April Pham

We, us, they and them

2010-07-26T16:27:00.008+07:00

As you may or may not know, many of us with refugee and migrant backgrounds have identity issues. Yup. Sure do. In more ways than I care to recount. There is a whole diaspora about identity. Vietnamese identity, Lebanese identity, Muslim identity, Arabic identity, Middle eastern identity, Vietnamese-Aussie identity, or just plain Australian (of an ethnic origin) identity etc etc. You get my drift. Some of us inhabit that space of personal identity with passion, constantly dissecting, critiquing, questioning our place. For me personally, my (cultural) identity is an ongoing struggle. I find my identity evolving, shifting and morphing as I get older. That is, how do I identify myself? What defines me as a person, and where does my sex, colour, culture, ethnicity, religion/spirituality (or lack thereof) come into play? I know that my affiliation and cultural identity as an Australian (whatever that actually means!) is much more pronounced when I live abroad. I always think of myself as Australian. I am Australian. I have never felt inferior to anyone because of my identity. I have always felt that it was my right to be apart of 'us' whoever 'we' are as Australians.

But today - today I found myself asking "Am I apart of 'us/we' or I am apart of 'they/them' ?". And do I even want to be apart of 'us/we'? My pontification was brought about by the endless talk back radio discussions following last night's so called 'debate' between our esteemed leaders, the Australian Prime Minister and the opposition Tony Abbott, whose main theme for debate was to bicker over who was better at inciting division, hate and racism amongst the Australian public (the jury is still out on this one).

I found myself momentarily distracted and perplexed by this thought because all I could hear on the radio was the language of divide. 'Us' 'we' 'they' 'them'.

I always thought of myself as being apart of 'us/we' and never as a member of 'they/them'. Actually I thought we were all apart of the 'we/us'. But perhaps this is not the case. Perhaps regardless of how I have considered myself, I have always been viewed as 'they/them'. And if I am not apart of 'us/we' then who are 'we/us'? And who is in the other category of 'they/them'?

Am I not both 'us/we' and also 'they/them'? When do they/them become us/we? How long is one obliged to take on this 'other' identity, to be 'they/them', before one can be included in the 'us/we' - if ever?

Julia, Tony and whoever else - could you please tell me who is 'us/we'? I thought that 'we/us' were one of the most egalitarian, caring and humane nations in the world. But if you are the example of the 'we/us' then I think we are in big trouble because this is not the we/us identity that I grew up with.

Letter from Darfur

2010-04-06T17:42:00.000+07:00

I am a little tired and so over the Darfur gig already. I've been struggling the past month or so trying to work out if I've made any difference at all. This was brought about by doing some activities with women (brick makers, tea makers, small business operators at the market - essentially your most vulnerable: female headed households) for IWD. At these activities - the spirit was the same. While there were one or two dynamic women who spoke out about their conditions, the abuse, oppression, and injustices against them, the majority of women were passive, dispirited women who essentially have given up having any notions of rights. They displayed quiet resignation and acceptance of their situation. It made me feel so stupid - as this stereotypical, western, patronising feminist trying to 'educate/inform/empower/enlighten' women about something they have no hope of obtaining.

Really, women are just enslaved here and IWD highlighted that. At events I'd ask women why they were not smiling and celebrating their day. They'd reply "because we are women, and we are tired". So, witnessing and hearing endless stories of my sisters beaten, exploited, discriminated against and their spirits diminished - I also feel dispirited on their behalf.

On top of this, the humanitarian situation just doesn't seem to get any better, and there seems to be such wastage of resources that it just paralyses me. I am in a state of inertia. Five years after the so called 'crisis' and we've made no impact, no changes at all. Ok, maybe a little. And of course I think about what changes I've made. Yes, I've made some changes. I've really tried to promote women's rights - to women, and the broader community including men, and small seeds have been planted. Although very small. However, for anything good to grow from this, there must be political investments.

And right now, the conditions are not in favour to allow investments to bear any fruit. So, efforts are just wasted. People can say they have built water pumps; gave a few plastic sheeting; cooking sets and the like; contributed millions to providing security etc etc, but the situation remains the same -insecure. We still need armed escorts everywhere we go, abductions of humanitarian actors are on the rise, Sudanese displaced people are not returning to their villages but instead are choosing to remain in IDP camps where they believe they are safer.

Ok, maybe the situation has changed slightly slightly - people are not being killed. Violence and harassment of women outside their homes are not as prominent although we still get reports of women being harassed on a daily basis when they go to collect firewood. International presence is at least curbing the violence, and allowing us access to people we perhaps would not normally have access to, ie women. Us being here is better than not, that's for sure. Right? But for me, I think we need to galvanise things into a development mode of operation, to make things more sustainable. Everything is so ad hoc and disjointed. For real change to occur, it requires peace...and that is an elusive factor right now.

We have the election coming up next week yet Sudanese people believe it to be a joke, with rigged results. They have no faith whatsoever that anything will change. And this pre election climate is causing lots of tension. People fear further clashes between the government and the JEM (Justice and Equality Movement) even though a cease fire has been signed.

No peace. No security. No rights for women. So, for the time being, I will continue to talk to as many women as possible about their lives before and after the conflict. I want to know if the conflict exacerbated their oppression and exploitation or did it merely bring their plight to the spotlight....hmmm

We are women and we are tired

2010-03-09T17:14:00.003+07:00

I am shamed, forced back to reality – to confront the current situation facing so many women in Darfur, refugees from Chad, and Darfuri women displaced from their communities as a result of war and ongoing insecurity. At an international women’s day celebration, when confronted with the countless faces of disaffected women (yet again), I, in my usual good humoured self smiled at women, tried to lift their spirits with my 5 or 6 words of Arabic, and asked them to smile and to celebrate for this was their/our day. My message was greeted with some laughter, half smiles, and also looks of despair as women responded “What do we have to smile about? We are women. And we are tired.” Those few words reverberated through the crowd, touched me and almost knocked me over. Those are the sentiments of the hundred of women I have spoken with over the past 6 months that I have been in Darfur. Day in, day out, in focus groups, in the valleys making bricks, in the refugee camp, in the markets, in everyday encounters with women – the stories are always the same. The faces are always the same. The images are always the same. Everywhere I turn there is a woman with the exact same story – of immense intolerable hardships, of long days toiling in the field cultivating, making bricks, or selling bread, barely making enough, to only hand over her money to her husband so that he can go on to continue sitting under a tree somewhere drinking tea.

Obviously the oppression of women is not something unique to Darfur. But seeing the intolerable cruelty that women are subjected to makes me want to scream and also give up. Today, I too am tired.

International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women (25 Nov)

2009-11-24T22:27:00.005+07:00

So there I was once again advocating to my male colleagues about the status of women, or ‘the non existence of’ in certain places in the world, when I was teasingly accused of being gender biased. Gender biased? Because I call it for it is? Because it makes me angry to the core to witness on a daily basis women with babies strapped to their backs slaving on farms in the scorching heat? Because I am confronted by the images of women returning home from these farms in the dark, stopping by at lakes to fetch water, carrying buckets on their heads, firewood under their arms, children on their backs and toddlers in tow? And after a long hard day in the sun breaking their backs, these women return to their homes to prepare food for their husbands, only to be abused if they do not earn enough to buy food for the day? All the while their husbands have been sitting under trees sipping tea and playing cards, wondering if their wife/wives have made enough money for them to acquire a new wife? Do expressions of outrage at such situations make me gender biased? I bloody hope so! Because there is just something wrong with the world we live in when women continuously carry the burden as providers and child carers. I thought we had outlawed slavery. I am wrong.

Too strong? Too harsh? Too much? Too bloody right. There is no easy way to speak out against the violations of women’s dignity and rights in a way that is palatable for public consumption.

The International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women on 25 November should not even exist, but it does. It exists as a reminder of the plight of half the world’s population. Everyday women and girls are discriminated against, harassed, violated, and assaulted because of their gender. It is estimated that one in four women will have experienced an incident of physical or sexual violation in her lifetime. That’s a bloody huge number. If you’re in the office, in class, in the shopping mall or sitting on the train, check out the numbers of women around you and chances are, there are survivors of violence amongst you regardless of race, ethnicity, age, physical ability, or religion.

So, as far as being gender biased, I certainly hope that we all, both men and women, get a little angry at the unacceptable levels of violence against women and girls in their homes and communities. What do you know about the status of women in your town, country and abroad? What will you do today to show your support to ending violence against women and girls?

Personal wealth

2009-09-26T15:24:00.004+07:00

What have you or I amassed in our lifetime
Knowledge, wisdom, internal peace
A life enriched by possibilities
Sweet yet unbearable dreams.

Savour the delicious delights screening in your mind
Accummulate all the truths that you can
Bundle all your desires and watch them burn
Sweet o sweet yet unbearable dreams.

What legacy have you to your name
Will I remember you dear
Fondly and with affection
My sweet yet unbearable dreams.

The U.S of All

2009-09-24T00:54:00.006+07:00

You know, I just came back from a day's journey in the field, visiting villages where people have returned after the conflict, in which their homes were burned or destroyed. I was just emotionally drained at the sight of people living without basic necessities that you and I take for granted - like running water, food, education, clean and untorn clothes, and a roof that doesn't leak when it rains. So disillusioned was I that I just sat in front of the tv to tune out. Then long and behold, there's Obama making his address to the UN General Assembly. I know his approval ratings in the US has slumped, but the guy really does have charisma and the ability to engage and carry you along with his message whatever that message may be.

Being a long time supporter of Palestine, I was moved by his bold and daring stance, making it clear that the people of Palestine deserve their own independent state and to live free from occupation. And then suddenly, it dawned on me that he wasn't just speaking as the president of the U.S.of A but he was speaking as the president of U.S. of All. He was speaking on behalf of all of us. Everything he said resonated with me as a citizen of this planet. The message was clear. It was about shared responsibility, and not shifting the blame for why things didn't work. Getting your hands dirty and doing the hard yard so to speak.

Peace, nuclear disarmourment, security, human rights, economic growth, climate change, combating HIV. He had it all. His address reaffirmed his position as the (world) people's leader, but also, reaffirmed the importance and relevance of the United Nations as an international watchdog: flawed, but much needed.

I know it may just be rhetoric, but sometimes such rhetoric is needed to inspire and galvanise people out of their complacency and despondency.

And suddenly I'm not so tired anymore. I will let the cynicism subside and allow my thoughts to mobilise into belief.

One must have faith that things can change.

Eid and the start of conversations

2009-09-20T22:11:00.010+07:00

This morning there was much laughter around the office and the voices of children could be heard outside on the street. I came out front to see our security officers with a tray of sweet treats on offer to children and passersby, reminiscent of Halloween where kids go trick-or-treat (although it's probably very blasphemous to use such an analogy).

And so it is the end of Ramadan. Eid has come to celebrate this end, rewarding Muslims for their devotion and patience. It is also a time for goodwill - to other Muslims, neighbours and the poor and less fortunate. Eid is also a time for starting afresh, forgiving and letting the bad vibes of the past be forgotten.

Thus I found myself scoring an invitation to a colleague's house for breakfast after the Eid prayer. Not only was I treated to a feast of food and sweets, but was treated to lively and robust conversation and cultural exchange.

Earlier this week, a male friend had cheekily reprimanded me for my neglect of the male gender, scolding me for my inequitable distribution of mental energy. And so, with this in mind, I engaged in conversation with six male colleagues, in the spirit of openess and genuine desire to listen, learn and appreciate. No matter what the conversation, I was determined to listen as well as to hear.

We discussed a range of topics - red wine (for 'cooking' purposes), politics, the independence of Darfur, tribal practices, human rights, drugs and alcohol and their harm on youth, corruption, and the laclk of opportunities for the bright and talented. However, for some inexplicable reason the conversation kept circling back to gender politics - from the Beijing conference and what it sparked for women everywhere, even in remote places in Africa, to the status of women in Darfur today.

