Volume V Issue II by The Collective Voice

uc san diego

volume V, issue 2, december 2011

2 / Irwin Simpelo

1 / Irwin Simpelo

ERASURE by I rwin S impelo O n its mission statement, UCSD claims that it embraces “diversity, equity, and inclusion” as integral to academic excellence and the student experience on campus. However, what are the implications of these values if the historical context of struggle and resistance has been removed and disregarded? Why are many students not familiar with the large-scale Vietnam War protests and Civil Rights rallies and their connections to philosopher Herbert Marcuse and activist Angela Davis; with the foundations of Third College--otherwise known as Lumumba-

3 / Irwin Simpelo 1. Student hands officer a flower while blocking the Interstate-5 with thousands of peers during the Rodney King Protests, 1992 - UCSD Exposed: Ruck the FEEgents 2. Student stands next to a mock explosive in the center of Revelle Plaza in protest of the Vietnam War, c. 1970 - Lumumba-Zapata College 20th Anniversary Manual 3. Student protesting the lack of underrepresented students post-UC Regents v. Bakke, 1979 - Lumumba-Zapata College 20th Anniversary Manual

Zapata or Thurgood Marshall College--rooted in access to underrepresented students; or with students’ call for divestment of UCSD from South Africa and its system of Apartheid? UCSD continues to exploit the students’ merits and highlight the gentrified and apolitical “urban” appearance of the campus while consciously avoiding the “burden” embedded in our narrative. In this art project, I explore this Erasure, and present the photographs re-appropriated to the common images of campus.

Reflections on 4-5 Years of Activism MAR VELEZ

changing. MEChA is people learning together, committing to one another, committing to the struggle. I learned in those board meetings itting in my room. The deadline to turn that I could not be an activist without being this in is in about three hours. How do a student. One reason I was a MEChistA was I sum up my experience with activism because of my desire for more than a degree of four to five years at UCSD in three hours? for my education; I wanted to gain passion and Thinking about it, I can’t believe it’s been this empathy for my people. I learned that my peolong. Or short? I can believe it changed me, ple is La Raza, meaning anyone and everyone though. that can identify with struggle-- to struggle to When it comes to understanding my devel- hold oneself up against the ever-growing capiopment of consciousness, I know it was thanks talist neoliberal and racist regime. I learned to to the older folks that mentored and femtored love—despite not being loved in return. me. But it was also thanks to those that decidIn Colectiva Chicana, I learned to heal. I ed to make mistakes with me. learned to deal with the pain that comes with My first year, I did not know half of what I struggle. I learned that I am my most important was doing. All I knew was that I was a first-year strength and support system. I learned that intern in MEChA and I had to go to the board it is okay to be weak, that there is strength in meetings. So I did. And those board meet- tears. And when they run hot down my cheeks ings were long! But that’s where I learned all it is all the love that my body must release, or the things that MEChA was and continues to else it would hurt too much to keep it in—for be. MEChA is a dialogue, it’s a flow of words the mere fact that it deserves to be out in the that mean what they say, but are constantly open. I learned how deep this work runs. contributing writer

One of the most difficult things that I’ve had to learn throughout my years with activism and community at UCSD is how to let go. Not everyone is going to be there at the end of the journey. People change, I change, and it is for the best. But I learned to appreciate what was there at one point. Cherish what it was, and not contemplate and beat myself over what could have been. Loss of friendship, gain in wisdom. This is the paradox, the crutch that I hold in my heart when I think of activism in my time here. And the word “community”. When I first began at UCSD, to me community meant GBMs. It meant getting together and laughing in a room together. Being able to greet one another and look at each other in the eyes and just know that we had one another’s back. However, community started looking different. After the Compton Cookout it didn’t feel like that as much anymore. It was even kind of scary. I didn’t know when I could be in a room or not. see REFLECTIONS on page 3

uc san diego

volume V, issue 2, december 2011

THE MODEL MINORITY BLUES HELE I

some, oppression does not operate in the same way, but still exists in our lives. No, I don’t get policed in the same way that other nce again, I am asked to explain my people do. No, the border patrol does not existence—not only in this country, take a second look at me when I drive past but also in the activist spaces that the checkpoint in my Honda. And yes, I hapI spend my life working in and now, more pen to be a damn good student. However, than ever, I am questioning whether or not I this doesn’t make me immune to the workeven belong to this community. I remember ings of the system. My parents still work long what happened when the noose was hung hours with little pay. I am still forced to asin Geisel during the winter quarter of 2010. similate in order to succeed. Like many of the Students mobilized, posters were created, people that I work with, I was also targeted and people rallied around what it means to by the military in high school. I still can’t afhave an equitable education. It was exhilarat- ford college. In case you didn’t know, people ing, but being Chinese American, I found that in the Asian American community deal with I was caught in an odd place. I know that the shit too. And yet, when a Japanese American model minority myth was created to pit me speaker comes up during the rally at SOCC, against other people of color, but I had never people in the crowd chattered amongst expected it to actually materialize in such a themselves, went to hang out, and otherwise way in front of me. All of the sudden, I wasn’t disrespected her in ways that they would not oppressed enough to be an activist. I wasn’t have done when a black or brown speaker “down” enough. And judging by the way that was up. Is she not a person of color as well? some of the people in the community looked Doesn’t she deserve the same amount of reat me that day, I wasn’t “in solidarity” with gard that others get while they’re on the pothem either. But, I realize that I’ve grown jad- dium? From what I saw, it’s clear that many ed. When the ribbon was found at SOCC this don’t think so. year, I knew exactly what would happen. Old This is where I leave you. I’m tired of dismemories of nooses on bookshelves surfaced cussing and teaching. I’m tired of having to again, bringing about a tidal wave of unre- defend myself in a space that I used to consolved pain and suffering. Then, despite the sider welcoming. But take this as a message fractures in the “community,” people pulled from the grave: the push for equity on all together at the expense of those of us who fronts cannot be successful when one group still don’t quite fit into it. Now, I find myself of oppressed people can only be counted as asking why I should even care anymore. “allies.” Don’t fall into this trap that was deWhat many don’t recognize is that for signed to tear us apart. contributing writer

about the

theme

thankstaking Kumeyaay Ground, an installation by Maureen Abugan, asks the viewer to reflect on the history of the land UCSD sits upon by playing on the uniform signage seen throughout the Price Center, e.g. plaza food court, ballroom east. Here, the act of naming implicates the legitimacy of the University. Installed on the floor of the UCSD Mandeville Annex Gallery for the “Definitely Not For Merienda” Ar t Show, which featured the work of undergraduates Maureen Abugan, Clarissa Tong, and Gail M. Gutierrez, this piece lends voice and author-

