All posts by akew

Burning Churches Can’t Burn Down Their Structures

Op-Ed

I opened my phone on April 15th to find a barrage of news notifications about a tragedy in France. Notre-Dame Cathedral had burned down. I felt mournful for this gorgeous piece of architecture and part of French culture. I began reading the news articles wondering about the magnitude of the tragedy and the number of lives lost. What I learned shocked me. No one lost their life, and the main structure of the cathedral and its two iconic towers were still intact. A measured tragedy, I thought, but a tragedy nonetheless.

What I learned in the following hours was more astonishing. Massive donations had poured into the rebuilding of the cathedral within hours of the inferno. Hundreds of millions of euros came in from French billionaires. First, 100 million euros from François-Henri Pinault, head of the luxury goods group Kering that owns brands like Gucci and Saint-Laurent. Hours later, not wanting to be outdone, a rival billionaire, Bernard Arnault, France’s richest man and CEO of LVMH, donated 200 million euros. More donations from the ultra-wealthy in France continued to pour in. The cause gained international attention too; even the United States government pledged its support. In just a day and a half, 880 million euros (995 million US dollars) had been raised.

All right, great! This landmark cathedral will get rebuilt. People were able to mobilize money rapidly and put it to use. The French State accepted millions in funding for Notre-Dame, in spite of the fact that it is global symbol of the Catholic Church — one of the world’s wealthiest organizations. People will be able to keep travelling to simply revel in the glory of this cultural epicenter and post glamour shots to Instagram. Christians, who claim to follow a religion of giving to the poor and caring for thy neighbor will get their ornate roof fixed with money that seemed to materialize overnight. Super. This structure will remain intact. But it makes me wonder. What else could this instant billion have gone to?

What about the three historically black churches that burned down – not by accident – in Louisiana less than two weeks before? Do those who worship at these places deserve compassion any less? These churches put out an ask for a mere $1.8 million between them and although they were able to raise it, for a while they were hard-pressed to get even that much. And what about the atrocities in Sri Lanka on Easter Sunday, the hundreds of people who lost their lives in the bombing attacks on churches? Do they not deserve donations to rebuild their places of worship? Where is the outpouring of international support for the hundreds of lives lost there? What about the families in Flint Michigan who have not seen clean tap water in nearly five years? It is estimated this crisis could be resolved with only $55 million. Perhaps instead of the U.S. government pledging support to France, it could have helped the families poisoned on American soil. What about Puerto Rico? Where was the money needed to rebuild in the wake of Hurricane Maria last September, a tragedy that not only destroyed much of the island physically, but took out nearly 4% of the population? Experts say it would only take $139 million to recover from this disaster. And finally, what about our planet? Did these billionaires think about the fact the we may not even be here in 50 years to see this rebuilding if we don’t start making rapid progress towards dealing with climate change? Where is the money for that?

Let’s step back for a moment. The total amount needed to fix the burnt-down black churches, provide clean water to Flint, and aid Puerto Rico is only $195.8 million. Even if this money was sent to these other crises, there would still be plenty to fix Notre-Dame. So why is it that donations flooded the Cathedral but the money needed by poor and marginalized communities is nowhere to be found? It’s because the same structures of power that built the Catholic Church and keep it running are the ones keeping these communities down.

The huge donations to Notre-Dame reflect a legacy of colonial and white supremacist power structures that determine far too many events in today’s society. The Catholic Church exists to perpetuate the supremacy of white Catholics, and the church’s imperialistic history cannot be ignored. The colonization of disadvantaged or marginalized communities and cultures brought the church to power, and in order to retain this power these communities must be kept down. In the same vein, the ultra-wealthy are in positions of power due to a history of systematic oppression and power grabbing. More often than not their wealth is the product of a legacy of exploitation, and this legacy has not changed, only morphed with the times. Today, we see an outpouring of support coming from those who benefit from these structures of power to the very structures of power that have put them in their place of privilege and continue to do so.

