Revolutionary Love (I)
(Sherlina Nageer writes about the groundings event on Friday 11 July, 2014 in Georgetown Guyana )
I’m no expert on love. As a matter of fact, I struggle regularly to love, to not let anger and despair overwhelm me, to still see the good in people. One thing that I have come to know over the years however, is that it’s a thing you can practice and hopefully, get better at over time. It’s not easy though and many days, I don’t do so well and end up staying in my apartment with Pumpkin instead of venturing out to face the world and its tribulations. I seem to do better with non-humans- am able to love Pumpkin unconditionally for example, even though she had a serious shitting problem, leaving deposits all over the floor (thankfully that issue has since been resolved!). But one cannot avoid people/the world forever and as the last therapist/friend I went to recently when I was feeling particularly lovelorn told me- I needed to connect with people more. So there I was last Friday, accosting strangers on the street and trying to get them to talk with me about love.
Revolutionary love was our official theme- a theme I’d chosen actually, which Vidya and Amaraydha had kindly allowed me to run with, even though it was not 100% clear what that really meant. I had a few ideas though and was hopeful that, with more discussion, it would eventually become clearer. Anyway, there we were, last Friday, on Main Street, across from the Ministry of Culture, Youth, and Sports, ready to ground again. I had a former dear friend working in that building and I wondered if she would come out and join us. It had been a long while since she and I had talked, having fallen out and since gone our separate ways, as often happens. I still remembered the good times we’d had though, the sharing and caring that had characterized our relationship. But even though I missed her company, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to bridge the chasm that had sprung up between us. So it happens sometimes.
Earlier that day, I had heard a young girl tell how she was duped and taken advantage of by a bus conductor. With not enough money for food and transportation to and from school, she was easy prey for this 32year old married man who told her he was 25 and single. She quickly found herself pregnant and alone. He was free on $20,000 ($100USD) bail and soon kissing up other girls at the park. He paid the $5000/month child support ($25USD) whenever he felt like it and told her she was lucky to get any money in the first place. The Minister of Culture, Youth, and Sport, himself father to two girl children, had been given the floor after this teen mom, and had spouted such a bundle of skunt that I had to leave the room before I gave in to the urge to take off my shoes and pelt them at him. Minsters talking irrelevant shit and ignoring the reality of poor people in Guyana is a regular occurrence in this place, part of what keeps me perpetually enraged.
In a country where abortion has been legal for almost two decades, no woman should have to bear a child if she doesn’t want to. The failure to implement this law and provide abortions at the public hospitals nationwide has been the result of a massive and systemic disregard for the lives of poor Guyanese women by those in power (private doctors and hospitals have no compunction in doing the procedure and are in fact, making lots of money this way), fueled by patriarchal religious fundamentalism that brainwashes and guilt trips women into believing that controlling their own lives/bodies is ungodly and wrong, that uses fear instead of love and understanding. [Thankfully, the Guyana Responsible Parenthood Foundation is now providing this service at a reasonable cost- contact them at 225-3286 for more information and please help spread the word.]
I’d left that morning gathering full of visceral rage, eating curses even though it was Ramadan and I was supposed to be trying to be calm, peaceful, and loving towards others. Back home, Pumpkin bit my toes and then settled in my lap, calming me as well as herself. I scribbled quotes from bell hooks and audre lorde and filled them in the box where I usually keep my pipe and herb, thinking that one way to engage folks was to get them to read a quote and share their thoughts/reactions to it. I sorted through my books- somehow I’d ended up with two copies of Siddhartha, so one could be parted with. The Moonie book that didn’t get taken last time, and a couple other miscellaneous ones and soon it was time to leave my sanctuary and head back out into the world.
I was glad, when I reached Main and Quamina streets, to see that the piles of garbage that had been there days before, were now gone. I settled on the chess table across from a woman selling chips and sweeties. Amaraydha was the first to appear, in a nice nice skirt and with a book of love poems and two romance novels. Vidya was next, looking strange and unrecognizable in shoes with laces and a tucked in shirt. He had been to meet with the money people, he said, plus we were supposed to look nice and not mad, so people wouldn’t be afraid to stop and gyaff with us. Uh huh. Plenty still side eyed and passed us by, but a good number did stop.
