Scary Nonprofit Industrial Complex

So, as a much belated update, I have started my second week at work, and it’s been quite uneventful. We usually lounge around all day, eat lunch for 1.5hrs, then leave at 5pm. A lot of meeting and chitchatting, very little serving community.

Yesterday, I went to a conference in Sacramento about “revenue generating projects” for domestic violence nonprofits. Our ED apparently has a gazillion years of for-profit experience, which I was not aware, but now after attending that conference, I’m getting a bit worried about what that actually means.

To be honest, I was still hopeful that the conference would present what kinds of necessary capitalistic models different organizations had adopted in order to achieve self empowerment and liberation for their community. I was envisioning a workplace that provides childcare, that has managers informed about triggers and trauma, that sought to give the survivors a sense of what kind of world was possible. I was severely misinformed. Of the three models that were presented, two had nothing to do with the nonprofit’s work on intimate partner violence (IPV).

An organization called Tri-Valley Haven had “inherited” a thrift store from another organization that served youth with substance abuse — in a “filthy state,” they reiterated, multiple times. They also commented on how the vision of the store had initially been more along the lines of giving youth and other communities experience rather than generating revenue, when it was under the other organization. Of course, when Tri-Valley Haven people.came in, all of that had to change. They did not pay their workers a livable wage, did not seek to provide work experience for their IPV survivors, and considered their taking on court-mandated volunteers as a great act of service. Over and over again, the Executive Director (ED) emphasized that the store is only to generate revenue for the non-profit.

And much of the other plans were the same. A childcare agency, whose start-up costs were entirely funded by the ED’s side job as the head of a consulting company. (She even talked about how she had established a foundation specifically for her nonprofit so that she could have the foundation engage in “controversial” ways to fundraise, then her nonprofit would not be affiliated — only receiving the check. Oh, and she noted that the head of her nonprofit’s board of directors was the same person as the head of her foundations, so she was practically controlling how the money was being funneled into her nonprofit. wtf. is that even legal). Instead of using these models to subvert capitalism and recognize the ways in which survivors and other people who’ve experienced trauma have barriers in obtaining marketable skills in this violent capitalist economy, they perpetuate that same violence by often recruiting volunteers from their programs and not paying them anything or only giving them stipends in exchange for work experience. How is this not exploitation?

We even had a legal session, where a lawyer was quite frankly asked how labor laws applied to these revenue generating models of nonprofits — because the workers don’t get paid by the legal standard. She merely said that labor organizations have often turned the other way, and instead coached participants on weighing the different risks involved in such a venture (aka being caught at labor exploitation being one of them). She also gave us examples on organizations that tweaked their mission (which they submit to IRS for tax-exempt status) in order to fit commercial enterprises under their scope of related work — so that it wouldn’t threaten their 503(c)(3) status or have their income taxed.

Sigh. Sorry for the ranting. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the capitalist nature of these nonprofits — and not even random ones, ones that are specifically focused on ANTI-VIOLENCE — are looking to use their OWN community to make money for them in cheap, quick, and often illegal ways. I literally was in shock the entire time. Fuck capitalism. Is the non-profit avenue doomed?

The Handmaid’s Tale pt.2

Juhee was obsessed with this book, so I decided to pick it up. I usually like things that Juhee likes…

I will say this: Atwood’s writing is provocative. She forces the audience to imagine, but it only works because she’s taking you to a logical conclusion. It’s believable. She doesn’t even have to work that hard to convince you. Juhee is on point:

“If a handful of corporations already control all the media we watch, why not make it entirely false propaganda? If women are only valued for their associated reproductive organs, why not create an entire class of breeders?”

Atwood weaves the ludicrous traditions of the new society (the new sex, the new clothes, the new beliefs) with the ludicrous traditions of our own society (our sex, our clothes, our beliefs). It’s probably all made up, but if it’s all made up, is the Handmaid’s Tale all that ridiculous? It’s not. 

“We know what our world is capable of.”  

Yes. But even deeper, do we also know what we are capable of? Do I know what I am capable of? Could I be the Commander, creating and enforcing laws that don’t really apply to “civilized” people? Could I be an Aunt, upholding the regime in the name of all that is holy and righteous? Could I be a Moira, fighting to get out but really just settling? Probably all of the above, yes.

I appreciate Atwood for being introspective about our society. This especially got me:

“…the best and most cost-effective way to control women for reproductive and other purposes was through women themselves. For this there were many historical precedents; in fact, no empire imposed by force or otherwise has ever been without this feature: control of the indigenous by members of their own group.”

