I spent some quality time last night with Ome. Once again we weren't invited to a night out with the girls, but we could care less because we got into something much better than alcohol and pool at a crowded spot in trendy old town Pasadena. The two of us caught Rabbit-Proof Fence, a powerful and touching film. Then with our ticket stub we got some free ice cream.

The film is based on the true story of Molly Craig, a half-caste Aborigine girl, and her sister and cousin. The three girls, ranging in ages 14 to 8 were forcibly removed from the custody of their mothers and grandmother in Jigalong (a region of Australia) by Mr. Neville (aka "devil"), the Chief Protector of the Aborigines in Australia circa 1940. The girls are removed so that they can learn the ways of the white Australians at a camp 1200 miles away. Here, along with other half-caste children, they're supposed to learn skills to become domestic servants. They're not allowed to speak their native tongue and are forced to attend Christian church services. The three girls, under the leadership and expertise of Molly, escape the camp with the desire to return home? and that's all I'll tell you. Go watch it to find out what happens once the girls are on the run.

When I watched the film I was disgusted at the outright racism of Mr. Devil who firmly believed he was doing the right thing by separating families and forcing these children to essentially become white. He wanted to stamp out the "black" in their skin both figuratively and literally (through marriage in later generations).

It's one thing to see a film about people I really don't have any connection with, but it's another to know someone who's grandparents went through a similar experience in a California boarding school for Navajo children. When D told her story, she got choked up, just as I did when I watched the film.

Sometimes, I think about all the pain my ancestors experienced and I simply hurt. I don't think I can describe it any differently. I can barely understand what it must be like to be an immigrant in a new country, or be forced to travel to a whole other country alone and away from your family to find work. How can I even imagine what it must have been like to see everyone you know dying of disease brought on by strange people who destroyed your temples and exploited your land?

How do we even begin to heal when the pain just doesn't stop?

Me siento: eh
Escuchando: "cheek to cheek" by the starting line

M�s reciente:
Searches - 09.16.05
the big move - 07.29.05
mother and daughter: a comparative analysis - 07.28.05
jardineros y dom�sticas - 07.27.05
tough question - 07.25.05

antes // despu�s