stephieng's Xanga

If I become a Marxist, it's partially my dad's influence

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 00:40:59 GMT

Just kidding. But there was a recent incident in the Eng household that spurred such a thought.

We were watching the Nightly News with Charles Gibson on ABC one evening last week (something of a nightly ritual). There was an 'expose' on a blueberries distributor who has been using child labor. Human Rights Watch had worked with four graduate students to uncover this story. They got the president of the company on film, walking with his head down, refusing to talk to the reporters. They interviewed the kids (probably from a migrant family, it wasn't made clear) who were working there - five, eight and eleven years old. It was all portrayed to be very egregious.

Before my parents commented on it, I was thinking,...well, now you just put those kids out of a job. What if they were being paid for it? Now they have less income.

Then my parents chime in...and boy, did they chime. They did not appreciate the spin on that piece at all. My mom asked out loud, "What's wrong with that? Kids work on farms all the time. They're picking berries with their parents. They're with their parents all the time, so what's wrong?" Then they showed the dangers of the pesticide sprays, and the kids' possible exposure to the fumes. "Oh, well that part is bad." She still insisted that it wasn't as bad as ABC was making it out to be.

Then my dad. Oh, daddy. "See? That's why I don't have sympathy for kids in the ghettos. See, at least those kids, they're working for the family. They're earning money. That's why I hate the bourgeoisie." (thus, the blog title...if you read on, you'll find that my thoughts are actually hardly Marxist) Then he goes on about how the bourgeoisie always think they 'know better,' how they're elitists, etc.

Ha, it's true. I don't think that the 'bourgeoisie' tend to understand that the 'principle' of child labor isn't all wrong. I don't know that there should be laws illegalising child labor. What if the kid wants to work? In this case, it seems wrong because it's physical labor. Because hey, there are plenty of kids who 'work' but are more socially accepted - how about that American boy who started a school (or was it an orphanage) in Africa? How about that boy who was trying to change laws about restaurants throwing away food? How about kid (teen) athletes? They're technically "working" because they're preparing to become professional in their sport - many only go to school half the time, or they get private tutors. They're not getting paid for their training, but you could say that they're working.

By exposing this 'horror', HR Watch and ABC also indirectly challenge the parents' judgment. I noticed that the reporters didn't really talk to the parents of the kids - probably cuz they were embarrassed, or maybe not embarrassed enough. Yes, sometimes parents have very bad judgment, but I don't think that saying, "Hey kids, you have to help us pick some berries so we can food on our family" is the worst thing in the world. I personally have more problems with they way this couple is raising this kid, but no one's bothering them.

It's easy to go after a principle. "Child Labor" is wrong - let's make it illegal for any children under 12 to work. It's not easy to understand subtleties and circumstances and apply different consequences for different cases. That poor blueberries president - he might have understood the stories and difficulties of that family. But HR Watch, ABC reporters, and those grad students were clearly coming into this with their own opinions already formed. What use is it talking with them in front of a camera? Now we'll never know what that president guy really thought.

I'm not supporting 'child labor' here. I'm saying that stories are usually much more complicated than mass media makes them out to be. And it's our responsibility to make sure we're using our brains when we take in all this information. It is kind of sad that these kids have to go out and pick blueberries just to survive. And yes, if the kids are exposed to dangers from work, then there is a real problem that needs a real solution. But just pointing fingers and saying, 'child labor bad!' is hardly the way to go about things.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 15:35:21 GMT

http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5gBPaHA8wyvhZsKWPW8Uxp30QpfqgD99AFFEG1

Does South Carolina even border Mexico?

Mexicans aren't animals that have to be kept out by fences. What kind of message does a wall send to people?

http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2007/05/us-mexican-border/bowden-text
"There is an iron law on this border: The closer one gets to the line, the more rational the talk becomes because everyone has personal ties to people on the other side. Everyone realizes the wall is a police solution to an economic problem. The Mexicans will go over it, under it, or try to tear holes in it. Or, as is often the case, enter legally with temporary visiting papers and then melt into American communities. Of the millions of illegal immigrants living in the United States, few would have come if there wasn't a job waiting for them."

