E-book readers were one of the top gifts this year, and the fight over which one is the smallest/lightest/cheapest will continue for many more rounds. But there’s another issue that doesn’t get mentioned that people should consider, especially union members.

If you buy an Amazon Kindle, you’re supporting a company that has become a force for evil in the world of book publishing. Amazon uses its near-monopoly power in the market to force unfair deals onto publishers and authors (sometimes, for example, making all of an author’s books on Amazon mysteriously disappear if the author refuses their lowball offer for a new title).

Amazon also mistreats its own workers, locating facilities in areas with few jobs so workers don’t dare to complain about conditions, then treating them very badly. Last summer, it was so hot in one of their warehouses in Pennsylvania that workers were regularly passing out from heat stroke. Amazon’s response? Have a local ambulance service keep ambulances outside the warehouse on hot days to bring workers to the hospital when they collapsed.

Also, as one might expect, Amazon is actively anti-union in both the US and the European Union. It opposed a union organizing campaign in 2000 with everything from anti-union propaganda to offers of “reduced phone shifts and free massages” if employees voted the union down. Ultimately, it laid off 1,300 workers and shifted its expansion to “right to work” states, where it’s difficult to organize a union.

On December 12th, the New York Times ran an article on Amazon’s latest nasty trick — giving discounts to customers if they go to local bookstores and scan the books they want with a special app on their smartphones, automatically buying them from Amazon. Essentially, Amazon was encouraging customers to crowd local bookstores, waste the time of the clerks there, then walk away, leaving the bookstore with nothing.

Is this the kind of company you want to subsidize?

I admit I still sometimes buy things from Amazon, but I would never lock myself into being forced to buy from no one else but Amazon forever, and that’s what you do for all future e-book purchases if you buy a Kindle.

That’s one of the reasons I have a Barnes & Noble Nook instead. The latest black-and-white version, the Nook Simple Touch, is pretty much the same as the Kindle Touch (no surprise, because the Nook model was first and Amazon copied it). If you prefer color, even the (shamelessly pro-Kindle) New York Times tech-section admits that the Nook color tablet is substantially better than the Kindle Fire [though, admittedly, it costs $50 more]. You can buy books, magazines, etc., at the Barnes & Noble website, or on the Nook itself, just the way you’d buy them with a Kindle, and the prices of books that I’ve checked have always been identical on both sites. The Nook is also more versatile than the Kindle, because you can connect it to your computer and easily transfer .pdf documents to it. I keep essential legal documents on mine in case I forget to bring the paper versions to court, and I frequently read articles from websites on my Nook rather than printing them out).

So if you got a Kindle for a present this year, I urge you to pack it up neatly and return it (and TELL THEM WHY), then get a Nook or some other e-book reader instead. If you’ve owned a Kindle for awhile, I suggest you get a Nook when you upgrade to a newer model, (which you will eventually do because new models of both Kindle and Nook are smaller and faster than the originals). I also encourage you to share this message with others.

Few know whether the spirit that is guiding is a spirit of light or one we made up. If left unexamined, unchecked, and unconfirmed, these loosey-goosey beliefs and practices can get us in trouble. In the worst-case scenario, they can prove not to be effective enough to sustain us in crisis before we actually do slap somebody. In the best-case scenario, we preach them and even teach them, but fail to grow in awareness or alignment with the creative energies of life…

- Inyanla Vanzant, in Tapping The Power Within

Given the undue influence spiritual leaders wield over followers, I think the preaching and teaching Mama Vanzant speaks of IS the worst case scenario. Whereas, unguided spiritual practices in your own life places you at the center of the potential harm, which to me sounds much less tragic than pied pipering a team of supporters down your unexamined path of spiritual folly. While I do believe that everything we do affects the community whole, I still think that the universe can survive a few spiritually unguided individuals stuck in a personal moment of crisis. May they receive the clarity they deserve. Truth be told, I feel like I find myself in a place of spiritual uncertainty at the turn of every moon. I seek guidance from spiritual elders as a matter of practice to either get me on track, or confirm/keep me on track. Maybe I’ve got it wrong… In fear of this potential wrongness, I’ve become a horrible evangelist, though I self identify as one (what is an Evangelical, anyway??). It’s clear my sight is limited because I fail to understand how one’s own spiritual failings could be worst than spiritually failing and dragging people along with you.

