Gender and Purpose

Last weekend a friend and I were discussing our views on relationships, marriage, and life in general. We agreed that most of our friends had become single parents or entered into unhappy marriages. We speculated the "whys," trying to sort out the reasons behind the difference between the path our friends had taken and those we had taken.

Does it not defy our culture of the American Dream for us to be in our mid-20's and unmarried? To not have roots anywhere or a long term commitment to anything or anyone? This friend and I are both self-proclaimed adventurists with insatiable wanderlust. If asked to choose between domesticity and globe trotting, we would both choose the latter in a heart beat. This caused me to start analyzing what other factors outside of an obsession with travel and culture could be contributors to this lack of interest in the "American Dream." I decided that, at least in my case, there are two major factors.

The first goes hand in hand with wanderlust. It is one's world view. Why do I have a lack of interest in domesticity? Because I have seen enough of the world to know there is so much more yet to be discovered. Why do I not care about having a formal wedding and a status affirming diamond ring? Because I know how far $30,000 can go in in the pocket of a globe trotter, and because I have seen the devastating affects of the diamond industry on the developing nations where those stones originate. Why do I not care about having my own children? Because I have worked in orphanages where multitudes of abandoned children waste away discarded and abused. My world view is more broad than that of someone who has been raised to believe the world is only as big as their suburban town, and that their value goes only as far as their ability to become an integral part of that town.

The second factor and the one I want to focus more on in this blog has to do with my perceived lacking of "real men." I don't subscribe to the rational of blaming men in general or society as a whole for the struggles that my generation of women face; although I do believe that understanding the current condition of these things sheds light on the tug of war inside our heads and hearts. If society places a strong feminist emphasis on the equality of genders and the dissolving of "traditional" gender roles, we cannot be surprised to find a generation of emasculated young men stripped of their fight. Men are designed to have a warrior's heart and an adventurer's spirit, but when they embrace these things they are chastised for their machismo. My generation of women were taught that they shouldn't be dependant on men. In turn, our generation of men have realized that women don't need them. These men have begun to believe that unless they allow women to "wear the pants," they'll be trampled and lost. They sacrifice their masculinity in order to simply be kept around. I realize how controversial this is but I'm going to say it anyway - Feminism has deflated real men. But what we need are real men.

If a man doesn't know how to be masculine he will never walk with purpose. If a woman doesn't know how to be feminine she will never be satisfied. "A man needs to be tender at times, and a woman will sometimes need to be fierce. But if a man is only tender, we know something is deeply wrong, and if a woman is only fierce, we sense she is not what she was meant to be." – John Eldredge in Wild at Heart. Before a man or a woman decides who they want, they need to discover who they are. They need to be whole people in and of themselves with a sense of direction as to what they were created for, and then trust that IF they are meant to get married and have children then as they walk out their purpose those two seemingly polar opposites will align in way that works uniquely for them.

Not everyone believes in destiny or callings. I believe that these things are not only real but that their acceptance is an integral part of our ability to thrive. Some of our passions in life are more than fleeting interests; they are a part of our purpose and should not be cast aside for the sake of practicality or fitting the mold. I have often been told that my wanderlust is merely a subconscious aversion to commitment and that someday I'll deal with my "issues" and decide to settle down. However, I know that my wanderlust is a part of my being and cannot be ignored or stifled or treated because doing so would strip me of my purpose.

So where is the balance? I am a 25-year-old, educated, financially independent, single woman. I cannot live each day husband hunting any more than a woman who yearns for motherhood can live each day denying her calling to that. We cannot merely want what we are taught to want, or be the sort we are told to be. The focus should not be on finding someone to make us happy, but on finding happiness in being, and trusting that by walking down our own paths the rest will fall into place without any compromise or extraneous effort on our part.

Amber's Maternity Photos

Amber is 7 months preggo with baby Presley!

Here are some photos I took of her last weekend while I was in the Bay Area.

The Decor of Sanity

As a college freshman living in my parents' home, I turned my bedroom into a "Tahitian bungalow" complete with bamboo ceiling. My college dorm room was shared, but it was very clear where the boundary was. My roommate had mismatched bedding, pig shaped lights strung over the window, and mounds of books and paperwork strewn across her desk. I had an alphabetized book shelf at the foot of my Tommy Hilfiger bed and two paper lamps hanging over a tidy desk where even the pen holder matched my color scheme. I have moved literally 18 times since I graduated from high school in 2000, and yet even when all my belongings could fit into my Ford Focus, I always managed to squeeze some style in the back seat. My current must have item regardless of the move is a large mirror with the most amazing vintage gold frame, which has hung in a bathroom, over a dresser, and leaned against several bedroom walls.

My mother may not have taught me about makeup or dating, but she definitely instilled in me an appreciation for keeping a neat home, or usually in my case a space, that is always "guest ready." When I come home it isn't to a space that looks as chaotic and disconnected as my mind often feels. There is an order to things, both in life and in the home, and they are meant to reflect one another. While my mother and I have very different tastes in decor, I think we are both good at creating spaces that are functional and appealing.