I wanted to write some long thing about the idiocy that is the securitisation of immigration and the US-Mexico border (incidentally, I wrote a paper on this in my Master's program), but I think I'll just let the articles speak for themselves. The NatGeo article is a gem I found while researching the topic,...I used it mostly for the pictures for a PPT, not so much the article itself, though it is an interesting read.

The Alligator River Story

Sat, 27 Jun 2009 18:24:55 GMT

The Alligator River Story

There lived a woman named Abigail who was in love with a man named
Gregory.  Gregory lived on the shore of a river.  Abigail lived on the
opposite shore of the same river.  The river that separated the two lovers
was teeming with dangerous alligators.  Abigail wanted to cross the river
to be with Gregory.  Unfortunately, the bridge had been washed out by a
heavy flood the previous week.  So she went to ask Sinbad, a riverboat
captain, to take her across.  He said he would be glad to if she would
consent to go to bed with him prior to the voyage.  She promptly refused
and went to a friend named Ivan to explain her plight.  Ivan did not want
to get involved at all in the situation.  Abigail felt her only
alternative was to accept Sinbad's terms.  Sinbad fulfilled his promise to
Abigail and delivered her into the arms of Gregory.  

When Abigail told Gregory about her amorous escapade in order to cross the
river, Gregory cast her aside with disdain.  Heartsick and rejected,
Abigail turned to Slug with her tale of woe.  Slug, feeling compassion for
Abigail, sought out Gregory and beat him brutally.  Abigail was overjoyed
at the sight of Gregory getting his due.  As the sun set on the horizon,
people heard Abigail laughing at Gregory.

=====================================================================

THE EXERCISE:  After reading the story, rank the five (5) characters in
the story beginning with the one whom you consider as the "most offensive"
and end with the one whom you consider the "least objectionable."  That
is, the character who seems to be the most reprehensible to you should be
entered first in the list following the story, then the second most
reprehensible, and so on, with the least reprehensible or objectionable
being entered fifth.  Very briefly note why you rank them in the order
that you do.

...

My Gemstone team participated in this exercise in our sophomore year of college. There were ten of us, and after reading the story, we each came up with our own rankings. It was a team building exercise meant to encourage us to share our ideas and values and come up with a common ranking. I don't remember our final ranking as a group was, but I remember who I ranked as the "most offensive."

In my five minutes of thinking about the story, I was convinced that Ivan was the worst because he could have done something to help, but he chose not to. I was so convinced that there might have possibly been a happy ending, if Ivan, Abigail's so-called friend, had tried to help in some way. They could have built a boat! He could've told her to wait til the bridge was rebuilt! He could've volunteered to distract the gators! I don't know. In that moment, I was just convinced that Ivan was terrible for not wanting to help.

The reaction of all my teammates - disbelief. "What?!" They all probably thought I was joking. It was strange, because it seemed such the obvious answer to me. I wasn't trying to be controversial. It just made sense. While I got some people to understand why I chose Ivan ("Yeah, I hate when people don't care and don't want to help"), we didn't end up saying that he was the worst.

It's interesting, because stepping back, I can see that the other characters really did some pretty terrible things. The exercise, more than anything, reveals my own assumptions and values. I could actually argue any ranking of the people, as long as I come up with some good justifications. But my eventual ranking is based on what I choose to believe are the problems/motivations behind everyone's actions.

Ivan - because he had the most potential to change things, but chose not to do anything.
Gregory/Abigail - why didn't Gregory try more to assure Abigail that he loved her? and why couldn't you forgive Abigail? why didn't Abigail just wait til the bridge was rebuilt? just a little more patience, woman! and why did you laugh after your man got beat?
Slug - he chose violence instead of mediation/reconciliation. (war instead of diplomacy)
Sinbad - he could've helped out,...and he would have for a price. maybe the price didn't seem so high to him.

hongry hongry hippos

Sat, 22 Nov 2008 03:07:19 GMT

Blargh. That's how I feel about the layer of fat that is slowly but steadily forming around my middle. I will soon post pictures of all the yumness in which I've been partaking here in HK. The first week here, when my parents were still here, we were eating out for pretty much every meal. Thankfully, now that they've gone, I'm eating at home (at my relo's apt) more. But for the first week...there was not really a moment when I felt hungry. We would go from breakfast to lunch to afternoon tea (which is not the simple British tea & biscuits, but HK-style butter & syrup on toast with a bowl of noodles, and maybe a BBQ chicken wing with a big cup of milk or lemon tea) to dinner to dessert. There just wasn't enough time in between to digest all the food that had been consumed at the previous meal. Freakin' living like hobbits.