We discussed the still practiced tradition of bigamy and its impact on society, and its 'benefits' to women; the attributes men look for when courting a marriage partner; and the impact of poverty on the 'choices' women make. As a group we spoke passionately about the hardships women face, sharing our sense of outrage that women are trafficked and exploited the world over. We even spoke about how men are failing in their duties as husbands when they mistreat their partners with domestic violence, forced sex and cruel words.

But, as expected, we also had many points of contention, with my colleagues laughing (and I along with them) and vehemently disagreeing with my suggestions that women's roles and responsibilities should be negotiated in every situation, that it should not be prescribed by society, and that men too can share the burden of housework. They joked that women think and talk too much and that sometimes men purposely don't want a woman who is too educated. "I guess I am single because I am too educated" to which we all laughed.

And as we noted over the course of our four hour conversation: change takes time, ideas may be laughed at initially, but it takes men as citizens, as government, as police, as elders and as responsible human beings, to take responsibility to speak out against injustice, and to role model good behaviour.

It is Eid, and I am a guest. And like the procession of children that came to receive their treats, I graciously accepted my gift. It is wonderful to be celebrating Eid by having such a conversation. And that's gotta count for something.

Beauty in the everyday

2009-09-19T16:19:00.005+07:00

I just received an email from a friend (you know who you are!) apologising profusely for a long absence in emails because she just didn't know what to write to me about as the everyday just seems a bore when compared to me - 'humanitarian girl in Darfur'. Yes, let me sum up my riveting day so far: as it's a week-end, I woke up at 9am, read a little, listened to some music, danced in my room (exercised), then went and had a shower, made myself a coffee, went to office to read the news....yawns....oh so exciting.

However, the email had me thinking all day how there is so much beauty in the everyday that we miss because we are too busy looking out for the big moments, chasing the adventure, the next big 'milestone', the next life changing experience, the profound epiphanies. Some people look for those moments. Whereas I look for all the little things. I find that when I am away from home, I pine for the domesticity and everyday rituals - like walking to mum's to eat her home cooked caramelised pork stew or beef noodles, or picking up my niece and nephew for afternoon tea at a cafe where my niece always orders hot chocolate (and always with whipped cream on the side), and my nephew orders two sausage rolls with ketchup because they know they can have whatever they want with me - they delight in these small pleasures. This is our little routine. It is not an adventure but we sit and chat about our day, sometimes nothing special, and sometimes full of curiosities.

I was explaining the concept of human rights one day and making my 10 year old nephew read to my 6 year old niece the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and at the end, she said 'So, um, we all have human rights? Is that right?'. Yes I replied, and what do you think it means? 'It means 'We can be free, and not be slaves and servants, and no one can be mean to us?' And I was so moved by that I wanted to cry. Now, that is the beauty in the everyday. I treasure those moments.

I look for the small and simple truths not only in my own life but in the lives of those around me - I know when friends' children have fallen and hurt themselves. I know that a friend is running a marathon this morning, I know another has just taken the dog for a walk with her two little ones, another friend is home composing music, while another is working his ass off because a staff member is off sick, and another has just started her get fit regime because she's gained too much weight over the winter. And as I write this, one friend is thinking to herself 'What the hell am I going to do with my life, and why the hell am I doing this job application?', while another is baking chicken for dinner. Yes, all of these intricacies may seem mundane, small, trivial, but it is these details that keep me engaged and connected to those around me.

There are events that occur in the course of our daily lives that will forever change us, even if at the time we do not realise it. Then there are those moments that are just part of us, evolving with us. The everyday offers so much truth and beauty. Just stop. Breathe. Listen. And enjoy.

And now, let me inspire you with the rest of my day's routine: reading the world news on the NYT, the Guardian, the Sydney Morning Herald, and IPS Gender Wire. I may even be tempted to read some real news on E!Online followed by a dose of rice and lentils for lunch. What a beautiful day.

No Water For Shower

2009-09-17T21:57:00.007+07:00

Okay, I get it. I'm in Sudan. I've come here to work with refugees and internally displaced people. Yup I've read the memo. It will be tough. Got it. Extremely dangerous. Uhuh. Food, bad. Got it. But I have to draw the line somewhere. I haven't had a shower for five bloody days! Do you know how much of my Chanel perfume I've had to spray on this morning in order to put up with myself? I mean, I'm not that bothered by my lack of hygiene, although my work colleagues may beg to differ.

So, I was walking around aimlessly turning on taps to see if the water pump was running again, telling my female colleagues my 'problems' because 'Oh I haven't washed my hair in 5 days because the shower doesn't work. And I have to use a bucket, and it's just so hard.'

And instead of bringing out the violin, my colleaque smiles empathetically and says quietly, "Yes it's hard, but that's how we Sudanese have to do it".

Yup. Enough said.

Women's Union in the UK too bourgeois?

2009-09-17T17:14:00.009+07:00

Have the women’s unions in the UK become a little too bourgeois for their own good? Fighting to stamp out heels? Yes granted no one should be forced to wear them. I get that. But I'm guessing, and it's just an educated guess, that most women are in professions where they aren't even earning enough, where they are working casual and part time jobs, long hours, and most probably not being forced to wear heels. And all their hard work to see it go to childcare. So how about fighting for women to have access to affordable childcare? Maybe even fighting to pass legislation banning the 'smoko breaks' at work because smoking actually KILLS women. Maybe even a law that disallows the use of information gained from discussions and negotiations during the smoko break in an effort to wipe out this hideous social disease. I’m no expert, but I am sure more women die from smoking than the wearing of heels.

Have we as a women's movement run out of other more worthy causes to fight for? Is this shift in discourse from the marginalised working class necessary? You know, the average woman out there, those women in the factories and sweatshops, and those working long hours in part time and casual jobs that they could loose at any time. What ever happened to them? Have we already solved the issues of equal pay for equal work? and decent working conditions for women? Do all women have maternity pay?

And what about all the other women workers in countries where they are toiling 14 hours a day to make a dollar, making clothes and shoes (and heels) that you and I may have purchased. What do we do for them? Can we fight to ban the purchase of their products? Can we fight to recognise the rights of those women? And let's not even talk about women in prisons; the thousands who are trafficked into the UK (and other countries) each year, the migrant and refugee women; and the displaced in war torn countries. What about the survivors of rape and violence?

When did women's unions become synonymous with the 'women who lunch' type of groups? Or are we just reverting back to the white middle class background from which we came?

I mean, give me a break sisters. There are bigger problems facing women - hunger, starvation, unemployment, homelessness, depression, mental illness, exploitation, sexual harassment, domestic violence, sexual assault, unfair work conditions, unaffordable child care...take your pick.

But hey, that's just me. Maybe I'm just biased because of my heel-loving ways.

Long live the Establishment!

2009-09-16T15:31:00.009+07:00

Hallelujah!!! It's taken over 60 years, but hell we finally got here! Woohoo! In a stroke of genius, the UN decides it is time to pass a resolution for the creation of a new agency with proper resources and a stronger mandate to represent women. I, as a member of the 50% of the world's population (give or take a few million) am absolutely spellbounded by this momentous occasion. And what enlightened men we have, that decided that the most oppressed, marginalised, violated and poor gender is deserving of dignity, equal rights and representation. Bravo bravo. I salut you for your forward thinking leadership. I say men because of the 192 UN member states, only 24 are headed by women. Hey, almost 13% ain't bad, so I should be grateful. Oh, and I am, honestly. Is that why it took so long to come to such a resolution? Surely not. No, no, no my sisters. Gender equality, gender mainstreaming, women's empowerement, and women's rights are vote vying rhetoric (peruse any UN website and document and you shall see). Advancing women's empowerment is a very just and very noble cause. So long as it doesn't shake up the status quo too much. I mean, we don't want it to reflect the innovations in Rwanda where women there represent over 50% of parliament. No no no. Change takes time, it must be slow, so as not to threaten the Establishment. We already have too many conflicts, we wouldn't want another over something as trivial as....what's it called again? oh yeah, gender equality. (Pfft. how easily I forget).

And we wouldn't want a woman to succeed as the next Secretary General would we? I mean, not for at least another...say, 60 years?

(note: photo used without acknowledgement as I don't know who the sublime architect of the photograph is)

Doing without knowing

2009-09-15T21:46:00.002+07:00

What the hell am I doing here? It just seems so helpless and without resolution - escalating insecurity, for both the humanitarian sector as well as for refugees, returnees, the internally displaced and the general population. No one is totally safe from threats of abductions, hijackings, being in the line of fire, theft, robbery, hunger and starvation, poor health and hygiene, no access to water, no livelihood, and overwhelming fear. Fear of rebel forces, fear of the government, fear of the UN, fear of one’s neighbours, fear of the outbreak of war, fear of what the future holds, and fear of the unknown. It is a climate of anxiety and tension. Simmering. And one is not sure when it will reach boiling point.

Furthermore, if one is a member of the humanitarian community, one is an even more valued commodity exposed to a higher risk of abductions. This fact is reinforced by daily reminders to lock oneself in at night. One must live like a prisoner to ensure one’s own safety. All my windows are bolted down, with iron bars, and the doors to both my room and guesthouse have at least three padlocks as well as deadlocks and a big iron bar across the middle. And two guards who patrol the premises.

This climate of uncertainty and insecurity begs the question – what are we all doing here? The sense of frustration at the inertia and a lack of direction, fills the air (and fingers are pointed at everyone so it’s safe to say responsibility is equally distributed). Are we effective enough? Are we making a difference to the lives of those in need of protection? Are we going in the right direction? Are we contributing to peace building at all? How do we make things better? There are no answers, just a whole lot of questions. Every body is committed and wants to make things better, but it seems they are all struggling with the ‘how’. How, when there are so many political imperatives at play. How?

Mind you, I’ve only just arrived, and already I am plagued with these questions, illuminated by travelling to the field to visit refugee camps. Being escorted by 40 armed security gives me a false sense of safety, and at the same time it highlights the gravity of the insecurity and the irony of the situation whereby a few humanitarians require so many armed guards at their side in order to deliver basic services to vulnerable groups in need of protection.

BUT, don’t despair. It is not futile. Despite all the chaos, there is a spirit of camaraderie that exist in such a place where people want to make a difference, no matter how small. The above questions are asked at all levels in the humanitarian sector. Especially by the organisation I work for.

And that inspires me.

It's all about the food baby!

2009-09-14T23:36:00.008+07:00

Being a foodie, I obsess alot about it. Food. All kinds. Vietnamese, Italian, Lebanese, Turkish, Thai, French, Greek, Indian, just to name a few. Usually, I'm already thinking what to have for dinner as I gorge on my lunch. So, having such pre-occupation with food has meant that when food is in limited supply, or the flavour is mediocre, or that there is not much to choose from, means that I whinge alot. I know. Some people eat to live, I live to eat. So, it does not surprise me at all when I find myself being gastronomically challenged in the deep field in Sudan where cullinary delights are not exactly forthcoming. Today, I come home after a long day out in the field involuntarily fasting, to find sub-standard paper-tasting rice and yellow mushy vomit looking lentils awaiting me. Again. I was kind of wishing for lamb shanks slowly baked in red wine (another ingredient I miss severely)with the sauce dripping over a bed of mashed potatoes, roast zucchinis and carrots on the side....and tonight I even feel like chocolate! Lucky for me a colleague has just offered me biscuits - and I don't even check what kind they are, oh yeah, I live dangerously!

But, I'm just being facetious when I harp on about food and not having food, because the reality is that over 850 million people worldwide are starving, with chronic hunger affecting an estimated 120 million people in Africa, and many would count themselves lucky to even have one meal a day, no matter what the quality. So, let's just entertain my whinging with a grain of salt (or rice).