› REFLECTIONS from page 2

I didn’t want to hurt my feelings by committing to someone and then getting rejected because I wasn’t down enough, or because I didn’t understand. But I remember wanting to be just as an integral part of the struggle as I had ever wanted. I saw intersections, but there were personal road blocks. People were hurt, I was hurt. It felt like all of the community was hurting one another. I still feel like I don’t know how to talk to some people. I still hold those epic memories of my first notion of community in my head. And I hope I can experience similar feelings again. I think it’s hard to look at myself and say that I am hurt. Because in the end I really believe in everything we have done. Even the mistakes--I take them. I am responsible for them, of course in part. But I ask myself, who else is taking this responsibility? Am I the only one? Is everyone else washing themselves of what they had to do with “the racist incidents”? I don’t think it’s fair to do that. I don’t think it’s right. If there’s one thing that I still stand by with the idea of community is that community has to be able to look at itself as a whole and ask, where are we at? If there is one organization that feels hurt, feels unheard, or feels threatened, it is the community’s responsibility to listen. The key word is “listen.” No one even has to comment, but just listen. As community, that is the least we can do. All points must be acknowledged, not everyone has to agree, but affirm that the entity has been heard. I think we have spent much of our time sitting in meetings, making sure everyone is politically correct, that everyone’s chingona and chignon politics are on point, that everyone is physically

present at the meetings, but how are we emotionally? What about this healing? How can we try to repair a system, when we ourselves are fragmented as a community? When we ourselves are doing the work of the oppressors? Look into one another and see where you collide. See where it is that you meet! And also see where you don’t, so that you can find a path together. Life goes on beyond UCSD. In the UCSD community, I am free to check whoever I want and in whatever way I want. At least that’s how it’s been feeling lately. But how do I love you, even though you hurt me? How can I see myself in you, even in the most hurtful times? The world is not UCSD. If anything, the world outside of UCSD is all the mess we don’t want to deal with, but have to. I have been so lucky and so spoiled to have been a part of a community that sees me for who I am-Chicana, feminista, mujer, activista, enamorada, loca, indignada, respetada—all identities seen and at least on the surface, respected. But what will happen when I leave? How practical will it be for me to check people on the daily? I don’t know. I haven’t really experienced that yet, not fully. But when I go back home to LA and deal with the homies that have no idea what I am talking about, I can tell it’s not going to be easy. So I am thankful. As much as it is a struggle, as much as it sucks to be the teacher of your own oppressions, I also have to remember that someone had to show me, and be my guide in understanding struggle. I have to remember that when they were teaching me, they were not at all indignant to do so, but rather saw it as an opportunity to plant the seed, the Xinachtli, so that I can nourish it and love it. As I am still trying to do now.

ity to UCSD’s often forgotten/ erased past and its present relations with native people and land. As co-editors we repeated the photo to make it in Regine’s words: “an image you have to look at, you can’t just glance over it.” Colonization, occupation, and imperialism aren’t academic theories conveniently contained in books, they are lived experiences and present realities. In Isabel Allende’s words: “write what should not be forgotten.”

In Solidarity,

volume V, issue 2, december 2011

Virtual Colonization

LAURA SANCHEZ staff writer

Yvonne Lan / The Collective Voice

‘Do you want this octopus to have fewer legs?’: A Reflexion of the Self and the Medium MAUREEN ABUGAN contributing writer

t’s been interesting, to study Communication and to have been a co-editor of a newspaper, with no hands-on journalism experience or teaching whatsoever. I have a single sliver of technical education in this area: Regine, my fellow co-editor, gave me a 10-minute workshop on traditional journalistic writing at the beginning of my 4th year. In spite and because of this, I never followed the inverted pyramid structure in anything I’ve written, and since the workshop, I’ve felt uncomfortably inadequate and intellectually misnomered. A near graduated Communication student who doesn’t know how to write a decent news article! Imagine that! There are several emphases one can explore in the field, but not possessing this skill in particular has left me with floaters in my eyes. Form is content. If I’m unable to grasp the form of writing I’m attempting, to what extent of (in)justice am I doing the subject of my work? Is it enough for me to simply be able to write, share, make accessible the stories that need telling? (“My work” is loosely defined, and includes products of expression from scripts to video to installation.) My decision to use a canvas as a backdrop instead of foam core makes a difference toward how viewers will receive, or reject, a piece. Most would know how different it is to see an amusing picture like this online: than to come across it, tear a piece of it and proceed to take a picture of it in the flesh. Which I did. It was a windy Maureen Abugan day on campus: I was wearing shorts and wishing that I wasn’t when I walked over to this poor octopus. Yes, medium matters, but if form is so important, which forms am I

most keen on? Writing formal articles has never been or grown to be something I’ve felt intuitive about. I like to be concise and tend to be below word count and page requirements, but my gut doesn’t leap at the chance to write “hard news”. Instead, I’m most excited when it comes to creative non-fiction and film analysis--not about glorifying National Geographic colonialist racist classist voyeuristic-type material, but about orienting interesting and otherwise not visible details to reveal universal connections. I like being overtly subjective because (1) I don’t believe in objectivity, and (2) I find writing more fun and enjoyable when I stretch across similes and metaphors, when I ponder the limits of being an Ilokano Pinay who is “only” fluent in English and broken tongues of the m/otherland, when I spend much too much time describing the absurd air bubbles that show up in my dad’s peg tube syringes. I was taught that there is a distinction between art and therapy. Art is for the empowerment of others and therapy is for the empowerment of oneself, but in reality, I strive to blur these lines in my work. Currently, the bulk of the creative process for me involves responding to two questions. What do I want to say? Who am I speaking to? While I could address these questions quickly and colloquially, I believe there are greater stakes that deserve more commitment than a longer-than-average blog post written in the wee hours on the morning of a screenplay pitch. A similar principle goes for community organizing; it’s easy to start an action, but it is much more difficult to maintain one. It was a Visual Arts professor who instilled in me a love and obsession to view films frame by frame until the sheer concentration of lights from the screen bore tunnels into my pupils and I knew the film by heart altogether. It was a Communication professor, though, who inspired me to continue doing so.

he great horizon—the expanse that creates an elusive border between the known and unknown—shrinks as technology advances. Today ‘distance is dead’ in the eyes of the many virtual users, and the enigma behind the ‘unknown’ no longer exists. New forms of technology have made it possible for Internet use to expand increasingly. With the start of mobile Internet, everyday users can now connect to the online world in the palms of their hands. Technological advances have instituted the notion of virtually transporting oneself to physically remote areas in a matter of seconds. As people in the world connect through a virtual world, physical distance appears to no longer exist, and a tangible sphere is replaced with virtual communication. This ‘new’ phenomena can be traced back to the European colonization of the globe from the 15th century onwards. European voyages that set sail to distant lands in search of the north-west passage were primarily made possible through the advancement of technology. With the aid of technology, such as the compass and astrolabe, a ship and its crew, Europeans surmounted physical barriers and distance. They were capable of exploring lands that had for centuries been on the “undiscovered” side of the horizon. However, the driving force behind these highly risky journeys was not exploration but rather profit. Voyages across the Atlantic, or those who rounded the Cape into the Indian Ocean, established trade routes that dispersed European goods throughout the globe, producing huge profitable exchanges. These trade routes were mainly materialistic affairs, exchanging goods that were not necessarily of true need, as in food and survival, but mainly for luxury and ornament. In the present era of modern technology, the Internet can be said to be the modern trading route of this age. More so, it is the idealized trading route that Europeans could have only fantasized about, with its fast and practical form of transporting goods. The Internet is the ultimate voyage that reduces all inconvenient obstacles and highly increases profit. It has become the largest market of exchange. Online shoppers can browse through virtual malls all throughout the globe. This virtual world inhabits a universal trading route, where all users can navigate and exchange their goods without the physical barriers that once limited trade. Through its exponential expansion, the Internet has become more and more a ‘commercial environment.’ On a larger scale, the Internet as Martin Hall states in his article ‘Virtual Colonization,’ “mimicked Europe’s first colonial expansion.” Halls states that in 1996 four international service providers with subsidiaries in southern Africa set up more than seventy secondary agencies, selling them bandsee VIRTUAL on page 10