let me go back to reading…

“Oh Baltimore… Man, it’s hard just to live” – Nina Simone

Every year that I lived in Baltimore, someone I knew got killed – yes, all seven years. Wrapped in my idealism, I concluded I would somehow change the presence of violence in the space around me by attacking poverty.  At 19, I decided I would fight poverty through the study of economics (this got me nowhere, not to mention I couldn’t identify what specifically I wanted to fight about ‘poverty’ nor how this related to ‘violence’) and by becoming a lawyer (my goals keep evolving). Since two of my brothers had moved to Maryland from NYC, the prospect of staying there seemed ideal… until 2007. My last year of law school, my prophyte was murdered (thankfully her killers have since been caught, prosecuted & sentenced) and I was completely done with the entire state of Maryland.

My name is FLIGHT.

I ran back home to New York and promised to never live in Maryland.

Today as I was reading an article Steph (or @flyspacequeen on Twitter) shared with me regarding the murder of a Morgan State student (and a string of violence being suffered by persons affiliated with Johns Hopkins, another Baltimore area school), I thought of the people I left behind in Baltimore who did not flee as I did.  The wonderful Grace Lee Boggs once told me and dozens other people in the room that

The most revolutionary thing I’ve ever done… is stay in the same house.

There is revolutionary power in consistent presence.

I’ve been thinking of those who maintained their consistent Baltimore presence, who are motivated by hope and a strong desire for change.  Those who could allow themselves to slip into a state of despair, but who instead commit their life to transforming Baltimore and preserving its “charm”.  Those who might have loved ones in other states and other cities, but commit themselves to their new home.  Those who don’t discount the power of their small-not-so-small daily deeds.  There are too many to name – among my friends, line sisters, college and law school classmates,  former colleagues, and people with whom I’ve volunteered – you know who you are.  Stay encouraged.  Keep fighting because you ARE making a difference.  As the Dalai Lama XIV once said,

If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.

Thank you. you are a real life hero. may I draw from your greatness to create revolutionary power with my presence in New York City.

*whew* say no to run-on sentences, aish!

One of the recurring themes in my work, my social life, among family, everywhere around me, is the idea of self comfort and maintenance of a constant state of existence – no change, just constant. I see this manifested with…

I’m just doing me. That’s who I am. It’s me…

Love me or leave me alone…

I’m gonna keep doing what I do. period.

This is how it’s always done…

It’s tradition!

and of course, in the words of the late Baatin

Can I be me, can I do what I do?

While our inclination is to just “be me” and “do what we do”, I don’t believe in complacency and stagnancy.  I do believe in achieving and maintaining a balance between recognizing and celebrating who I am, while also challenging myself to be better.  If the goal is excellence, a lifetime can be spent exploring what that is. But that’s just for me – what about those around me?  How do I encourage excellence around me without encroaching on the personhood of others?  In my role as a criminal immigration attorney and adviser, I have to lay out options for a client and their advocate, making recommendations.  In my role as an elder in the Ndugu-Nzinga Rites of Passage Community, I heed to the wisdom of my elders to guide those who come after me.

I believe in transformation.

I’ve had clients insist that this insert illegal and or unwise behavior is just what they do, an essential fabric in the makeup of who they are… And no amount of pleading and warning of the risk of a suspended license, jail time, employment collateral consequences or deportation will change that.  I’ve had family members maintain practices that are financially and emotionally devastating, but are so tied to this notion of treasuring tradition over self-preservation.