I'm a big believer in physical, earthly things being a shadow or representation of the spiritual. So when I think about physical hunger, I think about spiritual hunger.

It's quite common to hear the word "hunger" thrown around in Christian culture (I wonder if it's the same in Jewish, Muslim, or other religious cultures),...wanting to be hungry, hungering for God's word, etc. Do you find it weird that we would WANT to be hungry? The way that I hear it used makes it seem like being hungry is a good thing. That's probably not an accurate way of understanding 'hunger.' Isn't hunger just a feeling that signals us to eat something? It's not really about wanting or not wanting to be hungry. It's weird to ask God, "Make us hungry." If anything, it should be more like, "God, help me to realise when I'm hungry." Sometimes, if I'm in my zone (whether it's reading, working, playing, etc), I won't realise that I'm hungry. Or I'll ignore the hunger. But it's there - I just won't do anything about it.

There is some good to being hungry - it makes regular food taste even better. But this also could be 'dangerous,' because our senses are distorted by extreme hunger. Mmmm, maybe that's taking the analogy too far. Nevermind, I won't get into this.

But going back to spiritual hunger...and more importantly, spiritual FOOD. What in the world is spiritual food? Well, a quote that I have loved for a long while...
"In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God's word all over again. You need milk, not solid food! Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil."

It doesn't outrightly say what spiritual food is. But it pretty clearly tells us what spiritual food is NOT. It is not simply the elementary truths of God's word. The writer suggests that solid food is about righteous actions, distinguishing good from evil in this confusing mess that is called life.

So it's not about just being hungry. Perhaps "feed me" doesn't quite have the same ring when it comes to Christian songs, but I think it's equally important. And actually, I don't think it's "feed me," it's about being aware that we need to eat, and then eating. The food is in front of us. The challenges and problems in our lives, the news we read, the TV we watch, the music we listen to. That's there for us to 'eat,' 'digest,' and 'excrete.' The stuff that is good nourishes and grows our spirit. The junk should get flushed down the toilet. The spiritual toilet.

Physical food is for our body to have energy to move. Maybe spiritual food is for the spiritual Body to have energy to move?

Mmmmm spiritual dimsum...

el papa

Thu, 23 Oct 2008 03:11:46 GMT

It's about 10pm and the phone rings. Daddy picks up and starts chatting. Booty call? No. It turns out that his old high school classmate got a hold of him and felt like catching up on a Wednesday night. They talk for a while. I hear bits of the conversation. "How much do you weigh now?" "You're down by Sawgrass Mills? My mother's living near there." "Yeah, we used to stay longer before my dad passed away." "My oldest is 24 now." "I don't remember that!"

Dad comes into my room, as I expected he would after he finished the call, to tell me what's happened. Mum was no doubt sleeping by now, and will probably hear about it tomorrow in the car on the way to work with Daddy. He goes on about this guy, and how different he sounds now. He's half telling me, but half just reminiscing to himself. He describes what his friend (Joe?) used to look like, and then decides to go dig up his 1969 yearbook. He goes downstairs, and soon I hear the rustling of the paper bag that's sitting in our corner of old books and magazines. He comes back up with the page already open to his picture. "We used to play football together. He was big but fast." We flip to Daddy's picture, and laugh at how goofy his hair looked (parted deeply from the right). I'm half listening to him talk, and half enjoying my dad's excitement (or...my dad's version of excitement) at this random visit from the past. It's endearing, this rare, tender moment from Papa Eng.

peanut butter jelly time

Tue, 21 Oct 2008 18:40:19 GMT

me: yay! you bought bread!
mommy: yup! a lot, too.
me: aww, but we don't have peanut butter.
mommy: dang it! i forgot to buy! ...but we bought peanuts! you can make your own peanut butter!

and so i did. and boy was it bad.