Climate change, civil unrest and political turmoil coupled with increasing prices of food has meant that in Darfur alone, over 3.6 million require food assistance from the World Food Programme, about 2 million of whom are internally displaced as a consequence of war leaving their villages burning to the ground, and thousands are refugees escaping conflict from neighbouring countries. Children, women, men, the poor, weak and vulnerable are dying everyday from hunger with many more barely surviving. Here, and in many other poor countries, it is not that there is not enough food, but that it's too damn expensive so the poor go without. So, tell me, where is the justice in that?!

I used to value food ALOT. I appreciate its value even more now.

So, as someone said to me this week - it's not about the oil, it's all about the food baby!

(P.s. thanks to all who sent in their recipes and colourful suggestions for potatoes and beans)

I'll give you the Moon

2009-09-05T20:36:00.008+07:00

Poetic isn't it?
One night I awoke to a find an email from a friend with that subject line.
The message was simple
'It's a full moon tonight. Don't forget to look out your window'.
And although it was 5am,
I looked out my window and watched the moon through sleepy eyes.
It was beautiful. Magical even.
I wondered when was the last time I looked at the moon.
Shining brightly as it did every other full moon, lighting up the morning sky.
It was all quiet.
Still.
Not a sound, not a person in sight.
The moon is the same here, in this part of the world as it is at home.

The diva de-glammed

2009-09-04T03:52:00.002+07:00

You know, I have undeservedly earned myself the following labels (and supposed terms of endearment)from my loved ones: glamour puss, diva, glam queen, and variations of such terms that describe luxurious and decadent living. And my opposition to such descriptions is not because it's not true, but rather it's because it's 'oh so limiting'. Whilst I am all of the above, I am also more (or less, so to speak).

So, when I announced that I would be taking a break from the partying and the 'good life' to go to the deep field to work in one of the most conflict affected places in the world, with little luxuries, to live it 'rough' without the comforts I am familiar with, some people were shocked and I am sure they were thinking to themselves 'oh she won't survive without her red wine, live jazz, fancy hotels and expensive extravagance'. Actually, I'm quite sure that's what they were thinking because they told me so.

And at first I was a little annoyed at being totally misrepresented. Obviously I had done a bad job in representing myself, and quite frankly I would fire me for poor PR. But the truth is, I absolutely embrace this image for it is not just an image. It is a facet of my personality.

There is just too much intensity that exist in my world, where I am plagued with gender politics 24/7, thinking about the injustices in the world - sermonising, engaging, education, advocating. Constantly. Purpose. Ethics. Pontificating on the existential, spiritual, socio-political. It's just too much. Come on! Life's too short, don't be so intense (note: repeat this mantra to self).

So, to break up this intensity, I live life frivolously at times, enjoying the finer things in life when I can and in moderation of course as I don't want to further add to the global credit debt. Trying to be light hearted so that my heart doesn't break from the pains of the world.

But right now, my life is far from decadent as I prepare for a camping-like lifestyle for the next six months. I've packed plenty of canned tuna and instant noodles. And the most boring clothes in theme with staying 'grey' and maintaining a low profile - cargo pants, work boots, long sleeve shirts. Gone are the days of designer dresses, heels and bags. The de-glamification process would have been completed if not for my one luxury item. Chanel no. 5 parfume. Armed with this, I can withstand anything.

And no, my grab bag is not Gucci. The only thing I could afford was the notepad.

The Arrival

2009-09-03T08:30:00.010+07:00

I've arrived. Amidst a sand storm called 'haboob'. And without knowing what to expect, without any romanticism, without any fear and with an open heart, I landed with a sense of knowing. Knowing that this is where I want to be. People say Africa has a way of taking hold of you. It is only now that I understand what that means. I know Sudan does not epitomise Africa, as it is one tumultuous part of Africa. But somehow when I walked off that plane I was enveloped by the warmth in the air and was greeted with the friendly smiles of passersby, which was very different from my time in Hanoi (let's just say Hanoians are not known for their smiles and friendliness).

Of course my other initial impression was that women did not seem to inhabit the public space very much as not only was my flight very male dominated but I also arrived at the terminal to a sea of men. I was thinking where are the women? Don't they travel? But I'll save the gender politics for another time.

So, I've been in the capital of Khartoum, which was desert like, desolate, dry and dusty, almost like a city of nothingness. However, amongst this nothingness is a thriving community where Sudanese men and women sit outside cafes talking, laughing, eating ice cream and engaging in an activity shared among all cultures - people watching. I watched young women express themselves with their fashion - fancy tops worn over long sleeve coloured skivvies that match their head pieces; long skirts to cover up the body, although I could not help but think how sensual the women were - with these skirts that eccentuate the elegance of their bodies. Furthermore, the hijab only acted to profile their beautiful made-up faces. This is such a juxtaposition as a journalist was charged for violating the law by wearing pants in public.

I spent a week in Khartoum trying to absorb the socio-political environment. Mind you, it was probbaly not the best time to arrive in Sudan given that two UN staff were kidnapped recently, adding to the growing numbers of kidnappings over the last few months. Despite this, the atmosphere in the capital is one of safety. Let's see what my assessment is when I get out deeper into the field.

So until then, I will try to enjoy all the comforts on offer such as Ozone which is home to all expats, with its open lush garden (a contrast to the rest of the city)mayo chicken sandwiches, chocolate muffins, lattes and an ice cream parlour. I was surprised to see MANGO and Diesel on the shopping strip - but don't fear: there is no risk of Khartoum streets being overtaken by chain stores. And no sign that the city is becoming victim to globalisation - unless you count 'IFC' fried chicken and 'lucky Meal' (with the M exactly like the well known golden arch).

Living vicariously

2009-09-03T01:20:00.010+07:00

We all have friends who we live vicariously through. Hell, some of us inspire vicarious living from our friends! But it takes it to a new and ridiculous level when a whole group of friends are living vicariously through one person. I have a close group of friends who exchange email group conversations at least a couple of times a week (sometimes daily depending on how busy people are, and the topic). One particular topic of interest that's grown in popularity (and you can always tell because there would be a conversation thread with 56 responses that week!) is a particular friend's crush and potential date.

So my special friend meets a guy, and it's taken four months before they strike a conversation. What the hell took them so long. Is he shy? Is he interested? What the hell has he been doing all this time? After weekly run ins with each other, brushing past each other at the supermarket, side glances at school events, smiles across the hall way at shared events, and the occasional pleasantries, he finally makes a worthy conversation and gives her his number with words to the effect of 'let's get together sometime'.

And all of us (we are five) have been following this saga from the beginning, at each step of the way, putting in our two cents worth, advising, coaching,with lots of references to that silly book "he's not into you" even though we see ourselves as much more liberated independent thinking women. It is even more surprising that as such women we find ourselves adhering to archaic (yet apparently relevant and practiced) dating rules and succumbing to gender roles and entrenched social beliefs about gender relations. Personally I don't understand why she can't ask him out? why does she have to wait for him to ask? And so when he finally utters those words 'let's get together sometime', there was joyous excitement through cyberspace as we all pictured the happy ever after (in different degrees). But as he hasn't called and it's been a week, that previous statement is now up for (re)interpretation. Did he mean soon, or was it sometime in the future? was it as friends or was it a date?

We are all living vicariously because we know every part of this story and have a vested interest in our friend's happiness. Granted we should all get our own lives, but the lives of others are always o so much more interesting. So, like an addiction to a weekly soapie, we are all eagerly anticipating the next installment. Will he call or won't he? And what's the timeframe for the call? And if he does call at the 11th hour, should she concoct some excuse so that she doesn't seem too eager? And if he doesn't call then what does that indicate? Is it too much if she calls? It's almost like we are all wanting to date this guy and waiting for him to call. The wait is agonising. The conversation as it stands is "has he called yet?" as the subject heading.

This is the problem with living vicariously. You have no control over the situation. I just want to call and say "dude, are you interested in her or what? she's a great girl and you are never going to do any better, so count your lucky stars that this fabulous wonderful woman's even looked your way so just call her". At least that would put us all out of our misery!

P.s. He just called! Woohoo!!!!!!

Distance makes for better friends

2009-08-31T14:29:00.002+07:00

I reckon I've just discovered the secret to being loved. Leave the country. Yup. It's true. Because as soon as I left the country I discovered how loved and admired I was and the outpouring of love and friendship is truly more than enough to inflate anyone's ego. Okay, this is not exactly true because I was much loved and admired and my ego fully inflated while in Sydney (laughs at self hoping friends are laughing along and not at). That old expression "distance makes the heart grow fonder" is absolutely true. I have a very close friend that I have been friends with for about 15 years, and our friendship like any other friendship, waxes and wanes with the seasons where we float in and out of each other's lives, although always just an email or phone call away. However we both noted recently that since I moved abroad we have become closer friends, speaking via email almost everyday. This is a major contrast to the days where we worked in the same building yet only ever had time for a quick coffee or an occasional lunch.

So, why is it that we only appreciate our friends once they are far away and we no longer have physical access to them? Why do we take them for granted when they are near? Certainly in my case, I just thought he'd always be there, and I'd see him soon enough so there was no urgency to talk to him. But since being away I'd email more often, and if I missed him or appreciated a conversation we had exchanged, I'd email and tell him because my mentality was that I won't be seeing him anytime soon, so might as well.

So, through the constant email exchanges, I get to have insight into his daily life, relationship and family woes, work dramas and personal dilemmas that we all encounter but often do not have the time or the friends to dissect with. I say dissect because that is what we do. We do not discuss. We dissect. And through these daily conversations he gets to hear about my gripes and issues and hence gets to know the strange workings of my mind in real time, not a month later, or at the next gathering, but right then when it's happening (or the day after). There were times when I have been able to ease his burdens that day or he has helped me unpack and analyse a particular scenario - if only you could follow the conversation threads...I'm sure there's a book or at least a chapter or two in there!

The physical distance has generated an urgency in my need for regular contact with close friends, and perhaps that lack of physical proximity makes it a little safer to say things you would not normally say. The distance makes you appreciate each other more because you know you won't be seeing them anytime soon. For me, this friendship with this particular friend has grown stronger because the distance has allowed us to confide in each other things we may not usually.

An email with the subject heading "hey mate where the bloody hell are you I miss you" can really lift your spirit if you're having a shitty day. Anyway, I was having this conversation with this friend when I was home for a visit and it dawned on me that friends will be more forgiving of your flaws when you're out of sight. But the trick is to not be out of mind, so stay in their peripheral by staying in contact.

And if you're not moving abroad, go on a holiday, make like you are moving away just so your friends can miss you just a little :)

Displaced

2009-08-30T12:28:00.006+07:00

So I come home for two weeks, hoping to have some downtime to chill, reflect and prepare for my next assignment, but what I got was two weeks of running around from one gathering to another, meeting friends for lunch, dinner, drinks, and more drinks, with a few work related events thrown in there to help make me feel like I wasn't just home to have fun! But two weeks of scheduled meetings with people was so physically and emotionally taxing in the end. I had fun of course, but at the same time, I felt so displaced. I think this is the 'culture shock' all expats get briefed about upon return. Where am I and what am I doing? What was the last assignment like? what did I learn, and what's my next gig all about? So amidst all the parties and dinners and my glass/es of reds, my mind was just in overdrive, engaging with Australia, engaging with NSW politics wondering how the hell did the state veer into such decline and why do I feel like Sydney has lost a bit of its shine, and accepting that Labour do not deserve to be in power if that power is squandered....what was my point? Oh, yes, so my mind was in three places, Vietnam, Australia and the next destination.