My first conversation was with a neat and well spoken young man who asked if we were there as part of a SASOD thing. No, I said, and asked him if he had a definition of love. He said he didn’t, explaining that he didn’t want to be too rigid. Having similar understanding was important though he said, claiming that a relationship between a bus driver and lawyer, for example, would be doomed. We went back and forth for a while, not completely agreeing but not totally disagreeing either. He told me that he’d resolved to date an Indo-Guyanese person next, since he’s only ever dated other Afro-Guyanese, making me laugh. He finally left, after giving me his phone number and asking me to let him know when next we were going to do this as he wanted to join us.
My next gyaff was with a big man wearing a gray ‘Cocaine and Caviar’ t-shirt. Why did you buy that shirt, I asked him. Well, to tell you the truth, he replied, I does smoke. I asked him how long he had been smoking and if he’d ever tried to stop- the same thing I ask my other crackhead friend every time I see him. He was introduced to it by a woman in the States, back in 1985, he said; a woman he had fallen in love with. He smoked, he told me, because it kept him away from people who were mostly dangerous and wicked. I read him a bit from bell hooks that talks about addiction and suffering and he agrees that addiction keeps people from knowing love. I ask him if he has love in his life currently. I love the Father, he says. Don’t fall in love, he advised me. Stand in love instead. I wanted to talk to him longer, but more people were stopping and he moved on, going to buy his thing, he told me.
I stopped a couple of young women then, getting them to choose two bell hooks quotes. One didn’t want to talk at first, gesturing to her friend to speak instead. But reading the quotes and sharing their thoughts got both of them talking and smiling eventually. They asked if they could keep the quotes as they wanted to share them with others, and I felt happy. A couple of pregnant security guards passed by next, perusing the free books but not wanting to talk. I was a little disappointed that they were so sour, but knowing how pregnant women can be, didn’t press them. After all, a gyaff, like love, cannot be forced.
After the girls and security guards were a quartet of young men- students from GTI as the badges pinned on their shirts attest. Two Indo and two Afro-Guyanese, they were genial and easy to talk with. They agreed that we didn’t have enough love in our society and talked about the need to move beyond differences. How can we build more love in our communities, I asked them. Sports and social activities, said one, while another talked about bringing people together via crusades and religion. But religion is so often used to divide people, I challenged, bringing up the topic of homosexuality and asking for their opinions. Yes, gay people deserve love too, they agreed, even if they choose that life. Of course I challenged them again on that and the topic shifted to include discrimination. Discrimination is due to ignorance, they say; I don’t have a problem with gay people, everybody has their life to live. I am encouraged, but saddened when they say that they don’t say anything when they hear songs threatening to kill or maim gay people. I’m not gay so it doesn’t affect me, one says. But in a more loving and caring society, I argue, we would act whenever we see injustice, even if we are not personally affected. The youngest- a 17yr old, says yes, that’s true and before they finally move on, he asks my name and shakes my hand. It feels good to talk with people- even if we don’t agree on everything, we are listening to each other and moving towards greater understanding and empathy for one another and that is revolutionary.
My Chinese friend Xin Shi showed up next. This is a woman who can write a treatise on love, let me tell you. Divorced from her Chinese husband after he cheated on her, she meets in an online chat room, a Guyanese-Chinese who spins sweet romance and travels to China to marry her. A year and change later, she’s in Guyana, having left her only child, family and friends in China, and spent significant sums of money buying and bringing things for this man. Less than a year into them living together as man and wife, he’s criticizing the fact that she doesn’t chop the head off the garlic and sneaking over to Brazil for hanky panky with other women. Nevermind that she’s in a strange place, completely unmoored from all that’s familiar, not fluent in the language, and almost totally dependent on him, or that she’s made his life materially better in a significant way- he’s done with her and discards her as soon as possible, sending her to town off with a scant $10,000 ($50USD) and nary a care as to her future wellbeing. But this is a resourceful woman and with a little bit of help, she is able to find a job and place to live, earn enough money to pay for a divorce and almost any other thing she wants, to navigate the streets of Georgetown, even if the Guyanese psyche remains a mystery to her. Now chatting and engaged to a man from America, she’s getting ready for her next adventure, while I hope this third time’s the charm and that practice really does make perfect. Also, see- not all Chinese come to Guyana to exploit our resources ;)
After Xin Shi leaves, I run down a trio of older Indo-Guyanese women- literally. One trots away at the mention of love, leaving her two friends behind and I wonder what trauma she’s experienced. I ask the two other women to please give me some advice on love, anything they’ve learned from their life experiences. They look at me funny and laugh a little bit. Then one tells me about first love- how you never stop loving that person even if you end up going separate ways, and I agree. The other tells me that even though she’s been married for 29 years to her husband, she’s never told him that she loves him and that sometimes, often, their relationship is not nice. Why don’t you get divorced, I ask her and she shrugs. Family, she replies vaguely. She has a 20yr old daughter and I ask her what she tells her daughter about love. Be considerate of the other person, she says. As they talk, they’re inching further and further down the street, away from me and I eventually let them go.
