i do not swear

News this morning is that Blackwater is off the hook as the State Department renewed its contract with them and no formal charges has been brought against the guards responsible for the Baghdad massacre in September. Read the full article here.

This is abhorrent, despicable, outrageous.

As the NYT article points out, this lack of accountability and justice is in part based on our reliance on outside military contractors to protect US interests. This is very worrisome: justice is sacrificed for both utility and profit.

Six years into the "War on Terror," we have yet to see justice and responsibility taken for US policies of torture, massacre of innocent civilians by US contractors, and CIA extraordinary renditions aka "torture by proxy."

What right to I have to lobby my own government to intervene to stop human rights abuses in Zimbabwe and Sudan when we ourselves practice such things? What moral authority do we have as citizens to speak out against terror and torture?

Nevertheless, I speak out because I believe in the dignity of the human person. I speak out because I believe that we must hold governments accountable to the care of their citizens. I speak out because I believe in God's call to care for one another. But let me be clear: I do not pledge allegience to the United States.

I cry for Zimbabwe
I cry for justice
I cry for peace
I cry for mercy

How long?

Swollen skulls
Swollen eyes
A child beaten
A man tortured
By a State that once promised
Liberation

Many are crying too
Shell-shocked they write
Of horror tales
And courage

Today crying does not feel like enough.

What have we done?
What can we do?
How long?

women are cool too

It always bothered me that when I stopped to think about my greatest heroes they were mostly men. It’s not that I didn’t admire or respect women because some of the most influential people in my life are women. It is just that I had a hard time finding a recognizable female equivalent to Nelson Mandela or Desmond Tutu, for example. Yet, my experience tells me that it was countless “ordinary” and extraordinary women who propelled all of the great movements in history. As a feminist, I feel really embarrassed about this confession and my own contradictions.

However, recently, women have been on my mind. I have been following this election closely and I have been stunned by the poise, sheer gustiness, and brilliant acumen of several women. First, I have come to admire and respect Hillary Clinton. The woman knows her stuff --- and I, like the rest of the public, found myself grudgingly respecting her tenacity and resolve. Second, I think my new hero is Michelle Obama.

When I see Michelle Obama, by herself or with Barack, I see a woman who is strong, confident, and shrewd. She is a woman who speaks directly out of the core of who she is. Hillary is commendable, Michelle is down right stunning. You can see it reflected in her relationship with Barack as well. Their relationship clearly is forged out of deep mutual respect for one another and balance. They negotiate. They take responsibility for their own selves and advocate for each other. They strengthen one another out of their individual strength. Michelle is not afraid of embracing her femininity, her strength, her intelligence, her role as a wife and mother, her passion, and her sense of calling and vocation. In fact, when I listen to Barack and Michelle together, I’m increasingly more captivated by Michelle.

There are other women worth noting as well --- commentators and pundits. I watch CNN, and I have to say that I am very impressed with Gloria Borger, Donna Brazil, and Campbell Brown. Melissa Harris-Lacewell – political science prof/activist from Princeton – pretty much rocks. She is a woman who is not ashamed to love herself, love her community, use her mind, and act. And then there’s my favorite blogger: anxious black woman.

Just a little taste of Michelle, in time for mother’s day!

charting the map

Want to see what I've been working on the last few months? What started as random thoughts, fragments and words has gradually turned into something a bit more coherent as I chart out why I want to go to graduate school and what I want to study. So, if you ever wanted to know, here it is:



My life has been shaped by many streams and experiences. Growing up in Germany, studying and volunteering in South Africa and Mississippi, and working with racial and ethnic minority students in higher education are all experiences that have forced me to confront a legacy of oppression within my own faith tradition and cultural background. As a result, questions of racial justice and reconciliation; violence, trauma, and healing; and cross-cultural dialogue have become central to me. Given my background and experiences, I hope to pursue graduate study to further understand my own journey and the journeys of others.