it just got personal

Thu, 02 Oct 2008 03:25:36 GMT

so, up until now, the financial crisis was something with which to amuse myself. watching people freak out about the NASDAQ & DowJones' huge drops. observing the democrats and republicans making jabs at the other party, blaming each other for this problem. wondering where exactly that $700 billion is going to come from.

about one month ago, i interviewed with the OTA, an office of the department of treasury. last week, they said they were busy doing year ends and still doing first round interviews, but they'd definitely call me when they started doing second rounds.

then, today i get an email. the guy says that because of the recent financial crisis, the treasury has put the OTA under a hiring freeze. so they are 'unable to offer me a job' at this time. ...! only two things lessened the blow: 1. they said they'd keep me on their shortlist for when the freeze is lifted, 2. i got paid for work today.

i feel like someone who has been watching some little kids pulling pranks on their neighbours, found it amusing, and then gets kicked in the shins by one of those kids.

The Greatest Olympian of All Time

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 15:43:40 GMT

Regarding my previous entry, a kind of perfect example of the 'dangers' of labels that I was reminded of a few days ago: genocide. I knew there was a real life example of where defending ethnic identities turned bad. I was reminded of this when I watched Hotel Rwanda (for the first time!) last week. 'Twas pretty good.

But on to more recent events that have irked me. I forget which event was airing - it was beach volleyball (bleh), gymnastics or something, when I heard a commentator use the word, "Phelpsian." I wasn't really paying much attention up to that point, but when he said it, I made a full stop. Excuse me? As if Phelps wasn't getting enough coverage and attention during the swimming events, he still has to be mentioned in every other sport?

I give Michael Phelps his due respect. Eight gold medals at the Olympics is no small feat. Congratulations! Really! We can even give him a special box in front of everyone, including the teammates who helped him win, to recognise his accomplishment. And if you want to zoom in on his face while the national anthem is playing, even though it was a relay event, OK, fine. You can do that too. A little distasteful, in my opinion, but whatever. But can we all just take a breather, and take a more balanced view of him now?

First, let's look at his title, "The Greatest Olympian of All Time." I suppose if your standard for "greatest Olympian" boils down to the number of gold medals won, then yes, technically, he is the greatest Olympian of all time. But first, in how many other events can you even win more than 1 gold medal? Certainly for the team sports you don't. In gymnastics, you can get a handful, maybe. The point is, if the standard is gold medals, then you rule out more than half the Olympians just because of the sport they're in. Doesn't sound right.

Second, let's look at the circumstances under which he came to win these gold medals. He eats more than a small village in India eats in a day. 10,000 - 12,000 calories. He trains at top-notch training facilities, with top-notch coaches. His daily routine is wake up, eat, swim for hours, chill with his dog, Rock out (I was pretty amused to see that he plays Rock Band), and sleep. He doesn't have any other responsibilities or cares in the world other than to swim hard and fast. So yes, it makes sense that he would be an amazing swimmer.

But what about the other factors that he doesn't control? Just because you train everyday doesn't mean you'll win gold, or even medal. So, part of his success may be genetics? Well in that case, we should be recognising his parents. Or we should be looking at him as scientific wonder. We should be looking at what in his muscles/feet/hands that make him such a good swimmer. Part of it is also fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it. We (at least us Americans) have all seen that clip of the 100m fly, where he goes in for that last half a stroke and slams the sensor .01 seconds before Cavic. Cavic was there. He just made a split second decision to glide in, and not go for another stroke. How does that say anything about either Phelps or Cavic? One is not a better swimmer. It was just 'supposed to be' Phelps that day.

Mitch Albom wrote a great piece on the less glorified stories from the Olympics - the one about the Nigerian woman blows me away. In any case, I wish I could've been back in Oz watching this Olympics just to see how they commentated on Phelps. I wonder if they weren't more balanced with the coverage. I also wonder if they made constant references to Ian Thorpe's former glory. HA! Anyway, everything feels so blown out of proportion here. I get the same feeling when I think of foods that are overly sweet.

