alleged gangster, people like him bring shame to new territories folks, given i grew up and my parents devoted their youth and career in the NT.
post-it portrait profiling pathetic psychopath personage
it has been a busy june in hong kong. while cramped an occasional irrelevant post like the bread post into the fin-du-mois line up, this one jolted the hong kong protests aside as june 2019 marks the 50th anniversary of of the stonewall uprising. the struggle is far from over if one looks at the gender, social, economic, racial, etc. discrimination directed at lgbqtsti people, still rampant and sometimes vicious.
just like the poster of audre lorde project reads “the history of stonewall is trans”, and to that we should add people of color (i.e. latina/o/x, africans/blacks in usa’s problematic lingo) as a substantial number of them were among those courageous enough to revolt against the police raid.
as with many movements, those who pushed through the front line, the most radical, the most marginalized did not see or had benefited minimally from the fruits of their struggle. sylvia rivera actually had relaunched street transvestite action revolutionaries (S.T.A.R.) a year or so before the end of her life, if that’s benchmark to show how much and at the same time how little had been achieved, for the marginalized within the margins of the lgbtqtsti people.
with corporate pride events choking major cities, let’s not forget the trailblazers, the most discriminated among the discriminated, the STARS that they are, twinkling in the distance with their blessings. on the 50th anniversary of stonewall and looking ahead for lgbtqtsti rights, we need their visionary lights to guide as in the never ending quest for social and economic justice.
ps alp’s statement:
grounding today with reflections from the past
uncovered from my draft entries, last modification dated 13 déc. 2017 03:32.
she might or might not be a significant figure of the expat and missionary communities in nanjing china in the world war ii era, what is written on her and her personal experience will sure be a part of the war / massacre / peace / never again narratives for a turbulent era. her name is Minnie Vautrin.
so here is what I penned around the christmas season of 2017:
what to write or not -rthk late night documentary repeat had an episode on the massacre in Nanjing, sooming my focus in and out throughout the 50 plus minute, a missionary’s story caught my attention – Minnie Vautrin 魏特琳. Reading this in December when everyone walking into shopping centres got bombarded with jingles make the contrast more vehmenly sad. Vautrin, probably suffered a nervous breakdown from witnessing so many people dying around her, took her life within a year of returning to USA for a sick leave.
today, 14 may is the anniversary of her suicide.
a really depressing topic, given people don’t see juan guaido’s ridiculous self-proclamation as president is an attempt of usa backed coup d’état. understandably, one might say, because mainstream media in usa and other nato states work like propaganda machines. however tale-telling finds and associations do appear, if one leaves no stone unturned. take this strange (or you might think outrageous) comparison to the 74th anniversary of the liberation of auschwitz camp and his thank you to the israeli pm. if the war crimes committed to the palestinians serve well as an indicator, perhaps you will see through msm’s thick smog of fake news.
pourquoi cet art national qui démontre normalement la beauté de la vie ou le bonheur montre un visage semblablement méchant? peut être c’est un cœur dur et froid qui fait une apparition non-déguisée.
an ordinary name for a film that reenacted a very out of the ordinary event for those who lived through it. a 2012 spanish / american mainstream film production adapted from a spaniard family’s real account in the 2004 south-east asia’s indian ocean earthquake and subsequent devastating tsunami. the story revolves around the bennett family, whose mom and eldest son were separated form the dad and the younger two kids when the tsunami hit. the visual effects looked real and dramatic, with people and much bigger and at sharp debris bouncing back and forth in a gigantic whirlpool. naomi watts, whom i have been watching since her performances in 21 grams and king kong, gave a solid performance, with all the bruised make-up and such. her son in the film, tom holland, also delivered, with the scene reuniting with his two younger siblings especially touching. i dunno why the director casted ewan mcgregor, who just appeared a just tad too photogenic for someone running around in rags searching for his wife and kids.
the earthquake and tsunami were daily headlines for at least a few weeks for what i recall – my friend and i were glued to tv and interest newscasts re reports coming out nightly at home for much of the christmas and new year holidays then. what stuck me, apart from the good story-line (the real story can’t be bad, eh?) was the still the very european / white (well actually anglo, for the characters’ names were anglicized) narrative. the thai people were pretty much in and out of the background. perhaps the white privileged expats (an insurance company paid for medical evacuation flight to singapore for the five-member family at the end) did only hang out with each other, but this answers exactly the posts i ‘ve been seeing these days on “crazy rich asians” (the film) perpetuating stereotypes. society won’t advance unless diversity of storytelling take centre stage
June 4 is around the corner. After years of controversies with Wikileaks and its founder Julian Assange still in sort of house arrest, at the Ecuadorian Embassy in London, it came to my attention recently that some cables actually are related to the events surrounding the student uprising and culminating into the massacre on 4th June 1989.
The number of students killed might be different according to different accounts. Nevertheless, i felt chilled to the bone rereading some tense moments in the city through a “laowai”, whose mobility was probably more than the average citizen and was sure that minimal casualties through his eyewitness account were at least in the hundreds in this sad saga of Chinese politics and reforms.
So this has been a weekend loaded with activities I attended haphazrdly. The Kowloon City Bookfair, which is running its 6th annual leg, finally fit into my junky, over-the-head, boisterous music-by-the-habourfront weekend. Organised by young literary connoisseurs, back by a creativity-oriented high school, a think tank, etc., the bookfair is a mélange of talks, roundtables, flea market, mini-bookfair and a mini-concert. Free of charge to everybody, coarse but ever-evolving, it’s what this overcrowded and over-developped city needs if Hong Kong were to slow down and smell some roses, or fresh air!
Thanks to a random gift of kindness, I set foot in West Kowloon waterfront for Clockenflap, probably the last time in a while by the West Kowloon waterfront since constructions will be swung into actions in the coming years.
My previous impression of this “music festival” has been some gweilos replicating rock concerts spiced with burning man. Upon entering I was upset with the overfloated plastic recycle bin with all types of trash. A day later however, a politically charged performance by “my little airport” sort of eased my displeasure. Well, in a non-perfect world, room for improvement is the key!