uc san diego

volume V, issue 2, december 2011

Liz Nguyen / The Collective Voice

pre - occupied

REGINE REYES

Wall Street, San Diego is on occupied land. co-editor in chief The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo transferred ownership of this land from the Mexican govt first I didn’t really know what to ernment to the United States. That treaty think of Occupy San Diego. I heard that was the result of the Mexican American War there was no guarantee of security for which was fought specifically for land grabwomyn and people of color. I heard the coali- bing. It was the first US war to have a milition building for the Occupy Movement was tary of voluntary soldiers. Which means that white-dominated, didn’t even have a list of de- there was no draft, so each person involved mands or a platform. Honestly, I don’t really had a personal/economic investment in settrust when the mainstream media hypes up tler colonialism. And before a Spanish migrapeople who are trying to “make a change” as tion/settler colonialism from the periphery if it’s some side job-hobby-fun/exciting thing. of the Mexican nation-state to California, this If you don’t see your activism as a war of posi- was land was occupied by the Mission systion, about trying to envision different ways tem, which quasi-enslaved native people for of being, about building as you dismantle, religious/economic reproduction. Before the then I’m sorry but it’ll be hard for me to get missions, this was native land. on board. Too many people at UCSD hate San Diego, This is what I know about Occupy SD: like mistaking La Jolla for San Diego. I remem-

ber sitting in a practicum with a womyn I felt thoroughly uncomfortable with because she felt San Diego was boring and not welcoming, implying that San Diego was simply no place for person of color to be in/come from. I remember facilitating an Alternative Tour for high school students from the Bay Area. When I asked how they felt about San Diego, they said that San Diego had a lot of white people and wanted to know if there were any people of color in San Diego. Hold up. How and when did this city become unequivocably associated with whiteness? Now, I don’t hate white people, but instead I critique systems of racial domination based on white supremacy, a privilege each phenotypically white person has regardless of see PRE-OCCUPIED on page 12

ON LAND MATTERS

from the students of ethnic studies 111, native ameri

would like to share how I have come to understand the importance of land in the lives of Native Americans. After reading numerous stories written by native authors I have realized that the discrimination faced by Indigenous people often revolves around land use, land ownership, and their disproportionate exposure to environmental harms. The racialization of Native Americans as inferior and not deserving of rights can be seen through the U.S. government’s utilization of allotments, tribal termination, fraud, and environmental racism as a means to drive natives off of their land. The continuous attack on Native rights coupled with their spiritual and cultural dependence on land demonstrates why Land Matters remain one of the most urgent issues within Native American communities. Indigenous culture and spirituality relies deeply on the land that surrounds them. In God is Red: A Native View of Religion, Vine Deloria explains that this stems from the Indigenous people’s use of a spatial point of view in order to create meaning and truth. Deloria states that “American Indians hold their lands – places – as having the highest possible meaning, and all their statements are made with this reference point in mind” (62). Instead of seeking spiritual guidance from historical events like Westerners, Natives emphasize finding truth in their relationship to the land. This means that natural landscapes are often considered sacred to Indigenous people, demonstrating the role land plays in shaping their spiritual and cultural understanding of the world. In the poem Sacred Mountains, George Blueeyes also touches on the importance of land in the lives of Native Americans. In his poem, he writes, “These mountains and the land between them are the only thing keeping us strong. From them, and because of them we prosper. It is because of them that we eat plants and good meat”(11). Blueeyes illustrates how the strength and prosperity of Native communities relies on their relationship to land. The author argues that land does not belong to the Natives, but rather they belong to and owe their very lives to the lands they inhabit. This shows that the spatial framework utilized by Indigenous people focuses on harmonizing with the land, differing greatly from Western ideology. The divergence between the Indigenous and Western ways of thinking has resulted in the U.S. government’s failure to recognize or reconcile Native Americans as the spiritual owners of their land. This disregard can be seen in the stripping of Indigenous rights through the use of allotments, termination, and fraud by the government. The forced relocation of Native Americans has denied tribes access to spiritual landmarks and to the roots of their identity. In The Native American Testimony the Menominee Drums Committee describes the hardships faced by their tribe as result of termination. They explain that it was a “gigantic and revolutionary forced change in the traditional Menominee way of life. Congress expected immediate Menominee assimilation of non-Indian culture, values and life style”(345). The forced assimilation of tribes, the stealing of their lands, and their lack of access to sacred landscapes are consequences of colonization that have yet to be reconciled by the U.S. government. The deep spiritual connection between Natives and land provides huge motivation for Indigenous communities to continue fighting for their rights surrounding land use, civil rights, and sovereignty. In addition, the European immigrants’ lack of emphasis on the importance of land has lead to the widespread pollution. When describing this phenomenon Vine Deloria states: In less than two and a half centuries American whites have virtually destroyed a whole continent and large areas of the United States are now almost uninhabitable – even so we seek to “sacrifice” large rural areas to toxic waste dumps. The idea of defining religious reality along temporal lines, therefore, is to adopt the pretense that the earth simply does not matter, that human affairs alone are important. (Deloria, 70) This quote describes the lack of concern Western religions have towards Earth due to their focus on human events and their temporal timeline. This disregard for the environment has become the norm and often justifies the dumping of toxic waste and cancer causing carcinogens on lands that are deemed “expendable” or “valueless”. In All Our Relations, Winona LaDuke points out that the people who are disproportionately exposed to these environmental harms are Native Americans. In her story, she gives voice to the Native struggle against environmental racism. LaDuke discusses the targeting of Native lands for uranium mining and power plants saying, “Much of the world’s nuclear industry has been sited on or near Native lands. Some 70 percent of the world’s uranium originates from Native communities…” (97). This blatant discrimination portrays Indigenous people as inferior to other races and assumes their land to be valueless. The pervasiveness of environmental racism in Native American communities demonstrates their continued lack of political and social rights in the U.S. Today, the way land is used by government and corporate entities remains a key issue in Indigenous social movements, especially for groups seeking environmental justice. I hope I have clearly explained why Land Matters have been, and continue to be, at the heart of the Native struggle for rights and reconciliation. We must accept that there is more than one framework that can be used when practicing one’s spirituality and culture. Just because the practices of a people go against dominant discourse, does not justify their racialization as inferior beings. The U.S. must learn to respect and negotiate with Native peoples in order to move on their way towards resolving the injustices they face. The first step I suggest would be switching from a “not in my back yard” to a “not on planet earth” policy when it comes to the government’s disposal of toxic waste and other pollutants. I believe every person should be given the right to live on land free from environmental toxins.