This is a dangerous self-perpetuating system, one reflected in nearly every aspect of the Notre-Dame fire, even down to how the donations are structured. There is a 60% tax break on Notre-Dame donations — allowing for those who have profited most from our late-stage capitalist society to continue to reap the benefits. With this tax break, for each 100 million donated the French billionaires get 60 million back, plus all the publicity they enjoy for being a generous supporter of French culture. And they get to do this while still holding amounts of wealth that if donated or redistributed in a bit more thoughtful way could do some serious good. And by serious good I don’t mean fixing the roof on a building that is symbolic of the oppressive colonial behavior that condemned these disadvantaged communities to where they are today.

While people die, the planet burns, natural disasters wreak havoc, and racist attacks take place, the ultra-wealthy spend their money in ways that serve only to keep their power structures intact. Ironically, in this case that means keeping a physical structure intact. The power systems that brought the Catholic Church to prominence and lined the pockets of these billionaires are the same ones that kept the burned-down black churches in Louisiana and bombed churches in Sri Lanka from seeing massive publicity and support, poisoned the people of Flint, and let the people of Puerto Rico go without reparations. Maybe it’s time to turn the tables.

Quit Your Day Job

Profile

It’s no secret that she loves what she does. Jeanmarie Papelian, proud Armenian and Executive Director of Armenia Tree Project (ATP), brings great passion to the organization and is inspired each day to continue to help it flourish. Armenia Tree Project is a non-profit organization with a primary goal of reforesting the rapidly desertifying land of Armenia and promoting environmental education both in Armenia and the diaspora.

This has not always been her day job. Jeanmarie had always wanted to be a lawyer when she grew up. She went to McGill University as an undergrad and right after that she attended law school at Suffolk University. During her time at law school in 1998, a horrible earthquake hit Armenia. This earthquake, coupled with the collapse of the Soviet Union and Armenia’s subsequent independence, as well as the nation’s war with neighboring country Azerbaijan, made for a tragic time for the people of Armenia. Seeing the immense suffering the people of her homeland were facing, she began getting involved with volunteer work to provide humanitarian relief to Armenia.

She got involved with the Armenian Milk Fund, an organization with the goal of providing infant formula to those who could not afford milk due to widespread poverty and the collapsing dairy industry. Over the next 17 years she volunteered with this organization, serving as the chair and helping it grow rapidly and overseeing its absorption into the larger Armenian Missionary Association. Jeanmarie then began getting more involved with the larger organization and served as a member of the board. While committed to these humanitarian nonprofits on a volunteer basis, she was further developing in her law career, moving up to become partner of her firm. She was successful in her practice, but after 21 years at the same firm, she realized that she was having more fun doing her volunteer work than she was at her day job. A large part of her legal career involved handling divorce law. She was working with people at their worst and at a horrible time in their lives, and the job had become taxing. She was ready for a change.

Luckily, she decided at just the right time to make the leap from law to working for the organizations in which she had become so passionately involved. She had heard about Armenia Tree Project through a close friend of hers who was passionate about the organization. Her friend asked her to go visit some of the tree nursery sites on one of her other volunteer based trips to Armenia and report back. She was inspired by this organization, and though she did not get involved then, she continued to keep tabs on the project. When she was ready to make her move away from the harsh world of divorce law, she learned that the director of ATP was retiring, and she let the organization know she was interested. Now she is four years into her work as Executive Director of ATP and inspired everyday by the work she does.

ATP has brought much happiness to Jeanmarie’s life. “People love what we are doing…it brings people so much joy” she says, “even if you ask somebody for money and they say no that always say what you’re doing is so great and they wish they could help.” Her response to nearly every question I asked ended with a beautiful story about her time at ATP. She acknowledged that although fundraising constantly and managing international teams across time zones is taxing, the people she works with and the joy the organization brings to people never cease to inspire her.

One of the best aspects of working with ATP for Jeanmarie is speaking with the next generation of Armenian environmental stewards — the children. ATP works to promote environmental education starting at a young age, and believes that if the nation is to survive, the children of Armenia need to be better stewards of the environment than their parents and grandparents. This includes diasporan students, whom ATP works to bring into closer contact with their counterparts in the homeland. Jeanmarie laughingly recalled one of the annual trips the 5th graders from a local Armenian elementary school make to Armenian in which they spend one of their days planting trees with students at a school in Armenia. The students were amazingly engaged, she remembers. They loved communicating with each other– both groups practicing the other’s language while actively learning what they can do to help the environment of their homeland and fostering meaningful connections.