This standard often causes extreme tension in my shared space. The only thing worse than coming home to your own mess is coming home to someone else's, be it shoes in the hallway, mail strewn across the kitchen counter, knickknacks on the coffee table, or pet hair caked on the couch pillows. I haven't decided yet if God insists on keeping me at a roommate necessary standard of living to break me of my OCD or if he's just gets a kick out of watching me have mini-meltdowns every time I find my toothbrush holder sitting at the wrong angle on the counter. Either way, I greatly anticipate someday entering a life season in which I can have a place, modest as it may be, where I can create a Zen untouched by less acute sensibilities. I dream of lazy overcast mornings curled up in a breakfast nook with a newspaper in hand, Elis Regina streaming on Pandora, and the delicate scent of freshly cut stargazers competing with that of the steam rising off my French press. I don't care much where you place that scene... In a San Francisco Victorian, in an Ann Arbor loft, in a Cape Town flat... As long as there's a good man strolling sleepily into the kitchen after me, and a genuine anticipation for the job I'll head to a short while later.

On a lighter note! I'll share with you some of my favorite places to score decor bargains! Of course my favorite items are ones I've accumulated through my travels, but there are countless places to find unique pieces locally while shopping on a minimal budget. When I'm in designer discounter stores like TJ Max, Marshall's, Ross, or Nordstrom Rack, I always keep an eye on the clearance racks where I have scored $1 bathroom counter accessories, $5 towel sets, and $20 bedding. Pass up those outrageously priced vintage drawer knobs at Anthropologie and find yourself an estate sale! As tacky as it may sound to some, garage sales are a fun way to find beautiful pieces for pennies. Of course, there is Ikea, where European inspired minimalism descends upon broke college kids and frugal self-decorators alike. I also recommend Z Gallerie for their affordable and trendy decor that carries enough variety to satisfy all tastes and avoids the stigma of having "that Ikea stuff."

Prop 8 Upheld

Yesterday the California Supreme Court ruled that the state would uphold Proposition 8, banning same-sex marriage. However, the court did decide to legally recognize the 18,000 marriages that were authorized between the court's pro same-sex marriage ruling in May 2008 and the November passing of Prop 8.

Protesters gathered outside San Francisco's City Hall shouting "Shame on you!" and 162 arrests were made. Even larger gatherings were reported in Los Angeles and San Diego.

According to the court's only Democratic appointee Justice Carlos Moreno, the decision "is not just a defeat for same-sex couples, but for any minority group that seeks the protection of the equal protection clause of the California Constitution." I should expect that Moreno is well versed in the rights that are in place for the protection and equality of the LGBT community, and should be aware that they in many ways exceed the rights of straight couples who want to live together outside of a legalized marriage. Most companies now include a clause in their insurance policies allowing same-sex couples to add their life partner to their coverage, a benefit that is not usually extended to non-married straight couples.

In November, Prop 8 was about gay marriage. Today, Prop 8 is about the will of the people being upheld. This is democracy! The people vote and their decision is respected and enforced by the government! The passing of Prop 8 does not inhibit anyone's right to the American "pursuit of happiness" or strip them of the ability to find employment, housing, and health care. It doesn't even ban them from having wedding ceremonies, living together, or raising children.

California, and more specifically San Francisco, has been a front runner in the progression of LGBT causes over the last 30 years, including the securing of equal employment and housing opportunities, and the rallying of support for the fight against AIDS. It is inevitable that eventually same-sex marriage will be legalized and, in my opinion, the sooner that the cause is approached in a professional and strategic manner the sooner conservatives will become receptive to it. Not everyone is moved by masses of drag queens chanting into megaphones and waving cardboard signs. Lawmaking happens in a three-piece suit.

Four Murdered OPD Officers

Yesterday afternoon four Oakland police offers were murdered at the corner of 74th Street and MacArthur Boulevard in East Oakland while attempting to subdue a parolee.

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Several TV news stations lined up in front of the OPD administrative offices.

Flags flew half staff in memory of the officers.

An officer gazes out the front door of the apartment building on 74th where two of the officers were fatally shot.

A mother and daughter who witnessed the aftermath of the murders hanging a flag outside the apartment building where two officers were shot, as an officer looks on from the doorway.

View of the apartment building on 74th from the corner of 74th and MacArthur.

When I arrived at 2:00pm only one neighbor was brave enough to stand in support of the fallen officers. Dozens of vehicles passed shouting obscenities, celebrating the killing of police, and shaming the elderly black woman for being a "traitor."

The neighbor woman and I arranging flowers on the corner of 74th and MacArthur. (Photo by Christopher Salas)

The surprisingly barren corner of 74th and MacArthur.

Mexico

I spent a few days in Mexico City to visit an old friend, attend a music festival, and check out some of the little surrounding towns. I'm in love with Mexico City! And can't wait to go back.