The range of thinkers who have influenced me are diverse – theologians, literary theorists, mystics, activists, and writers. However, I have learned the most from listening to the stories of others. Therefore, I am primarily interested in narrative and discourse. I want to explore the ways discourse reinforces and supports violence and oppression and the possibilities of narrative as an agent of justice, liberation and healing. I want to do this while taking into account emerging western and non-western worlds and changing boundaries and notions surrounding evil, oppression, and power.

I want to study dialogical strategies of resistance, healing, and empowerment and their relationship to social change by exploring the intersection of political, cultural, and historical narratives as expressed in literature and testimony. Specifically, I want to focus on comparing the American and South African contexts drawing on postcolonial theory, critical race theory, postmodernism, and psychoanalytic theory. When appropriate, I will also integrate theological perspectives and religious narratives as religion has often gone hand in hand with social liberation and healing movements and also played a significant role in the construction of oppressive systems and structures.

Research Interests: Africa and African diaspora; trauma, violence, and healing; formation of subjectivities and identities in transnational contexts; colonialism and postcolonialism; theology and society with special interests in race and social justice; narrative theory; critical perspectives on national and social discourse as it intersects with race/ethnicity, globalization and faith; continental philosophy,

summer blues

It is humid. I wait for the clock to reach 5:00 PM. Is it possible to feel thankful, content, bored, passive, meaningful, and stuck all at the same time? This is what the last few weeks have felt like to me. My frustration comes from the lack of movement I see around me – everything is still, dry, flat, dusty, old.

There is nowhere to go.

Work. Home. Work. Home. Work. Grocery Store. Home. Work. Home. Work. Home. Church. Home. Nap. Repeat.

I told Than this weekend that I don’t want him to feel guilty when I express my boredom/frustration, I just want him to empathize with me. The school year is over and everything feels like drudgery. But at the same time Than and I have these delightful conversations where we realize that internally both of us feel incredibly rich, held, and sustained. We feel surrounded with meaning, purpose, and hope.

So, it's a bit difficult to answer the question: "how are you?" right now.

may day

It’s May Day! Than’s wearing his red hammer and sickle shirt. I’m celebrating redistribution of wealth, as I discover $1200 has landed in my bank account thanks to the government.

Than and I owe a lot to Marx. Without Marx, we never would have met. Our fateful paths crossed on that one and only day we both attended Marxism class. Incidentally, the class was taught bya conservative faculty member of SPU's political science department.

I was fresh from South Africa and passionate about ideas of economic justice, redistribution, and reconciliation. Given Than’s mohawk and presence in the class, I just assumed he was as interested in progressive politics as I was.

My assumptions turned out to be wrong, at least initially. But so were Than’s. In those first few weeks, we were fascinated, delighted, and intrigued by the apparent contradictions we found in one another. A year later, we were not quite as amused.

Over the years, our politics and positions have mellowed out a bit on both spectrums. We used to fight a lot about politics. At times, I even wondered if I could marry someone who didn’t share my same values. I tend to take politics very personally, and my values are central to who I am. But now I have to laugh at all the energy expended worrying about this. We grew up.

These days, I’m equally amazed, delighted, and intrigued by the ways we find common ground through our unique perspectives. Than the philosopher. Rachel more the prophet. Both of us hate easy labels. Both of us are constantly struggling to change and grow. And I think this quality in both of us -- though at times it leads us to different conclusions -- has given us a deep respect for each other. We know the other person isn’t going to stay where they are at. So, now, I’ve just learned to relax and give Than a bit more credit because contrary to my own opinion, I’m not always right. And though our journeys are different, we both usually end up in the same place. I love when this happens because it usually is based not on cajoling or fighting, but on independent and quiet movement and thinking within our own selves. In the process, we sharpen one another, and it feels like divine confirmation that we were created for one another!

Awwww, I’m getting mushy. But that’s what May Day is all about. Cheers to Marx and spring!