DIANA SPIX Senior, Ethnic Studies

WORKS

CITED

Blueeyes, George. “Sacred Mountains.” Home Places: Contemporary Native American Writing from Sun Tracks. Larry Evers and Ofelia Zepeda, eds. Tucson &London: University of Arizona Press, 1995.

s we get ready to celebrate yet another Thanksgiving day with our families, let us not forget that this holiday has its roots in the brutal colonial project of Europeans settlers who had an insatiable hunger for land, and unmercifully snatched it right out of the hands of its rightful owners, the Native Americans. Ironically, we have been calling this holiday “Thanksgiving,” though it would be more appropriate to call it “Thanks-taking.” Let’s face it folks, we live on stolen land. If that’s not enough, let’s bring it closer to home: we study, go to lectures, sections, office hours, on what was once Kumeyaay land. As we walk the halls of this prestigious Research One Institution, let us remember that we are not too far from Kumeyaay sacred burial grounds, Regents Road, to be exact. It is difficult for us, born, raised and educated in a western, Eurocentric, capitalist society, to understand the profound relationship that Native Americans have with the land. Our abiding allegiance to individualism and private property prohibits many of us to change our perceptions of the land as interconnected to our communities, our culture and our identity. However, for indigenous peoples, land matters remains one of the most important issues for those very reasons. In order for us to better understand the deep relationship that Native Americans have with the land we must first look at the concept of time and space in the context of religion. According to late Native American activist and author, Vine Deloria, Jr. he explains that for certain world religions such as Christianity, the importance of a revelation or the manifestation of a deity, for instance, lies not in the particular local site in which it occurred, but rather in the significance of the event. Deloria asserts that this is mistaken for a “truth applicable to all time and place,” so powerful, he states, that it must be stressed on people who have no direct connection to the event (66). On the other hand, for Native societies, it is the place that holds power and truth. The places where people experienced revelations were set aside as places where ceremonies and rituals took place (Deloria 67). In other words, revelations were seen as connected to the surroundings and not as a particular message suitable for all times and places (Deloria 67). Deloria explains, “The vast majority of Indian tribal religions…have a sacred center at a particular place, be it a river, a mountain, a plateau, valley, or other natural feature. This center enables the people to look out along the four dimensions and locate their lands, to relate all historical events within the confines of this particular land…” (67) Regardless of what happened to the people, the land remains a sacred space in Natives people’s religious and cultural understanding (Deloria 67). This is how we can begin to understand the intricate relationship between Native peoples and the land and why land matters are so crucial to Native peoples. By taking away their land, The US also stripped of their identity. As Simon Ortiz puts it, “Land and people are interdependent. In fact, they are one and the same essential matter of Existence. They cannot be separated and delineated into singular entities” (xii). Thus, it is of fundamental importance for Native peoples to have autonomy and control over their lands. Equally as important

Coulombe, Joseph L. “Following the Tracks.” Reading Native American Literature. New York: Routledge, 2011.

Deloria, Vine Jr. “Thinking in Time and Space.” God is Red: A Native View of Religion. Golden, Colorado: Fulcrum Publishing, 1994.

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OPEN LETTERS TO THE UCSD COMMUNITY

ON INDIGENOUS RELATIONS TO LAND

ican literature

at those outside of Native communities should ret Native peoples lands as well. It is no wonder why affects of colonialism, land theft in particular, have n detrimental to Native peoples psyche.

oday, too much of the small amount of land Native peoples were able to keep is now being poisoned uclear waste. The nuclear industry has increasingly eted Native communities as sites to dump nuclear e. As a result, thousands of people on reservas have been exposed to harmful levels of radiation. y suffer from different types of cancer. The fedgovernment and nuclear industries have offered ons of dollars to Native communities in order to ble to dump nuclear waste on their lands. While w have accepted their offers, many continue to against the polluting and the poisoning of their and the people living on it. Considering how poor y of these communities are, they choose their land the millions of dollars being offered to them. For nce, activist and environmentalist Winona LaDuke us in her article, “Nuclear Waste: Dumping on the ans,” about a nuclear test site that resides in the tern Shoshone territory in Nevada. The federal rnment has been trying to secure a title to Shoe land, offering the community up to $91 million. ever, the Shoshone will not accept the money. uke states, “…here we have some of the poorest ple in the country who are refusing to accept a $91 on settlement for their land, because they want land even if the federal government has put raon on it…” (100). LaDuke illustrates the fierce loyand attachment Native peoples have to their land, if it has been poisoned. Through this example, we see how land matters continue to be a key issue in ve peoples struggles today. It is not just a fight that fought during early colonial times; it continues to fight today, only now it is not about taking their away, it is about poisoning their land. It is still a to defend their land, nonetheless.

We cannot ignore the fact that dispossessing Native ple of their land has serious repercussions. The inonnectedness of the land and the people creates a d that is difficult to break and when it is forcefully violently broken, whole communities are affected. uther Standing Bear, Chief of the Oglala, Dakota ed in his speech, “What the Indian Means to Amer“The American Indian is of the soil, whether it be egion of forests, plains, pueblos, or mesas. He fits the landscape…” (420). His words illustrate this p connection to the land and why it is that land ers remain one of the most important issues for ve peoples. Perhaps to many of us who thrive on d ol’ American individualism, it would just be a er of moving far from poisoned lands or finding r places to live, but to Native peoples, this would etrimental. It is not the individual experience that importance to them but the interconnectedness he land to their religion, culture and identity. We then see why, despite the challenges, Native peocontinue to fight for their land.