Jury Duty

Today I had the rather unique experience of going through the jury selection process for a criminal trial. The defendant was being tried for drunk in public and resisting arrest. During the course of his arrest, in which multiple officers were involved, the defendant allegedly became violent with the officers and a tazer gun was used to subdue him. The defendant was also suspected of gang affiliation.

Because I am still registered at my parents’ address in Tracy, I had to serve jury duty at the Stockton courthouse. I wasn’t all too happy about doing the extra driving, but knowing I had dibs on my parents’ couch and that my office would pay me for up to twenty days of trial, I was fairly excited to participate in the civil process. However, by the time I was dismissed this afternoon, I was rather disappointed by the experience.

The defendant, his defense lawyer, and the prosecuting lawyer were all present for the entire jury selection process. I was among the first dozen randomly selected persons asked to be seated in the jury box for questioning, and remained there until the very last round of dismissals. Every time a new person is moved into the tentative jury, they are asked to respond to a set of general personal questions, including what is your name, where are you from, what is your profession, do you personally know anyone in law enforcement or in the DA’s office, have you served on a jury before, and so on. I must have given satisfactory enough answers for both sides because I was asked relatively few questions throughout the rest of the interview process.

Toward the end of the day I began to assume that I would be on the jury, which I didn’t mind since the judge had already informed us that the trial would be finished by week’s end. Initially our group had been intended for selection for a child molestation case, which would have lasted much longer, but new evidence had been admitted, delaying the trial’s start until next Monday. My case was to be a misdemeanor filler until the other case was ready for jury selection.

I was curious about our case, ready to see the evidence and hear the testimonies. I was beginning to get excited about participating on a jury and having the opportunity to take an active role in the judicial process. It was no surprise when the man who had been charged a few years earlier of accessory to murder was dismissed, or the woman who outright admitted that she could not be fair in a case with charges so similar to one her son was facing the following week. There were a few others who were clearly saying whatever they could think up that might get them dismissed for bias or inability to “fairly” judge the defendant. I felt like I was different. I had never been arrested, never gone to court, never known anyone to face the same charges, had no harbored hatred toward lawyers or law enforcement. I understand the value and purpose of jury selection, and am conscious of how significant it is that I, as a woman, am allowed to participate, when not so long ago only Caucasian property-owning men were permitted.

It wasn’t until the defense attorney questioned my views about the limits of law enforcement that my seat was scrutinized. I still stand by my answers; they were simply not what the defense wanted to hear. When the lawyer asked whether I thought it was okay for multiple officers to arrest one person, or if it should always be one on one, I responded that if more than one officer was needed to subdue a person then yes it would be an appropriate means of force. When asked whether I thought there was ever a time when it was okay for an officer to use a tazer, I responded that under some circumstances I could see where a tazer would be necessary. From that point it was clear that the lawyer was done with me, and when he was asked to eliminate one last juror, there I sat in chair number 12 with a big red bulls eye on my forehead.

I quickly gathered my belongings and left the courtroom, rode the elevator to the basement and turned in my badge, validated my parking, and headed home. I felt like a cheap date. Like I had done everything right and was discarded for having done just that. There were several people who the lawyers questioned at length, people who could hardly form an intelligible sentence in response, and admittedly knew nothing of the laws that pertained to the case in question. How, I wondered, could these people be more able to decide this case? Sure, this was a rather minor infraction with relatively low consequence to the defendant, but what if we had gotten that child abuse case. Would these same people be selected to apply their awkward personalities and socially inept presence toward making a decision that affected people’s lives in such a huge way?

The judge repeatedly mentioned that a jury had to remember that their decision wasn’t a popularity contest; it was to be based solely on the facts. Why does that same reasoning not apply to jury selection? The judge dismisses those who are most blatantly not willing or able to participate, but then it is up to the lawyers to take turns questioning and dismissing those who they don’t want on the jury. Had the lawyers mistaken a lack of general intelligence for neutrality? Probably not. One can only assume that each lawyer will make selections that they believe are most likely to benefit their side. But if that is the case, where is the justice in such a trial? It’s like childhood kickball in the park, with each team captain selecting the players they think will be of most use to them, rather than selecting in the interest of who will create the most fair and balanced athletic experience for the game as a whole. Sure, in sports that’s not how it works. But in court, isn’t that hypothetically how it IS supposed to work?

And so as it is, I will not be juror number 12. Why? Because I believe that it is the right of law enforcement to use the force we as a society have bestowed upon them, even though I do support the reasoning that some officers may abuse that force, and also that it is the defendant’s right to pursue legal accountability for the officers he has drawn into question. Rather than being dismissed from jury selection feeling proud to have participated in a legal process that our nation boasts as a central function of its democracy, I am coming away feeling disheartened by an experience which has made me acutely aware of how at the end of the day even the “due process” of “justice” is merely bureaucracy.

SWPJC 2009

This was my second year attending SWPJC, and while it was different from last year and even different from what I had expected this year would be, I am so glad that I went. I initially anticipated spending the weekend with my dear friend Esther and hearing a photojournalism great, James Nachtwey, present some of his work and talk about his career. However, Esther took a last minute assignment with Charity Water in the Central African Republic, and Nachtwey was assigned to cover the conflict in Gaza. While these were both very disappointing changes, I knew that there would still be priceless networking, relationship building, and industry discussion going on.