It’s interesting how people react to the topic of love. Is a thing we hear so much about, have so many notions about, but somehow, it’s still surprisingly difficult to talk about. This I know, from my own experiences with loved ones.. I didn’t really have any expectations of how this public street corner gyaff would turn out but one thing that I’m surprised by is the number of people who seem scared of talking openly about love. Interestingly, it’s the men/boys who I find more open to talking but I don’t know if that is because I’m a woman or if Vidya or Amaraydha found that to also be true.
Vidya and Shaquille are engrossed in conversation with another guy. The only part I catch is the question- why do people call having sex making love. Later on, I hear Amaraydha and Shaquille reading poetry out loud. Again, I’m distracted by talking/trying to talk with people, so I don’t hear the exact poem but I love the fact that poetry is being read, out loud, outside, on Main Street, underneath the trees and the sky. Yes, my revolution must have poetry. And trees.
My second to last gyaff is with a couple with a cute little girl child. Her father holds her securely in his hands while she grips her packet of chips and gives me googley eyed smiles. Love is a feeling, her mother says, caring for your partner. Her husband agrees- that it’s an action too. I ask what they teach their little girl about love and they say she is too little to really understand. No no, I say, she is picking up stuff from you all every day. True, they agree. They seem like a happy family and I hope that is really so in truth. There is so much dysfunction and hurt children in the world already; it sometimes seems hopeless. But when a little girl smiles googley eyes at you, hope springs back to life. I give thanks.
Vidya, Amaraydha, and Shaquille leave- Vidya to get icecream and sing Ramayan somewhere for 6 o clock. It’s not yet 5:30 though, there are still books left, and I’m enjoying myself, so I soldier on. I hail another quartet of young men and they obligingly stop and pull quotes from the box. The first one is about honesty and the guy reading it laughs. Yea, that’s cause you does lie all the time, his friends chuckle. No, not lie, he says, I does just be using my imagination. A second talks about his experiences with girls who are over eager for love. How can you say you love me after just 3 dates, he exclaims! And they put too much pressure on us. But they are easy to take advantage of. Insightfully though, he acknowledges that the girls might be so overly needy because they lack love in other aspects in their life- from their families, absent fathers etc. He also talks about the pitfalls of being too nice, how often the girls want to see toughness, that sometimes he has to holler on them and be mean in order to gain their respect. I am sad sad sad as he talks. This is the state of too many of our young people today. They also agree that there is too much wutlessness in too many popular songs; one is an advocate for censorship. I ask them if they ask the bus drivers to change the music when the Kick in She Back Door song plays but they say no. Again we have the problem being correctly identified but individuals not feeling sufficiently moved to take action.
There is a deficit of love and empathy in Guyanese society today. We MUST change this if we are to survive and thrive as a whole, healthy people. We need more revolutionary love. You don’t have to wait for the next Groundings- just start talking and connecting with people- familiar as well as strangers. We cannot do too much in this regard. In this society- where our differences are too often used to divide and conquer us, it is essential that we who want to see change- create opportunities to bring different kinds of people together to dialogue and recognize our shared humanity. As Audre said- the sharing of joy, whether physical, emotional, psychic, or intellectual, forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for understanding much of what is not shared between them, and lessens the threat of their difference. For when there is less fear, there is more love and when there is more love, there is more justice and that is the only bloodless revolution possible.