ORELL MARTÍNEZ

or, Literatures in Spanish and Ethnic Studies

MS Committee. “The Menomiare Terminated.” Native AmeriTestimony: A Chronicle of Whiten Relations from Prophecy to the ent, 1492-1992. Peter Nabokov, ew York: The Penguin Group, 1991.

special editor: dr. natchee barnd My Fellow UCSD Students, It used to be that my understanding of Native American land relations extended about as far as what I gleaned from Disney’s Pocahontas, and I am sure that even as many of your read this open letter the simplistic lyrics of “Colors of the Wind” have begun to swirl around your heads. However what I have found as I began to read the words of Native authors themselves is that this caricature of indigenous people constructed for a predominantly Anglo-American audience does not even come close to the intricate relationship of indigenous Americans to their land, not to mention this relationship’s importance to the Native movement for sovereignty and the revitalization of Native identity. Simon Ortiz, in his introduction to Speaking for the Generations, recognizes that Native peoples are “admired and respected—although, also, too often envied and romanticized—for insisting on a concept of self that is absolutely tied to the interdependence of land and people.” I have come to understand that this interdependence is not simply another environmentalist approach to land preservation; it is a relationship of responsibility, interconnection, vitality, and shared identity. “In fact, they [Native peoples and their land] are one and the same essential matter of Existence. They cannot be separated and delineated into singular entities. If anything is most vital, essential, and absolutely important in Native cultural philosophy, it is this concept of interdependence” . So what then is this “interdependence,” if not a desire to simply “preserve the earth” as it is all too often characterized? Vine Deloria explores the concept of Native land relations in comparison to what he calls “Immigrant” or Anglicized concepts of memory and identity. American Indians hold their lands—places—as having the highest possible meaning, and all their statements are made with this reference point in mind. Immigrants review the movement of their ancestors across the continent as a steady progression of basically good events and experiences, thereby placing history—time—in the best possible light. When one group is concerned with the philosophical problem of space and the other with the philosophical problem of time, then the statements of either group do not make much sense when transferred from one context to the other. My prior confusion can be largely summed up in his statement: Native peoples use land and location as a basis for construction of collective memory and identity, a concept very different when compared to the tradition of history books and timelines that we are taught from 1st grade onward. Deloria goes on to examine the way in which Native narratives often reference a specific location around which the story is built, thus linking that location with the story’s purpose—be it moral instruction, relation of skills or methods for interaction, or even origination of the people themselves. In this way, land becomes sacred in its representation of the various aspects of Native life and identity. “Regardless of what subsequently happens to the people, the sacred lands remain as permanent fixtures in their cultural or religious understanding.” With this illustration of Native land and identity, I have been able to look with new eyes on what I have always known to be injustice, but what I now understand to be atrocious acts of both physical and cultural genocide. While it is commonly known that present-day America is built on lands unrightfully taken from the indigenous inhabitants, the ongoing physical and emotional effects of colonization on indigenous populations are rarely acknowledged, let alone discussed and reconciled. “Restricted largely to reservations,” asserts Joseph Coulumbe,

LaDuke, Winona. “Nuclear Waste: Dumping on the Indians.” All Our Relations: Native Struggles for Land and Life. Cambridge: South End Press, 1999.

“Natives experienced poverty, racism, and dispossession while the U.S. became increasingly wealthy and powerful on their lands around them. American Indians were not even allowed U.S. citizenship until 1924.” Policies such as the denial of citizenship and nullification of established treaties are governmental strategies by which the U.S. has attempted to legitimate its ownership of Native land by seeking to erase the identity of the Natives themselves. Denying Native populations’ citizenship on the lands that they have always lived on in effect removes not only their ownership over the land, but also their belonging to the land. Understanding this within the context of land as integral to Native identity reveals that the denial of citizenship removes the right of Natives to access their homes as well as their histories. The U.S. government later attempted to force citizenship upon indigenous populations through policies of Termination; legally disbanding tribes in an attempt to nullify treaties from the 1800’s and thus remove all responsibility to fulfill promises of support to Native people. Similar to the denial of citizenship, the imposition of citizenship legally removes any exclusive relationship or responsibility to the land—they have no more of a connection to it than their fellow “Immigrant” citizens. Meanwhile, many other policies such as the establishment of boarding schools for Native children and confinement of populations to “reserved land” sought to physically remove indigenous peoples. Coulumbe quotes Laura Tohe in order to summarize the effects of these violent policies— “Separation from home, land, and culture equals loss of identity and language.” The colonization of America was enacted through the attempted erasure of Native identity, and Natives are still struggling to recover. As I have gained a deeper understanding about the importance of land to native identity and the damage done through the colonization of America, the struggle for Native sovereignty has come into perspective. In fighting for the right to govern the lands that remain in their possession, Native people are not merely fighting for acreage. They are fighting for the revitalization of their culture and identity; they are seeking to reconstitute agency by regaining sovereign authority. Native activist Virginia Sanchez emphasizes this empowerment and revitalization of cultural identity that comes from fighting for her land rights. “We have been violated, but we don’t have to get stuck in that rut of victimization…We’ve got our grandmothers, our spiritual people, tribal government representatives, all of them…work[ing] together…We do have a lot of power. Knowing that we’re making progress…That’s how you begin the healing.” Furthering my understanding of the Native land relations has improved my recognition of false representations of Native identity, hopefully slowing their perpetuation, if ever so slightly. I encourage you to do the same, for with understanding comes progress, and with progress perhaps we can contribute to the healing of nations.

SARAH CURIEL Senior, Literature

Ortiz, Simon J. “Now it is My Turn to Stand.” Speaking for the Generations. Simon J. Ortiz, ed. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1998.

Standing Bear, Luther. “What Indian Means to America.” American Philosophies: An Anthology. Leonard Harris, Scott L. Pratt, and Anne S. Waters, eds. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2002.

volume V, issue 2, december 2011

2011 STUDENTS OF COLOR CONFERENCE

Ashley Drake

Noose Message Found on UC Davis Campus EXCERPT FROM UCI APSA november 13, 2011

T Vinny Uy

his morning at the annual Students of Color Conference (SOCC) a discriminatory, derogatory, and disappointing message was found on a tree of the UC Davis campus. The message was written on a yellow ribbon tied to a tree. The yellow ribbon was amongst many placed on trees throughout the campus in support and remembrance of Veteran’s day. The message read: “Use me as a noose.”

This hate crime brings back unfortunate actions and sentiments of the past when a noose was found in the library of UC San Diego in 2010. It is representative of the hate and bigotry still present across our UC campus climate and is a most unfortunate situation coinciding with the occurrence of a progressive and peaceful conference where students across UC gather annually to combat such discrimination and hate. http://apsauci.wordpress.com/2011/11/13/ breaking-news-noose-message-found-on-ucdavis-campus/

elevate, dedicate, unify, celebrate, and advocate to empower

Vinny Uy

Ashley Drake

Vinny Uy

Maureen Abugan

uc san diego

volume V, issue 2, december 2011

Truth in Famine and Humanitarianism YVONNE LAN

contributing writer

ne year ago, I tried explaining to a classmate the political tension between Taiwan and China, and countries’ refusal in selling military arms to Taiwan due to Chinese pressure. Before I could continue on U.S. arms sales to Taiwan, the classmate said to me: “Don’t worry, America will help you guys.” I had a rigid smile on my face. I could not continue on the cost-benefit analysis on America’s monopoly in Taiwanese arms market nor could I mention that American arms sales to Taiwan are not in sympathy but for profit. However, I remembered how I was once ignorant on the subject of famine and humanitarianism. I naively thought that famine is caused by lack of food due to natural disaster; and though I recognized that humanitarian projects do not always solve the problem they intended to solve, little did I know they are instruments for disposing economic surplus. Since natural disasters happen all the time and only rarely are they associated with famine, disturbance in food production and exchange has a more profound effects in causing famine. When social relationships between trades and sales of labor power: entitlement, in which climate and economic changes are the factors affecting it, are disrupted, individual’s access of food is disrupted too. As failure to command over food is prolonged, famine occurs. Humanitarian organizations step in and interfere. Foreign governments and people worldwide send free food, clothes, and shoes to countries in need. Once a believer of charitable donation myself, my family and I sent our old clothes, shoes, and furniture to Salvation Army and canned food to food banks believing that these things would relieve the hardship of people suffering from poverty and

