open

11:00 – 12:00  Arrival - explore the offerings on the floor and enjoy: Hoopers, Glow dancers, Resource tables, Sponsors’ booths, Slam poets, Mini-Vagina Monologues piece performances, music/bands/ Capoiera dancers, drumming, Slaying the Dragon interactive display

11:55 – Ssssshhh!  Big Surprise!  Bring your dancing shoes!

12:00 to 1:15 One Billion Rising Rally

Christina Feerick News Anchor, WRIC-TV8

Opening: Susan Singer

Speakers and Musicians

·         * Claire Hylton Sheppard tells her personal story about her daughter’s murder

·        *  Women's Multisports of Richmond's Crankrising  gives a donation to Safe Harbor Shelter

·         * Sergeant Carol Adams,Richmond Police Department, speaks of her personal experience and what she has done to turn tragedy into a passion for helping others

·         * Gaye Adegbalola and the Wild Roots perform three pieces during the rally

·        *    Mayor Dwight Jones speaks about what he’s seen in RVA, what the city is doing to end violence against women, and what he sees as the role of men in ending violence.

·         * Rebiya Kadeer – Nobel Peace Prize Nominee (2007) a prominent human rights activist from the Uyghur region of China speaks about violence against women around the world, including her own personal experiences

·         * Susan Singer reads Eve Ensler’s poem “Rising”

Drumming and Dancing Begin

2:00 pm – doors close

The One Billion Rising Pledge: One Billion Rising is the beginning of the new world ignited by a new energy. It is not the end of our struggle but the escalation of it. We are suggesting that everyone who rises make a pledge to do one thing in the next year to end violence against women. Spread the word all over Richmond, and have all of your friends make the pledge! We believe a billion people will rise. Imagine a billion activated pledges. Share your pledge online at The One Billion Rising Pledge >http://onebillionrising.org/page/s/one-billion-rising-pledge