Hasta La Gadget!

The most profound conversations remain unspoken since the Orlando massacre. Many of us are still sitting in deep silence not believing something of this magnitude could happen in our lifetime. Not that we have’t seen shootings before, not that we haven’t seen mass deaths, there has been plenty since Stonewall, since AIDS, it’s that we have borne witness to too much hate directed against us, we never expected that a gun, an American-made, bigoted assault weapon could be pointed at us, all of us, killing 49 of our young people, but hurting all of us. All at once. In one sacred space.

You see, gay clubs — they’re our school. Where we met our life teachers who filled the blank pages of history books that never acknowledged our existence. They are the places where many of us learned to wake up, yes, wake up, and quickly learn to make up for the lost time of our youth in schools where we couldn’t love openly, or stare at someone with desire for the fear of being bullied again, of hearing the word “maricón” one more time on a day when the wound finally healed from a taunting the week before, or go up to someone we were crushing on even for a moment or two. Gay bars — these are the places where we met historians who freely shared their personal stories and told us about secret places where we could find each other again after daybreak.

You see, gay clubs — they’re our church. Where we found peace in the noise. Where our age-old prayers to the stars were heard. They are places where we worshipped desire, where we opened our hearts to others, the Jesus-type-of-love rendered upon those without judgment or lament, even for an hour or two, we managed to show someone that we could be as normal as those who privately and publicly condemned us for not being like them. They are places where we weep quietly over drinks and confess to the bartenders, the willing Jesus, personal sufferings only people like us could understand. Gay bars — they are places where our internal demons continue to test us, where we heal the scars from being labeled an abomination way too many times and being hated way too early in our lives for just being born this way.

You see, gay clubs — they’re our public park. Our weekend picnics where we satiated our hunger for air. They are the places that pulled us in because there are no other places open enough to breathe and celebrate. Where we learned to drink. In the height of our inebriation, we met people we were not supposed to meet, lovers who would teach us what we should have learned a long time ago, the way you straight people grew up, secretly had sex in your parent’s house, fell in love in summer camps, at weekend parties that we attended with our straight masks on. Gay bars — these are the places, the tight smoky places, that slowly remove our masks, week after week, partner after partner, drink after drink, broken heart after broken heart, the rebellious type of awakening, gestures of hope and survival, so the next time we meet someone who will call us an abomination, we know that we are not alone anymore.

You see, gay clubs — they’re our family reunion. Where we found the brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts and even the parents who were missing in the past lives we have lead, the new family who saw us for what we were as soon as we accepted their embrace. We didn’t have to explain ourselves to each other. Our stories, all of them, smelled of the same beginnings, the same muffled screams. And from each other we learned how we could continue to weave our stories to become functioning members of our communities, to speak aloud, and scream when we needed to. Gay bars — these are the places, the crowded, noisy places that sang our new meaning, where the words of familiar music finally meant something good because the message was not appropriated by people whose lifestyles made ours look like we didn’t deserve the music at all.

You see, gay clubs — they’re our theatre. Where we became Madonna, Cher, Lady Gaga, Rihanna, RuPaul, Cindy Lauper. Where we broke all standards of dressing because the attention deprived of us growing up was finally attainable. Boys didn’t have to wear dresses behind locked doors anymore, afraid of being caught by a punishing relative. Gay bars — these are the places where we became drag queens at any night of our choosing, where genders are crossed, and labels are torn. Our movements are born at the first knowing that we have never been alone, that there are so many people like us who have felt the same way since we were born, normal as a girl in pants, as a boy-princess, secrets held so dear for years, decades, until the clubs set us free.

You see, gay clubs — they’re our revolution. Our Stonewall. Our history. Our march. Our true rainbow flag. Our Martha P. Johnson. Our Sylvia Rivera. Our Puerto Rican and black transwomen who started the riots and fought for pride, only to be whitewashed into the fringes. Gay bars — these are places where corners have colors, where we learned the double whammy of being LGBT of color, that even in a community where we thought we belonged, there exists people who look down on us while they savor the privileges of one human right gained after another, and put the rest of us in the shadows. These are the places where the forgotten within oppressed communities still struggle for visibility and recognition, whether it’s Latin Night or another ethnic night, where “No Asians, No Blacks, No Fats, No Fems” are a battlecry for inclusion, a reminder that even in a community that raises a rainbow flag, the blood of oppression still drips from the corners.