But these fun interactions with the next generations are not the only things that inspire Jeanmarie. Some of her most powerful stories involved the hardships the people of Armenian have faced and the ways in which ATP has been able to help in a profound way. She has found a deep level of support from members of the recent immigrant community who remember vividly the adversity they endured back in the homeland. After giving a speech about ATP to a local church, she was on her way out when the priest got back up in front. He told the community about how he remembers being a young boy in Armenia and cutting down the trees around his home and in the local park to heat his home and cook food because there was no other option. This story is sadly not a unique one. For years the catastrophic events plaguing the country led to a severe energy crisis which affected huge numbers of Armenians. There was no heat, no hot water, no light, and no way to get power, so for many, the only way to stay alive was to cut down all their trees. Jeanmarie made it clear how moved she is with each new story like this one, and how vital the work she does is.

ATP is much more than just a tree planting organization, and no one understands this better than Jeanmarie. She spoke about a branch of the organization called Backyard Nurseries, a program that provides tree seeds to members of rural villages. The villagers can plant the seeds and care for the trees, and once they reach a large enough size to be relocated, ATP buys them back, providing enough income for the villagers to be able to stay in their homes. ATP employs many people in communities across Armenia through this program as well as those who work in their nurseries and forests, providing vital source of income for many. This income allows men to stay home with their families rather than having to leave the country for work, allows for widows to afford to remain in their homes, and even employs refugees from neighboring countries, allowing them to build new lives.

Jeanmarie calls this “community revitalization” and considers it a vital part of ATP’s mission. More than just planting trees, ATP is turning a new leaf for the Armenian people, inspiring the next generation, bringing communities back together stronger than ever, and above all else, bringing joy.

 

Ida: A Masterpiece of Emotional Depth

Movie Review: "Ida"

Ida is not a film that takes place on screen–rather, it unfolds in the mind and soul of the viewer. Pawel Pawlikowski manages to carry a deep emotional weight throughout the film and keep the audience enchanted with only stagnant, sparse shots. Through sharp cinematic choices, he creates a beautiful piece of brutal realist cinema that leaves the viewer with something far greater than what is shown on the screen.

The film opens in a convent, revealing scenes of women in grey robes, but never centering on one. We watch as the uniformed figures go about their day, each one as insignificant as the last. The monotony of this life is immediately evident even though only a few ordinary moments are offered. Women walk dutifully through the bottom quadrants of the frame and spoons clang against bowls at supper, each shot so sparse it serves to heighten any motion or sound. Finally, the camera focuses on a beautiful wide-eyed young woman who we learn is Anna, a novice nun about to take her vows. Mother Superior tells her that before she can relinquish herself fully to a life of worship and sacrifice she must meet her only living relative.

When Anna meets her aunt Wanda, she finds a hardened woman. In their first encounter, Wanda lights a cigarette and proceeds to tell Anna the truth. Her name is not Anna–it’s Ida, and she is the daughter of two Jews who were killed during the war. Ida, who had never left the convent where she was left as an infant, suddenly finds her whole life turned upside down. Soon after, the unlikely pair set off on a journey. They leave to find the burial plot of Ida’s parents and Wanda’s son, discovering the truth behind their tragic deaths along the way. The movie turns to a reckoning of the past for both Ida and Wanda, and leads them to a deeper understanding of themselves, their Jewish identity, and Poland’s harsh history.