famine. We were sympathetic to these poor African children displayed in magazines and Internet and could not bear the thought of not doing anything to help them. Overwhelmed by the feeling of pity, we did not realize that our donations would not solve the problem

of famine. We were simply treating the symptom. Famine that happens repeatedly because its cause still exists. According to de Waal, famine is caused by wars and government’s incapability in helping people dealing with climate and economic change. Humanitarian intervention—in my case the donation of clothes, furniture, and shoes—lets local governments off the hook of their responsibilities to people, which contribute to future development projects . These humanitarian projects overlook the existing local responsibilities and potentials. For example, Ferguson’s anti-politics machine in Lesotho and Tania Li’s study in ADB project where the proposal suggests better farming techniques and ‘benefits’ to villagers would solve the problem of villagers’ shortage of land, indebtedness, and vulnerabilities to migrant workers. Moreover, providing direct charitable donations to people causes local governments to retreat from their accountabilities. This is how humanitarian projects are political; they break the political contract between the local governments and people and collapse the local economies by making local markets dependent upon foreign goods. So, in order to prevent famine, governments have to be accountable and responsible for

social issues and poor people need better representation in public to address their issues. Next, humanitarianism may have noble ideologies such as relieving hunger, but many humanitarian projects continue to be profitoriented: American food aids continue to function as political tool to force negotiations. Their purpose is not charitable, but rather it is about disposing economic surplus and privileging the American agriculture industry. American food aids ruin the economy of recipients’ countries. For instance, Jamaica has to dispose gallons of milk every day because Jamaican products cannot compete with the cheap U.S. subsidized products, which is in this case milk powder. My action of charitable donation along with others’ perpetuates the structure of development and humanitarian projects. It further reflects the fact that a large amount of people are unaware of the detrimental effects of donations. Giving away free stuffs is no burden for us but burden to other economies. We are imposing seemingly justified beliefs and actions on others without examining them before execution; this reflects the problem of our reckless attitude toward things that are unrelated to us. Therefore, in order to change this perpetuating structure, people need to understand the cause of famine and the effects of humanitarian aids on other governments and economies. In our effort to help, we should not give direct goods to the people in need, but rather we should support local organizations that can be held accountable for their own country. We should also help politically so that local governments can resume their social responsibility in famine and other problems. And as global citizens, we should always keep in mind that good intentions do not always do good deeds and that good excuses do not justify self-interested actions.

summer contending with segregationists, racists and the KKK, students were not going to let administrators trample their rights, and fought back. The story of the Free-Speech Movement (FSM) is well known, but I think the actors and the sacrifice involved are neither well enough known or appreciated. There were two major forces behind the movement: The progressive SLATE organization, and the more militant Congress of Racial Equality and Student Nonviolent Co-ordinating Committee. On this campus it is important to recognize that the right to free-speech, which we all enjoy and some abuse, was established in large part by civil-rights activists to fight racism and racial injustice with civil-disobedience. The climax of the FSM was the morning of December 3rd, 47 years ago, when 800 students engaging in a sit-in at Sproul Hall became the subjects of the largest mass arrest in Berkeley history. Police waded through sitting

students, struck those resisting and, according to David Goines account, threw arrested students into the elevator to be processed in the basement. Arrested students faced charges of trespassing, unlawful assembly, and resisting arrest with bail up to $110. Outside the sit-in, police attempted to remove a PA system which was servicing a rally, but students moved the PA system into the middle of the crowd and created a human shield, physically defending their right to speak. In the light of recent events at UC Berkeley and now at UC Davis, we should be thankful of past students who paid for our rights with labor, failed classes, quarters of suspension, heckling, arrest, and beatings. It is well within our ability to do the same for future generations. (My thanks to David Goines for his contribution 47 years ago, his book The Free Speech Movement, an enjoyable summer read, and most of the information in this article.)

“American food aids continue to function as political tool to force negotiations; its purpose is not charitable rather it is about disposing economic surplus and privileging American agriculture industry.”

Free Speech Was a Side Show to Civil Rights KEVIN QUIROLO contributing writer

n light of the recent police violence at UC Berkeley, I think thanks are owed to the students who, 47 years ago, fought on that campus for the model of free speech we enjoy at UCSD today. In the fall and winter quarters of 1964, a coalition of civil rights activists, progressives, socialists and right-wing allies fought tooth and nail for the right to promote their causes on UC Berkeley campus. When students returned from fighting for civil rights in the South in the 1964 freedom summer, they found that their own civil rights had been surreptitiously abridged: Campus time and place regulations started being enforced on the walkway between Telegraph Ave and Sproul plaza, which had served as an unofficial ‘free-speech zone.’ Tabling and fund-raising for political causes was effectively banned. However, after spending the

volume V, issue 2, december 2011

A Technically-American’s Reflections the Day Before Thanksgiving HAO (HOWIE) TAM contributing writer

nd here in this city, in this ancient meeting place, I want to acknowledge the original inhabitants of this land and one of the world’s oldest continuous cultures, the first Australians.”–Obama’s speech in the Australian Parliament, November 17, 2011 Late October, my dear friend Liz asked me to write something to contribute to The Collective Voice, a publication that introduces itself as “[University of California San Diego]’s progressive newspaper that promotes social unity, justice and awareness across the many communities that exist on the UCSD campus.” The theme was “Thankstaking,” which I think is already a full statement in itself. I didn’t submit anything because the deadline was close and I didn’t have any concrete thoughts or ideas to write down regarding the topic. Thanksgiving was still a while away then. I wasn’t thinking much about it. Thanksgiving is in the air now, however, even here in London. My American friends are planning a potluck to celebrate. Because they are in a country that gives little heed for the holiday and therefore needs some sort of introduction, because it is one of the rare holidays that only Americans observe, and because my friends are celebrating it far away from home, Thanksgiving is constantly on their tongues. I am also interpellated to be part of this holiday because I am technically American and have been very familiar with the concept for a while. I said technically American. My identity as “technically American” and the quote that starts this post lead to two seemingly separate yet quite congruent issues that I want to attempt to address in this post. Big task. Weird introduction. Seemingly unrelated topics. I know. Bear with me. Read on. Let’s start with Obama. He was quite courteous to have acknowledged aboriginal Australians in his speech in the Australian Parliament, I think, despite the fact that he was there to strengthen military ties with Australia, all for the sake of defending universal democratic ideals. Obama gives us a glimpse of these ideals when he goes on to describe the common creed shared by the U.S. and