On Sunday, June 12th, a deranged man broke into our school, our church, our theatre, our public park, our family reunion, our revolutionary space, invoking all the mass shootings of the past decade — all at once, in one sacred space — and left many of us dead. His intent was clear, triggered by hate rhetoric that he breathed in for years from homophobic religions and political establishments. He knew the LGBT clubs are our sacred space. He knew the impact his murderous spree would make. What he didn’t know is that where the floor of sacrificial blood flows, the seed of a new revolution will grow.

Just Wait and See,

Bino A. Realuyo

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Cross-posted from UN Women

Photo: Rodrigo Barraza

“From a young age, I have worked looking after children. Here, in Chiapas, migrant workers come from many states and countries. I’m from a community called Poconichim, in the municipality of Chenalhó, State of Chiapas. I speak Tsotzil and I am part of an organization called the Chiapas Coalition of Migrant Communities (Cimich). We used to feel that we had no rights, no way to participate, no voice in many aspects of life.

During the training we overcame some of our fears. We learned so much by sharing. I saw that other people are working in this area, on migration, and that we share common goals with other organizations. This is really encouraging because sometimes when things get difficult, I feel discouraged and I don’t want to keep going. But I see that other organizations [for migrant workers, like mine] also face hurdles and they persevere. So I see that if others can do it, I also have to keep trying.

We’ve created youth groups, a school for women, and a community finance office. We’ve also set up photography, video, theatre and dance workshops. This encourages me to keep working in groups. We want to make sure migrants know their rights. We demand that our rights [such as to better pay and working conditions] be respected!”

Patricia Pérez Gómez, 27, is a migrant woman worker from Poconichim, Mexico, and part of the Chiapas State Coalition of Migrant Communities. She participated in a workshop in January 2016, which dealt with migration, gender, development and global care chains, organized as part of a programme funded by the European Commission and implemented by UN Women in three countries. The programme aims to strengthen migrant women’s organizations to effectively advocate for their rights. These efforts contribute to achieving the Sustainable Development Goals, specifically SDG 8, which aims to protect labour rights and promote safe and secure work environments, particularly for women migrants, and SDG 10, which aims to reduce inequality, including through the use of social protection and well-managed migration policies.

Read more stories in the “From where I stand…” editorial series.

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When Ji-hyun Park fled North Korea for China, she was forced into marriage, separated from her child and imprisoned in a labor camp. Today, she uses her story to raise awareness of human rights abuses back home.

In 1998, when North Korea was in the grip of a famine that eventually killed up to 1 million people, Ji-hyun Park’s father told her to take her brother and run. Park, then 30, escaped to neighboring China, today the destination for many North Koreans fleeing the repressive, abusive regime back home. However, she became the victim of trafficking. Forced into marriage, she lived as little more than a slave, under the constant threat of being repatriated to North Korea.

The United Nations Commission of Inquiry on Human Rights in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea estimated in 2014 that a large percentage of women and girls who enter China unaccompanied end up being trafficked for forced marriage or sex work. Those who are caught by Chinese police are often sent back to North Korea, where they face certain punishment – including torture and arbitrary detention in labor camps. Women have also reported being subjected to forced abortion, infanticide and rape. Even after their release, many can’t find a way to survive in North Korea, so they return to China despite the risks.

Park spoke with Women & Girls Hub about her ordeal, the nightmares that haunt her and the responsibility she feels to share her story.

Women & Girls Hub: How did you became a victim of human trafficking?

Ji-hyun Park: In February 1998, I left North Korea for the first time because of the famine. My uncle died of starvation. My father was sick, but there was no medicine available at the hospital. He told me to leave the country with my brother. I left my father dying alone in a cold room, because those were his last wishes.

In China, the broker who was helping us said, “If you want to save your brother you need money, and for money you have to marry a Chinese man.” At first I said, I can’t marry a Chinese man. “If you can’t, we just repatriate you and your brother,” he said. I was so scared. If we were repatriated, my brother would be sent to a prison camp or be executed. So I didn’t have a choice.

One day, five or six people came to look at me. Different ages get different prices – younger women in their 20s got 10,000 yuan ($1,500), but women in their 30s get 5,000–8,000 yuan ($800–1,200). At that time I was 30, so the price I got was not so high. I was sold for 5,000 Chinese yuan ($800). But I couldn’t save my brother. We were separated because the Chinese man didn’t need my brother.

Women & Girls Hub: What was life like after you were married off?

Park: When North Korean women married Chinese men, we were not family. We were just slaves.

When I arrived at the village, I was so surprised. [The house] was very dirty, the toilet was collapsed and the smell came into the house. It was very difficult for me.

Women & Girls Hub: What happened to you in China? How long were you there?

