"...to reach people you had to meet them where they were. Respect them. Acknowledge their social norms, beliefs and practices. Find common ground. Build on shared human aspirations — for safety, for dignity, for a better life for one’s children — then discover how those shared aspirations might reasonably translate into ending practices that cause suffering.So, so true.
“If you come in and say, ‘You are awful people,’ people tune out and say, ‘Who do you think you are?’” she told me, speaking first from Senegal, where she has lived for the past 35 years. “Making people feel bad about what they’re doing doesn’t work; they only get defensive. What does work is getting people to discuss together what are their rights and what they mean. It’s not just a question of blaming and shaming people but educating and empowering them.”"
This guy's awesome. This guy is not. Governance takes competence. Gail Collins comments:
As a nation we seem to be overstocked on dreams involving fame and fortune, particularly the ones that come untethered to any plans for actual achievement. Every time a TV show holds auditions for a new singing or dancing or top-modeling competition, the streets are stacked with people who appear to have no particular talent or training but are confident that they can make it to the top, thanks to the critical dream factor.
And maybe they have a point. When President Obama told the nation’s schoolchildren that success requires hard work, a reality TV star named Spencer Pratt retorted that it was actually quite easy. He makes millions of dollars every year playing himself on “The Hills” and attending a large number of nightclub openings. This was not something Pratt had to study for.
I'm sorry, but if you're looking to soft drinks for your dose of antioxidant--yes, that singular is intentional--you're beyond help.
The $23,000 Ghandi pen is much, much more ironic than the Che shirt, no matter where the proceeds are destined.
Some people are only funny when they're not trying to be, i.e. by virtue of their very existence as a public persona.
These jokes are horrendous, but I'm more horrified by some of the comments/lack of sense of humor of some of the commentators. Not because they don't like the jokes, but because they think that some things, in this case health care, are beyond humor. You have to lighten up. You just do.
I laughed last night at something not funny: I was at a party, and someone asked about (M), who had RSVPed but hadn't arrived. I said she worked unpredictable hours; was she still at the same job where she was when this person last spoke to her? I said, no, she's elsewhere, doing human trafficking. The person gave me a horrified look. I said, "I mean, she's not doing human trafficking..." The person said she knew--the horrified look was about the unpredictable hours that would keep someone in the office until 9pm on a Friday. I thought the whole exchange was pretty funny, even though trafficking is no joke. But sometimes you have to laugh.
***
The party was a blast. Just like old times--when Tasha, the hostess, was one of my roommates. See, I'm friends--good friends--with many of the people I once lived with. These friends didn't spend as much time trying to be my friend as my roommate does.
Languages came up, as they do when you've a roomful of Peace Corps volunteers. I realized, as I had earlier in the week for an unrelated reason, that I missed class so much it hurt. But I'd have to do some self-study before I went back.
***
Af. [who is Jamaican]: Jamaican rum is the best.
A.: I don't know-- I really like Central American rum. I still have some Flor de Cana, as does Marisa, from even longer ago. And that rum that Tasha brought back from Honduras was good, too.
T.: I did gifts then? I've stopped doing gifts.
Af.: You did, because I remember trying that rum, and it was good.
A.: I still have the alpaca scarf you brought me back all those years ago-- I love it because it's warm and doesn't itch.
T.: I stopped doing gifts shortly after that because it's hard to get good stuff, and I was determined not to buy people crap. And then, of course, what do they have me doing for Peace Corps? Helping people sell crap. I tried steering them toward making quality things, but they wanted none of it; they wanted to make cheap trinkets for tourists who didn't care enough to consider quality. I tried. Now I'm back to buying crap, because I know it's someone's livelihood.
***
It was a beautiful night--it had rained while I was a the party, but I missed it. It was beautiful beforehand, too. I walked down to Tasha's from the office. I was so excited about the fierceness of my handbag: large enough to hold the big tupperware container of quesadillas that I'd made upon special request, plus the tupperware from my lunch, plus the gym clothes I was taking home to wash, plus the bottle of wine in the bottom. I was so caught up in the fierceness that I didn't consider what a pain it would be, literally, to carry all that for half an hour. I was already in pain-- Sam had us do calf raises, which definitely mean pain. He always ends class asking for questions, comments, concerns and advice with women. I'd be happy to share from negative example, but I'd imagine he's already beyond anything I'd advise him not to do based on the barnlike behavior I've encountered in my dating adventures. But I digress.
After the party, I walked to the metro. Some days, seeing that your train is coming in a minute--when it's late enough that it could be 19 minutes--is manna from heaven. This wasn't one of those nights--I probably could have stood to wait a few minutes--but it was, nonetheless, heavenly not to.
I boarded. The conductor, upon reminding everyone to use all available doors, asked, "what's going on with the last two cars??" He continued: "Multiplication lesson coming up: there are six cars, with three doors on each. That makes 18 doors. No matter which door you use when you enter, you'll still exit on the same platform." Shrug. If they're going to be giving metro etiquette lessons, I'd suggest starting with higher priorities, like ceding seats to the expecting and elderly.
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