Anti-oedipal

jewish-privilege:

“I share this story at the insistence of my daughter who thinks my immigration story is worth telling, especially in the light of events since the election. I jokingly, refer to myself as a professional immigrant, continuing in the tradition of a long line of immigrants. I have immigrated three times. Twice to the United States, once to Canada. My grandfather, born in St. Petersburg, immigrated to South Africa to escape the threat of the Russian Revolution. His siblings scattered more widely; Japan, Australia and the US. My father was born in South Africa. My children were both born in the US. So, in the last century (perhaps longer), we never seen more than two generations thrive in one country. My wife’s family has a similar story. We’re Jewish and, to borrow a phrase from Roger Cohen, “Other people have roots, Jews have legs.” It’s as if we’re genetically uncomfortable wherever we go, constantly looking over our shoulders. My experiences of anti-semitism in the South African army and workplace gave me ample cause for discomfort. I recall news stories of swastikas painted on synagogues, but I didn’t see latent anti-semitism as reason alone to leave. I had other motivations. I wanted a future for my family outside of a hateful brutal regime. I wanted them to know the freedom I believed only America could and always would provide. I can’t say my experiences compare to the hardships many immigrants endure, but I think we share one common feeling. When you pull up roots, the resulting sense of dislocation seeps into your marrow and stays there. It gnaws and never leaves. On the rare occasions I return to South Africa, I feel a momentary familiarity when I land, a feeling that dissipates in as quickly as the drive to my destination. Then it strikes me that I am the perpetual other. Not of Africa, nor America. On the other hand, the dislocation had a strangely motivating effect. My wife arrived six months pregnant. Within a six month period, we dealt with the challenges of a new country, new job and the birth of my son. I recall our first apartment in Baltimore, furniture courtesy of Aron Rents and a TV we perched on the box it arrived in. Our kitchenware consisted of a few pots and pans my mother-in-law wisely stashed in our luggage. Looking at our circumstances, I recall saying to my wife, “This is not the American Dream I came for”. I constantly had to remind myself that I didn’t fly seven thousand miles to fail. I think a lot of Americans believe immigrants come to live off welfare State of America. Truth is, we had no concept of a social safety net in our own country. We arrived armed with nothing more than self-reliance. I am pretty certain immigrants from most countries see it the same way. I still remember a joke a friend share with my on my arrival: An immigrant fresh off the boat arrives in America and, walking down the street, notices a $5 bill on the ground. He leans to pick it up, stops himself and says, “What the heck, I’ll start work tomorrow.” Like all jokes, there a truism at work. Immigrants see America differently. We really see that opportunity abounds. We believe there’s an American Dream. And unlike the guy in the joke we know we have to work fucking hard to achieve it. Which is not to say that Americans don’t work hard, they do. It’s just that the experience having your past completely erased instills a motivation like no other. To succeed is to survive. Succeed I did. I came here to work with the best, to be the best and I lived the dream. I enjoyed modest success at my first job and had the rug pulled when my visa expired. Once again we pulled up stakes and moved to Canada. I came back because I was not going to rest until I realized my dream. A dream that is at once heartening and hollow. For many Americans the dream never was, and never will be achievable. My only privilege is believed naively that it did. My kids are grown. They have had the rare privilege being educated at great public schools and universities. They are well versed in art, literature, music and theater. Sadly though, I don’t know if I see a future for them in Trump’s America. And then there’s this: According The New York Observer: “There has been a 115 percent increase in bias crimes in New York City following Election Day, with Jews being targeted in 24 of the 43 incidents. The anti-Semitic incidents represented a threefold increase from November 2015.” I can’t say I blame my kids for looking elsewhere for a save haven. Maybe Scotland. Maybe South Africa Maybe, above all, Germany. They have inherited the Jewish immigrant gene. Mentally I see them stretching their legs”

— This is my dad’s immigration story, shared with his permission (via lifetimeinafist)

tikkunolamorgtfo:

jewish-burrito:

foxnewsfuckfest:

timbsperdu:

Does Jeremy Corbyn, like, do stuff apart from antisemitism? I mean schedule-wise, is there time?

No

@tikkunolamorgtfo I snorted at this.

It is sad but true.

terefah:

terefah:

passing isn’t something to be complimented on

like there are plenty of trans ppl who can’t & won’t ever ~pass~… you look like a dickhead complimenting someone on being able to move thru the world in a certain way when there’s so many ppl who can’t bc of circumstances outside of their control.

i love what s. bear bergman has to say about the word “passing” — that it puts the onus on trans people to make their presentation more legible to cis people.

“rather than talking about who passes, let us talk about who reads.”

sleepysylph:

the moon is queen of everything.
she rules the oceans, rivers, rain.
when i am asked whose tears these are
i always blame the moon.

— lucille clifton, moonchild

(via goldiebug)

wortcunner:

“This transformation of the body into predictable and controllable operations is absolutely central to the naturalization of the category of sex. The uterus becomes a machine—controlled by the state and doctors—for the production of new bodies. The incomprehensible diversity of the human body becomes reduced to a simplistic and quantitative relation between various chemicals and hormones. Certain shapes are deemed healthy while others abnormal, and in need of surgical intervention. The binary of the so-called sex organs is almost achieved through this ongoing mutilation. Certain ratios of the distribution of fat, hair, bone structure and other occurrences come to be immutable proof of the eternal existence of the social prison of sex. In order for this prison to be totalizing, our conception of ourselves must be debased to these material operations. The engendering of humanity into the rational sexual body required the destruction of magic precisely because a magical view of the world holds that it is animated, unpredictable and that there is an occult force in plants, animals, stones, the stars and ourselves. Within this animist worldview, our individual capacities are not limited to the supposed biological destiny of sex; instead we can create, destroy, love, and take pleasure in an infinity of situations. This anarchic, molecular diffusion of powers throughout the world is antithetical to a gendered and social order which aims at capturing and dominating all life. The world had to be disenchanted to be dominated.”

— Against the Gendered Nightmare: Fragments on Domestication

(via existential-morning)

serotnin:

catch me gardening topless at 5am telling my baby tomato plant about my bad dream

(via mossbug)

alphastigma117:

veketa:

life hack

(via klezmer-un-anarkhizm)

lesbiansansastark:

if anyone wants me ill be in the dirt thinking abt love

(via parthenogenesis1999)

remux:

if you’re not standing barefoot in the heart of a foreboding forest and chanting to the old gods as the moonlight tangles its fingers in your messy hair and caresses your dirt-streaked cheeks what even is the point

(via astr0-drift)