On needing Michelle Obama

On needing Michelle Obama

For as long as I can remember, my American life has been about politics. I was barely six when we immigrated here, but thanks to my brilliant and opinionated mother, few grade-schoolers were more passionate than I was about everything from the Bill of Rights to the Gulf War. Sundays started with Meet the Press and closed on 60 Minutes; every childhood weeknight belonged to Peter Jennings, and at the risk of really dating myself, few things more greatly revolutionized my college mornings than the introduction of that old “Headlines” email from The New York Times.

Yet, lately, I can barely stand to look at the Times’ front page. Morning Joe’s been replaced by Frasier and Serial. And it isn’t a question of comfort, an escape from the deluge of terrorist attacks and climate disasters and ever more appalling acts of corruption in every unexamined corner. It is, I’ve come to realize, simply this: I feel my heart’s been broken.

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Dear (well-meaning) white people...

Dear (well-meaning) white people...

I believe in bodies.

No idea who Naomi Klein is? Doesn’t mean I don’t love seeing you in the thick of that climate rally. Never worked an hourly wage day in your life? I still appreciate the hell out of your labor rights retweets. And on and on unto pure unadulterated self-loving slacktivism.

For activism to achieve its most important goaleffecting actual changeit has to be inclusive. And as someone who came out of the womb caring about causes, I’ve always known the best way forward was together, en masse, from the people taking to the streets to the ones evolving institutions from the inside out.

But I find myself in the wake of this most recent miscarriage of justiceor sidestepping of justice, better put, as not indicting the man who precipitated Eric Garner’s homicide via illegal chokehold means crime and punishment were never even at issueat something of a loss.

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A (Wild, Weird, Wired) Week with the US Armed Forces

A (Wild, Weird, Wired) Week with the US Armed Forces

A few weeks ago, I was wondering if I'd survive five days with the United States military intact. Today, I'm realizing I didn't. First, the backstory. In theory, the Joint Civilian Orientation Conference is "a program sponsored by the Secretary of Defense for civilian public opinion leaders interested in growing their knowledge of the military and national defense issues." In practice, it's as simple as spending a very intense workday with each of the U.S. Armed Forces—Air Force, Coast Guard, Marine Corps, Army, and Navy. (For the record, that's the order in which we met them, not a value judgment!) And in reality, of course, it ends up being so much more.

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Pledge to the Virtual Flag?

Pledge to the Virtual Flag?

Picture it: A giant Washington, D.C., hotel ballroom, a couple hundred people, and that persistent buzz that precedes every conference, as organizers try to wrangle and the audience willfully ignores them. Then over the din, a recorded voice asks everyone to rise for the singing of the national anthem. We all stand, and I look around for the flag, which I can't find until I realize...

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