As the two pursue their journey, what enchants the viewer is not the plot but the moments. Starting at Wanda’s kitchen table, when Ida discovers the truth about who she really is, she does not burst out in emotion. Rather, we see a simple long take of Ida sitting quietly. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t ask any questions. All Pawlikowski offers the viewer is the stark unspoken emotion of the scene. Each blink, each blank stare, heightens the scene, leaving nothing behind but raw feeling. Nearly every shot operates in this way: precisely framed and composed of only the most minimal elements. Most of the shots are long takes, often capturing one character at a time while the world moves around her. Though each shot is slow-moving and stagnant, the film as a whole does not lull or feel lifeless. By scraping down the frame to almost nothing, Pawlikowski elevates each moment, expression, sound, and emotion. The rawest, most moving moments are experienced simply through the eyes of these characters. Because we do not witness the action or drama we expect to see in modern Western films, what we do get is all the more powerful.

The director tells this story through a harsh lens and draws on themes of oppression and revelations through cinemagraphic choices. Pawlikowski frames his shots with the characters in the bottom of the frame, leaving vast expanses of space above. This unbalanced shooting style feels oppressive, as if the weight of the world looms over these two women. Between these oppressive top-heavy shots and the uncentering of the characters, the film creates an uneasy feeling, in a way that is hard to pin down. Pawlikowski’s cinematic choices convey meaning in a subtle but effective way. Nearly every sound is diegetic. There’s no soundtrack, and what music does occur is deeply poignant. Wanda, for example, is torn musically between the upbeat new age western jazz music, and soulful, somber classical music. When she shows Ida photographs of her lost family, we hear Mozart on a record in the background, and just at the moment in which Ida asks about the little boy in the picture, the music shifts to a minor key. Wanda gets up and moves the needle on the record and ends the movement, but the point has been made. For a moment we are taken to a somber place, and though we do not understand yet the depth or cause of Wanda’s suffering, we feel a sense of pain. The viewer is not given much, and the director never explicitly tells us how to feel, but rather he invites us to explore these emotions ourselves.

As we follow Ida and Wanda through their journey, we can only watch their characters develop through glimpses of their lives. Early on, Ida is filmed so that she is hardly noticeable, often partially out of the frame, and is characterized by her extreme innocence. Meanwhile, her aunt Wanda draws the eye of the viewer with her dark coat and aloof personality. As the two grow and become closer, we are allowed to see beyond Wanda’s hard external demeanor, and we see Ida come into herself as a person. Though Wanda’s darkness deeply contrasts with Ida’s lightness, this contrast serves a more complex purpose than a juxtaposition of good and evil. Ida is a nun–she prays before bed each night while Wanda downs a slug of vodka. But she has not truly lived, and so her lightness is shallow, since there cannot be true light without having seen darkness. Wanda, on the other hand, may be a sinner in the eyes of God, but her darkness is complex–it has been forged from necessity. The two, in a unlikely way, help break down each other’s walls. Ida lives, and learns of the harsh reality of the world, and Wanda comes back in touch with her emotional self.

In the end, the two are both forced to confront their past in a way they hadn’t expected to, and the truth brings them to final and brutal ratifications. The last times we see Wanda and Ida are among the most powerful and jarring. The scenes are again not driven by plot but rather by emotion, as we watch long, poignant moments unfold. The film ends on a somber note, but not an unexpected one for both women, with the two of them meeting similar fates. We leave with a deeper understanding of this girl and her aunt, and a beautiful sorrow for them as well.

Of Course You Got Debate-Blocked

Letter to the Editor

Dear Editor,

Slow your roll. Do you even realize how your article about the DNC barring Fox News from hosting democratic debates is itself a prime example of WHY Fox News shouldn’t host? You quote the DNC’s decision as being “a shame” but address none of the numerous examples the DNC cited about your publication’s clear partisan bias. Sure, it’s great that Fox has a few journalists with enough “journalistic integrity and professionalism” to host the debates, but still, all anchors at a news agency are supposed to have integrity, not just some special few. Fox News as a whole is so overtly biased that their version “journalistic integrity and professionalism” has become synonymous with Republican favoritism.

It’s impossible to guarantee that any Fox reporter’s ‘integrity’ won’t shift during this election cycle because these days any anchor who pleases Trump could be up for a job promotion. Just take a look at the list of former Fox News contributors turned White House staff: John Bolton, Heather Nauert, Mercedes Schlapp, Tony Sayegh, K.T. McFarland, Scott Brown, Richard Grenell, John D. McEntee, Georgette Mosbacher, and Anthony Scaramucci. It’s so long I bet even your eyes glazed over reading it. With so many connections to Trump, how can any of Fox News’s reporters be trusted?