I’m no expert on love. As a matter of fact, I struggle regularly to love, to not let anger and despair overwhelm me, to still see the good in people. One thing that I have come to know over the years however, is that it’s a thing you can practice and hopefully, get better at over time. It’s not easy though and many days, I don’t do so well and end up staying in my apartment with Pumpkin instead of venturing out to face the world and its tribulations. I seem to do better with non-humans- am able to love Pumpkin unconditionally for example, even though she had a serious shitting problem, leaving deposits all over the floor (thankfully that issue has since been resolved!). But one cannot avoid people/the world forever and as the last therapist/friend I went to recently when I was feeling particularly lovelorn told me- I needed to connect with people more. So there I was last Friday, accosting strangers on the street and trying to get them to talk with me about love.
Revolutionary love was our official theme- a theme I’d chosen actually, which Vidya and Amaraydha had kindly allowed me to run with, even though it was not 100% clear what that really meant. I had a few ideas though and was hopeful that, with more discussion, it would eventually become clearer. Anyway, there we were, last Friday, on Main Street, across from the Ministry of Culture, Youth, and Sports, ready to ground again. I had a former dear friend working in that building and I wondered if she would come out and join us. It had been a long while since she and I had talked, having fallen out and since gone our separate ways, as often happens. I still remembered the good times we’d had though, the sharing and caring that had characterized our relationship. But even though I missed her company, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to bridge the chasm that had sprung up between us. So it happens sometimes.
Earlier that day, I had heard a young girl tell how she was duped and taken advantage of by a bus conductor. With not enough money for food and transportation to and from school, she was easy prey for this 32year old married man who told her he was 25 and single. She quickly found herself pregnant and alone. He was free on $20,000 ($100USD) bail and soon kissing up other girls at the park. He paid the $5000/month child support ($25USD) whenever he felt like it and told her she was lucky to get any money in the first place. The Minister of Culture, Youth, and Sport, himself father to two girl children, had been given the floor after this teen mom, and had spouted such a bundle of skunt that I had to leave the room before I gave in to the urge to take off my shoes and pelt them at him. Minsters talking irrelevant shit and ignoring the reality of poor people in Guyana is a regular occurrence in this place, part of what keeps me perpetually enraged.
In a country where abortion has been legal for almost two decades, no woman should have to bear a child if she doesn’t want to. The failure to implement this law and provide abortions at the public hospitals nationwide has been the result of a massive and systemic disregard for the lives of poor Guyanese women by those in power (private doctors and hospitals have no compunction in doing the procedure and are in fact, making lots of money this way), fueled by patriarchal religious fundamentalism that brainwashes and guilt trips women into believing that controlling their own lives/bodies is ungodly and wrong, that uses fear instead of love and understanding. [Thankfully, the Guyana Responsible Parenthood Foundation is now providing this service at a reasonable cost- contact them at 225-3286 for more information and please help spread the word.]
I’d left that morning gathering full of visceral rage, eating curses even though it was Ramadan and I was supposed to be trying to be calm, peaceful, and loving towards others. Back home, Pumpkin bit my toes and then settled in my lap, calming me as well as herself. I scribbled quotes from bell hooks and audre lorde and filled them in the box where I usually keep my pipe and herb, thinking that one way to engage folks was to get them to read a quote and share their thoughts/reactions to it. I sorted through my books- somehow I’d ended up with two copies of Siddhartha, so one could be parted with. The Moonie book that didn’t get taken last time, and a couple other miscellaneous ones and soon it was time to leave my sanctuary and head back out into the world.
I was glad, when I reached Main and Quamina streets, to see that the piles of garbage that had been there days before, were now gone. I settled on the chess table across from a woman selling chips and sweeties. Amaraydha was the first to appear, in a nice nice skirt and with a book of love poems and two romance novels. Vidya was next, looking strange and unrecognizable in shoes with laces and a tucked in shirt. He had been to meet with the money people, he said, plus we were supposed to look nice and not mad, so people wouldn’t be afraid to stop and gyaff with us. Uh huh. Plenty still side eyed and passed us by, but a good number did stop.