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Australia: “No matter who you are, no matter what you look like, everyone deserves a fair chance; everyone deserves a fair go.” In other words, the increased U.S. military presence in Australia is also good for aboriginal Australians because it protects their fair chance and fair go against possible Chinese aggression. Given that aboriginal Australians are among the poorest and least educated population in Australia at the moment, I will leave it to you to decide whether Chinese aggression is the biggest threat and hindrance to their fair chance and fair go in their society. Back to Thanksgiving, the quintessential American holiday that is supposed to commemorate the nicety of the Native Americans who gave food to the first settlers so that they wouldn’t starve to death in the cold. You know, the ones whose descendants went on to encroach on Native American lands and broke treatises and promises and either forced them to move away or killed them. But as usual let’s forget that uncomfortable part of American history. Let’s focus on those Native Americans’ nicety and the call of humanity to help the settlers. Surely that must be on every American’s mind on this special holiday? Not really. It is more a day when Americans, the privileged 1% or so of the world, waste money on gluttony while many around the world are starving. It is a day when those helping Native Americans’ nicety is the last thing on their mind, if the big feast still leaves any room for thought at all. It is the day before Black Friday. Get ready for cheap huge 3D TV sets! Clothes! Game controllers! The perfect day to shop for Christmas! Somehow a holiday whose intended purpose is to remind Americans of that moment in the past when common humanity triumphs, that moment that should make us reflect on our aggression (better than Chinese aggression?) against the very people that helped us survive in the beginning, that moment that should be the guiding spirit for us now and forever; this holiday has turned into the colonizer’s day of unleashed gluttony, packing up calories to celebrate the wonders of capitalism the next day. Native Americans? Well we’ll dress up like them during Halloween. Who cares about them now or ever. Aborigi-

width into Namibia, Lesotho, Botswana, Tanzania, Mozambique and Zimbabwe. Again, as it occurred in the 15th century, foreign powers establish their presence in developing nations for the sake of profit, now without any constraint due to the efficiency of technological advances. Distance no longer exists in the virtual commercial globe. Ideas and news are also exchanged through electronic communication, just like how trading posts functioned during the era of colonization. Trading posts were not only a place to exchange tangible goods, but people met to interchange news of distant lands, a trade of ideas and worldly reports. Electronic communications have exploited the use of the mobile Internet where users today maintain themselves connected to the virtual world more than ever, and increasingly lose connection with the physical world around them. Although it has facilitated the connection we maintain with the world, allowing more people to stay connected and aware of global issues and news many do not take advantage of the beneficial uses of technology and instead are being influenced by materialistic affairs and celebrity gossip. The underlying question behind this era of ‘virtual colonization’ as Hall presents is then, “Are these new forms of electronic communication a continuation of capitalism’s inexorable expansion, or are they symptomatic of a new ‘media age’ that is qualitatively distinct?” We can only answer such question through the observation of time; the advancement of technology has reduced the physical barriers that once stood before European colonization and after centuries of scientific evolution, capitalism continues to exponentially profit from technological innovations.

nal Australians and Native Americans look at each other and shake their heads. What an opinionated Asian! Well, I knew it, he’s not American. How unpatriotic! Chinese aggression, I tell ya. Hey, you should be grateful you’re in America. If you don’t like us, why did you come to America in the first place? Go back to China. How am I supposed to feel as a technically American, ethnically Chinese immigrant from Vietnam, living in London? Should I keep my tiny Asian eyes closed, stuff that turkey and mashed potato in my mouth, put my thumb up for America and hope that maybe people will acknowledge me as a true-blue American? Should I join in my voice with my fellow Americans’ jeering at the British for not knowing how to celebrate Thanksgiving? Should I be proud of my American passport, the sign of my Americanness? Should I shut up because obviously I am not American and have no idea what I’m talking about? Should I shut up because my English is so bad that people can’t understand what I have to say? Those are rhetorical questions, but seriously they are not far from questions that keep me thinking all the time. I always have to question how American I really am, not because I like to question my own identity (it’s not fun, believe me) but because people constantly make me do that with their Asian jokes or statements that confuse me as to how I should respond. Somehow, the fact that I speak English, come from California, and understand “American culture” and politics, has made it easier for people to question me. You have lived among us and understand our country? Good. So you understand how you are different from us. I have no energy to delve any further into my own subjectivity, and this post has been messy enough as it is. I think I’ll try to eat as much as possible tomorrow to have enough energy for the next post. If you’re reading this on Thanksgiving, I hope I have given you enough food for thought so far, if your feast still leaves you enough room for any thought at all. Until next time, H

CALL FOR CONTRIBUTIONS! We are looking for articles, poetry, art, and photos for our third issue of the year! The theme is still being worked out but as always, you can contribute pieces of any topic you like.

Send contributions to cveditors@gmail.com by Friday, January 20.

uc san diego

volume V, issue 2, december 2011

War Games contributing writer

ne of my first memories of colonization was of rattling windows. The Marines were conducting “War Games” and fighter jets were flying by my neighborhood. As these planes break the sound barrier, they leave behind a trail of shaking ground and roaring noise. Living in a military town, I see evidence of this institution all the time (ie. going past a marine base to pick up groceries). For me, it’s not really a big deal—it’s just there. At least, that’s what I’ve been taught to think. When I came to UCSD, I learned about how militarism really functions. As it turns out, it is one of the ways that the colonization of land, bodies, and minds take place. It’s an interesting thing to think about. When people talk about militarism in classrooms and other academic spaces, they tend to forget the lived impact of it— the lives that are wasted, the “collateral damage,” the people that are left behind, and the wars that a lot of people forget are still happening

right now. And that’s not an accident. The military is as vital to San Diego as it is destructive to our communities. The jobs that all the Naval and Marine bases create for civilians in this city—not to mention the research contracts—make us dependent on them for our economic survival. Recruiting offices give poor and working class people of color a way to get regular paychecks, a place to live, healthcare, and meals to eat. By virtue of being a militarized city, we need to forget. But it kills us. Literally. Colonization makes it acceptable for young people to enlist and fight wars that are not of their making. It lets Westerners take over their lands, then it forces them to migrate to a place where they will end up living in historically divested communities, and if that wasn’t enough, it’ll go after their minds while it’s at it too. Our school system will make sure that they won’t go far, and the recruiters will swoop in, bringing them promises of a college education—but only if they’re willing to die for it. Such is the state of normalcy.