What’s “really a shame” is that as long as Fox News remains biased, any reporters that may have journalistic integrity will be written off by the public as biased just by association. Instead of touting around the names of a few good journalists, Fox News should focus on improving its own integrity. Maybe then the DNC might reconsider its decision.

Fête des Lumières

Feature Report

The streets of Lyon are usually quiet this time of night. Right now, however, they are alive with a boisterous crowd and brilliant lights scattered across the city, from a lamp the size of a house to a fountain lit up with dazzling precision. Tonight is the Festival of Lights, better known as Fête des Lumières—and at just past nine in the evening on this cold December day in 2014, the celebration is just beginning.

The Fête des Lumières is a four-day festival that began in 1634 in Lyon, France. Lyon, at the time, was suffering from a deadly plague. Its leaders prayed for the Virgin Mary to spare the city, and celebrated in Mary’s name when the plague subsided. The celebration was a simple and local one that quickly grew into a worldwide phenomenon. The only tradition that remains from that solemn time is the practice of burning candles in colorful glass, which people arrange on their windowsills. These candles brighten even the darkest of streets with ethereal color, but one must be there at the right time—they are only in place  on December 8, the final day of the Fête des Lumières.

A treasure trove of modern art and rich tradition precedes this vibrant display of candles. The Fête for 2014 displayed over forty exhibits, each created by different artists from around the world. Even stores and businesses take part, with an annual competition for the best shop window in which anyone in the world can vote. Every year, the same the artistic events  take place at two of Lyon’s landmarks: an extravagant lightshow at the Place des Terreaux, and a bank of bright, colorful lights projected onto the Basilica of Fourvière. Otherwise, no two Fêtes are the same, aside from that each one draws anywhere from three to four million attendees every year.

In all  the years that this Fête has been celebrated, whether on  a local scale or as the grand festival of today, there has only ever been one incident that left its continuation in doubt. In 2015, just weeks before the Fête would begin, Lyon’s mayor, Gérard Collomb, announced that the Fête des Lumières would be shortened. Instead of four days, the Fête would be celebrated only on December 8. And instead of numerous exhibitions produced by a variety of artists, there would only be one. This exhibit, Regards, would project paintings done by famous artists across the facades of the buildings of Lyon.

It  would also project the names of one hundred and thirty people upon the walls of Lyon’s quay.

 

from http://darkroom-cdn.s3.amazonaws.com/2015/12/AFP_Getty-547102989.jpg
A photo depicting some of the exhibit Regards, by Daniel Knipper. It lists several names.

–

For almost all of 2015, French officials were on edge following the shooting at Charlie Hebdo in January. Over the following months, there were other acts of violence that were cause for concern: the stabbing of French guards outside a Jewish community center in February, the explosion scare of a factory in June, and the stabbing and shooting attack on a passenger train in August (dramatized in the film The 15:17 to Paris). ISIL claimed responsibility for these attacks—and would for future attacks as well.

On November 13, 2015, France announced a state of emergency following six distinct attacks in Paris. The first was three suicide bombers at the Stade de France, where President Hollande was in attendance; the next four were at various restaurants and cafes around the city, and caused  in thirty-nine deaths. The last was a mass shooting at the Bataclan theater, where ninety people lost their lives and many more were injured. In total, one hundred and thirty people were killed and hundreds more injured.

The tragedy of these events caused heartbreak and fueled widespread fear. But this mourning inspired action and résistance. Parisians opened their doors to those who were too scared to travel home, and, as the days went on, placed flowers and candles on memorials for the victims.