Toward the end of the weekend, two friends and I were discussing what each of us was walking away from the conference with this year. I couldn't say that I had learned any new skills or heard anything mind-blowingly new. What I took away from the conference was a renewed faith in the work that we as journalists are pursuing regardless of whether we are industry employed or not, and much needed face-to-face time with like-minded friends who's passion and faith are inspiring and refreshing.

I am the first to point out my number one character flaw... I'm a total control freak. Honestly, read my last blog. It's never enough for me to know that things will always work out as they were intended to, which they always do, but I have an extremely difficult time slowing down and enjoying life. When I can't see any open doors, when I feel like all my hard work leads nowhere, I get overwhelmed and discouraged. This weekend I was able to step outside of my routine and gain some much needed perspective. Has God ever let me fall flat on my face and left me there alone? Not once. The problem is always me. Me not letting go, me not seeing the glass half full, me not accepting that my plans and my ways are not always what was designed. 

For all my frustration with my career, I need to accept that one of my professional strengths is in administration, and I am blessed with the opportunity to be refining that strength in my current role. If I do everything within my power to get transferred to the Phoenix office and it simple doesn't work out, I am not meant to be there. If I have a desire to further my education so that I am more able to pursue the things I know I am called to do with my life, I have to trust that when I am walking down the path that is meant for me, opportunities will arise when the timing is right. 

Call me silly, but anyone who dines with me very often knows I take my fortune cookies seriously! Yesterday my fortune cookie said, "You will make many changes before settling down happily." Even though Keegan cracked his cookie first, which technically voids my fortune, I brought it home and put it next to the one I got while back that says, "You have a charming way with words and should write a book." 

I have no reason to not be happy. I have no reason to not feel fulfilled. I have no reason to not wake up and joyfully welcome whatever each day brings. I am blessed, and I am loved, and that should be more than enough.

Employment Rant

I've blogged about it many times, you've all heard me rant, but here it is again... Yah, sure, I know the economy isn't doing well and there's an alarmingly high unemployment rate, but when I look on the job boards I see plenty of listings. I apply for plenty of those listings.

Obama just got done preachin' on about how we as a nation need to be pursuing higher education. Well, Obama, here I am desperate to get to Phoenix so I can start my MBA at ASU, but I can't get a job there to save my life! Last month there were five openings at my company's Phoenix office that I knew I was more than qualified for, and now it is down to one. Two that have already been filled did call me back, were interested in my resume, but went to other applicants who had more "applicable" employment experience. Now I'm not talking about I.T. jobs or anything like that where special skills are required... I'm talking about admin jobs. I'm talking about keeping calendars and files for some exec at a level important enough to get a window of his very own. 

If at 18 I successfully completed a year of living in a tour bus traveling around the nation as the assistant manager of a multimillion dollar merchandising company, I think I can answer a multi-line phone. If I can organize logistics for summers of romping about third world countries, I think I can keep a calendar in Outlook. I have been with my company for a year and a half and have proven to be extremely competent both professionally and intellectually. Yet again I find myself wanting to stand up in my cube and scream "For the love of God, people! I have a Bachelor's Degree!" 

I would estimate that around half of the people doing my job at my company have their BA. Therefore, I am not using my BA, because clearly it holds no baring on whether or not the company will employ me. Because I am still one of the newer employees in my department, and because pay increases are being withheld this year, I make just enough to have an acceptable standard of living and pay all of my bills... including the one for my last year of that useless BA. I'm sure you can understand my frustration at the fact that I rent a room in Oakland so that I can pay my student loans, while many of my twenty-something coworkers live at home with their parents not paying rent or loans, thus having a much more comfortable standard of living. Clearly, I need my MBA. Being only one academic level above these people is obviously not doing a damn thing for my career. 

Okay I'm done ranting. That was likely one of the least eloquent pieces of writing I've ever done, but I had to get it out. I'm telling you right now... Someday when those people who were more "qualified" to order pens from staples.com are still doing just that, I'm going to be a tremendously successful and highly educated professional with every right to the phrase "I told you so."

25

I've decided that adapting to "adult" life and single life simultaneously is one of the more awkward transitions I've been through yet. When I was younger, being newly single meant belligerent nights downtown with my girlfriends, bonding in our mutual man-hating, and barfing away our sorrows in the wee after-hours. I like to think I've done a lot of maturing and soul searching in the last couple of years, enough so that at 25 being newly single means nights of curling up on the couch with a glass of Mondavi Chardonnay and watching romantic comedies solo is not only acceptable but enjoyable.

It's a difficult thing to explain to people who aren't at that same place, and I don't say that in a condescending way toward myself nor the "others" insinuated. We all take different paths, thus passing through different stages in our own time and way. For me, 25 has so far been a season of enlightenment, and not always the freeing kind so much as the potentially depressing sort. It has been the acceptance of realities, such as that my career path no longer exists and that the people who have been an integral part of my life for all my life are as flawed as I am.

