survivor guilt

Last night, at Evan's behest, we went to see a Richard Flamer speak at the Mexican Cultural Center in Santa Ana. Evan has been really involved in fundraising for the Zapatistas and is planning a trip to Chiapas for late this summer, where he'll help build houses and schools and then he'll head back into Mexico City for a little art and culture. Pretty ambitious for 20, huh?

Anyway, the speaker started much later than planned, and the event lasted even longer, and it was so full of information - sadness, really - about the state of the world. That this one small region of Mexico is quite literally the end of the free world, and they are being pushed to their limits. They are indigenous people who refuse to be exploited by the Corporations of the World, they don't want to work for 12 cents an hour, don't want to be told what to do by Nike, don't want to assemble cars that they could never dream of driving. They want to be left alone, and that makes them a threat. It was so overwhelming... especially knowing that there is no escape from the life you're born into - and by heredity, you are part of the problem. I was so utterly drained when I dragged myself into bed at midnight last night (after working from 6am - 6pm) that I just wanted to cry. I finished reading my book, just to distract myself, but when the lights were off, I cried.

It turns out that my tears were not in vain. Some of you needed them last night [you know who you are] and you can rest assured that every burst of energy in my body was singing out to you. And to all the people everywhere who are hurting.