30 Day Challenge, Day 10: Songs you listen to when you're happy, sad, bored, hyped and mad

HAPPY




SAD







BORED




HYPED



MAD




 

30 Day Challenge, Day 9: Something that you're proud of in the past few days

I've always been proud of my momma, but these days I am absolutely beaming with pride. See, her childhood dream had always been to teach little kids. She was actually a teacher, but then I was born and my da told her to stay at home to raise me. She never stopped teaching, though. She was my first teacher, after all. She taught me how to read and write by the time I was three years old, and was the reason why I tested into first grade level when I was in kindergarten. (Momma decided against letting me skip grades; she wanted me to be with kids my own age.) 


Anyway. She's back in school now, starting over with the end goal of getting a Master's in Education. Momma's retired now, and instead of spending her retirement playing golf or singing karaoke all day, she's hitting the books. She's doing really well, too; her grades are in the B+/A- range!

30 Day Challenge, Day 8: Short term goals for the next month and why

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Before art, linguistics, politics, womanism and social activism, writing was my first love. My momma loves to tell the story of how, when I was about three, I became so curious and jealous of her signing credit card receipts that I insisted that she teach me how to write my name as well. By age five I wrote little poems, and by seven I was so sad about Bambi's mom's death that I re-wrote Bambi to have a happy ending with her playing with her grandchildren.Simply put, writing was my world.

But then life sort of got in the way. It was during my uni years when writing began to lose its magic, its wonder. Writing term papers on political economy and Sharia Law became the norm and before I knew it, I barely had time to write for myself. Later on, I wrote grant proposals and reports on gender violence, genocide and war. Writing became something I had to do. Because it became an obligation, I avoided writing during my free time. I created art. I hiked. I wrote e-mails. I scheduled "Quote of the Week" posts for this blog. But I didn't write for the sake of writing.


I would like to re-claim the magic I felt as a three-year-old, which is why I'm joining NaNoWriMo , which stands for National Novel Writing Month. Every year in November, participants are given the task of writing at least 50,000 words. There are no "winners" per se; you get kudos for completing it. It will certainly be an interesting time, and I hope I can complete this task.

30 Day Challenge, Day 7: A picture of something or someone that has made a big impact on you

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Her name is Sharbat Gula, and she is the face and name behind the haunting National Geographic cover. I was six  years old when, being the snoop that I am, I came across my da's old collection of iconic magazine covers. I asked my da, "Why is she so sad? She would be so beautiful if she smiled." My da looked at me sadly and said, "Well, darlin', she looks sad because she and her family lost her home because of war." I naively suggested that we should send her some of my toys, and maybe half my piggy bank so she and her family could find an apartment.


Da looked at me strangely--I remember thinking he looked like he was holding back tears--as he explained to me that while it was sweet that I wanted to help, this little girl and her family were probably already dead. He tried as best he could to explain war, displacement and starvation to a 6-year-old girl. I remember crying myself to sleep that night. "Dead" was a concept I'd yet to understand. To me "death" was like sleeping, and I wanted so badly for a prince to find this beauty, so she could live again. And maybe, just maybe I'd find her one day and send her my toys. Then this girl with the haunting eyes would smile.


It is because of Sharbat Gula that the seed of humanitarianism was planted inside of me. Through the years I became actively involved with advocacy for survivors of war, genocide, gender violence and honour crimes. More often than not, being in this field has brought me heartache. Some days i feel like I cannot bear to hear one more story of raped women and babies killed in front of their mothers.


But then I remember that in 1999, as my da and i were watching PBS, there was a special that caught both our eyes. It was the search for the girl with the haunting eyes.


Her name is Sharbat Gula.


She didn't die.


She was 30 when they found her again, married with children. And her haunting eyes burnt as bright as ever, telling me to keep the faith. To stay the course in humanitarianism. For her. For her children. And for their children, and many more children in generations to come.


Hope lives.

30 Day Challenge, Day 6: Your favourite superhero and why

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They were my favourite superheroes growing up and to this day, I have a soft spot for them. (Yes, even Kimberly. Especially Kimberly.)