Displaced. That is the word that describes my state of being, after a year abroad. I've been back 'home' for two weeks yet have no home to speak of, splitting my time between parents, relatives, and friends' couches. I feel so homeless. More questions - who am I, what am I, why did I come home? and why the blooming hell did I leave in the first place? When you leave home, you end up romanticising what home was/is like. And sometimes it does not live up to your expectations. However in my case, even though I felt displaced, at least I am now displaced in a country that I am more familiar with, in a country I call 'home'. Home is at least where I pictured my real self, the woman that can be political or criticise the government without fear of being deported or jailed, where I can feel free to do as I please, say what I want, relate to men and women how I want. Not that the 'me' abroad is fake, but that the whole 'me' has been repressed because of the political and cultural environment.

My time in Vietnam has been enlightening on many levels. Identity politics has featured prominently amidst my thoughts, often after I've made some cultural faux pas. I've said it on many occasions that I felt totally alien there, mildly understanding the culture yet not fully engaging in it. And perhaps this cultural disengagement (or at times even cultural indifference and disinterest) came across much moreso than I imagined, be it in the way I speak, the language I use, my mannerisms, my style, and sense of privilege.

And so, now back in Sydney, even briefly, I struggle to articulate what my year abroad was like. In short, I just didn't want to be in a place any longer that made me feel displaced and disengaged. Unlike the millions of really displaced people as a result of civil and political unrest, I have a choice. So I left. I left because I could not bear to visualise another minute of being disengaged.

Disengaged

2009-08-10T11:37:00.003+07:00

The one constant as an expat is the frequent farewells to people, to the point where people upon meeting you purposefully disengage with you if you tell them you're leaving soon. You just get so sick of saying good bye. Just as you make a connection with someone, they up and leave you. In my one year in Vietnam, I would have farewelled a good dozen friends and a whole lot of others. So, when it was my turn to leave I almost wanted to boycott the whole farewell thing and leave quietly. But alas, that is not my style, so in the end, I had a whole week of "this is just a last drinks/last dance/last dinner/last brunch, but not a farewell" type of thing where I actively avoided saying good-bye to people with the parting line as "see you around the globe" or "see you on facebook" because let's face it, the world is a small place.

This revolving door of exits makes it easy to disengage with people, but even easier to disengage with oneself. Which was partially my experience of being an expat in Vietnam. Being in a foreign country without family and close friends, one finds oneself either retreating into reclusion or availing oneself to the endless streams of invitations to welcomes/farewells/birthdays/restaurant and product launches/anniversaries (3 months/6 months/one year in Vietnam excuse to party type of things), so that there are at least four events each week one can attend if desired. Being a sociable person I was not going to sit at home, so I ended up being out and about at least four nights a week (ok, I think I am telling tales here - it was more like five or six nights a week!). This is not what I would be doing if I was living in Sydney. I deduce that this extreme behaviour was a product of the environment, where like many others, I was on my own, and wanted to make friends and connect and share experiences with others. And this was a very viable option because there was not much else to do. So, then I started to adopt this carefree lifestyle filled with late nights, lots of drinking, eating, and whatever else. It was a vicious cycle that I could not get out of. I started to disengage with myself, just going with the flow. Meanwhile plagued with internal dialogue questioning wtf I was doing.

In the end I came to the following conclusions:
1) This was not what I had signed up for (although I am not exactly sure what I had signed up for)
2) If I have to feel disengaged and disaffected, I'd rather be such in familiar surroundings
3) I don't feel like myself here, and I can't exercise all the dimensions of my being
4) I cannot imagine another day longer let alone an additional year in a job that I don't believe in, in an environment that I despise, and in a space where I am out almost every night partying. Don't get me wrong, I love/d every minute of it. I had heaps of fun.

But I just cannot imagine doing another round of farewells and getting on that social merry-go-round over and over again. Like ground hog day.

I do this work in social justice because essentially I want to make a difference. And of course if I can have fun and enjoy the ride while doing it then it's a plus. But if I don't feel that I am contributing to any meaningful change process, and in the process risking my social, emotional and mental well being, then I would rather be somewhere else where I feel my energy is well spent.

I leave because I want to learn. I leave because I want to grow. I leave because I want to make a difference. I leave because time is too precious to waste.

Important things to write about when not thinking - Facebook Profile Pics

2009-07-20T15:02:00.006+07:00

So you have issue with how regularly I change my facebook profile photos. You've noticed? Well hello! I've got your attention then!

Don't sit there chuckling at me just because I change my facebook profile photos on a regular basis. It's not because I'm vain. Or bored. Or that I spend way too much time on there than I should. It's because I am a considerate friend who likes to keep her friends entertained. It's like if I were to rock up to dinner wearing the same outfit several times in a row, you'd think I was lazy and didn't put in any effort to impress you (or that I hadn't wash for a few days/weeks). So, it's the same with facebook profile photos. I change it regularly so that each time you grace my page you can have something to say like, "Oh cool pic, was this at that party where you were trashed and had to be carried out?". Of course most unlikely. Or in my case, you'd be saying (erm) "Oh very chic and serious look there April, obviously you were at a workshop working hard as usual". Which of course, is the impression I try to convey. So, how seriously should you take a facebook profile photo? It should represent an extension of who you are, but that too is dependent on how seriously you take facebook profile pics, whether you're one dimensional or multidimensional (!!!), and which dimension you want to portray at any given time - ie. what kind of mood you're in. As for me, sometimes I may want to be frivolous and exude an image of fun and vivaciousness, while at other times I may want to exude a more mellowed, refined or serious "I'm in retreat mode". So, here's my top modes, and tell me if any of my profile pics adequately represent these states:
1. Life is just too short, don't take it too seriously, just have fun.
2. I just want to be left alone....
3. I am way more elegant and sophisticated than the drunken version you saw on the week-end. Really. Seriously.
4. I want world peace - why can't we all just get along?
5. There are wars and famines out there and you tell me you just sneezed this morning?
6. I'm just a fellow human being trying to find my way in this world.
7. Yes you can judge me because it does not matter to me what you think.
8. Yes, I'm beautiful damn it!
9. I am reflective and thoughtful, even if it's about nothing.
10. I am woman hear me roar....meow

Now, I have to find a profile pic that aptly says "I can't believe you just wasted my time" hahahaha.

Women don't count in World Population Day

2009-07-10T01:39:00.002+07:00

World population day launch. Theme is women and how the economic downturn will affect women's health. Eight speakers, of whom only one woman. Why do I still get outraged by the misogynist order of the world and the "oh let's ensure we support women, women are the backbones of the community, bs bs". How about giving women voice and the space to speak? Mind you, for special effect we were all treated to a moving display of women on stage, doing what they do best: serving water to the male speakers. Good to know women have a place in this society! I'm the biggest advocate for male engagement in gender equality, but I never said that men should speak for women, or take over that space. It should not be at the expense of women's participation. I want men alongside women in the process towards gender equality, not bypassing them. Then again, this is the way of the world, no matter what country or city one lives in.

A story of a boy in a refugee camp

2009-05-24T02:10:00.003+07:00

I remember receiving one of those fliers with a story attached about a little 5 year old boy who lived in a refugee camp, eating once a day, whose life is in constant chaos, where he has little if any access to education. I can picture his little scared face as he wonders about in his insecure environment. It is stories like these that just make me rage with a sense of urgency as though I need to get there personally, right now and do something! But I know that that is just an emotional response. And perhaps that too is the sole intent and purpose of such fliers, is to remind us all to feel something - anger, guilt, determination, ANYTHING. So long as we feel.

It raises the constant questions and the internal dialogue that I have within myself about the effectiveness of humanitarian and development work, and where one should place one's energy. There is such a broad spectrum in the development continuum. Is it better to do that emergency type of work where you can make a difference immediately because if you can protect some women, children, men's human rights and dignity, then surely it ensures that they will have a better chance to rebuild their lives and communities at some stage. On the other hand, working in a policy context with a norm setting institution is perhaps more likely to make real difference because the change is long term and systemic. There is a need to do both, and I just get really angry and sad at the fact that perhaps I am not doing enough, that I could be doing more.

Anyway, stories like this, regardless of authenticity and purpose, serve as a reminder of what it's like for some children in the world, and to galvanise us all into action. One step at a time. One day at a time.

'Authentic' expat experiences

2009-05-20T12:26:00.000+07:00

Living an expat life is kind of like being on a 'reality tv show' because on the one hand it's real, yet it is also manufactured and totally artificial because depending on where you are living, you cannot truly behave as you are or would if you were living in your home country. Certain dimensions of your personality are inflated whilst other aspects that make you who you are, are suppressed. My point is that expat life is artificial because you do not behave as you would normally - you are in a position of privilege for one, so you get to engage within that society at a totally different level. So, I would challenge any expat to proove the 'authencity' of their expat experience.

Radical women

2009-03-18T13:50:00.000+07:00

This week I've engaged in some exceptionally stimulating conversations about gender politics, feminism and what it means for both men and women to engage in this movement towards true gender equality. When I provoke people/friends into discussions about gender equality or any gender issues, more often than not, the word "radical" comes into force. It is a word that is used to describe me, feminists, and the 'movement' that I am perceived to belong to, and often along side another word "man hating". And to be frank, I am getting kind of tired of always justifying that I don't hate men. I don't understand why it is so 'radical' to want to be treated with respect, equality, and to exercise one's human rights. And so, the more I enter into discussions explaining feminism, women's rights, and why we/I don't hate men, the more I suffer from gender fatigue! Stimulating yet bloody exhausting. But change needs to start somewhere, so I guess this dialogue is all part of that process....

It's just a service

2009-03-16T15:00:00.000+07:00

Recently I was asked by a colleague what I thought about prostitution and it's prevention. This is an issue that I have had many discussions with friends and colleagues about, especially in the context of doing gender equality work in SE Asia where this issue is just more pronounced. It is at the forefront of my consciousness because it links in with the prevalence of violence against women, the prevalence of HIV, the trafficking of women, the growth in sex tourism industry, the growth of marriages of Vietnamese women to foreign men where women are treated as cattle - catalogued, priced and delivered.
Here (and no doubt everywhere else in the world) women are seen as a commodity, to be used and abused. Their marginalisation and exploitation sometimes explained away as a 'better alternative' to starving, or as a 'sacrifice to give their families a better life' as if somehow this makes it okay. How does it make it more paletable that a woman/girl has so few choices to get out of poverty that she has to resort to such measures to get ahead in life? And then of course we (society) blame her for daring to want to get ahead by entering into such an industry. The issues of choice (or real choice) and agency can be debated at nauseum, yet we would still not resolve anything nor would we be any closer to the prevention of prostitution, unless we change the ways we view women. Unless we change attitudes at the 'demand' end of the spectrum.
This topic is just so big, where does one begin? How do we engage men in the prevention of the sexualisation of women? Especially in the context of an increasingly sexualised world. We have developed new language to legitimise the sexualisation of women through the labeling of everything sexual as 'erotica'. We have reframed prostitution as sex work, and we view the sex industry as a service industry. And here lies the crux of the problem. Because prostitution/sex work/sex industry is spoken about in terms of a 'service' we find it easier to justify its existence. We tolerate and accept it because it's a service. Women are providing a service. It's a fee for service, where it is supposedly an equal exchange/equal engagement. Women have choice/agency to participate in the provision of this fee for service, so, really, she's the one benefiting from it, right?
When we shift the discussions from the sexualisation of women, and the exploitation of women, to one which is centred around 'service' it becomes easier to dehumanise women. It becomes easier to see them not as individuals with stories, not as women who belong to a collective vulnerable group...it becomes easier to view them as faceless service providers who are benefiting from the exchange. It's a win win situation right?. The purchaser is helping out by purchasing a service and thus allowing someone (the woman) to have an income, to live, to survive, to feed their family, to have a better future, to get out of poverty (of course all of this may be true, which makes it more difficult to sell the argument that she is exploited/oppressed etc). And of course I am not trying to say that all women who work in the sex work industry are victims and have no agency, because to make such a statement means not recognising that women are strong, dynamic, resilient, resourceful agents and can make active decisions about how they deal with the circumstances affecting them. But this brings us back to that question of real choice. I don't think I've ever met anyone who says that they want to grow up and become a sex worker and be treated as a sex object. What about real choices (and by real choices I don't mean a choice between sex work and starving, or between slaving in a factory being exploited for 12 hours a day or working in a brothel being exploited but perhaps paid a bit better - so of course, if these were my only options, I wouldn't hesitate to make those choices either).
There are divergent views on this very issue where there are two schools of thought (one that views prostitution as a form of violence against women versus one that views this as a legitimate form of work, where the issue is about improving the conditions of work).
Quite frankly my personal view is that such a debate undermines efforts to bring about real gender equality and ending exploitation and sexualisation of women, and thus ending violence against women.
The debate must also move beyond giving women real choices, or building their capacity to understand their situations and the potential risks they are entering. It needs to deal with the demand issue, which is a reflection of how we view women in society.
Anyway, in short, I have not a clue how we engage men in the prevention of prostitution because it just seems to be so widely acceptable/condone for all the above reasons. Preventing it is of course linked to the whole gender equality discourse where we need to reprogram society (both men and women) that women have rights, that women and men are equal, deserving of dignity and respect, that women are not commodity to be exploited, and that women are not there simply for the pleasure/enjoyment/ of, and by men. We need to construct new sets of behaviours where the use/abuse of women, and the purchase of women as sex objects, are viewed as unacceptable.