And just a last note, it's interesting how we all just gave him a clean slate, and forgot about his drunk driving arrest. Just as the Olympics were about to start and I heard Phelps's name being thrown around, my first thought was, "Wasn't that the dude who got arrested for drunk driving?" I remember shaking my head that he was giving Maryland a bad name. Whatever. Phelps has got some smart marketing & PR people working for him, that's all I can say. "Phelpsian." Yeah.

Chinese American Christian Female

Mon, 04 Aug 2008 04:27:07 GMT

That title looks like the start of a dating ad. "Divorced white female ISO single white male." No no, that's not where this entry is going.

Those four words in the title are usually the ones I use to identify myself [me, me, me]. They seem to be the characteristics that society cares most about. If/when I get a job, my job title might get thrown in the mix too. The problem I see with those four words is that I really don't think that they say much about me at all. Chinese...well, like Mainland China? Taiwan? Hong Kong? "Chinese" is not actually an ethnicity, but a nationality. There are so many different Chinese ethnic groups - Han, Dai, Manchu, Uyghur, just to name a few.

American? Growing up in middle class, suburban America is way different from growing up in the Midwest, from the inner city, from Hawai'i or Alaska. Maybe being American means I think our soil tastes like liberty. I'm American, but sometimes when I'm abroad, I don't like people knowing that I am. [There's a story that I haven't told about my friend calling me, "So American." It was pertaining to the post-cyclone situation in Burma. Basically, I said that the Burmese military government's rejection of foreign aid because of reasons of protecting religion/culture did "not make any sense to me at all." I said it was also wrong because the junta was oppressing freedoms. BAM. "So American." I resented that.]

Christian. Well, what denomination? Non-denominational, but evangelical? What if I grew up Presbyterian, but I currently go to a charismatic, pentecostal church? Some people who call themselves Christian don't actually believe in the existence of God, but just use the label to mean that they grew up in a Christian environment. That certainly is not me. So what value is it to you that I call myself a Christian, if I don't qualify that label? Why even tell you in the first place? Why not just ask me what I think of life and God? My understanding of God and life has been going through some...fine-tuning, if you will...ever since I started caring and thinking about such things. Ask me the difference between my perspective now and the one I had just two years ago...very different.

Female. Well, what if I used to be a man? What if I identify myself as a female, but still have male parts? What about hermaphrodites?

So, pretty much, I think accepting these labels is like cutting corners to really getting to know a person. Those forms we fill out, where we have to bubble in our ethnicity, gender, or religious affiliation...those are for people who don't really care about who we are. They're the marketing research companies, for whom each one of us is just another data point. There's no huge problem with collecting that kind of "basic" information, I guess. The problem arises when we start to strongly identify with whichever labels we choose to use. Bigger problems arise when we not only identify but defend those identities to the point of excluding, ostracising others. And really, these identities are mostly social constructs. People made these labels...clear cut definitions of these labels don't exist in black and white. That's more obvious when it comes to ethnic & national identity (I've been realising that it's quite common for people to have grown up in several countries, have dual citizenship, or have citizenship of a country in which they have only lived for a few years), but maybe not so much when it comes to gender and religious identity.

When we don't take time or effort to understand those with more complex stories, then we're being lazy. Where's the love in that?

Lesson for self: take the time to really get to know people.

pause

Thu, 12 Jun 2008 05:32:54 GMT

a pause in the sisterhood series to share some goodness from Mama Eng:

greeting from Chennai, India

i am now in the W.B. office, Chennai. we arrived last night late. after custom, baggage claim.... left airport around 1:00 am. hotel sent two taxi for us, one each. i was a bit x#%&^@, very dark and unfamiliar place, longest 25-minute ride BY MYSELF.

love,

...and then she doesn't put her name or anything. AHAHAHA. My mom cracks me up. I know that if I told her she was hilarious, she'd say, "But I'm serious!!" True, I probably would've been just as nervous if I was in her situation. Anyway. I can't figure out what word x#%&^@ represents. Guesses?

Might not actually continue the sisterhood series. I wanted to write another entry about one cloudy day when I sat in front of my sister's front-loading washing machine and watched the clothes getting washed for at least 30 minutes straight. But...maybe not. In any case, the brother and sister are coming to make new memories, so maybe I'll write about that.

Randomly, my revelation of the day...yesterday..."An apple is not just an apple."