However, if I were to pick my favourite superhero based on why, it would have to be Batman. He wasn’t born an alien with superhuman skills like Kal-El/Superman or as the Chosen One like Buffy. Unlike Kimberly, he wasn’t given a power coin that enabled him to tap into the power of the Pterodactyl and enabled him to command an oversized robot. 

He’s just a regular man who chose to defend and protect people as redemption of sorts.

He chose to be a hero, although reluctant to be labeled as such. There’s darkness in him and yes, quite a few undesirable characteristics like brooding and being a playboy. But despite this darkness, he makes the effort to fight through it so that others may live in light and love. His is a story born from loss and took flight in the wings of vengeance, but ultimately ends in redemption.*

*Christian Bale’s portrayal of Batman is bang on. He’s truly the best actor of my generation.

30 Day Challenge, Day 5: A picture of somewhere you've been to

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ISCHIA, ITALY

30 Day Challenge, Day 4: A habit you wish you didn't have

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Code switching . 

30 Day Challenge, Day 3: A photo of you and your friends

Spring 2009. L-R: Mischief (a.k.a. R), me and my BFF Bliss (a.k.a. J).

30 Day Challenge, Day 2: The meaning behind your blogger name

the UNchecked other refers to both my being hapa and ethnicity/race identification government forms.  In some forms, there is a box called other in lieu of multiracial/multiethnic or mixed. It may sound silly to some and maybe something only fellow hapas can truly understand, but I've always rebelled against the checking of any of these neat little boxes. Most of the time I write hapa or mixed, but sometimes I simply write in HUMAN.

To be hapa is to live in the borderlands, and to exist in these amalgam lands means that I refuse to check one box in those optional race questions on forms. To choose one race over the other would be to negate the other parts that make me, me. If I check other, it would imply that hapa people such as myself have no place that warrants being named. In my cultures—Native or otherwise—not having a name means that you neither exist nor matter. Unseen and unheard, you are a ghost, stripped of the dignity of what it is to be human.

Conversely, I refuse to say I am a quarter this, half that, or part these. Hapa identity is a whole identity that is made from whole ethnicities, races, cultures, traditions, and people. I refuse to be divided into neat little fractions. My ancestry comes as a whole and manifests its influence over me in a uniquely all-encompassing hapa way.

With my held held high, I choose to be the UNchecked other.

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30 Day Challenge, Day 1: A recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself

Partly to get my 'okole on the blogging groove again and mostly because one of my friends has hounded me on FB to do one of these things, I've decided to hop on the 30 Day Challenge bandwagon. So here goes...

I attempted to go for the "pensive" look, but ended up with "constipated." Duuuuuuude....

1. As the sidebar of this here blog subtly declares, I'm HAPA, or mixed race. The short version is that my da was Hawaiian-American and my mom's of Spanish, Filipino, AmerIndian and Chinese descent, but was born and raised in the Philippines.

2. I can speak 8 languages fluently and about a dozen if you include the languages that I can speak at an intermediate level.

3. Like dear ole Harry Potter, I look like my dad but have my momma's eyes. 

4. When I was a kid, I was afraid of Santa Claus. I always thought the notion of a stranger keeping tabs on whether you were naughty or nice was stalker-y. Then there's the whole sneaking into the house through the chimney. Yeaaaahhhh....

5. I went to a Catholic school almost all of my life, and I constantly got in trouble for saying that Jesus was a zombie because He rose from the dead after 3 days.

6. I also got in trouble for saying Catholics are cannibals with the whole drinking the blood and eating the body of Christ.

7. It's been about 16 years since I last played the mandolin and bandurria, but when I picked up a mandolin at a music store, it was as though no time has passed. I can still play Church songs from memory. 

8. I cannot whistle or snap my fingers.

9. I'm afraid to light a match or a lighter...totally the opposite of a pyromaniac. 

10. In addition to a shoe and bag addiction, I also collect fountain pens, Filofaxes and angel figurines.

11. My hair used to be almost knee-length, but now I'm addicted to short hair. 

12. My momma is one of my best friends.

13. My other bff and I met in Tibetan Buddhism class.

14. My ultimate goal is to start my own non-profit organization that offers livelihood programs and education for honour crime and conflict survivors. 

15. I really, really, really wanna move to Turkey. Like, right now. But realistically, it'll have to wait until at least next year or so.