Oh those bloody feminists

2009-03-13T15:20:00.001+07:00

"Debates about, and by feminists trigger very negative responses in me....." said a friend of mine. So in response, I said:

Firstly, let me clarify that as a feminist I do not hate men, and am not anti men. On the contrary I love men very much. Let me just make that clear. However, your perception of feminists is quite a common misconception and is a stereotype. When you say "feminist", what is the image that comes to your mind? I am sure some people think "radical, agressive, angry, man-hating, lesbian, difficult," etc etc...all stated with negative connotations. So, when I say I am feminist, do you think I fit into that description?

Secondly, this is the problem. We have such strong gender roles in society where women are expected to behave in a particular way, be strong yet still passive and gentle; be vocal, but not too loud; be sexy but not too sexy; be intelligent yet know when to keep quite. So, because feminists DO NOT operate according to those rules, because they/we dare speak loudly about our human rights, and because we DEMAND to be taken seriously, to be heard, to be bold and daring - BECAUSE we dare to make such demands, we are labelled as being radical. How dare women want equality huh? What is so radical about asking to be equal? If a man made such a demand, he would be viewed as strong, determined and brave. If it is a woman, she is viewed as "radical feminist man hating" etc etc. To illustrate that men and women are seen differently, if a man sleeps with lots of women he is seen as a stud/player/cool etc etc, but if a woman does the same, she is judged and labelled as a slut/whore/easy etc etc. You get what I mean about the different labels we give men and women.

So going back to your negative experiences with feminists, what is it about feminists that 'trigger' such discomfort in you? Is it because they act differently to how you expect them/women to behave? Is it because they challenge your male power?

Lastly, as men, you have the opportunity to redirect the discussions about gender equality into a space that is not men hating (but one that is male positive where you embrace being male and don't feel guilty about being male), that is not about you identifying as a feminist (but as pro feminist), and allowing for other sexualities to exist (and not just the patriarchal mainstream hetrosexual manhood)......

Gender Politics - 1

2009-03-02T12:59:00.005+07:00

Gender politics. I think and breathe this issue at a professional and personal level. Everything personal is also political. So, I have spent the past few months observing the gender politics play out. It is absolutely fascinating to me how deeply rooted gender roles are that even for those of us working in the promotion of gender equality, we are susceptible to perpetuating the gender roles we have been assigned. The double burden imposed on women is never more apparent than it is here amongst working women. No matter how high powered a woman is, no matter what job she has, she still has responsibilities (and there are societal and self imposed expectations of her to carry out such duties) to her family. I witness and listen to everyday stories of women living out the gender roles that they've grown up with. This includes, cooking and cleaning for their children, especially for their male children because they don't want their boys to be burdened with such things as cooking, cleaning, ironing or anything domestic. I just seem to get easily frustrated at such stories.

So, when I sense myself veering towards being judgemental (ie when I stop listening to her and all I can hear in my head is "oh my fucking god, why on earth are you being such a stupid woman, you have a responsibility to challenge attitudes and it's because of women like you that make it hard for any change to happen!"), I have to try very hard to not display that veneer half smile glazed with condescension that I sometimes have. You know, the one that says "I've switched off now because everything you're saying is wrong".

Anyway, one of the ways in which I divert from these horrible thoughts is to grill the subject and ask lots of questions in the hope that I will be enlightened. And when I do listen, I am moved by the wisdom and power that these women have, and the resilience they possess to continue to challenge the society within which they live. In small, gracious ways, and so I come to appreciate that it is not always easy to play the agents of change, no matter who you are and what society you live in. Change does not happen overnight, so we/I need to have a little patience.

I was at a meeting recently where a young woman recited the difficulties she had in the Vietnamese cultural context where mothers in law live with their sons and daughters in law so no matter how much the new modern woman tries to challenge gender roles, mothers in law are always there presenting obstacles by insisting on doing things for their sons.

Anyway, this is a series of dialogue I have on gender politics...to be continued....

National day to be pissed off with your ex day

2009-02-27T01:18:00.001+07:00

A friend's facebook status declared that today should be 'national day to be pissed off with your ex day'. Well, I just had to chime in, and for all my fellow male friends, this is to be taken in the spirit that it was intended. I must admit that if i ever wield such powers, I would absolutely present every woman a certificate: "Dear Ms X, this token allows you, as the superior sex, to one day of total anger towards humankind's inferior model, the male specie, specifically on this occasion, your ex Mr loserdickheadsonofawhatsHisface, for the reasons stated below, including for daring to pollute the air you breathe. The token also allows you to unlimited slanderous comments, unverified accounts of fights, events, and whatever else of your choosing, and 24 hours of feelings of disbelief that an intelligent gorgeous being such as your fine self ever dated/lived with/married such a loser. The token will expire at such time as when you come to the realisation that you had the good sense to be rid of him, and congratulate yourself on your wisdom (or the interventions of the cosmic universe - no doubt a woman) for giving you your life back. Best taken with wine" :)

Spitting in the face of the other V Day

2009-02-14T00:52:00.004+07:00

Many conversations were had today about the value of Valentine Day celebrations, with some of my friends calling for the end to such nonsense. And at a logical level, I somewhat agree. But I cannot with hand on heart support any cause calling for the death to romance, or the end to the celebration of romance for I feel the world is too sad a place without romance. Romance should be celebrated. Valentine's Day is just fun for those in couple-land or wanting to be in couple-land, for us all to be reminded of precious human engagement, that we should all not take for granted those that we love/like/want, and if we can only remember to show that appreciation one day of the year, then let V Day be it. Us happily unattached people can sit back and be happy for them, while at the same time psychoanalyse the true dynamic of their relationships and the delusions that they have set themselves up for, the mass marketing of hollywood unrealistic and therefore unattainable romantic notions of eternal love. We can still snigger and smile at the same time can we not? Even if it's not exactly 'real' love, although who can actually define that. So, long live Valentine's Day and romance.

(ps. The other V Day is an effort of Eve Ensler using valentine's day as a call to end violence against women, recognising that most violence occurs to women in intimate relationships)

Paralysis

2008-11-15T13:00:00.003+07:00

When I was in the field I had two cry sessions - a reminder that I am still human (or that I'm just a big baby!). Coming into Saigon from the Mekong delta, I was travelling with my colleague in our comfy four wheel drive, and as we stopped at a traffic light on the fringe of Saigon, I was startled by a five year old girl tapping on the car window, in the middle of heavy chaotic traffic, begging for money. And I just went into panic mode. What the F#@% was she doing the middle of the road at such an hour? Where the hell were her parents? And what in blooming hell was I supposed to do now? I had to resist every impulse to open the car door to let her in. I looked around the see if there were other kids begging on the streets, and on the side of the road I see a three a year old boy crying his heart out. Even amongst the noise of the motorbikes, car engines, street vendors and ghetto blasters, I could still hear his little weeps. What was heartbreaking was to see the tears streaming down his scared little face as he faced the traffic, probably wondering how he was going to cross the street. And then I see the little girl run in between all the motorbikes to fetch him, hold his hand and walk him across the street, he's crying the whole time.

And so I start crying, thinking 'F#@%! what is wrong with this picture?!' And why doesn't anybody care?! My driver didn't even blink, the motorists just shrugged nonchalently. I wanted to get out to fetch them. But I didn't. And so feeling absolutely powerless, I cried. What will happen to those kids? Where will they sleep? Is this a scam by their parents who send them out to beg, preying on people's sympathies? Are they trafficked children being forced to beg? Will they go hungry tonight? Will they be kidnapped, assaulted? And so I spent the next 24 hours thinking about those two little ones and the hundreds of other little ones who may have been there that night. All I could think was how unfair and f@#%! everything is. I felt so gutted that I could not do anything. That I did nothing. That I should have done something! I was just so paralysed by emotions, torn between what protocol dictates, what I wanted to do on a personal level to respond to the urgency of the situation, and a desire to actually make systemic change that will end such situations from arising in future. And my paralysis led me to do nothing.

I spent days afterwards tormented. I had to work really hard emotionally to remind myself why I was here. That I was here to influence systemic change, for long term change that will effect the lives of thousands, and not just the one child. I needed to not get so emotional and remain focussed on systemic change and not get tempted by band aid solutions, although perhaps that would make me feel very good indeed. Whilst at an intellectual level it is easy to make such arguments, when confronted with little children begging at traffic lights, the arguments just don't seem that compelling!

And this is the reality of doing development work - walking the thin rope of being emotional engaged yet at the same time having the ability to switch off for one's sanity. A little bit at a time hey.

How the other 90% live

2008-11-15T04:53:00.011+07:00

I've been "out in the field" visiting little villages in the North and South in the Mekong, to assess the situation for women - their economic, political, social and familial situation.

I have to say, I found the poverty and living conditions confronting, with people still living in stilt houses, made from found materials. Yet at the same time it was fantastic opportunity to get out into the field to meet with and talk to real people, real women, about their lives, the issues they face, and for me to gain perspective on what life is truly like for the average Vietnamese woman. Let's just say Hanoi is a very sheltered Vietnam. It was great insight to see how tough women are doing it. We talked to groups of women and were so moved by their lives. They are all wanting to escape the burden of poverty in the villages so they lust after the big city life where they are exposed to exploitation from industries. Young women told us of their sense of isolation being away from family, working in factories until 9pm every night, walking home in the dark, living in crowded hostels, sharing 1 toilet amongst 30 people, where the water gets turned off after 7pm, so having a shower after a long day's work is not even possible. They work even hen they are too sick because they'd loose their jobs if they didn't. They earn in a month what we would make in a few hours. And of course vulnerability to sexual harassment, sexual violence and prostitution comes with the territory, especially when women are on their own, and are under pressure to send money home to support their kids and/or elderly parents.

In the Mekong the majority of women we spoke with were illiterate and struggled to scrape together enough capital to expand their little grocery or food stall. Many were generally very optimistic, but some struggled to see past the present, not seeing any way out of their poverty. There were some extraordinary women who just kept trying, and just kept smiling, desperately grasping to the hope that things will get better, or that they will secure enough credit to start that new venture that will change their fate and the fate of their family. But having no assets makes it difficult to get a loan, so they end up borrowing from the black market where interest rates are astronomically inflated. It costs less than $1 to send a child to school, yet so many families struggled with this considering some were barely making $2 a day. Hence, many just wanted to make enough money to eat and to send their kids to school.

