why i've joined the dark side

I had a different reason for writing this when I started. I had a long intro that I scrapped and listed several details that I decided to delete. As I initially rounded the last lap bringing me home to my first intended conclusion, I learned something more about myself and was hit with a realization that is much more profound to me.

I have many reasons for now supporting the build-up. The first being that I learned nothing from some of the people who opposed it. My questions were not answered and I did not know what they were fighting for. Not the best way to get people to understand and agree with your cause. And then the real change started after I was also left with an extreme distaste for the way some of those opinions were expressed in how they mocked and tried to censor those who did not believe what they did. What started out as "the little people" standing against the majority turned into those same little people bullying those who did not agree, all the while complaining about how they feel bullied when they were challenged to answer questions that, again, they could not answer.

But those were ultimately not the main reason I found that I could not, in good conscience, support the most vocal groups that have rallied against the build-up. As the war raged against those who once occupied us, those who still occupy us and those who threaten to occupy us more, I looked at myself and saw a product of all those horrible occupations that have been painted as villains. And it was the first time in 31 years of calling this island "home" that I felt the most unwanted and undeserving of an island that has meant so much to me.

Once upon a time, the race wars had escaped me. While people spoke of how one group or another became the victim of another group simply because of the color of their skin, I wondered why I had never experienced it.

And now I have. Worse, I've never felt more scrutinized and judged because of the color of my skin than I have in my own home. The worst racism I've felt has been from the people who I once thought were of the same race as I. Never, in my travels abroad, have I felt that level of alienation. Never has a person from a different place asked me to qualify my race or ethnicity.

I don't like to qualify my ethnicity. Or my nationality. Or even my gender, for that matter. I see myself, primarily, as a combination of all the experiences I've had and all the lessons I've learned from them, things that are a lot more personal to me, outside of things I have no control over. I did not choose to be a woman. I did not choose my nationality or my ethnicity. I, now, have a little more control over my language but I did not have control over it as I learned to speak.

But of all the things I had no control over, my generation has had much more of an effect on who I am. It's the way the world is around me, during my lifetime, that has dictated much more of my personality than just my ethnicity, just my nationality, just my gender. My culture exists now. I do not live the lives my parents did just as their lives was not the same as that of their parents. Throughout many years, with every occupation, the island's culture has changed. And I'm okay with that. I'm okay with my culture, now. I'm okay with speaking English. And I love that I am a combination of many different ethnic groups, that I am a product of what happens when people don't define themselves exclusively by their ethnicity.

What I'm not okay with is having to answer to other people based on my ethnicity. I'm not okay with being told I should register as being a part of one ethic group as though that's the only part of me deserving of my upbringing on Guam. I'm not okay with having any part of my ethnicity attacked. And again, I'm not okay with feeling like an outsider in my own home for the first time in my life.

Once upon a time I wanted nothing more than to leave an island for a much more anonymous area, where I did not have to live under the watchful eyes or expectation of others. My husband changed that about me. My husband made me see how much I loved my home and how much I cherished being raised here, making me want to raise my children here even more.

I've since changed again, as has my husband. Now that we have children, with just as white of a name and white skin who, if they were judged only by appearance, would not seem to be Chamorro, I want them to grow where they are accepted. I don't want them to live in a place where they'd be victimized by their own people. I don't want them to wonder what it means to be called a "fucking haole".

I know many people will read this and say I've misinterpreted their actions and their cause. I know many will think I've skewed the issue and turned it into something that has little to do with their intentions. I ask that those people really look at their actions and their causes and realize that I'm not the only person who feels this way. I ask that they consider how their actions can be misinterpreted and find another way to promote a cause that does not alienate others. I ask that we all take responsibility for our own actions and understand that we are the ones responsible for the way others see us and if we do not like how we are seen, the power is in our hands to change how people see us.

I had hoped so much to raise my family on this island. With the prospect of relocating to another place in the next ten years, I think about friends I'd miss dearly and how my sons would adapt to such a huge change, if they'd like it at all. I wonder what we'd do if we got out there and my kids decided it was too much for them to deal with and how we'd, then, adapt to coming back home. I wish these were not things I had to consider. There are many reasons people relocate from Guam, chief among them opportunity and affordability in a market that more closely coincides with the cost of living. None of these were enough to make me want to leave. It's heartbreaking to have to face the real reason I want to leave: My white skin is not welcome, here. And no person of any ethnicity should be made to feel unwelcome in their own home.

So why did I join the dark side? Simply put: Because they've been better to me.

on fear, grief, anger and the death of osama bin laden

On May 2, 2011, I woke up from a mid-day nap to find my facebook had exploded with news of the death of Osama Bin Laden -- arguably the most feared man among the American people -- at the hands of US forces.

My reaction was not especially emotional. I saw the situation as believing it was something that needed to be done. I did not share in the elation or sense of security some felt but I respected those sentiments. I acknowledged the happiness people felt while we discussed how this was not over.

And then I braced myself for the commentary provided by others.

I was not let down.

