The Joy of Co-Editing

Yasmin Tambiah and Joan Nestle, November 2013

Yasmin and I have worked for many months on our co-edited special issue, Lesbians and Exile, for Sinister Wisdom which got the go-ahead from head editor, Julie Enzer, just a few days ago.

La Professoressa snapped these post work session images, when we were both a little punchy. Yasmin and I managed to meet either in Melbourne or in a Sydney hotel lobby as we worked on the manuscript. Our friendship started many years ago in New York City when Yasmin won the Young Lesbian Writers Award from Astrae and I was m.c.ing the evening. Life brought us together once again here in Australia.

We want to thank all the writers who contributed to the project, Julie for being so welcoming to our proposal and our partners who watched and wondered. The issue will be out in October 2014.

Action Can be Taken

Dear US Campaign member groups,

Below, please find three urgent items from our friends at the Washington Report for Middle East Affairs, UNRWA USA, and member group The Struggle, that you can forward to your membership to take action around the emergency situation in Gaza. Thank you for spreading the word.

1. State of Emergency in Gaza by Mohammed Omer

http://www.wrmea.org/action-alert-archives/12336-state-of-emergency-in-gaza.html

We decided to make this urgent report from Mohammed Omer into an action alert—Gazans need our help now! 

Contact Secretary of State John Kerry:

Write: U.S. Department of State

              2201 C ST., NW

             Washington, DC 20520

Call:    202-647-4000; select option 4 and ask operator for the comment line.

             202-647-6575  (Public Communication Division); select option 8 to leave your comment.

State of Emergency in Gaza

I want to thank all of you who have read the last posting. Little by little, we are changing what is allowed to be questioned, to be spoken, to be cared about.

Gaza Drowns and Silence Prevails

Sherry Gorelick, an old New York friend and tireless worker for justice in the Middle East, for an end to the suffering of the Palestinian people imprisoned by the merciless politics of Israel, sent me this report from Gaza.

"44 days without electricity! New emergency schedule started yesterday, electricity hours r downsized to 3 instead of 6, per day! Leaving Palestinians in Gaza with a 21+ hours of power outage a day. Add to this the horrible weather, constant rain, floods, wind, thunder and lightening!" Omar Ghraieb writing from Gaza

 "Israel 'Opens Dams' Flooding Gaza Strip Near Deir al Balah"

Dec 13, 2013
" The Gaza Government's Disaster Response Committee announced late Friday that Israeli authorities had opened dams just east of the Gaza strip, flooding numerous residential areas in nearby villages within the coastal territory."

The blockade has taken its toll on every aspect of daily life in Gaza and now a natural calamity, a storm, the likes of which had before been seen in this part of the world , from which there is no place to run for these imprisoned people, the sea on one side and Israel and Egypt turning their hearts away on the other, destroys all comfort. How is this not genocide, asks Sherry. The deliberate making of life impossible.

Photo by Oma Ghraieb, Dec 13, 2013

"State of Emergency in Gaza"
Mohammed Omer, Dec 2013

"It is cold, there is no power and I am charging my computer using a car battery in order to get this message out. It is so cold in Gaza that every one has cold feet and a cold nose. A new storm is hitting this besieged enclave. There is no electricity and shortages of water, fuel, and vital services mean people just sit and wait for the unknown." Omar writes of no garbage collection for weeks, no way to flush toilets, rats being flooded into people's homes, sickness every where. "It makes me wonder if U.S. Secretary  of State Joan Kerry is aware of Gaza's situation. Would he find it acceptable if Israeli citizens lived in the same condition? Or don't we in Gaza count as human?" As a Jew, whose history lies in the ghettos of Poland and Russia, I call out for the Diaspora to look into its soul--to stand by and watch the suffering of another people, while the "Jewish Nation" turns its back, makes life less possible--what has happened to us in the name of our safety?

From Fidaa Abuassi, December 13, 2013

"Gaza is drowning today. Houses are flooded by water. People are freezing there. No power. No water. No heat. No fuel. THIS IS A CATASTROPHE. A CATASTROPHE. I need to do something to help. I felt so helpless that I wanted to call 911, Red Cross or Amnesty International. Anyone! I want to tell the world that Gaza is living an unspeakable disaster and in need for your help. I cannot be silent. You cannot be silent!

Dec 12, 2013, the IMEU:
"Unlike Manhattanites, though--or, more to the point, unlike their neighbors in Sderot--Gaza'a refugees have nowhere to flee when heavy rains, flood their 25-mile occupied territory, blockaded by land, air and sea."

Once it was Jewish lives that were unmournable, so many did not care, did not value our lives and now, we have allowed in our name, and some even support, the entrapment, the forced affliction of another people. No nationhood is worth this ugliness of the human heart.

I know that the peace activists, the women of Women in Black  and so many others in Israel will mobilize to help if the State allows it--and we must too.