I was heartened and inspired by the stories from women. Again, I was reminded of the importance for those of us in our comfy ivory towers to get out and see how the other 90% live. For me, getting out into the field was invigorating and gave me a new sense of appreciation and love for Vietnam. And I was reminded of my purpose for being here.

City under water

2008-11-08T11:29:00.004+07:00

Well, what an exciting week hey? I've drank more wine over the five days of flooding in Hanoi than I did the whole time here! Okay, that may be a hyperbole, perhaps the most alcohol in consecutive days? I don't want to sound like I am an alcoholic or that I am promoting drinking as a way to overcome adversity (although you may ask 'why not?'), but honestly, sitting around with friends drinking wine, listening to good music and looking at the brighter side of life sure helps to overcome the fact that one lives in a city submerged under water! How else could one possibly deal with a flooding?

For five days the city came to a halt as cars drifted stranded on streets, restaurants emptied of customers, and people trying to get to and from home by wading through at least knee deep water. The city overcast with silence.

The area surrounding my house was totally flooded, lakes overflowed, alley way entrances filled with water. What I needed was a motorboat to get my house, and a gondola to float down the alley ways, meandering to my house. All the while, I would be sipping red wine of course....

The List

2008-10-26T23:18:00.003+07:00

So I have a friend who I have the occasional (ok, more like daily) gripe with about our love-hate relationship with Vietnam. It's great to have a fellow Aussie to unload upon (see, the 'aussie' thing again). Anyway, catch us on a bad day and everything is wrong with Vietnam. From the lack of cultural and social etiquette of the citizens (yes, it offends my sensibilities to be see people pee in public spaces so casually as if it's natural and that it's their god given right) to the abundance of bland mediocre overpriced food, the artificial environment that is the expat environment, the simulated and manufactured 'experiences', the power relationships between local women and expat men, and the constant negotiating with taxis, xe oms (motorbike taxis), shops and services, feeling like I'm being screwed over all the time and negotiating the traffic (every time I step out on the street it's like playing Russian roulette with my life!). And so I have had to start a list of pros and cons to remind myself of the everyday beauty and all the positive things Vietnam has to offer when the negatives seems so overwhelming. I know, at times I sound so obnoxious that I even annoy me. I hate that I sometimes sound so negative and so much like a prima donna - and I am soooooo not!

But that list is a list of contradictions. For example, I note the lack of diversity of food on offer as a negative, yet the abundance of cheap quality food is also on the positive list. How is that possible? Well, that is Vietnam. It is a mirror reflection. Hence the love-hate relationship that I am constantly in. Everything that I love about it annoys the hell out of me at the same time and everything that I despise is somehow extraordinary. For example, I love the fact that I can ride a motorbike around yet at the same time I hate the motorbike-chaos on the road.

And almost everyday when it seems that everything is wrong with this place, I find some new reason to love it. Perfect example was today. It was a horrible gloomy raining day, yet I sat in a cafe with friends for hours sipping coffee after coffee (switching between cafe sua da -Vietnamese iced coffee, and cappucinos), while reading the paper online, reconnecting with the global financial crisis and madonna and guy's split (and you know which one is the bigger crisis!).

To conclude my day I went shopping on the back of a friend's motorbike, getting soaked in the rain. And all of a sudden, it was just beautiful. I was overwhelmed with joy because it felt perfectly right. Of course you would go shopping in the rain and not care about getting wet. It just felt so natural. You just had to embrace the rain. And so, once again, I was reminded that it's all about perspective, it's all about your take on things isn't it? You need to just spin the story for yourself. As I often say "just reframe it" into whatever you want it to be. Getting soaking wet on the back of a motorbike can be a dampener, or it can be the most glorious "I am riding on a motorbike feeling the cold breeze on my face, getting drenched and my new leather bag is probably wrecked - life doesn't get any better than this" moment. And I felt so happy I could cry, reminiscent of that scene in American Beauty when the boy films the plastic bag whisking in the wind and whispers that "it's so beautiful".

No, I'm not Vietnamese

2008-10-12T10:01:00.007+07:00

Recently I got stopped by the police for breaking the road rules. I got a lift on a motorbike and so there were three people on the motorbike, and two without helmets, and we were on a highway, so it was no surprise that we got stopped by the police. This is not exactly what you would want to happen. Logistical nightmare and ethical conundrum! This has happened to me once before, and the usual mode of practice is that traffic police would stop you and make it very difficult for you by impounding your vehicle, getting you to fill out a thousand forms, giving you a fine, and generally making it so difficult for you that when they pose option number two, which involves an exchange of money so that the officers could have 'coffee', you would leap at it. So, the officers (all four of them) point us to pull over and without getting off their bikes asked if we were Vietnamese. I said no, and they begrudgingly and swiftly glided past gesturing for us to continue. They couldn't be bothered mustering up the little English they had to convey the above two options. So lucky for us!

But this episode was poignant for me. This quiet declaration that I was not Vietnamese, sits uncomfortably with me. It's been at me since my arrival. I struggle with this love-hate relationship with this part of my identity, and being here has exacerbated those feelings.

When I first arrived, everything was seen through rose coloured lenses, everything was fine and dandy. Then week three sinks in and everything started to annoy me. Yes, week three. And I have two years here. At first the hussle and bussle, the busy-ness, the chaos, the sea of people in the streets all the time, just made me feel so alive. But slowly all the things that make this city feel alive made me clausophobic.

It is so strange to look Vietnamese yet not be Vietnamese. I feel least Vietnamese here. Right now I can't articulate exactly what's going through my head but I hope to in the months to come. At least to have some resolve for myself.

Another woman enters the boys' club and we are pounced upon for not applauding!

2008-09-05T16:51:00.000+07:00

I am on a roll today! I literally saw red reading Miranda Divine's piece in the Sydney Morning Herald telling us leftie feminists to get a life and what the hell was wrong with us for not liking US vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin? (ok...i paraphrased a little...).

I mean, give me a break! We had Margaret Thatcher. Need I say more? What's the go with this anti-feminist slinging match? And just the other day I was professing to my international colleagues that Australia was the breeding ground for leftie and feminist thoughts, and here goes Miranda Divine asking why can't we all rally behind a right winged person who is also pro-life (ie anti women's choice and agency over their reproductive organs). Yes. Palin is a woman. Therefore we should all rally behind her. Well, sorry. She doesn't speak for me. Don't get me wrong. It's great to have Palin in there, getting in the boys' club. More women should be encouraged, promoted and celebrated in such positions of power. However, the difficulty is that when we have very limited numbers of women in positions of power it makes it even more challenging for the diversity of 'feminist' views to be heard. One woman is not representative of all women. Just like Kevin Rudd is not expected to speak on behalf of all men, but luckily for men, there is a wide spectrum of male role models and powerful men from which one can choose to eminate from Clinton to Obama to Kofi Annan to whose the dude running microsoft? Oh yeah...the other Bill. So, just because Palin is a woman does not mean she could or should speak for all women.

It is interesting that just because we have one woman in power we are expected as a collective to bow to her and herald the fact that 'the glass ceiling has been broken! yippie! we've achieved gender equality now and yes women can have it all' blah blah bullshit. It's almost blasphemy the kind of mythology that is perpetuated about women having gender equality. If this was already achieved, such a discourse would not be taking place. And 'leftie feminists' would not be pounced upon yet again for daring to ask that not only should we have women in power but that we actually have women who represent the diversity of women's experiences and not just act as a mouthpiece for the boys' club.

Obviously women ask for too much...

What's in a facebook network anyway?

2008-09-05T14:40:00.000+07:00

Okay, so having been in Hanoi for a over a week now (it’s a long time when one becomes a member of a transient international displaced-by-choice community!), I was in a conundrum about what to do about my facebook networks! Don't laugh! It’s a serious issue. Deciding whether to change my facebook network from 'Australia' to 'Vietnam' was like deciding on whether to give up my aussie citizenship and take on my new (old) one. I know, as if I didn’t have enough to worry about with finding a place to live, a second-hand-cool-looking-Vespa-in-working-order with matching helmet and the elbow high gloves and accompanying face mask (that's the done thing here - women ride motorbikes decked in gloves, face masks and helmets with hat extensions - I kid you not! It's to protect their skin from the sun as they strive to have white 'untanned' skin). There's a couple of comments I can make here re colonialism, cultural and class prejudices based on skin colour, misplaced sense of beauty etc etc, but I won't…. I know I digress but Vietnamese women should be awarded for their sun protection saviness! Vanity does have health benefits after all!

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, it took me three days to decide whether to change my facebook network or not. Why did it take me so long? It's facebook for crying out loud! Who the hell cares what network one belongs to! But obviously it mattered to me. I pondered and debated the pros and cons, the symbolism of it all. In the virtual world, being listed as belonging to the 'Australian' network meant that I was still an aussie, just living abroad. It meant that I was still connected to all things Australian, including my friends and family back home, all the things I was familiar with. Giving up this network would mean publicly denouncing my aussie identity, and we can't have that! (you know, I've become pathetically 'patriotic' now that I’ve left the country!). Giving up this network was like a severing of ties to the old world and embracing all the new changes, including new cultural identity. I don't mean a new person, but rather a me that inhabits a new space, absorbing the richness of my heritage, discovering and rediscovering all the wonderful things that I have dismissed, and basking all the surprises socially, culturally and politically. So, finally I did give up the aussie network (gulps). I basically had to in order to join another local network! So, as scary as it was, I let go, and am now a member of the Vietnam network. Mind you, despite all the apprehensions about giving up my facebook networks, I have been totally immersed in life in Vietnam, and loving every moment of it (so far)!

And as I discovered today, giving up my facebook aussie network didn’t really exempt me from entering debates about Australian politics. I was surprised to discover that just as quickly as I engaged in Vietnam life, I was just as quick to re-engage with what was happening at home. Well, when I say re-engaged, what I actually meant was that I was relieved and pissed off at the same time! Relieved that finally the Iemma government is gone (it took long enough....what else were we waiting to see fail before we forced a change?). And pissed off that once again we have a very competent woman (whose obviously from the left faction) playing second fiddle role to the man in charge. Seriously, is it that difficult to contemplate that a woman like Carmel Tebbutt can be the new Premier of NSW? I'm working in Vietnam as a 'gender specialist' to assist the government and international organisations implement strategies and laws that promote gender equality. At the rate we're going back home, maybe Australia could use the same sort of 'assistance'. So, my question is, when can we see the Tebbutts and Gillards run the country? 2020? Surely sooner!

The "Oh Shit" moment

2008-08-25T14:34:00.000+07:00

What a total loser I was yesterday strolling around Ho Chi Minh City by myself, almost on the verge of tears at the sudden realisation that OMFG! I am here. In this foreign country. By myself. That I had actually finally left Sydney shores and am embarking on a new journey, one that I have wanted for so long. It took 24 hours after landing in the city for me to even realise that I was in a different space because as soon as I landed, I was greeted by my friend to lots of jumps of joy, lots of colourful language and English the whole way to her place. We were so consumed with our conversation (8 months of catching up) that I literally forgot that I was in a different country. This was then followed by drinking sessions until 5.30am Sydney time at hip bars frequented by well to do locals and expats, so with such a backdrop resembling the average daggy suburban Sydney drinking hole (maybe just a lot daggier), it was not surprising that I was totally oblivious to my surroundings! There goes all that personal security training!

The Oh Shit WTF moment arrived as I walked around the main drags in District 1 after a 2 hour massage session (yes that should have been the obvious sign that something was wrong as I do not usually go for 2 hour massages) wondering around the city trying to absorb it all with different lenses. I was reflecting on the events of the previous evening, resolving to never end up with such a horrid empty lifestyle of frequenting bars, drinking and existing here purely as an expat. Mingling with expats and being removed from the social/political/cultural traffic outside. As I took these mental notes, I pondered how long before I speak Vietnamese fluently without the aussie twang? How long before I work up the bravado to ride a motorbike? when will i stop looking like a tourist/foreigner? (well maybe if i ditched the beach hat, aviator sunnies and roman sandals, it might help!). It is just too surreal.