Among the many who rejoiced and the many who hinted at feeling there was little to celebrate were some other out-spoken individuals who had considerably more to say.

The more reasonable called for prayers and reminded those of faith that they have been called to reach out with forgiveness. Some urged others to abandon feelings of anger and hatred in their hearts as both science and spirituality support that anger can be a cancer to a person's mental health.

The well-intentioned but not so eloquent expressed what they truly felt with little consideration, intentional or not, to what their words meant to others.

And there were those who blatantly mocked the relief others felt, used hateful speech toward their fellow man and simply painted themselves as even more ignorant than they had in the past.

It was these reactions the further shaped how I felt about the capture and assassination of Bin Laden.

I am not a person of faith in a greater power. I am a person of faith in human nature and, as such, I do not believe in the necessity to transcend that which makes us human beings. While stating before that hatred and anger can be a cancer, I also believe it is a useful and necessary human emotion provided it does not consume a person. More, I believe it is only up to the individual to abandon hatred when and if that person becomes ready.

As such, the anger and hatred one feels for Bin Laden is, essentially, no one else's business. Whether it's real or misguided, whether it comes from a good place or a bad one, it is not up to another person to determine what it means or how it should be treated. We can never know that much about another person to make that call. In the end, such statements become a judgment. It serves no purpose as the angry person is not likely to pay much mind to the judgment of others, anyway. Bin Laden's family will never see these sentiments of compassion. They will not reach his mourners and if they did, I somehow doubt that radical extremists will care about the sympathy of capitalist American infidels. Ultimately, it achieves the opposite of what the speaker actually intends: In calling for less judgment on a person largely viewed as a monster, it casts judgment on those angry, innocent civilians who do not create public policy and did not do anything to the terrorists who took the lives of their loved ones.

A call to forgive and to open our hearts is one thing and I respect that as a sentiment echoed in a Martin Luther King, Jr. misquote that has gone viral. But some have crossed the line into an unintentional judgment on those who cannot forgive, some of whom just cannot forgive right now.

Then there is the issue of fear, of whether Bin Laden's death makes us more or less safe than before. It reminds me of my childhood, when I mistook the airplanes flying over my house for giants on the roof. My father told me he'd call the airport and ask them to send planes to check on the house so that when I heard them, I knew someone was making sure there were no giants there.

It doesn't make sense and it's not supposed to. It was meant to appease a little girl and rid her of her fear. Fear doesn't necessarily change as we grow and our reaction to it doesn't always mature. Another thing that does not change about fear is that it can consume a person even more than hatred. Thus, when given the chance, whether by our own hands or the actions of others, we may choose to abandon that fear in an attempt to feel safer, however misguided, just so we can move on with our lives. Often, that is simply what justice is about.

So is that a bad thing? Is it really that bad for people to feel more safe that Bin Laden is dead? These are not the people effecting or creating public policy. They have no say-so as to how any war on terrorism is fought and have nothing to do with public safety. They are not the people who need to be vigilant about security on a national or global scale. They are the people who need to have a better state of mind so that they can live their lives as normally as possible.

Truly, anyone who chooses to mock or extinguish that false sense of security is a hateful, malicious person who serves little purpose to himself and those around him.

I also detest the ignorance of futility expressed that catching one person means nothing. If someone hurt my child, I would not react by saying, "So what? There are more people who can hurt my kids so why bother trying to catch the person we know already hurt him?"

Finally, I cannot muster much sympathy for the death of Bin Laden. I sat in tears ten year ago, watching desperate people jump to their deaths, seeing how the immense loss of life hurt those closest to the tragedies, knowing that our world and lives would be forever changed as we became a generation not of world wars, cold wars or conflicts in other lands, but a generation known for its war on terrorism and the first time in many of our lives that such a massive destruction of life was ordered in our own country. I am not interested in forgiving the man who took credit for that loss even as I respect those who have forgiven him. I care more that his death has given many more people a sense of relief. I care more that those who lost anything or anyone on September 11 have been given a sense of justice. In a world where god comes in many forms and means something different to many people, the only justice I believe in, that has any effect on our lives, is that which man creates.

Saying that you cannot rejoice in another person's death is fine. It hurts no one. Saying that you do not like the joy others express is a judgment that does hurt people. Saying that we should be more aware of the danger his death means is okay. Telling people they are stupid for feeling relief is not.

I urge people to consider, first, those who were lost when the terrorists attacked and those who experienced that loss, first-hand, miles away from the majority of us who only saw it from afar. Consider what it would mean if that happened a lot closer to home. Consider how angry and hateful you would be to the person who hurt your family and took them away from you and how willing you would be to forgive that person. Consider how you'd feel if the person who hurt you were caught. No one should take those feelings away from you and you'd be insulted if they tried. Offer thoughts of peace and support and allow them their anger, grief and relief and the ability to come to terms with this on their own.

We said we will never forget and I know I never will. I hope for peace and strength in those who felt this the most and am unashamed in the degree of pleasure I have taken that Osama is gone in the literal definition of the word as I am, in fact, pleased that justice, as many of us define it, has been served.