I believe in transformation.

I also believe in a place of comfort, where you can honestly be who you are, recognize your flaws, even wallow in them for a bit. But that space shouldn’t be infinite… And someone, something, some force should be available to mold me, challenge me, tell me that they accept me, but that they are looking for an opportunity to celebrate continued, increasing excellence. HOME.  I am so grateful for a home where this can happen, where my habits have a habitat, but are not allowed to consume me. I am welcome, I am celebrated, I am “pushed and cajoled”.

thank you.

“Here’s coming a better version of me” – Fiona Apple

A few days ago, a caller asked for assistance for a family member with multiple felony convictions, one of which turned out to be an aggravated felony under the INA. Anyone convicted of an aggravated felony functionally has no ground of defense against their removal (unless the Attorney General is willing to cancel removal). I sent the family member to agencies that could work on modifying that conviction and put them in contact with the few immigration attorneys in this area experienced with assisting clients with criminal convictions. I bid the family member well wishes and urged them to keep their head up since their loved one has “some hope”.

SOME HOPE? is that all he has? SOME HOPE? – the family member responded…

and that triggered my supposed ‘pragmatism’.  All I kept on thinking was – how could anyone in their right mind THINK they could plead guilty to stealing cars and robbing folk multiple times, serve jail sentences and still stay in the U.S. on a greencard? What is running through this family member’s mind? I now know these sentiments to be soft-core-xenophobic-insensitivity (which I have apparently been calling “pragmatism” for some weeks now). I composed myself and warned the family member that whoever represents their loved one will have to prepare for the worst.

The pragmatism I’ve nursed to guide me in the criminal justice system as a defense attorney started to sour the moment I encountered the first person I actually have ever wanted to sit in jail.  And to think, for so long, I believed myself to be a prison abolitionist like my idol Angela Davis and my bro Marc. But this person… I wanted them under the jail to at least be concerned with the well being of the children they were convicted of abusing.

Despite having navigated the immigration systems as an alien in other countries, and being born of an immigrant mother here in the U.S., I found myself becoming insensitive to certain cases. Like the person I mentioned above convicted of abusing their children and THEN stealing their identities to commit fraud, the person convicted of transporting liquid heroin from Canada… the parent who stabs their child with a steak knife… the former gang member convicted of armed robbery who all then travel abroad and wonder why they can’t reenter the United States after these convictions.  I’ve had to affirmatively resist the inclination to ask “what the hell were you thinking traveling with THAT criminal record???”

I have never been this person. what happened? how did I get to this space?

In criminal practice, I hugged and wept with clients convicted of homicide, rape, gun trafficking. I would get photos of their children, watch their youtube channels as they try to become Twitter Famous rappers… I would get updated on life after incarceration and life while incarcerated via letters and or phone calls. But here, somehow in immigration practice, I became a soft-core xenophobe. shudders.

Why am I holding these clients to some other standard?

While I wait for the “why”, I am pressing myself to return to my true self – eager to be sensitive to all issues that plague immigrants, the poor, the disadvantaged. If I don’t guard my heart, I can become a fatalist. If I don’t guard my mind, my pragmatism will sour, suffocating me into a corner of insensitivity… at which point, I would no longer belong here. That corner of insensitivity is the last place I want to be.  I’ve been blessed with the career of my dreams, and I don’t ever want to be forced out of this love affair by insensitivity, tragic nativism and insensitivity.

side note: when your soul, your Momma, your sister in law, your brothers, even your ex and all your friends scream “NO!” listen to them. trust me. saves you a bunch of time.

anyway…

So I’m at this dinner party actually enjoying myself! (anyone who knows me knows I’m never sad or angry for very long)… Awesome convo, great food, splendid wine, and I’m not even bothered by the fact that basically everyone there is coupled up. I did notice all the hot and bothered lovers in the room though… Especially the touchy couple that was clearly sneaking off to dry hump in the bathroom. I ignore it. Good for them. As I’m talking to another couple (cis male gay, let’s call them Ahi & Mako), I’m starting to feel like I’m being flirted with.