Why do I feel like such a foreigner? perhaps I need to stop considering myself as an aussie/foreigner here and pretend that I'm Vietnamese. Oh my god, another WTF moment. Hey, I am Vietnamese! I guess I need to start looking at Vietnam different because as long as I consider myself a foreigner, then I will be treated as such, and there will be the danger that I will give myself permission to behave as such.

So, I arrived in Hanoi this morning, and will give myself a few days to allow the reality of it all to sink in. I am going to project manage this as well, so I give myself 2 weeks to settle in, and within 4 weeks I want to embrace and invade this foreign space like home. I know, sounds unrealistic. But that's the challenge!

Being Vulnerable

2008-08-12T20:00:00.000+07:00

Fist of all, I hope to be going off to Vietnam soon so that I can have more interesting things to write about! But until then, you're just stuck with me and the inner workings of my twisted mind. So. I have a problem with being vulnerable. It's just not something I do. I often say "I don't do vulnerable" or "I don't do vulnerability very well" because I just didn't appreciate how challenging it is to allow oneself to be vulnerable. I didn't understand that there is strength in vulnerability. I didn't understand that it's okay to be to let my guard down, to let people in, to take off the mask and allow myself to be exposed. This fascade of the strong, all together, accomplished, kind of functional person who can weather anything and everything, is just too tiring sometimes. Well, it's not a fascade as such, it's just one dimension of my being. It is not me all of the time, and certainly not all of me. So, exposing myself this way is an attempt at being vulnerable.

So, what does it mean to be vulnerable, what are the merits of being vulnerable? when was the last time you were vulnerable? Did you become a better person because you displayed vulnerability? And if one goes through life shying from vulnerability, what are the consequences? I'm still thinking.....

Humanitarian-denied

2008-08-12T12:47:00.000+07:00

Well, a friend recently called me a 'humanitarian-denied'! which I thought was an apt description of my predicament.

Where to begin...firstly let me apologise for my slackness with the entries, but I had to cease the blog when I was about to be deployed to Darfur, Sudan as there were potential security issues with my being a human rights protection officer blogging about my experiences in the field and all the violence and political turmoil ensues. Anyway, so what's been happening with me? Well, I was all geared up to go to Darfur to contribute to the peace building and human rights protection processes there. I even went through four torturous days of personal security 'commando' training which required deprived sleep, simulated forced evacuations in the middle of the night, hostage takings and ambushes, and other life threatening situations! Yes, the message was clear. This kind of work can be very dangerous. Hence ex military guys and gals with their gender appropriated roles taught me how not to always be alert! Well at least I now know how to duck for cover if I ever hear a gun shot! Or tyres backfiring! I've also spent a week in training as a protection officer (to protect what exactly, is also an excellent question), so needless to say I was pumped! The andrenalin was in overflow as I visualised working in harsh conditions negotiating in refugee and internally displaced people's camps, dealing with the most horrific of human experiences, mentally preparing myself for the challenges that lay ahead.

So, when I got the call a few weeks ago informing me of outbreak of violence in Darfur in which UN African Union peacekeepers were ambushed and killed, my initial response was "So, some peacekeepers got killed....it's not like they were civilians, so, I still get to go right?" I kid you not, I sounded like an airhead. Because, you know, I am self centred. It was all about me, that I had been trained, that I was ready to go, that I wanted to do this right now (yes, patience is not one of my virtues), it was all about me me me. Of course after the ego came out to play for a few minutes, it was quickly replaced by a much more disheartened me, all broken up about what was happening for the people of Darfur, the uncertainties and potentially volatile situations that they will have to endure. And my heart wept for Darfur for weeks after that as the debate ensued whether the ICC's call for the arrest of Sudan's president was actually a positive step in making perpetrators of crimes against humanity accountable and bringing about justice for the people of Darfur, or whether this was a step back in the international effort to restore peace and diplomacy. So many arguments and counter arguments. If only Sudan had valuable resources like oil that could bring in a different dimension to this debate......

Oh yeah, back to me. So, due to all the security and political fiasco in Darfur at the moment, I am now heading to 'safer' climates - to Hanoi, Vietnam, to do real development work. Bogging about my experiences about working in my former homeland, the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, may not be tantamount to security breaches, but it will certainly have its own challenges and ramifications and certainly would invoke the potential for deportation and all sorts of things. Lucky I've got a bit of a socialist streak. But, it would be pretty cool to be deported from a socialist country for something worthwhile. I could just rest on the laurels of that 'one time i got deported' story.

Anyway, there's no point to this entry whatsoever except to serve as an update to say that I am still loitering in Sydney. Whilst I may have mentally departed Sydney, I am physically still in the departure lounge.

Sudan here I come!!!!!!

2008-06-01T00:07:00.000+07:00

So after 4 days of intensive personal security training which I term as "learning how not to get myself killed unnecessarily!" I was given 'the call'. Finally! I am off to Darfur Sudan in 2 weeks time! Yippie! I am sooooooooooooooooooooo excited!!!!! Absolutely thrilled to have such an opportunity! So, I'll be off to West Darfur in Sudan to work with UNHRC. I'll have more details after a more comprehensive briefing. Watch this space....

enough already

2008-05-31T23:55:00.001+07:00

Okay, firstly, I apologise for all the diversions (although they weren't really, they were a necessary part of the whole) as the whole reason for this blog in the first place was so I could document my travels and experiences in doing international development work where ever it may be. Just as a photographer with their first digital camera who tend to get snap happy taking all sorts of crappy shots of meaningless things until they've worked out the art of holding out for the perfect moment, I was given a forum in which to procrastinate and naval gaze - and that I did! I thank you all for amusing me and allowing me to entertain you. Now, onto more interesting things.....

What am I trying to prove and to whom

2008-05-05T18:44:00.000+07:00

Do you ever have this fear that you may be a fraud? That you are only the image you created and everyone else around you help to maintain? Well, I feel like that all the time, that whilst I espouse to be and live in a particular manner, I do not. Or that I say I believe in something yet lack the courage to follow through with actions, or that my actions are in contradiction to my values and beliefs. I don't want to say that I believe in something if I don't have the courage to stand up for it. I don't want to say that I believe in and am committed to human rights yet have never done anything to protect it. So, yeah, I fear that I am not living out the values that I believe in. That I will be just another 'do gooder bleeding heart middle class social activist let's save the whatever' sitting in my comfortable home talking about the state of the world and how much I care, yet not do anything about it. It is a (un)comfortable place to be, and frankly I don't ever want to be there.

This fear is my reason for a lack of 'inner peace' (which by the way I am happy to say that for now I quite enjoy the turmoil and chaos in my head - I don't know what I would do with my time if I had inner peace - yes, tragic really).

I need to prove to myself that I am not a fraud. So, in response to "what am I trying to prove and to whom", which are bloody good questions that I've been meditating on, it is simply that I need to prove to myself that I am who I think I am, who I espouse to be, who I could be, and who others think I am. There is an elemenet of ego there. There must be right? There must be some part of me that wants to prove to everyone that "yeah she's as 'good' as we thought, she does it". But mostly it's wrestling with myself, trying to prove to myself that I am not a fraud. Of course the rational side of me reminds me that I have been working in social justice for 15 years, so it's not like I've been sitting around doing nothing - I've advocated for women's rights, I've led marches, I've developed and implemented programs to prevent violence, I've provided advice to government blah blah blah blah blah. I am so unimpressed with that. I still feel like an underachiever.

Maybe, just maybe, I am just really pissed off with myself because I let family life sidetracked (excused) me from the pursuit of human rights internationally, and now am trying to compensate for it?

Flawed

2008-05-05T08:34:00.000+07:00

Okay - I’ve enjoyed the many lively conversations with you, face to face and via emails about some of the issues that my ramblings have brought about. These shared conversations have sparked many laugh-out-loud moments, hopefully you were laughing with me and not at me! But, just so we are clear – I am no saint. Bloody far from it. And I am quite uncomfortable with conversations that circulate around how brave or honest or strong I am. I am not going to offer you a list of things to prove my unsaintliness (I am sure there’s a better and proper word, and I’ll substitute it when I manage to find it), but if you know me, you will know that I am just as flawed, if not even more so than the next human being. My problem is that I don’t mind these failings, I don’t mind failures, and I don’t mind sharing my thoughts. I even like the fact that I fail because it makes me feel more human. I know, I'm not sure if I believe it myself. Maybe that’s just a defence mechanism as self preservation so that I may continue to accept myself when I don’t succeed? Although I’ve yet to define success. Anyway, I digress. My very brief point is that I am no more brave, honest, or stronger than anyone. My problem is being frank about my thoughts, feelings and experiences in an attempt to counsel myself. However, if my ramblings can provoke a conversation or debate about what it is to be human and to have these doubts, desires, internal struggles and identity issues, then ‘putting it out there’ ain’t so bad. So, what’s your flaw/s, and can you live with it/them?

Integrity ethics and all that jazz

2008-05-01T09:04:00.000+07:00

This question of personal integrity and ethical conduct is one that has sat unfomfortably with me for a long time now.

I have constantly asked what separates an ethical person from an unethical person, who sets the standards, and to whom are we ethical. Someone recently said "no matter what we do, our actions will always be unethical to somebody" that is, we can never be 'ethical' to everybody all of the time. Now, you know there's no theoretical basis for these thoughts, just my reflections and internal analysis. Am I an ethical person? Are you? How do I know? If I say I am, then am I really, or am I just spinning some lie to myself, because let's face it, no-one wants to see themself as being unethical or that they lack personal integrity. And if I say I am unethical, is this the kind of honesty that somehow redeems my perceived lack of integrity? I define integrity and personal ethics as "the core of a person's character". It is one's moral compass but is not necessarily the same as behaving morally. That is, one can still act with integrity yet immorally (yeah, I know, trying to cover all bases!).

According to the April Pham barometer of personal ethical compass for April Pham, I have jeopardised my integrity of late, and no doubt I will continue to do so.

So, let me share with you a very funny story. Recently I found myself in court as a defendant in a drink driving incident. Yes. I know. ME. I know. Of all people! I have been known to get a bit on the tipsy side once in awhile, but I don't ever drink and drive. In fact I even lecture people about the dangers of drink driving, and have been known to confiscate keys from people. And believe me, I found the situation so surreal that I don't think I ever took it as seriously as I should have. First of all, note to self - don't ever offer to go get maccas at 1am for drunk famished friends again! Even though on the night in question I did only have about 2 glasses of red wine over 2 and half hours. And even then when I was stopped for a random breathe test there were traces of "low alocohol level". So, like a criminal I sat in the paddy wagon in disbelief as I was escorted back to the cop shop. The whole time I'm thinking "What the fuck just happen? did I just get pulled over? and seriously, am I really in this paddy wagon?".

Of course my disbelief and embarassment soon turned into disappointment and shame. What was I thinking to drive after drinking (even though it was only two drinks)? . If I thought I was over the limit I would not have driven. I guess that's the problem isn't it?. (For the record, my reading was 0.05).

The gravity of the situation did not register with me for a couple of weeks. It only dawned on me the night before the court date that actually, if guilty, it would be on my record forever. It would be a public declaration that I have fallen short of my own standards of personal integrity. I can no longer give sermons!

But this wasn't the moment of truth. The moment came when I had to decide whether to own up and take responsibility for my actions, or to lie, defend my 'character' and do as lawyers learn in law school and as dictated in the X-Files "deny everything". And for a moment there, I considered that possibility. Why don't I just plead not guilty? There is too much at stake, why plead guilty? It's not that big a deal is it? And even contemplating this made me feel so ashamed, even thinking it tarnished my integrity as a person. Fuck I hate me sometimes, for God sake, don't be so melodramatic!