Park: I lived there for almost six years. My son was born in 1999. After two years, I was arrested by the police of the village. They sometimes arrested North Korean women because they needed money. But my Chinese family didn’t have money. So the police said, “You can sell your son because many people want a son.” I was shocked. My husband wanted to sell my son. I really hated him. I wanted to leave him. But when I went back to ask the broker for help, he told me, “You have no identity card, so you can’t rent a house and you can’t leave your husband.”

In 2004, I was arrested and repatriated to North Korea. My son was left in China. I spent six months in a North Korean labor camp, and my leg was hurt [due to gangrene]. The police said I couldn’t survive with that leg, so they released me. I found myself homeless and helpless, begging on the street and seeking refuge at an orphanage for street children. A herbal doctor saw me on the street and started to secretly treat my leg and eventually the gangrene healed.

My son was in China, so I eventually found another broker. We walked 400km [250 miles] across the mountains. My leg was not fully recovered, but I thought only about my son. We arrived late at night at the house. The broker helped me contact my son. I was so lucky; this time the broker was very kind.

Women & Girls Hub: Was your plan to try to make a life in China?

Park: I couldn’t stay in China. I could have been repatriated again and maybe this time I would never see my son. We wanted to go to South Korea, so we went to the embassy in Beijing, but they didn’t help us. In 2007, we went to Mongolia, but this was not successful. In 2008 [it was] a dangerous time before the Beijing Olympics; China was repatriating all illegals. I was very scared, but I met a Korean-American pastor who helped us.

Women & Girls Hub: You eventually ended up in the U.K. How is the trauma you went through still affecting you?

Park: In my dreams, I see the cold room where my father took his last breath as I left North Korea. I also see my younger sibling, who was repatriated back to North Korea. I dream of being chased by Chinese authorities, of being repatriated and sent to forced labor. After these terrible dreams, my body is sweaty and I am filled with guilt, of not being able to stay with my father for his passing, and for my brother. These dreams I have every night.

Women & Girls Hub: Did you receive counseling or help to cope with what you had gone through?

Park: No one helped us. I still have problems with nightmares and my leg. When I went to the hospital in the U.K. about my injured leg and explained what happened, they could not understand. North Korean women suffer from many different health problems.

At first, I didn’t speak about my experience. Then I was part of a short documentary, but I hid my name and face. But then my son said, “Mommy, I want to ask you one question. Why did you abandon me?” When I was arrested and repatriated, he was five years old. The Chinese told him I had abandoned him. He said he counted to 100 days, but I didn’t come back. I didn’t know this.

Women & Girls Hub: But you are telling your story now…

Park: I’ve changed my mind about speaking out: I am now telling the world about North Korean human rights issues, especially for North Korean women.

Many North Korean women don’t talk about their human trafficking experience because they think it is very shameful. Some make new families in South Korea or in the U.K. They can’t share their past.

Many North Korean refugees live in the U.K. but have language problems, so I am helping with language courses and refugee issues. Myself, I am still learning about human rights. We didn’t know anything about rights in North Korea. As I was a teacher in North Korea, my dream is to teach again. Last week, I enrolled on a teaching course. I’ve found my freedom and happiness in the U.K.

This article originally appeared on Women & Girls Hub. For weekly updates, you can sign up to the Women & Girls Hub email list.

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There is a Stefan Zweig revival underway, and it is timely given the June 23 British referendum on whether to remain within the European Union. If Zweig is unknown to you, here are the essentials:

He was born in Austria in 1881, and in the 1920s and 1930s, he was one of the most translated and popular authors in the world. Zweig was a journalist who also wrote novels, plays, and biographies. As Hitler was coming to power, he fled Europe and ultimately settled in Petropolis, Brazil, where he and his wife committed suicide on February 22, 1942, distraught at what they thought was the irreversible collapse of European civilization.

In 2013, in its prestigious Pleiades edition, the French publisher Gallimard released a two-volume edition of Zweig’s collected works totaling more than 4,300 pages. His memoir, “The World of Yesterday,” remains in print in several languages and is widely considered one of the best 20th Century autobiographies.

New York Review Books has reprinted several of Zweig’s works (“Journey Into the Past,” “Confusion,” “The Post Office Girl,” “Beware of Pity,” and “Chess Story“) as NYRB Classics, and in 2013, George Prochnik published “The Impossible Exile: Stefan Zweig at the End of the World,” which describes Zweig’s final years in Brazil and the 1942 double suicide. Film director Wes Anderson credits Zweig with inspiring his 2014 hit, “The Grand Budapest Hotel.”