I ran away to Bali for the week of my 25th birthday, not previously calculating that in Bali my birthday would arrive a day sooner. I suppose the irony was appropriate. During my 22-hour layover in Hong Kong on my way home from that trip, I spent a great deal of time sorting out life frustrations through my journal. I had just finished reading a book called "Eat Pray Love" which, thanks to Oprah, has become a top seller. It is an autobiography of one woman's journey through a year of post-divorce soul searching. I remember feeling like I could be that woman, middle-aged and miserable even though she had all of the conventional pleasures lined up for her, including a beautiful home and husband, and a solid writing career. I remember feeling compelled to continue pursuing my passions, despite the speculation that even I had for myself after a decade of dabbling with no promising leads.

I can't say that in this moment I feel the same intense determination to faithfully wage on in those pursuits, but that inferno has not been extinguished so much as tended, evolving into a steady determination to simply be myself. I'm still figuring out day by day who "myself" is. But one of my most refreshing realizations at 25 has been that there's no shame in not knowing. In fact, there should be some level of pride in the ability to honestly and openly accept that life is a constant journey during which we are shaped and molded and forged into the best "me" that can exist.

What do I know about myself? I know that from early childhood I have had a fascination with the world. I know that for the last decade I have been passionately pursuing the use of journalism and photography as a means to expose the western world to the issues and needs of developing nations. I know that I have friends and family who absolutely love and support me as much as I do them, and have grown to value those relationships in a deeper way. I know that regardless of the roadblocks that I encounter I will more than survive, I will thrive, because a woman walking out her destiny is more powerful than any failing economy and stronger than the locks on the doors that have slammed in her face.

It doesn't matter what my past has held, and it doesn't matter if a man doesn't hold my near future. There are too many opportunities for lived experiences laying ahead to focus on the rear view mirror. Life is before us.

Orion on the Economy

Economic crisis according to my four-year-old nephew:

Orion: "Auntie, I got fired!"

Me: "Oh no! From where?"

Orion: "From over there by the lego box!"

Me: "What happened?" 

Orion: "Well I don't know, there was a big fire all over the place!"

Ok so maybe he doesn't quite grasp the concept, but I was impressed none-the-less.

Warm Wispers

It's driving through the countryside on a warm summer night with your arm out the window and soulful acoustic music blaring. It's sitting on a dew soaked hillside in South Africa as the sun peaks into view, the crisp breeze turning your cheeks pink from the chill. It's free falling from an airplane at thirteen thousand feet and closing your eyes because you don't care about the view, you just want those weightless sixty seconds when for once the world isn't falling down on you, but you're charging at it with every ounce of your being.

I don't know if the feeling is the same for everyone, or if we all experience it differently. But for me it's that moment when you know in your soul that there is something right in the world. When your fickle friends and your difficult family and your frustrating career can't touch you, because you, in that moment, are at peace. In that moment you are filled with the realization of the wonder that is around you and the strength that you have by embracing rather than rejecting it.

Missy Higgins - "Your warm whispers, out of the dark they carry my heart. Your warm whispers, into the dawn they carry me through. I'm weeping for honey and milk yet you stay surrounding me. Your warm whispers, letting me drown in a pool of you. Your warm whispers, keeping the noise from breaking through."

Inauguration

While Esther was watching the inauguration from a castle in Ethiopia and Aaron was shivering out on the Mall in Washington DC, I was sitting my office's auditorium watching CNN's coverage. I had considered calling in sick to join the masses in San Francisco's Civic Center, but decided against it. I was feeling rather pathetic for allowing such a momentous day to pass just like any other weekday, but I suppose in the end it didn't matter where I watched it, so long as I did. Obama is no Jesus, but he is a glimpse of hope for our generation. I'm excited to see what he does with the opportunity, trust, and support that he has been given by our nation.

iPhone pic of the auditorium during Obama's speech on CNN

Obama cookies!

Alicia, Me, Lamba

Gold-Digger vs. Career Woman

I was having a conversation with a friend today and in the process of trying to outline my parameters for when and how I'd like to go about settling down with a husband and a family, I made myself sound, in his opinion, like a "gold-digger." Of course my friend, being an affluent man, was terribly offended by the suggestion that I wouldn't want to get married unless the guy had a decent career going and we were able to have kids without it being a financial burden. I attempted to back petal and redefine, but when the conversation ended I could tell that he was still stuck on my initial statement.

I felt awful about the entire thing because I am absolutely supportive women educating themselves and having self-sustaining careers. I got my degree, I make my own money and pay my own bills, and I pursue my passions in photography and travel. Never have I expected to sit back and wait for a wealthy man to leech off of. I am in a position where I am not married, I don't have kids, I have very few roots or ties holding me in to my current position, and I have the education and skill set to build a life for myself outside of a man if I choose to do so. Why is it such an absurd thing to say that if and when I get married I would expect that man to have a career and be fiscally responsible? That I would expect him to be able to provide a life full of opportunities rather than struggles for his family?