“no way…” I think to myself. “get a hold of yourself you desperate lunatic!”

I mean, these guys were clearly together (holding hands, occasional peck on the lips, etc) and they’re both impeccably hot, so neither of them could possibly want straight cis woman struggle faced me. I was certain that some sort of about-to-turn-26-and-not-comfortable-with-being-single-now-insecurity was kicking in. Just because someone smiles at you, it doesn’t mean they want that juice Aisha!

I shake this notion off the rest of the night. I even ignored my suspicions when Ahi visited the bathroom and Mako quickly asked for my number. At this point, I’ve suppressed any and all clear signs that a queer guy would have an eye for me…

Until a week later when Mako called to tell me he’s now single, free of Ahi and available to take me out on a date.

floored.

I felt really uncomfortable with my reaction. On the real, my shock was some bastion of homophobia I’m sure. I went through a bout of mid-twenties crisis asking myself 50leven questions… would I have been *floored* if Ahi was a straight cis woman instead of a gay cis man? how could I do this? what’s wrong with me? have I completely lost my ally bone and become one of those freaks that thinks only straight = normal?

oof!

At the end of the day, dude was trifling for flirting with me in the presence of his man, so I never went out with him.

But the lesson for me from this experience was the reminder that sexuality is fluid. I’m not going to be able to fit anyone into the tiny sexuality box I create in my mind. Doing so would be forcing my sexuality privilege over them. As a straight cisgender woman, I need to be perpetually keeping my privilege in check. Actively so because the privilege holder never sees their oppressive power. I’m working on myself. No more boxing!

i should stop telling people NOT to go to law school. some people like torture. who am i to stand in their way?

i really miss the DMV music scene. sad admitting this all the way from NYC

don’t you just love Bilal Salaam? would love to see him again and see him perform live

must explore cures for addiction to iPad

how do people get their homes so well decorated days after moving in? i’m still reorganizing. i’ve no clue how i plan on decorating

don’t kids play handball anymore? i see plenty kids doing IT in the park, not handball

why is finding a therapist so difficult? everyone i ask, they want to know what’s wrong. dude. I do physical check ups, why not mental too? not to mention it would give me free reign to tell people “you need therapy” without them being able to accuse me of offending them

whenever i try to hook up any of my hetero homegirls with guys i am cool with but never tried to date, they wanna know what’s wrong with him. nothing is wrong. i just don’t want him just like i don’t want the clothes you like nor the wigs you rock. simple

how do people save for retirement when they eat out all the time?

Teva sandals are awesome. so comfy. i wonder if they design a ‘pretty’ line so i can wear a pair on my wedding day without looking like i don’t give a damn

my, where has summer gone?

journey down memory lane…

A few months ago, I ‘divorced’ a friend because they told me that my existence was un-Godly. Making amends with God now is commendable, but at the end of the day, I would always be the “bastard” child of a married man and his girlfriend (my birth mother). A union that could not – by any stretch of the imagination – be “of God”. Nevermind the fact that my “married” father had been separated a solid decade before he even met my birth mother, but that’s irrelevant I guess. anyway…. I brought that up because as deeply demented as this former friend’s opinions might be, I can see the logic behind the statement. If the will of my parents were in line with God’s will, would I have been born into an abusive relationship in the Lower East Side? If their relationship was the fruit of God’s desire, wouldn’t my parents have dropped mind altering substances, commited their lives to God and vowed to wrap themselves in agape, submitting themselves to God and eachother forever? These were the things running through my mind as I watched the conversation between Brett and Denise. Neither of them would take arms with the ideas my former friend espoused, but I nevertheless found parallels the two conversations.

back to people who make sense….