Gaza se noie et le Silence persiste Sherry Gorelick, une vieille amie à moi de New York et une travailleuse infatigable pour la justice au Moyen-Orient et pour la fin de la souffrance des Palestiniens emprisonnés par la politique sans merci d’Israël, m’a envoyé de Gaza ce rapport. « 44 jours sans électricité ! Un nouveau programme d’urgence a commencé hier, les heures d’électricité sont ramenées à 3 au lieu de 6 par jour ! Laissant les Palestiniens de Gaza avec une interruption d’énergie pendant 21 heures par jour. Ajoutez-y le temps horrible, les pluies ininterrompues, les inondations, le tonnerre et les éclairs ! » Omar Ghraieb écrivant de Gaza « Israël ouvre des barrages inondant la Bande de Gaza près de Deir al Balah » 13 décembre 2013 « Le Comité de réaction au désastre du gouvernement de Gaza a annoncé vendredi dernier que les autorités israéliennes avaient ouvert des barrages justes à l’est de la Bande de Gaza, inondant de nombreuses régions résidentielles dans des villages voisins à l’intérieur du territoire côtier. » Le blocus a touché tous les aspects de la vie quotidienne à Gaza et maintenant une catastrophe naturelle, une tempête, semblable à celles qu’on a vu avant dans cette partie du monde, d’où il n’y a pas d’endroit pour s’enfuir pour ces gens emprisonnés, la mer d’un côté et Israël et l’Egypte se détournant, de l’autre, détruit tout confort. Comment ceci n’est-il pas du génocide, demande Sherry. Vivre de manière délibérée est impossible. Photo de Oma Ghraieb, 13 décembre 2013. « Etat d’urgence à Gaza » Mohammed Omer, Déc 2013 « Il fait froid, il n’y a pas de courant et je charge mon ordinateur avec la batterie d’une voiture pour envoyer ce message. Il fait si froid à Gaza, que tout le monde à les pieds froids et le nez froid. Une nouvelle tempête frappe cette enclave assiégée. Il n’y a pas d’électricité et le manque d’eau, de carburant et de services vitaux signifie que les gens simplement s’assoient et attendent l’inconnu. » Omar écrit qu’il n’y a pas eu de collectes des ordures depuis des semaines, pas moyen de tirer la chasse aux toilettes, des rats qui sont noyés dans la maison des gens, la maladie partout. « Cela me fait me demander si le Secrétaire d’Etat US Joan Kerry est au courant de la situation de Gaza. Trouverait-il acceptable que des citoyens israéliens vivent dans ces mêmes conditions ?  Ou nous, à Gaza, ne comptons pas comme êtres humains ? » Comme Juive dont les histoires se trouvent dans les ghettos de Pologne et de Russie, j’en appelle à la Diaspora de contempler son âme – à être aux côtés et à regarder la souffrance d’un autre peuple, tandis que la « Nation juive » tourne le dos, rend la vie moins possible – que nous est-il arrivé au nom de notre sécurité ?  De Fidaa Abuassi, le 13 décembre 2013 « Gaza se noie aujourd’hui. L’eau inonde les maisons. Les gens gèlent ici. Pas de courant, pas d’eau, pas de chauffage, pas de carburant. C’EST UNE CATASTROPHE. UNE CATASTROPHE. Je dois faire quelque chose pour aider. Je me suis sentie si impuissante que j’ai voulu appeler le 911, la Croix Rouge ou Amnistie International. N’importe qui ! Je veux dire au monde que Gaza vit un désastre indicible et qu’il a besoin de votre aide. Je ne peux pas garder le silence. Vous ne pouvez pas garder le silence ! 4.65 GB (31%) of 15 GB used Manage ©2013 Google - Terms & Privacy Last account activity: 1.5 hours ago Details

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Get ready for 2014

The Struggle Continues

Di, Oishik, Debolina, Joan, 2013

By the bay of my late in life city, we stand together on a sunny afternoon. Now the call goes out from our young friends, to stand together in the ways of resistance. Look for such a vigil in your city, country and move beyond the borders of our own concerns.

"Dear all,

As you might already know, on December 11, the Supreme Court of India upheld India's anti-sodomy law, which was decriminalised by the Delhi High Court in 2009. Oishik and I have been part of the queer rights movement in India and have been part of the legal process as well. 

A global day of outrage is being planned all around the world to protest this judgement. We wanted to organise some kind of public action - most likely a silent stand in outside the Indian Consulate in Melbourne. We'd be very happy if you join us and also put us in touch with queer groups in Melbourne who we can contact to gather some publicity.

Please write soon with ideas.

Warmly,

Debolina and Oishik"

Waters, Light, the Power of Theater--For Georgia

I  write and live surrounded by much beauty, moments touched by light, here in 4 Fitzgibbon Avenue.

Now I live much closer to the ground, down from the 13 floors of 215 West Broadway.

From our plantings, hands deep in the soil, comes these living things, scallions that snap green, beets still raw from their home in the earth. The colors of my life now.