When people say "I'd rather be poor and happy than wealthy and miserable," I think it's an unfair assumption that there are only two options. It is entirely reasonable for a woman to believe that she can find a man who she's head over heels in love with and wants to settle down and start a family with, who has in his single life displayed passion and ambition that has maneuvered him into a financial situation where he is able to sustain a comfortable lifestyle for his family. Gold-diggers are lazy, selfish, and greedy. Career women are ambitious, driven, and goal oriented. I have the ability to ensure that when I go into the wife and mother seasons of my life I will enter them set up for success.

Oakland Riots - Photos

Shortly after sundown yesterday a large group of protesters marched down International from the Fruitvale BART station, where Oscar Grant was shot last week, to the Lake Merritt BART station. It was there that the protest quickly escalated into a riot. 

The first police vehicle to arrive was overcome by the protesters. One man threw a rock through the windshield, a dozen others jumped on the hood and rocked the vehicle in a failed attempt to overturn it. A dumpster was set ablaze and pushed into the front of the vehicle.

As riot police responded they were pelted with glass bottles and other debris. Tear gas was fired into the mob, forcing them to disperse. Many fled into Chinatown to regroup less than thirty minutes later near City Hall, leaving in their wake overturned garbage cans and newspaper stands. 

The largest stand-off of the night occurred near the intersection of 14th and Webster. Riot police surrounded the mob on three sides. Dozens of police vehicles blocked traffic and attempted to hold off protesters trying to join the mob. 

While some protesters shouted, "There is no looting going on, we're just mad!" others continued to throw newspaper stands into the street, set garbage cans on fire, and smash in windshields and store fronts. Several protesters laid down in front of the police lines, mimicking the position Grant was in when he was shot, on their bellies with their hands behind their backs.

An unmarked police vehicle approached one side of the intersection, and the driver could be heard over a megaphone beginning a ten minute countdown demanding that the rioters disperse. The mob only grew in number and intensity. As the riot police closed in, many protesters ran down 14th street. Others attempted to stand their ground but were forced backward with hard shoves and billy club jabs. When police attempted to grab noncompliant protesters there was a scramble, and several people were trampled. At least two members of the media were attacked by rioters. A cameraman from channel 7 news had his camera broken and was reportedly bleeding from the head. A cameraman from channel 5 news was punched in the chest and was experiencing difficulty breathing. 

Reporter Ken Epstein of the Oakland Post was in his 12th story office writing a story about the injustice of Grant's death when he heard commotion on the street and looked down to see his own vehicle engulfed in flames. He stated that while it was disappointing to see such a thing occur, he understood the anger being expressed by the protesters.

Once things settled down Mayor Dellums came out of city hall and walked a few blocks with a large crowd of protesters and media, answering questions and urging them to stand down and end the violence. 

A small news conference was held by officer Jeff Thomason at the Oakland Police Department's administrative offices. He stated that as of 9:30pm only 15 arrests had been made, 14 adults and one minor, for charges including assault on an officer, vandalism, and failure to disperse.

Shortly after the press conference protesters began to riot once again in front of City Hall's doors and police appeared to change strategies, arresting dozens more rather than continuing to disperse the crowds.

Oakland Riots

I will write an actual article about this later but while it's fresh in my mind I want to jot down the more personal side of this evening for you...

I pulled up to my house in Oakland shortly after 5pm. It wasn't until I stepped out of the car that I began to notice there were half a dozen helicopters circling directly above. Not believing there could be so many traffic choppers flying for the 5-o-clock news hour, I called Christopher and asked him to turn on the news and find out what was going on. He said there was a protest at the Fruitvale BART. I stifled my initial impulse to grab my camera and head over, since it was only a mile away, and headed inside instead. I set down my purse and slipped off my coat, fully intending to settle in for the evening, but as I reached into the closet to put away my coat I saw my camera bag sitting on the floor. Knowing I would later regret not checking things out for myself, I grabbed out my camera, flash, my Zoom audio recorder, and some extra AA batteries. After changing into jeans and a hoodie I headed back to my car and called my good friend Joe Vasquez, a reporter at CBS 5 News in San Francisco. Joe told me there had been a gathering outside the Fruitvale BART protesting the death of a young man who was shot by a BART police officer at that station only a few days ago. The crowds were marching down International toward the Lake Merritt BART, and he suggested I meet up there.

Using the GPS in my IPhone I managed to find my way to the Lake Merritt BART parking lot shortly after dusk. I considered parking on the street to avoid a parking ticket but crossed my fingers for luck, parked, and made my way to the corner where I saw a CBS 5 News van. Inside was photographer named Robert who I'd met while he was doing a story about gift cards a couple months ago in San Francisco. I reintroduced myself and told him I was looking for Joe. Robert told me Joe had arrived with Patrick, another photographer, but said it would be fine for me to tag along until we found them. I pulled out my audio recorder and camera and began gathering some initial clips of the the crowd chanting and marching. 

