Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve taken the traditional route, went to college and made a safe, financially stable career choice. Or if I should’ve stuck it out in the non-profit youth service sector with its health benefits and paid vacations. Is the independent hustle worth it when I’m worried about being pre-diabetic but can’t see a doctor cause I’m uninsured? Is being my own boss something to be praised when I’m a car crash away from being on the street? This is the fear and anxiety that capitalism reinforces, that we are merely worth what we can produce; that the basics of food, housing, health care, education, and human fuckin dignity are things one must “work” for. It’s all a fallacy, yet folks buy into it, while billionaires sit on their grandparents’ money and play monopoly with real people’s lives. Maybe this is why we fight, because the only thing we have control of is our dignity, and whether win or lose, life or death, the honor of being a part of this movement more than makes up for the shame of not meeting society’s expectations.
Much love to all the folks who came through to tonight’s show at Reem’s, especially the familiar faces who I hadn’t seen in a minute. Hella appreciate my bandmates for getting back together on short notice for some fun times and good energy on stage. Tonight was less of a performance and more ceremony; building community through music. A reminder of why Oakland will always be a part of me, and why it’s worth fighting for. Isulong!!!
(at Town Biz Oakland)
The streets of Los Angeles
A long scar running down my chest
Has a story
Happy militant pride to the queer, trans, and gender non-conforming familia in my life, all of whom have had a revolutionary and transformative impact on the ways that I view and function in the world. Especially thankful for all the LGBTQ kasamas who make up the leadership of the various orgs that I am connected to.
(Photo via Gabriela San Francisco)
Whuddup my beloved California! I’m back for a lil. Let’s play!
It is in these times in these airports in this America where my otherness feels more pronounced. As if I am an exhibit in a museum. Or an animal in a zoo. Or a threat to be suspicious of.
America likes to remind me that I don’t belong. This is why my homies formed a gang. Why my community organizes. Why we gravitate towards the ocean. The water always seems to embrace us the tightest.
In this time in this airport waiting for this three hour delayed flight. Even this America, with its walls and its guns, cannot control the wind.