But alas it is true, I did think it, abeit briefly. I can understand why it is so difficult to make the right decision sometimes, it starts off with a small lie, then it spirals out of control, and at what point do you stop? I could have denied responsibility. But I was not prepared to do that. This is what I mean by 'integrity being the core of one's character' because whilst I may have thought about the other options available, I landed on the 'right' side. Phew! I decided that it would be unethical to do anything other than admit guilt, accept responsibility and hope for the best. Tell it as it is and have faith that good things will follow. And so I went to court, represented myself, put forward my case, accepted responsibility and the matter was DISMISSED. DISMISSED. It was like a judge handing out an official verdict that I was a decent person of good character. I was back to being a good citizen. And that was a victory for integrity.

But I was reminded that being an ethical person and acting with integrity is not always so black and white, it is not always easy. I didn't fail this time, but have failed in other situations, and will continue to do so. So, what does it take to consistently make the right decisions? to behave with integrity and be an ethical human being? all the time? Is this possible and should this be the standard by which we judge ourselves? And how does one deal with that when one falls short?

To fear or not to fear

2008-04-29T08:18:00.000+07:00

Hmmm, after a very frivolous fun-filled long week-end, it's time to pick up the baggage where I left it Thursday afternoon and return to that place call reality. When faced with difficult questions, I like to suspend reality, escape from myself for a while and then come back even more confused! Didn't someone once say "Confusion is the highest state of being?" - maybe I'm just making that up. Anyway, I am scared shitless. I am scared because I have no fears. I am scared of being fearless. What a contradiction that is. It is a terrible place to be to feel so damn free and fearless that one can do anything, that the possibilities are endless. It is both exhilarating and dangerous.

So, to fear or not to fear, that is the ultimate question that has been churning in my head. I have been living in a state of fearlessness for such a long time, I am not sure what it means to allow myself to be vulnerable, to be scared, to admit that I am scared because maybe, just maybe, I am scared of the answer. Am I living life because I have no fears? or am I dying because I am without fears? How can a person not have any fears? Of course I have general fears, like, spiders, snakes and the usual crap, but there is no fear that paralyses me, there is no fear that I want to overcome. So, why does this bother me?

It is (I am) scaring me. As you know, I'm going for all these international development jobs, and for one particular organisation, I had to attend a second interview in which they asked me about my competencies, posed some scenarios to see how I would cope under stress and pressure, checked if I had any fears or reservations about going to certain places. So, I'm sitting there cool as, confidently answering the questions, engaging with the interviewers as though I already had the job. Then, at the end of the interview they asked where in the world would I like to work. And without hesitation I heard myself say "Sudan", without even blinking. And at the time that I said this I remembered thinking to myself "ooh did I say that? why did I say that? where did that come from? I thought I was going to Vietnam? hello?". Further, when asked if I would consider Darfur in Sudan, I said I had absolutely no fears about going there whatsoever. Fascade or truth? See, the scary thing is that I actually meant it!

So, with external jubilance, I headed out to dinner with friends, but I just kept thinking "Sudan? really? aren't you scared? what the fuck's wrong with you?" I don't know. I have not a clue. I wanted to go to Sudan for the challenge, because this is where there is an influx of international intervention and it is an opportunity to be involved and bear witness to how international development can work or not work. Either way it will be an invaluable learning experience, and to be apart of that social change process is very exciting. I am more thrilled than scared.

Of course the Vietnam option is still brewing away, so now it's just waiting to see what comes up first. But if I had to make a choice between Vietnam which has its own challenges, but is 'safe', and Darfur, Sudan, where over 200,000 people have been killed and over 2 million people are displaced, with continued violence and unrest placing everyone, including international and humanitarian workers at risk - I would choose Sudan in a heartbeat. Perhaps Sudan is just a technical fix? the band aid end of the international development spectrum, whereas in Vietnam there is a real opportunity to make a difference to systems and ensure women's issues are reflected in every aspect of the government and international agencies?And in this sense this adaptive work is much harder. So which is the more courageous choice? Perhaps perhaps perhaps.

Sudan will no doubt be an extremely physically and emotionally challenging environment -dilapidated, barren, dusty, dry, hot, isolated, let alone the human turmoil whirling around it. Vietnam on the other hand is safe, and is ripe for social change. Sudan is not. But it is a risk I am willing to take should it come up first. I am taking risks this year. Like the quote from Linda Levin (Aussie author) that a friend shared with me this week "live wild on the edge or die bored in the middle". I guess i just don't wan't to risk taking the easy road, whatever that road may be.

So when is it okay to take risks? and when is it okay to have some fears? is showing fear a mark of being strong? or is it a sign of weakness? Am I weak for not having fears? Having fears means checking in with oneself, to ensure that the risks are calculated risks right? to ensure that one lives to fight another day right? So, is this the most stupid decision? or is it brave? Perhaps it is neither.

Personal integrity and ethics

2008-04-21T14:06:00.000+07:00

In response to your queries, it is coming. Just working out what I can share in a public space in case it comes back to haunt me because as you know I have a tendency to be very bold and fearless, to then regret it later.

The question of personal integrity and ethics is sititng very uncomfortably with me at the moment because in some areas of my personal life, I don't believe that I have behaved according to my own ethical standards, so I don't want to talk about integrity and ethics until I can reconcile what that actually means in practice as whole being, not just confined to leadership or community development in the public sphere, but also in the private arena and my conduct with people around me. Hmmm, I need to think this through some more.....

The Aftermath of War

2008-04-21T08:18:00.000+07:00

I always think of my dad around Anzac Day because he is one of those unsung heroes, those men and women who went to war because they felt they had to – to defend their way of life, to fight for what they believed in, to stop tyranny, to bring about freedom and democracy and to bring about hope for their children (me). To him, war is not something to be glorified, and going to war in his teens fighting against the ‘viet cong’ was probably not his proudest hour. I think he feels bitter and pissed off that he had to flee his country like a criminal when all he wanted was freedom - to speak his mind, and think his own thoughts. Mind you I am only speculating about his feelings since the impact of the war was so profound that he rarely speaks of it.

As the parade and ceremonies take place during Anzac Day, he humbly deals with the aftermath of war – never speaking of it, never boasting about the honour and bravery involved. I saw him hold back tears once when one of my brothers asked “Dad did you ever kill anyone when you were in the war?”. A genuine curiosity, yet stupid question to ask a soldier. But the response was much more than any of us w ere prepared for. Here’s a man who could frighten the pants off all of us with just one look, and yet there he was struggling to remain composed. His silence spoke volumes about his anguish, pain, anger, bitterness, and resentment for his beloved homeland.

And it was a silence that was all too confronting for us. For me especially, as I feel torn between his political convictions and my own philosophical aspirations. He lived under the communist regime, experienced first hand the violence, corruption and hypocrisy of a regime that persecuted, suppressed and imprisoned those with differing political views to the regime all the while the streets are emblazoned with Ho Chi Minh’s slogan “Nothing is more valuable than independence and freedom”. So, I understand why he harbours such strong resentment. And he is not alone. As the anniversary date of the fall of Saigon (now Ho Chi MInh City) 30 April looms near, there will be protests by Vietnamese Australians against the Vietnamese government, demanding for democracy, freedom and human rights for the people of Vietnam.

But for someone like me, raised in Australia, am I expected to share the same political persuasion as my parents? Or am I entitled to reframe this aftermath of war into something more positive, where it might even be possible for me to have a role in engendering notions of democracy human rights and freedom in a country from which my family fled as refugees?

Is it ok that my politics is different to his because this is the reason he fled Vietnam - so that I may live in a country where I will not be persecuted for my political beliefs? where I may have the freedom to express myself and think my own thoughts? And if these are rights he fought for me to have, then why is it so hard to have this conversation?

How do we get on with business after war?

Pro democracy or communist empathiser?

2008-04-18T08:34:00.000+07:00

Okay, so I’m going for a job in Vietnam, a communist country from which my family fled after the fall of Saigon (or Ho Chi Minh City as it’s now called). My father still harbours such strong resentment that in 27 years he has yet to return, even when my paternal grandmother died. An irreconcilable difference separates him from his homeland. Sadly, I don’t think he will ever reconcile these feelings, and perhaps he would be disappointed that I am considering returning. Of all the places in the world to take a stab at international development work, why Vietnam? The politics is quite complicated, those who advocate for democracy in Vietnam are loathe to have anything to do with the country.

There is no greater insult than to be labelled a communist ‘viet cong’. Anyone remotely affiliated with the Vietnamese government earns such a tag. So, given my previous involvement with the Vietnamese community in Oz, having taken the post of president of the Vietnamese Women’s Association in NSW for a couple of years running, there is a risk that by going off to work in Vietnam, not just in any job, but one in the social justice/human rights arena, that I would be viewed as a communist or at the very least communist empathiser (and probably at a philosophical level it ain’t that far from the truth - she says with a big gulp!). I'm more likely to be ostracised than be invited to have such a dissertation. As someone with leftist/socialist leanings I find it difficult to bring up the topic even amongst friends for they remember all too well and can painfullly recount the many horrendous stories of living under (and fleeing) the communist regime.

As the anniversary date 30 April looms near, I find myself reflecting on the politics (and my own) of promoting democracy in a communist country, but also more broadly, the challenges in promoting independence, democracy and rights based concepts, and on whose terms. What is this notion of democracy and at what cost? And how do we do it? Is it by agitation, pacifism or engagement?

As an Aussie of Vietnamese refugee background, I wish the climate was ripe for robust conversations amongst 'Viet kieus' (people of Vietnamese background living outside Vietnam). I personally believe the best way to facilitate the development of freedom and democracy and concepts of 'human rights' for Vietnam is to actively engage with the country, finding opportunities to develop partnerships that stimulate intellectual, social, cultural, artistic, economic and political (re)evolutions.

Am I too idealistic in thinking that this is remotely possible?

One's own worse enemy

2008-02-28T11:18:00.006+07:00

Today is my birthday. How do I feel? Sombre, excited, asleep, awake, disorientated, scared, yet enthusiastic. There is this fear that has been awakened, and once awake it does not go away. It's gnawling at me, questioning my every decision, frightening me into a state of paralysis where I cannot think or reason to myself. I am my own worse enemy - judge and executioner. Today I received good news that I am being considered for a post in Vietnam. But instead of being jubilant, I have commenced the tirade of critique - scrutinising myself through microscopic lenses. I haven't even got the job yet and already I'm here cross examining myself! But, it is only fair to ask myself some hard questions from time to time to help me evaluate my values, and what I stand for, and why I do what I do. It is not for others to pass that judgement or make assumptions about me- it is only important that I know, that I am clear about my purpose, that I can act with total integrity. I have struggled with the notion of doing 'international development work' for a long time. I alternate between the belief that such work is somewhat paternalistic, disempowering, and not exactly rocking the status quo, to the belief that such work is important because at least people are getting in there and trying 'to do something' rather than critiquing from the side. When I'm in the latter mode, that's when I'm inspired to get out there and 'do something', hence my decision. But when I get back into the former mode, it can be a very dark place to be, to question oneself (and others) about the motivations to do this work, and with no resolve:
- What do I as an individual get out of this?
- Will communities actually benefit from my contribution? How will I/they know?
- How do I ensure that I engage respectful and not patronisingly?
- How do I immerse myself into that new world as a member of the community and not just as an expat?
- How do I compensate for the privileged position that I am coming in from?
- How will I know when I have shifted (shafted?) my values?
- Who will I be accountable to, and what am I accountable for in such an environment?

I don't know. Today is just a day for fear, doubts and reservations. Fear that I would fail myself, that I would fall short of my own standards, that I don't know what I'm doing. I have no answers - just checking in with self.