They Don’t Tell Me JENNIFER TZI

contributing writer

They tell me, I will fail, They tell me, there’s no future, They say I will get nowhere, But that is all they care for. These institutions perpetuate the erasing of my peoples story, A la Raza que me vio crecer. I fight back to such discrimination, What is wrong with knowing the truth, My truth. The ideology that claims my people as savages, Is the pure evil. These lies are embedded, in this hegemonic society. They try to quiet us, to not know the truth. SB 1070 is another example of that misplaced power. They try to break us, But that only makes us. My people show unity and solidarity. We are a collective who strive and achieve. I will not fail or go nowhere because they say so. I am who I am, A strong proud brown latina. I am educated and know more respect than they do. I appreciate my history and the struggles of my people. I am the future and will continue to fight for my education. The Dream Act was the first step. Bourgeoise be afraid, the capitalistic era will end. The students are out. I am out. I will speak my mind. You, can’t silence me.

anxiety and violence ANONIMATA contributing writer

Talking in class about the realities of colonialism, neocolonialism, all within the safety of this box, this room, on the tower of this institution- Removed from the reality. I live the violent war colonialism has waged upon bodies of color, how it marks them as disposable and exploitable. I live the dual reality of being a working class woman of color, but most painfully experiencing my mother’s reality as a working class immigrant woman of color.... (I don’t know if she would identify or mark herself as such and I can’t speak her experience) But I have lived it by living her live it I don’t want to frame the following as coming from a perspective of resentment or perceiving the following as a burden, but the reality is that... who is left to feel the pain of watching my mom LIVE ANXIETY and to feel her anxiety? me a woman of color who is left trying to cope, navigate ways to have patience with her process when simultaneously confronting that I have internalized her anxiety, learned the same methods of coping, and am now caught in a spiral of trying to avoid anxiety triggering my anxiety? me a woman of color Who is left to do the emotional labor of healing the festering, infected wound this patriarchal, classist, racist, IST system violently inflicts upon my body, my soul, the soul~bodies of those I love, of kindred spirits? me a woman of color Who is left reeling, tugging at strands, at ways to justify, legitimize my experience when all of these violent processes of exclusion, discrimination are intentionally invisibilized, erased, denied through laws an public policy? me a woman of color I experience violence living in this body that is classified and marginalized as working class, woman of color, and it has forced me to develop a sensitivity, conscientious lens of how power dynamics interplay in this world. What do I do with this lens? I see, experience how our bodies become bridges for this system to stand upon. But most strongly...I FEEL IT it’s my reality, my struggle...and it hurts

volume V, issue 2, december 2011

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whether they like it or not, whether they are allies or not, whether they are aware of it or not. What I hate is that tourist side of San Diego totally achieved its purpose; even as I was right in front of their eyes, I was invisible to those Bay Area students. I am all too aware that this entire city is occupied by the US military. The decals on the cars around my neighborhood have the familiar goldenrod and navy emblem, which signifies that they have access to the military bases. Too many community members have disappeared into the ranks of the navy and marines. My own education is paid for with the California Veterans Fee Waiver. I cannot occupy SD when I can see the battleships across San Diego Bay, on North Island; it would be too easy to call in the military for police back-up. Out they would pour from the bases and subsidized housing, from my own home, like bees smoked out of a hive. I don’t feel like fighting people; that would be too ironic, that somehow we can only survive without the other. I was told the other day that I was not accepted into the McNair program because I was ineligble. Because I’m not low-income, enough. Because the Federal government doesn’t recognize Pilipin@s seperately from Asian Americans, so even though my community is underrepresented in graduate study, we are not eligible because Pilipin@s are so underrepresented they are misnomered into racial categories that don’t make hystorical sense. Because the Asian American category is so underrepresented that it gets manipulated out of stories of oppression, liberation, and existence. “Overrepresentation” does not equate to equality or adequate representation; claiming that marginalized folks are “overrepresented” really is claiming that marginalized folks are infiltrating, backlash is overdue. I don’t have a place in this colonizing, forgetting, erasing Occupy Movement. My best learning happens through small collectives of people and dialogue. Self-reflection is radical; it pushes me to challenge the demons and privileges within that prevent me from seeing others as my other selves. Self-identification is sovereignty; I’m Pinay, joking through half-tongues, fierce and tender, a writer, a student, a worker, and I’m speaking. I’m not satisfied with band-aid solutions. I’m doing my own thing: actively engaging in myself, in the past to better understand today, to chart trajectories for tomorrow.

CO-EDITORS IN CHIEF Liz Nguyen Regine Reyes

STAFF

community flyers

Liliana Busanez Marisol Castellanos Yvonne Lan Laura Sanchez Christine Tran

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Maureen Abugan Anonimata Sarah Curiel Norell Martínez Kevin Quirolo Diana Spix Hao Tam Jennifer Tzi Mar Vélez

PHOTOGRAPHERS/ARTISTS Maureen Abugan Ashley Drake Irwin Simpelo Vinny Uy

SPECIAL EDITOR Dr. Natchee Barnd

We want freedom

We want social unity and equality for all people on campus

We want to promote social awareness and combat social ignorance

We want to unite student activists and students with progressive values and common struggles

We want to educate others about ourstories and our true role in present-day society

The Collective Voice is a student-run, student-initiated publication of UCSD’s SPACES, the Student Promoted Access Center for Education and Service. The mission of the Student Promoted Access Center for Education and Service (SPACES) is to act as an empowering dynamic on campus where UCSD students collaborate to achieve greater educational equity. This encompasses equal access to higher education, undergraduate retention and graduation, and matriculation to graduate and professional schools. SPACES values the power of student-initiated action and organizing by providing an environment for student growth and development and thus is a foundation to create leadership and unity through community engagement. In line with SPACES’ mission of valuing “the power of student-initiated action,” “proving an environment for student growth and development,” and creating “unity through community engagement,” The Collective Voice is UCSD’s progressive newspaper that promotes social unity, justice and awareness across the many communities that exist on the UCSD campus. The Collective Voice will help create a sense of safe space and commu-

nity for students who may otherwise feel unwelcome at UCSD’s challenging campus climate thereby contributing to existing retention efforts of campus. This newspaper deeply values students’ voices by providing an outlet for open dialogue and discussion surrounding issues and developments affecting their communities. Additionally, The Collective Voice allows UCSD’s progressive community to outreach, collaborate and communicate to the greater San Diego communities outside of our campus. Most importantly, The Collective Voice, provides marginalized students and underresourced students the empowering opportunity to protect the representation of their identities and beliefs, and report alternative news that is not otherwise covered by mainstream media. The Collective Voice, in partnership with SPACES, allows for the creation of “an empowering dynamic where UCSD students collaborate to achieve greater educational equity.” It is through this mission that the collective of diverse voices in one newspaper will actively demonstrate an empowering progressive community on the UCSD campus.

We want educational equity and to empower under resourced communities

We want to fight the rhetoric propagated by oppressive forces on campus

We want our beliefs, practices, and ethics to be illustrated in a correct light

We want peace. The ability to coexist on campus without fear of prejudice or persecution

We want to be recognized as equal individuals despite and because of our ethnicity, religious affiliation, race, gender, or sexual orientation c v e d i to r s @ g m a i l . c o m