Within a few minutes we located Joe, just in time to watch the crowd turn into a mob as the first police vehicle arrived. The car drove into the middle of the intersection but had little time to act as dozens of protesters began jumping on the car, bashing in the windows, and rocking the car in a failed attempt to overturn it. A dumpster was set ablaze a few feet away. Riot police who had begun gathering prior to the incident rushed in to control the rioters. Tear gas was fired into the crowd in response to glass bottles and other debris being thrown at their lineup. As the police closed in the mob dispersed.

We followed the larger group several blocks toward city hall and waited to see what would happen next. Fifteen minutes later I began to see police units heading around to the far side of the block where we stood, and a chopper's spotlight was aimed the same direction. We ran toward the reassembling mob and began filming. They made their way down 14th street leaving behind a trail of overturned garbage cans, some set ablaze. Broken glass littered the streets, and through Chinatown boxes of vegetables set out for the garbage had been thrown around the street and on top of police cars.

An estimated 150 riot police gradually surrounded the mob until they were surrounded on three sides of an intersection. Several protesters lay on the ground in front of the police lines mimicking the position Grant was in when he was shot; laying on their bellies with their hands behind their backs. An unmarked police vehicle approached the intersection and over a bull horn the driver was heard beginning a ten minute countdown by the end of which protesters would be forcefully removed. Despite the police's attempts to hold off additional protesters hoping to enter the intersection, the mob continued to grow in size and intensity. A dozen photographers, videographers, and reporters remained inside the intersection, attempting to remain close to the action. 

At the end of the ten minute count down the lines of riot police in full gear began to close in on all three sides. A vehicle resembling a cross between a tank and armored truck entered the intersection with a dozen officers hanging off the sides. Many protesters attempted to hold their ground, but were forced backward by hard shoves and billy club jabs to the chest. As the police closed in the crowd became violent once again, throwing debris and setting more garbage cans on fire. They jumped on the civilian vehicles lining the street, bashing in windshields and denting hoods. At one point a few of the offers charged at the mob near us and we may have been trampled if not for being pressed up against a store wall. A vehicle exploded into flames a dozen feet away. I could not raise my arms to free my camera and get the shot. Another surge of bodies came, during which one of our camera men was punched in the chest by a rioter and told that he didn't belong there. I was hit with a glass bottle and other debris. Fearful of being separated from the CBS team, I reached out and grabbed Joe by his press pass lanyard and gripped it for dear life as I pulled away from the mob and tore down the street. We choked air through our sleeves, trying to block the thick gray smoke from our noses. Again the mob dispersed.

Joe, Robert and I reconnecting with Patrick, the second CBS videographer, at his news van nearby. Taking advantage of the lull, the CBS team began cutting their footage for the 10-o-clock news hour. I watched outside the van as small groups of looters ran past, shouting and kicking at the mounds of newspaper stands and garbage cans. The owner of the car that had been engulfed in flames not a full hour before came down from his office one block away and gave a short interview. Ken Epstein, a reporter for the Oakland Post, had been in his 12th floor office working on a story about what a tragedy Grants death was, when he looked down at the street and saw his own car being demolished. Parked behind him was a young woman, who did not wish to on the record, who had been enjoying her birthday dinner with friends at a nearby restaurant. She returned to her car only to find that all the windows had been smashed in and her belongings were scattered all over the sidewalk.

Around half an hour passed before we saw the Mayor headed down 14th street right toward us, surrounded by dozens of rioters and media. Patrick grabbed his video camera and I the microphone, and we worked our way into the center of the crowd until I could get the mic close enough the the Mayor to record as he attempted to answer the questions being shouted. The media wanted to know what was being done by law enforcement, and the public wanted to know what was being done to avenge the death of Grant. 

Patrick and I headed back to the news van, and he prepared footage as I slipped into the tail end of a small press conference being held in the lobby of the police station. By 9:30, 15 people had been arrested, 14 adults and one minor. The charges were a combination of assault on an officer, vandalism, and failure to disperse. I raced back to the news van, where Joe and Robert were now setting up with Patrick for the 10-o-clock live shot and gave them the update. During the next hour we stayed near the police station even though there were riots continuing on in front of City Hall. They were smaller and the police seemed to have altered their initial strategy of simply dispersing people and began making dozens of arrests. It seemed to be affective, since by the time Joe did his live shot for the 11-o-clock news the rioters appeared to have finally finished their rampage through downtown.

Once the 11-o-clock was wrapped, Robert headed back to CBS's station in San Francisco with all the footage that had been shot that night. Patrick and Joe dropped me off at my car back at our starting point, the Lake Merritt BART parking lot, where thankfully my car remained unharmed and un-ticketed. I tried to map the freeway on ramp with my IPhone GPS again but was having difficulties when a BART officer pulled up next to me and offered for me to follow him there. We introduced ourselves, his name was Donald. He mentioned I was lucky to have just missed the action. I laughed and told him I'd been in the middle of it from the beginning. He confided that he was torn on the entire ordeal, being a BART cop but also a black man, and feeling that the race card was being overplayed. He believed the shooting was controversial but was disappointed at the public's violent and destructive reaction to it. 