My first conversation was with a neat and well spoken young man who asked if we were there as part of a SASOD thing. No, I said, and asked him if he had a definition of love. He said he didn’t, explaining that he didn’t want to be too rigid. Having similar understanding was important though he said, claiming that a relationship between a bus driver and lawyer, for example, would be doomed. We went back and forth for a while, not completely agreeing but not totally disagreeing either. He told me that he’d resolved to date an Indo-Guyanese person next, since he’s only ever dated other Afro-Guyanese, making me laugh. He finally left, after giving me his phone number and asking me to let him know when next we were going to do this as he wanted to join us.
My next gyaff was with a big man wearing a gray ‘Cocaine and Caviar’ t-shirt. Why did you buy that shirt, I asked him. Well, to tell you the truth, he replied, I does smoke. I asked him how long he had been smoking and if he’d ever tried to stop- the same thing I ask my other crackhead friend every time I see him. He was introduced to it by a woman in the States, back in 1985, he said; a woman he had fallen in love with. He smoked, he told me, because it kept him away from people who were mostly dangerous and wicked. I read him a bit from bell hooks that talks about addiction and suffering and he agrees that addiction keeps people from knowing love. I ask him if he has love in his life currently. I love the Father, he says. Don’t fall in love, he advised me. Stand in love instead. I wanted to talk to him longer, but more people were stopping and he moved on, going to buy his thing, he told me.
I stopped a couple of young women then, getting them to choose two bell hooks quotes. One didn’t want to talk at first, gesturing to her friend to speak instead. But reading the quotes and sharing their thoughts got both of them talking and smiling eventually. They asked if they could keep the quotes as they wanted to share them with others, and I felt happy. A couple of pregnant security guards passed by next, perusing the free books but not wanting to talk. I was a little disappointed that they were so sour, but knowing how pregnant women can be, didn’t press them. After all, a gyaff, like love, cannot be forced.
After the girls and security guards were a quartet of young men- students from GTI as the badges pinned on their shirts attest. Two Indo and two Afro-Guyanese, they were genial and easy to talk with. They agreed that we didn’t have enough love in our society and talked about the need to move beyond differences. How can we build more love in our communities, I asked them. Sports and social activities, said one, while another talked about bringing people together via crusades and religion. But religion is so often used to divide people, I challenged, bringing up the topic of homosexuality and asking for their opinions. Yes, gay people deserve love too, they agreed, even if they choose that life. Of course I challenged them again on that and the topic shifted to include discrimination. Discrimination is due to ignorance, they say; I don’t have a problem with gay people, everybody has their life to live. I am encouraged, but saddened when they say that they don’t say anything when they hear songs threatening to kill or maim gay people. I’m not gay so it doesn’t affect me, one says. But in a more loving and caring society, I argue, we would act whenever we see injustice, even if we are not personally affected. The youngest- a 17yr old, says yes, that’s true and before they finally move on, he asks my name and shakes my hand. It feels good to talk with people- even if we don’t agree on everything, we are listening to each other and moving towards greater understanding and empathy for one another and that is revolutionary.
My Chinese friend Xin Shi showed up next. This is a woman who can write a treatise on love, let me tell you. Divorced from her Chinese husband after he cheated on her, she meets in an online chat room, a Guyanese-Chinese who spins sweet romance and travels to China to marry her. A year and change later, she’s in Guyana, having left her only child, family and friends in China, and spent significant sums of money buying and bringing things for this man. Less than a year into them living together as man and wife, he’s criticizing the fact that she doesn’t chop the head off the garlic and sneaking over to Brazil for hanky panky with other women. Nevermind that she’s in a strange place, completely unmoored from all that’s familiar, not fluent in the language, and almost totally dependent on him, or that she’s made his life materially better in a significant way- he’s done with her and discards her as soon as possible, sending her to town off with a scant $10,000 ($50USD) and nary a care as to her future wellbeing. But this is a resourceful woman and with a little bit of help, she is able to find a job and place to live, earn enough money to pay for a divorce and almost any other thing she wants, to navigate the streets of Georgetown, even if the Guyanese psyche remains a mystery to her. Now chatting and engaged to a man from America, she’s getting ready for her next adventure, while I hope this third time’s the charm and that practice really does make perfect. Also, see- not all Chinese come to Guyana to exploit our resources ;)
After Xin Shi leaves, I run down a trio of older Indo-Guyanese women- literally. One trots away at the mention of love, leaving her two friends behind and I wonder what trauma she’s experienced. I ask the two other women to please give me some advice on love, anything they’ve learned from their life experiences. They look at me funny and laugh a little bit. Then one tells me about first love- how you never stop loving that person even if you end up going separate ways, and I agree. The other tells me that even though she’s been married for 29 years to her husband, she’s never told him that she loves him and that sometimes, often, their relationship is not nice. Why don’t you get divorced, I ask her and she shrugs. Family, she replies vaguely. She has a 20yr old daughter and I ask her what she tells her daughter about love. Be considerate of the other person, she says. As they talk, they’re inching further and further down the street, away from me and I eventually let them go.