This reflection in the epilogue is suppose to frame this tale. But what a slap in the face. Because yes, as a Chinese American, I have looked down on my people for speaking Chinese in white people supermarkets, for pulling out shit like 臭豆腐 in public, for being loud when we throw down our 麻將 tiles. Yes, as a woman, I have looked down on my people for wearing too much make up on our face, for going on diets and bragging about it, for being scantily clad when it’s cold outside. Yes, as a person with lower-class roots, I have looked down on my people for not reading enough, for not working hard enough, for not dreaming big enough.

God, I’m that asshole that plays into respectability politics. Yuck.

 

On Collaboration: Starting With Each Other

“Because the truth is, we need each other. We need each other. I need you and each and every one of you make my life more possible. We owe our existence to each other in so many ways. I don’t know how you have survived, but I am grateful you are here.”

A piece on interdependency & collaboration from Mia Mingus. Related to my thinkings around collectives, communal living, connections with friends after graduation, social justice love, and unhealthy relationships.

After Reading The Handmaid’s Tale

Preface: Haven’t devoured a book like this in awhile. Highly recommended, if you haven’t read it already. I think I’m more of a novel person — science fiction, dystopia, technological evils, that kind of reader. Let me know if you have any other suggestions. I really couldn’t pick up that 1000 page MLK biography. Sorry, Cynthia.

Also been reading a lot because there’s nothing else to do here. No pressure, folks. Just talking to myself on this blog. 

//

I was on page 272 of The Handmaid’s Tale, reading by a car reading light, wrapped up in a quiet suburban darkness — when I put down the book. Too many thoughts and feelings. Maybe it was this line: “Humanity is so adaptable. Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations.” Perhaps that was when the gap between fiction and reality closed, and the dystopia painted in the novel did not seem so far away. If a handful of corporations already control all the media we watch, why not make it entirely false propaganda? If women are only valued for their associated reproductive organs, why not create an entire class of breeders? If we already consume ridiculous amounts of brutalized images of Black and Brown bodies, why not just have public actions of violence against the “undesired”?

We know what our world is capable of. And yet we still continue to exist, and some would even say, thrive. Usually I look upon these struggles as a mark of human resilience — of our collective power and potential. But for some reason, today, all I see is our silence and passive existence. The ability to continue surviving under these conditions without complete rebellion, without revolt, without retaliation, without uprooting it all. Especially in the light of larger society’s cool, calm complacency around Mike Brown’s murder, I wonder if we will ever be upset enough, hurt enough, angry enough to rise up. Or if we’re just simply too accustomed to the pain to even know the threshold of our own tolerance.

We are so adaptable – and so forgetful. I fear that everything today has become “as usual.” The Handmaid’s Tale notes: “Whatever is going on is as usual. Even this [dystopia] is as usual, now.” Everything has become so deeply seeped into our lives that we know nothing else. We don’t remember a time without a nationwide fear of (Brown) terrorism, before NSA government surveillance, before murders of Black boys, before obligatory YouTube commercials, before a constant waging of war for “freedom” and “democracy.” And if we don’t know something before the “usual,” then can we ever imagine anything beyond this?

The hope of something more is usually what keeps me going; I sought to someday put it into practice and create that better world with my own hands. But now, I’m beginning to wonder if the dystopia is more of a reality than my idea of a better world ever was. Feeling all dystopic & down after this book. I’m not sure I even know what I really want. But if not this, then what? Urgh. I never really know.

Nick Krieger’s Nina Here Nor There

Just finished reading Nina Here Nor There, a memoir by Nick Krieger that follows his journey with gender and transitioning. I had to put down Susan Choi’s My Education just because her writing style really is superfluous in descriptors and even though the main character is half-Asian, there really is no depth to the race & queer discussion and reads like a romance novel. So I picked up this book instead.

I was kind of blown away by Krieger’s book. It’s unique in that it explains things in laymans terms and is super accessible (to cis people). I’ve been reading Kate Bornstein, Julia Serano, and other authors that speak on gender/trans issues (including the infamous Judith Butler, whom I simply do not understand at all, ever) but this memoir’s a lot… younger feeling? It’s not heavy on theory or analysis of queer movements; being a memoir, it’s very personal. It’s about navigating a space between/within/outside of man and woman as well as the internal thoughts that he had in coming to his identity. It’s full of doubt, questioning, assumptions that he himself held about the community, and discomfort in learning about packing, binding, queerness, etc. I think it also gently speaks to a lot of the complex feelings & questions around gender that I’ve had as well.

Judging by the fact that no one is “marked” as a different race, yes, it’s a largely White charactered book, and of course, his parents accept him in the end, and yes, it’s pretty much a trajectory that begins and ends with a focus on top surgery. But with all those critiques in mind, I think the book still serves as a crucial insight into Krieger’s own journey with his own gender and the (probably very White) trans community around him.