–

Lyon’s response to these events was a show not of fanciful lights but of solidarity. Instead of the brilliant displays, residents and visitors alike placed candles on windowsills, on the stairs of City Hall, and along the bridges and streets and roads that wound through the city. The exhibit Regards was projected on the façades across the city as a tribute to the victims in Paris, flashing each victim’s name across the quay. The Fête of 2015 was a celebration of unity in the face of horror and a memorial to those who were lost; it was at once a somber and quiet affair and a fierce and passionate promise. A plague had once unified the people of Lyon, and now a national crisis drew the Lyonnais and all of France together.

The  following year’s Fête was strong and exuberant. Though it was shortened to just three days, artists displayed exhibits that showcased their skills and creativity and Lyon’s citizens lit their candles as they always had. The Fête of 2015 was not forgotten and as a result security for the Fête of 2016 was heightened, but still, the proud lights shone in the night. The same was true of the Fête of 2017. But every year since, the Fête celebrates its full four days, displaying a testament to the resolve and solidarity of a people.

http://www.fetedeslumieres.lyon.fr/sites/fdl/files/images/2015/Actus/8_decembre_2015-14.jpg 
Candles and messages left at the foot of the statue of Louis XIV. The message at center reads, “Give me hatred… and from it I’ll make you love.”

Tradiksyon

Blog Post

“My mom is a great translator.”

As a child, I’d often say this to my friends who asked me how I managed to navigate trips to Haiti and long phone calls with relatives that I sometimes hardly remembered and most times couldn’t understand. Growing up as a child born to parents from different nations was an interesting experience. Having lived in Jamaica all my life, I found that claiming my Haitian heritage could be a point of pride, but could also be largely unsettling, as I began to wonder whether I had the right to claim it. I have visited Haiti very few times, and each time I have felt a distinct separation, like a long pause, between myself and my Haitian heritage. The disconnection has not been helped by the fact that my first few years learning to turn my rudimentary French into Haitian Creole (Kreyol) were far from smooth sailing. Throughout my childhood, whenever my feet finally did touch Haitian soil, I would squander the opportunity to connect with my culture by hiding within the pleats of my mother’s skirt. I was afraid that my relatives would laugh at my hesitant speech…and they did. All of a sudden, I felt that the simple French I spoke freely with my mother no longer sufficed, and the chuckles of aunts, uncles, and cousins only highlighted my scant vocabulary and poor grammar. I resorted to whispering into my mother’s ear and hearing my words flow out in the beautiful legato of her voice, her patient translation quieting the echoing laughs of my family. I could not understand what was so funny about my incompetence. Having always had a relatively firm grasp on the English language, I came to see the seemingly-negative reaction to my inadequacy as something uniquely Haitian. I never laughed at my cousins when they would trip over their tenses or stumble across superlatives, and so that laughter was the Haitian legacy imprinted on my mind. To my self-conscious ears, the laughter sounded hurtful. Somehow, my mother’s laugh never felt malicious.

My mom was a great translator.

The last time I landed on Haitian soil was to attend the memorial service for my mother. I remembered how she would translate my weary eyes as “Momma, I’ve heard enough Kreyol today. I’m ready to go,” and how my jittery demeanor would say to her, “Momma, I’m itching to ask you what so and so meant by what she just said”.  She was no longer there. There was no one left to transpose my shyness into words that others could understand. However, as my tired eyes became teary, a memory emerged within me. It was the memory of my mother’s familiar Haitian laugh blending beautifully with the formerly unfamiliar strains of my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Slowly, my uneasiness began to fall away. I started to grasp the phrases of Haitian Creole that now came more naturally to my ears. I tested out a note here and there, slowly creating my own melody. I sang songs of my mother and the legacy she left. I connected with my family through our shared love of a remarkable woman. When I began to listen correctly, Haitian culture no longer sounded like the clashing, unharmonious, muddled mess that had kept emerging as I was searching for my connection to this place that I wanted so badly to know. I learned that Haitians share a joy that allows them to laugh at themselves just as much as they had laughed, lovingly, at me.

My mom is still a great translator. She is so great, in fact, that I am now able to be a conduit that translates her love, joy, and Haitian laughs to all those I encounter. She taught me to embrace the connection that I was once afraid to claim. I realized, finally, that the chorus of laughter sounded so unfamiliar because it was missing a key voice: mine.