As the Twitter conversation fizzled out (i.e., we all went back to work), we all concluded that there is so much unknown when it comes to questions of “success” and “failure” in Christian relationships. (this conversation was driven by our shared judeo-christian faith). Neither of us could emphatically say for certain what “fail” means in 1 Corinthians 13:8, but we all agreed that whatever it meant, AGAPE isn’t affected by failure. Why? Because AGAPE is unending, perfect, divine, forever. But how do we reconcile this with the love we humans share with our mates? Denise shared that her parents still love each other very much, but simply could not and would not remain married to each other. “Is this what God intended?” <—this is one of the constant questions in my life. I don’t know. I’m still seeking.

On my way home, I read a fictional story of a man who wanted desperately to divorce his spouse but decided to take another try at the relationship. As his wife slept, he shared a poem from the depths of his soul. It started off rocky and painful but ended with his promises:

“I will love you like God, because of God, mighted by the power of God. I will stop expecting your love, demanding your love, trading for your love, gaming for your love. I will simply love. I am giving myself to you, and tomorrow I will do it again. I suppose the clock itself will wear thin its time before I am ended at this altar of dying and dying again. God risked himself on me. I will risk myself on you. And together, we will learn to love, and perhaps then, and only then, understand this gravity that drew Him, unto us.”

I nearly cried when I read that
(I always cry… I know)

The author who shared this fictional story then went on to speak generally about relationships (don’t worry, this isn’t a campy book on how to find your very own Christian patriarch) and he went on to say…

“I no longer think being in love is the polar opposite of being alone, however. I say that because I used to want to be in love again as I assumed this was the opposite of loneliness. I think being in love is ‘an’ opposite of loneliness, but not ‘ the’ opposite. There are other things I now crave when I am lonely, like community, like friendship, like family. I think our society puts too much pressure on romantic love, and that is why so many romances fail. Romance can’t possibly carry all that we want it to.“

Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality by Donald Miller

that was it.
that final sentence resonated with me.

Romantic love is hailed as the most passionate, we do the most to get it, we change everything to keep it, and then are devastated when it can’t carry the burdens of our demanding souls. I don’t believe I have found or will ever find the answer or key to never having to worry about divorce. But I do believe reminding ourselves that romantic love is not and cannot be agape love makes it easier to understand how relationships can end even when founded on fierce love. Can we ever share love exactly as God does? I don’t believe we can, because our existence is mired in imperfection. But I DO believe God expects us to reach for agape love, aim to follow the ordered steps of Christ, be a vessel for AGAPE to flow through us when God so chooses to bless us as Her/His tool.

Thank you for reading!

I had met with a client in the holding cell area and I was begging him to let me move his case forward to trial. The facts in the complaint described a violent rape (the complainant in the case being my client’s ex). But my investigation and conversations with the DA revealed that the accuser was probably no victim to what was alleged. The DA was quite vocal about how weak his case was and that he was pretty certain the ex was not raped…

(without looking up from his cell phone) “did you know they’ve been fighting over custody of their children 5 years? And she just applied for a greencard too” the DA said.

Yup. I sure did… in fact, the day after my client was arrested, she had their family court case advanced and she was able to use his arrest as leverage in their ongoing custody battle. On that basis, the DA made a reduced offer of attempted rape (as a misdemeanor) and release from jail. I nearly cackled when he made that offer. “but you said yourself that you’re pretty sure she wasn’t raped!” He looked at me flabbergasted. “duh, that’s why I’m offering the misdemeanor and no jail.” I bark back ”but it’s STILL a sex offense that requires SORA registration for the next 20 years!!”

DA tuned me out and went back to playing with his phone. I was certain my client was going to cackle with me when he heard that offer… I was absolutely certain he would fight the case.  This was going to be a great trial.  I could see it now…  Thinking to myself how much fun it will be to try this be case, I went back to the holding cells.  But first, I had to tell my client the DA’s new plea offer, (expecting it to be promptly rejected of course). 