And now here I am at a quarter past one, starving and sore and tired, but feeling rejuvenated by having seized the opportunity to contribute to CBS's coverage of the day's events and validated by the journalist's instinct I displayed. There might not be any media jobs out there for me right now, but it's maximizing experiences like this that will keep me on top of my game. Before any worse exhaustion induced delirium sets in, I'll skip proofing this entry and will post it for you to read just as raw as it flowed through my mind and onto my keyboard. But I promise I'll organize my thoughts, review my note pad for better details, edit my photos and audio, and construct something more palatable for you tomorrow.

Sweet dreams.

Wish list for 2009

I absolutely hate when photographers talk camera lingo because the majority of it is a techy photo nerd way of saying "I'm cooler than you" or somehow compensates for being an otherwise socially retarded individual. However, on this post I can't help but share with you the gizmos and gadgets I've been drooling over and am hoping a cut back in my other spending (a year around project I like to call "wardrobe expansion") will allow me to add these goodies to my camera bag.

Finally the Canon 5D has dropped in price after the release of the 5D Mark II. It is likely to go out of production soon so fingers crossed I can upgrade to the earlier model this spring at a back door price. Thank you tax return! I was able to fiddle around with one of Augie's 5Ds at our photo shoot yesterday and while it is different than my Rebel I think it should be a comfortable switch.

I've been renting this $1500 lens for the last couple years but I'd love to get one of my own so I don't have to deal with reservations, pick-ups, drop-offs, insurance, etc etc. The 5D is more important right now, but hey, a girl can dream can't she?

Think Tank makes this awesome waist strap with changeable lens bags. I first heard about their product line at a photo conference held at San Francisco State years ago. I've always wanted one but as a new product they were fairly pricy. I heard that they've since become more affordable.

Marley and Me

I'm going to tell you a secret... I hate dogs. I know, I know... Join the masses in glaring with disgust and tisking at me for being so inhumane. Seriously though, I'm someone who enjoys their clean quiet living environment and has no desire for constant companionship. This is right about where some of you are probably going to get all Dr. Phil on me because this same sentiment clearly carries over into my lack of desire for a ball and chain followed by my very own pack of snotty nosed minions. But I promise you'd rather me acknowledge this now prior to adopting an animal.. or a family.. rather than once I'm all in. 

This evening Christopher and I saw "Marley and Me." I'm not going to lie, it was decent for a family-oriented, animal-loving, heart-warming movie.. Although I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the theatre full of tearful sniffles throughout the entire second half of the film. The main characters were a couple of hopeful writers, fresh out of college, who got married and moved to Miami to work newspaper jobs. One of the larger themes of the film was the husband's sacrificing of his journalistic passions for the sake of having a family. I'm fairly certain that the directors intended for audiences to applaud this man's accepting of his "reality." I pitied him. Sure he realized that he was an exceptional columnist; sure his dog from hell turned out to be an acquired taste; sure he and his wife were able to adapt as they transitioned into suburban parenthood. But all I kept thinking was "Damn.. Your best friend is freelancing global conflict stories for the New York Times and you're penning comical antidotes about how this week your dog ate your cell phone."

Walking out of the theatre, Christopher looked at me and said, "Someday when you get your first dog you'll understand." That's the same thing my mom tells me about having my first child. Apparently when they're yours they don't smell as bad? Who knows. All I do know is that movie didn't inspire me to put aside my own journalistic passions for the sake of domesticity, and it didn't get me all too psyched about finally adopting a furry little friend either. The only tears that movie drew out of me were alone in the car on my way home wondering if I was going to spend so much time trying to fulfill my passions that eventually I'd look back through my failure and wish I'd settled. Wishing you'd settled must be worst than settling in the first place. Then again knowing you're settling and wondering "what if" may be even more shameful yet. At the risk of sounding cliche, I suppose the best thing anyone in such a predicament can do is follow their gut and trust that persistence pays off.

All I know is...

People are always telling me that my job will teach me a lot about corporate America and that I'll gain valuable knowledge that translates into other professional roles I have in the future. After a year and a half of getting my toes wet with this corporate gig, here are two things I have learned that I will definitely keep in mind down the road.

ONE - I strongly suggest against every looking at your pay stub to compare your year-t0-date gross earnings and your net pay. It is really.. REALLY.. depressing. The salary they tell you you're getting is not anywhere near what actually goes into your bank account. Hooters waitresses make more money than you do, and it's better to just accept now that this country places a higher value on big boobs than your bachelor's degree.

TWO - Never take nice corporate gestures as genuine displays of appreciation for your enslavement. When your office cafeteria throws a free meal to celebrate you, check the expiration dates on the steak sauce and juice boxes. Do not under any circumstances eat the turkey sausage. And when they tell you that because of all your hard work they want to make sure you get to spend maximum time with your loved ones during the holidays so they are allowing you to use some of next year's vacation time early.. Don't be flattered. You're getting laid off next spring and they don't want to pay out as many hours.