I have read and enjoyed several of Zweig’s works, but what recently captured my attention was a 2016 collection of unpublished essays and lectures edited by Pushkin Press with the title, “Messages from a Lost World: Europe on the Brink.” The works range from 1914 (“The Sleepless World,” about the gradual slide into world war) to 1941 (“In this Dark Hour,” about Hitler and the European war). Also in this splendid collection is a 1934 draft lecture on “The Unification of Europe.” Written more than eight decades ago, Zweig’s remarks are worth considering as Britain decides its future relationship with Europe.

Well before the work of Jean Monnet and the European Coal and Steel Community – the predecessor of the Common Market and today’s European Union – Zweig made a case for a unified Europe, based on “compelling logic:”

All the leading heads of state, intellectuals, artists, and scholars have been convinced for some time now that only a slender allegiance by all states to a superior governing body could relieve current economic difficulties, reduce the propensity for war and eliminate anxieties aroused by the threat of conflict, which are themselves one of the primary causes of the economic crisis. Our sole common task, then, is now to shift our ideas from the sphere of sterile discussion to one of creative action.

Zweig wrote for elite audiences, and he knew that such a union would have to battle the headwinds of the existing nation-state structure – what he described as “many centuries of nationalism’s tried and tested formula.” He realized that “the sacro-egoism of nationalism will always cut more keenly through to the average man than the sacro-altruism of the European ideal.”

Today, the European Union’s massive, unwieldy, and often unwelcome bureaucracy in Brussels is sometimes cited as a reason either for not joining or for leaving the EU, and the heart of the current debate remains what Zweig foresaw so many decades ago: whether a supranational body that might infringe upon concepts of state sovereignty would ever become accepted by European citizens. As conceived, the EU clearly won the hearts and minds of Europe’s elites. What is at stake now is whether that ideal still appeals to average citizens worried about globalization, immigration, and perceived limits to national sovereignty.

When Zweig wrote this speech (intended for delivery in Paris but never given), Woodrow Wilson’s League of Nations had become ineffective, Hitler had been appointed German Chancellor the year before, and the Weimar Republic had collapsed. Zweig realized the inherent fragility of the idea of European unification – “an isolated bloom which blossoms and then fades as quickly without anyone even noticing” — but at the same time he offered an eloquent, idealistic rationale for its creation:

“Each city and each country will forge links with others, and that competition which so often translates into hostility we would steer into an amicable rivalry of hospitable communal spirit.”

In a 1932 essay on “European Thought in Its Historical Development,” Zweig identified the “conscious awareness of an isolationist element to the national soul.” A mere five years after Zweig’s 1934 plea for European unity, Europe once again descended into total war, as nationalism and ethnic hatred triumphed and led to the deaths of tens of millions of soldiers and civilians.

At stake in the “Brexit” decision is more than whether Britain remains in the European Union. At loose once again in the world is a resurgent, hunkered-down nationalism that sees the future as a zero sum game of “us versus them,” rather than as a cooperative enterprise in which countries work together to promote economic growth and higher living standards.

The European experiment is by no means perfect: its monetary structure was flawed from the outset, and its execution has, at times, been clumsy and heavy-handed. But the lofty ideals articulated by Zweig in the 1930s remain relevant to this month’s decision by the British public. Globalization and technology are driving nations closer. Zweig’s early ideals of European union fit perfectly with today’s environment that rewards cooperation, collaboration, and community.

Zweig reminds us that “[w]hat ultimately counts are the spiritual values a single nation can offer humanity as a whole.” His high-mindedness also led him to see European nations as having “a responsibility to safeguard the spiritual direction of the world.” This responsibility also entailed choosing between “nationalism” and “supranationalism.” What was at stake for Zweig was nothing less than “the intellectual unity of Europe”:

All our differences and our petty jealousies must be put aside in order that we might achieve the single aim of faithfulness towards our past, and of our community-based future.

When Europe went almost totally dark during the bleakest moments of World War II, it was Britain that mustered the courage and the fortitude to oppose aggression, to inspire resistance, and to preserve hope for an entire continent. While there are many important business and economic issues at stake on June 23, there are also at stake the important principles of union articulated by Stefan Zweig. Europe faces another brink, and to paraphrase a former British Prime Minister in a different context, this is no time for Britain to go wobbly.

Charles Kolb served as Deputy Assistant to the President for Domestic Policy from 1990-1992 in the George H.W. Bush White House. He was president of the French-American Foundation – United States from 2012-2014 and president of the Committee for Economic Development from 1997-2012.

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In the Chromebook world, a 1080p 15″ display and 4GB of RAM qualify as high-end luxuries, but this Acer Chromebook 15 is priced like its smaller, slower brethren today. Obviously, there are better computers out there, but this would be great for watching movies and getting work done on the road.

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