Yasmin Tambiah and I are finishing up our work on the Lesbians and Exile special issue for Sinister Wisdom. In the sun, so bright with hope, I read and read of journeys of displacement, of shifting senses of self, of thinking trying to make sense of new positionings. And I am as grateful to these words as I am to the precious sun lit light that makes life possible.

Along the banks of the Yarra, the brown river that flows through Melbourne, La Professoressa and our Cello take in the old old flow, wondering at all it has seen from the times before Invasion until now, when the first walkers of its lands, still ask, where now is our place by the Yarra, our dreams of possibilities. Old stones, old water, worn banks, mourning times and struggle times, so simple the flow of rivers, so huge in their holding of our histories. "My soul has grown deep like the rivers," sang Langston Hughes, the rivers of once my land, now yours.

In Sydney, we gaze upon the European starting place here in this land, the harbour, filled with iconic images of my new home, always a reminder that on one fateful morning, an old people gazed upon a new one, and in the sails saw the history of loss.

On the ferry to Manly Beach we pass the Heads, the opening to the sea, the waters that carried the new history to this island home of so many for so long--even though to European eyes, the original peoples were invisible; an empty land, they said, they found.

Sweet William  (Luke Carroll) speaking with his son, played by James Slee

On a stormy night in Sydney, we go to the Belvoir Theater in the Surrey Hills neighborhood of Sydney to see a new production of "The Cake Man," Robert Merrit's pioneer play about the "unseen" first people of this country. A joint production of the standing Belvoir theater ensemble and the Yirra Yaakin Theatre Company, Australia's leading Aboriginal theater group, the play is just beginning its Sydney run.

"Back in the early 1970s, a group of pioneering indigenous theatermakers occupied a dilapidated terrace in Redfern and started the National Black Theater. The first full-length play they staged was Robert J. Merritt's 'The Cake Man.' A droll examination of white paternalism from a black point of view, Merritt's play kicked off a renaissance of art and performance that laid the foundations of contemporary indigenous theater."

After climbing up a steep hill in the pelting rain, we rush into the crowded theater, filled with damp excited theater goers. Down a few steps, and we find some seats and wait for the curtain time. More and more people, young dashing ones, energized couples, interestingly dressed older ones sipping their wines and beer, the place is filled. Much like a successful off Broadway launch it feels to me. Then the bell announcing it is time to go to seating, but it is too early for the stated starting time of "The Cake Man." Wow, I say to Di--this is really a wonderful turnout. People start rushing up the steps; a young man announces seating for "Hamlet" has begun. It is then that I discover this is a two venue theater--upstairs is the larger, more mainstream productions. The lobby empties out at a furious pace.A few of us are left waiting, and I get a sinking feeling.

"'The Cake Man is at once straightforward and complex. It is about the small details of life in a changing world. Jumping off effortlessly from a pre-invasion idyll to the hard scrabble of modern life on a mission in Western New South Wales, Merrit's virtuosic play pings with closely observed portraits of people doing what they have to do to get by. Tucked away inside it is an account of the roots of despair and of the beautiful means of overcoming it."

Once again the bell summons us, and we go further down deeper into the building's core and enter a small theater, with wooden rows serving for seats. Perhaps forty of us now have filled the space. Company members are there laying out the perimeters of the stage with white chalk, small black dolls sit on the floor, an actor walks to the performing space from the audience, Luke Carroll, who will hold us in his hands for the rest of the performance as Sweet William, the Black man who lunges against the confines of his life, who bursts with love for his wife, Ruby, and his son, lovingly called Pumpkinhead. See this play if you can. Sit and hear Sweet William turn to us and ask, "what do you want from me? What do you want me to be?" All of us sitting in that place as if we are in a small boat and can't escape our histories--those of us of the conquering class know, there are no answers that will save the indigenous dream of ownership of their lives, so complete is the rule of colonizing power. I think now of all those others sitting in the audience above us, listening to the Prince of Denmark looking into a similarly darkened space and asking his now so known existential question--to be or not to be, even in his despair, in total self ownership. When will the voice below the known histories, when will the stark and so clear voice of Sweet William pierce our cultural norms, "What do you want from me," as if we would give an answer that would end his dispossession. As if some lucidity behind our brutality would make all clear, allow his world to stand free and sweet as his love for Ruby and his son.

Performers: Sweet William, Luke Carroll; Civilian/Mr Peterson, Oscar Redding; Priest/Mission Inspector, George Shevtsov; Pumpkinhead, James Slee; Soldier/Mission Manager, Tim Solly; Ruby, Irma Woods

When the play ended,  I sat thinking of Lorraine Hansberry, and her portrait of a Black-American family trying so desperately to do things the right way, I thought of Georgia, as if she was sitting there beside us, this is the theater that gave her life and I think, the writer victoriously found his way to make himself heard above the din of invisibility..

"Robert J. Merritt watched his first opening night under police guard: he was an inmate of Long Bay at the time."