It’s interesting how people react to the topic of love. Is a thing we hear so much about, have so many notions about, but somehow, it’s still surprisingly difficult to talk about. This I know, from my own experiences with loved ones.. I didn’t really have any expectations of how this public street corner gyaff would turn out but one thing that I’m surprised by is the number of people who seem scared of talking openly about love. Interestingly, it’s the men/boys who I find more open to talking but I don’t know if that is because I’m a woman or if Vidya or Amaraydha found that to also be true.
Vidya and Shaquille are engrossed in conversation with another guy. The only part I catch is the question- why do people call having sex making love. Later on, I hear Amaraydha and Shaquille reading poetry out loud. Again, I’m distracted by talking/trying to talk with people, so I don’t hear the exact poem but I love the fact that poetry is being read, out loud, outside, on Main Street, underneath the trees and the sky. Yes, my revolution must have poetry. And trees.
My second to last gyaff is with a couple with a cute little girl child. Her father holds her securely in his hands while she grips her packet of chips and gives me googley eyed smiles. Love is a feeling, her mother says, caring for your partner. Her husband agrees- that it’s an action too. I ask what they teach their little girl about love and they say she is too little to really understand. No no, I say, she is picking up stuff from you all every day. True, they agree. They seem like a happy family and I hope that is really so in truth. There is so much dysfunction and hurt children in the world already; it sometimes seems hopeless. But when a little girl smiles googley eyes at you, hope springs back to life. I give thanks.
Vidya, Amaraydha, and Shaquille leave- Vidya to get icecream and sing Ramayan somewhere for 6 o clock. It’s not yet 5:30 though, there are still books left, and I’m enjoying myself, so I soldier on. I hail another quartet of young men and they obligingly stop and pull quotes from the box. The first one is about honesty and the guy reading it laughs. Yea, that’s cause you does lie all the time, his friends chuckle. No, not lie, he says, I does just be using my imagination. A second talks about his experiences with girls who are over eager for love. How can you say you love me after just 3 dates, he exclaims! And they put too much pressure on us. But they are easy to take advantage of. Insightfully though, he acknowledges that the girls might be so overly needy because they lack love in other aspects in their life- from their families, absent fathers etc. He also talks about the pitfalls of being too nice, how often the girls want to see toughness, that sometimes he has to holler on them and be mean in order to gain their respect. I am sad sad sad as he talks. This is the state of too many of our young people today. They also agree that there is too much wutlessness in too many popular songs; one is an advocate for censorship. I ask them if they ask the bus drivers to change the music when the Kick in She Back Door song plays but they say no. Again we have the problem being correctly identified but individuals not feeling sufficiently moved to take action.
There is a deficit of love and empathy in Guyanese society today. We MUST change this if we are to survive and thrive as a whole, healthy people. We need more revolutionary love. You don’t have to wait for the next Groundings- just start talking and connecting with people- familiar as well as strangers. We cannot do too much in this regard. In this society- where our differences are too often used to divide and conquer us, it is essential that we who want to see change- create opportunities to bring different kinds of people together to dialogue and recognize our shared humanity. As Audre said- the sharing of joy, whether physical, emotional, psychic, or intellectual, forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for understanding much of what is not shared between them, and lessens the threat of their difference. For when there is less fear, there is more love and when there is more love, there is more justice and that is the only bloodless revolution possible.
Comments
Post a Comment