I’m pretty sure I’m gonna just turn around and read this again and will proceed to buy this book as a gift for friends down the road. It’s been one of the first books I’ve read on trans issues that’s explored the complexities, nuances, and doubts that exist — including a trans-masculine person continuing “politically identifying as a woman” and a trans person’s assumption of masculinity with all its aggression, power, and woman-objectifying characteristics. I would love to see what other folks think about it, if you have a chance to read it.

white radicals, solidarity, and co-optation in ferguson and beyond

as a white woman who is invested in anti-oppression work, i spend a lot of time trying to figure out my place in the movement against the white heteropatricarchy. i also spend a lot of time feeling anger towards white people who obviously do not know their own places… white people who identify as Allies with a capital A. who don’t know how or when to stop talking. who think that their opinions are always welcomed and needed.

these white people are (as if on cue) showing up both in ferguson and in the national organizing around mike brown’s murder. at the NMOS vigil in pvd, there was a space for people to talk about their experiences with police brutality and the first two people on the megaphone were white. at least one white reporter has given anonymous credit for organizing NMOS when feminista jones actually started it. white anarchists have been coming to ferguson and trying to escalate the nightly protests against the wishes of the organizers who live in the community.

on the facebook page for #march4mikebrown, which is happening in pvd tonight, someone posted this essay in response to a post in the same vein as the one i’m writing now– Accomplices Not Allies: Abolishing the Ally Industrial Complex. It’s an indigenous perspective, but it speaks to the problem of “Allies” in all types of organizing:

Anyone who concerns themselves with anti-oppression struggles and collective liberation has at some point either participated in workshops, read ‘zines, or been parts of deep discussions on how to be a “good” ally. You can now pay hundreds of dollars to go to esoteric institutes for an allyship certificate in anti-oppression. You can go through workshops and receive an allyship badge. In order to commodify struggle it must first be objectified. This is exhibited in how “issues” are “framed” & “branded.” Where struggle is commodity, allyship is currency.

this struck a chord with me. i’m moving to seattle next month and looking to get involved with organizing there. one of the groups i’ve come across is the coalition of anti-racist whites and ever since i’ve been going back and forth with how i feel about it. from what the website says, i think i could get behind it. but we all know that many times what people say they do and what they actually do are very different things. i’m intrigued, but wary. 

they’re having an organizing institute in october and i’ve been thinking of applying. according to their website:

This multi-week Anti-Racist White Organizing Institute (OI) will create a space for white people to:

  • develop and deepen our analysis of racism, white privilege, intersectionality, and accountability,
  • develop and deepen our skills in naming and framing racism, allyship, and taking action for racial justice,
  • build and strengthen a community of anti-racist white people working for the liberation of all people while actively honoring the leadership of people of color in our community,
  • make commitments to apply our racial justice skills in the Seattle area.

i’ve been asking a lot of people what they think about this (including juhee). most of the the white people i’ve asked about it have expressed discomfort with the thought of “a space for white people” and i think that’s valid. but i also want to think that it could be a good thing if it’s done right (and that’s a bit IF).

what are your thoughts on white caucuses? is this organizing institute exactly what the indigenous action essay is calling out? 

Equality or Freedom: Reflections on Freedom Summer

briankundinger's avatarMy Blog

2014-06-26-09-14-03

This piece was originally posted on Summer for Respect: Voices of Walmart.

As a student at an ivy league university, I had the opportunity to hear countless esteemed professors, political figures, and other renowned speakers. The unspoken assumption behind each speaker was that they had the microphone because they were important, and in that moment, they were important because they had the microphone. This is the one of the several things I have had to unlearn from my university years, and one of the many things I came to appreciate at the recent reunion of the participants of Freedom Summer. While there is power in the podium, there is wisdom all around.

Seeking relief from the unrelenting Mississippi sun, I approached a group sitting under a canopy outside the main auditorium. One older man just finished telling a story about his leadership in the Student Non-Violence Coordinating Committee (SNCC), and…

View original post 492 more words

Reading List for Summer (and Beyond)

Just wanted to share with you all some of the book names that I’ve collected over the course of the summer. Feel free to add on in the comments or something.

  • Power Politics / Roy
  • The God of Small Things / Roy
  • The Summer We Got Free / McKenzie
  • My Education / Choi
  • Nina here nor there / Krieger
  • A Queer and Pleasant Danger / Bornstein
  • Borderlands La Frontera / Anzaldua
  • Sassafrass, Cypress, and Indigo / Shange

Currently reading:

my-education-by-susan-choi

Also the Winter Book club Google Drive is still up (for now — I think Cynthia’s the owner) if you want to download some pdfs.

j