But he accepted it.

I begged. I shouted. I reasoned. I argued. “I just want to go home…  to my country” he said. And that broke me down. All he wanted was to go home, and the DA was the only one who could get him what he wanted that instant. I felt useless.  I should’ve taken that moment to go somewhere and cry.  But I didn’t think I actually *would* cry yesterday. I never cried in open court and this case wasn’t so bad, so I just went forward with my client’s wishes. I warned him of collateral consequences – deportation, SORA registration, DNA swabs and the like.  This wasn’t the first time a client who I believed had a strong defense was taking a plea to get out. The bulk of my work thesse past 4 years has involved – in some way or another –  facilitating pleas to get people out of jail. Nothing new here…

But of course there was something new here… I got on the record and my client started taking this horrid plea. Of course.  Big old bad SEX OFFENSE. Although a misdemeanor, this was my first time actually taking a plea to a registerable offense under SORA. 20 years of registration AND deportation AND a criminal conviction for life.  I cried while mouthing out the standard legal jargon required for the plea. I felt like trash.

so for the first time ever, I cried in court.

(by no means is this post written for the purpose of discussing false accusations of rape. I don’t come across false accusations of sex offenses often, so please don’t think you have an ally if your life’s work is dedicated to discrediting rape-victims & survivors)

“lighten up. we’re all gonna die anyway.”

I am tired of hearing this when I bring up someone else’s plight and oppression… This year, I tweeted while watching the Superbowl, enjoying commentary on the game and the commercials from fellow tweets and such.  Good times… At one point, a commercial ran featuring the majestic Himalayan mountains and the people of Tibet.  Upon briefly mentioning the Tibetan crisis, the commercial then abandoned all reference to the actual human suffering in Tibet to promote the discounted fish curry one could get via Groupon.

Now, I am not trying to discuss Tibet and this commercial necessarily (especially since Groupon has decided to pull the commercial), but rather the response I received upon sharing my disappointment with this commercial’s trivialization of the human rights abuses suffered by Tibet’s people and land.

“You get offended easily” a loved one told me (via Twitter)

Reading that tweet instantly brought me back to a conversation I had with my friend Rayon several years ago over “sensitivity” and people who are “easily offended”.  Rayon’s position was that being offended is something one can control.  Why make every issue matter?  If everything is of no issue, nothing can ever get you riled up.  Sensitivity need not be part of your life.  Live above it.  These are the conclusions we came to.  I agreed with him then.  But I believe in humanity more, now and cannot allow my heart and mind to be that cut off from the rest of this world. (and we all evolve, grow, change, regress, morph… so Rayon might agree with me now too). 

EVERYTHING is of issue because I love humanity.  I love opportunity.  I love equality.  I love access.  I love my neighbor.  I hate injustice.  I hate oppression.  I hate the subjugation of many for the comfort of some.  When my loved one tweeted that I was easily offended, his message was part jest, part reality.  I must appear to be mad to him and many others in my life, but I can’t allow myself to turn a blind eye to injustice against others simply because it doesn’t directly affect me

enough with the rambling aish… get to the point!

the point

Before asking someone why they’re so “offended” and “sensitive”, consider the possibility that there might be something about this situation that you know nothing of.  Ask yourself whether you’ve exhausted the possibility of being the insensitive one.  What sort of sensitivity might you be lacking that keeps you from being an understanding ally to a marginalized, oppressed group?  Whenever you find yourself wondering “what’s the big deal?” recognize your privilege in being able to avoid said crisis, and be grateful that you’re so removed, it requires active consciousness to recohnize the problem.

When people emphasize over-sensitivity, as a flaw, I disagree.  Sensitivity is the culmination of “humanity” in its rarest and purest form. ~ Dumi

Having the choice to decide whether someone else’s oppression or plight is worth your outrage, is a blessing.  I try my best not to throw it in anyone’s face.  I pray that you too, can do the same.