Ali Sachay Rizvi's Noha Performances

Ali Sachay Rizvi is a famed noha performer who has performed worldwide, including places like Pakistan, Houston, Maryland, and Washington D.C. He is the son of the poet and noha-performer Sachay Bhai.

I have found his performances because of this year's Muharram commemorations. I searched randomly on Youtube and was captivated by the dignity and rhythms of his recitals. The video accompanied me during journeys along the public transportation system. Zeba saw my share of his performance on faceb00k and informed me of his father's work. She also mentioned attending his majalis march in D.C. during her work trip and we both praised his graceful sonic effects.

As a historian, very few look into sonic resources. Sounds of Islam is one exception by an anthropologist. Many histories of Islam also do not address South Asian contributions to the spirit of Islam (which is also a reference to South Asian thinker Iqbal's book). This post seeks to do some justice; but it is by no means complete. Sadly my Urdu is not up to par for translations.

Whenever the baby or child cried during our majalis, Shaikh Imranali Panjwani of Gujarat (by way of England) would recite salawat and sometimes it could calm down the child. That is the amazing effect of vibrations. 

Here are some of the Mr. Ali Sachay Rizvi's Urdu noha performances in latam sessions, mostly uploaded by Hyder Rizvi.

For Bibi Zahra  (a.s.)

For Bibi Fatima (a.s.)

For Abbas (a.s.)

2012

Text for this noha listed below; copied from Noha Writeups

Bazaar may binte ali deti thi sada bhai

abbas kahan ho

sar par bhi nahi chadar laakhon hai tamashayi

abbas kahan ho

abbas abbas….

is aalam e ghurbat may koi bhi nahi mera

hai khaak e safar sar par aur raat rasan basta

pardes may zainab ko taqdeer kahan laayi

abbas kahan ho

abbas abbas….

paywast hai naize may sar shaahe shaheedan ka

ye dekh ke ay ghazi phat-ta hai mera seena

marjayegi is gham may shabbir ki maajayi

abbas kahan ho

abbas abbas….

darya ke kanare tum aada se gaye ladne

sab dekh rahi thi mai darwazaye qaima se

ab jung hamari bhi dekho to zara bhai

abbas kahan ho

abbas abbas….

dunya ka sahara hai baba jo hamara hai

mushkil may magar maine tumko hi pukaara hai

ab dhoondti hai tumko bhaiya meri beenayi

abbas kahan ho

abbas abbas….

be-monis o yawar hai batlao kidhar jaaye

is tarha to jeene se behtar hai ke mar jaye

faryaad kare kis se hoti nahi sunwaayi

abbas kahan ho

abbas abbas….

ay mere jari meri imdad ko aajao

maanga hai kaneezi may zaalim ne sakina ko

hai waqt qayamat ka masoom hai ghabrayi

abbas kahan ho

abbas abbas….

ahmed ki nawasi ka yasir yehi noha tha

na bhai bache mere na koi bacha beta

ab jeeke karoongi kya gar maut nahi aayi

abbas kahan ho

abbas abbas….

For Bibi Sakina

Tewar wohi shabab wohi baakpan tamam (urdu lyrics listed below)

A non-latam poetry recital

Art Project on White(-passing) Privilege

As I am interacting with more and more immigrants in the East Coast, some common themes emerge: 1) peer group competition; 2) relative access to white privilege. It is partly due to the fact that we do not have access to many resources in general. Thus, we often appeal to our ethnic communities and are aware of how each person survives in white-supremacist America. But people who can sometimes pass as white also access that form of white privilege or white-passing privilege. This is an art project that has been born out of these themes.

From Wikipedia 

White privilege (or white skin privilege) is the societal privilege that in some countries benefits white people over non-white people, particularly if they are otherwise under the same social, political, or economic circumstances. 

One person who exercised white privilege while also claiming ethnic membership, for example, is Mahmoud "Al-Astoria". The last name is not his real last name since I have decided to take into account that he was once a friend of my partner Walid. Walid does not want to disclose his last name.

He uses his ethnic resources as well as his ability to pass as white to leverage his road to success in America. Such contradictions have led to many people's cynicism in regards to the label "people of color." I still find this label useful for progressive political mobilization, and hopefully, this project can keep some of the people in this community accountable.

Adrian Qian. "Certificate #1." Digital Media. 2019.

Thus, I have written this certificate to convey my dismay at such survival practices, since I am a person of color who will not pass as white in all visual interactions. (My voice, on the other hand, with its East Coast accent, can pass as white.) I also acknowledge the fluidity of race, and thus I do not invoke any authority on this subject other than my personal name in the certificate.

This is also subject to context because not everyone wants to have the white-passing privilege. In the Arab American context is it especially important to talk about this aspect because 1) some white(-passing) Muslims have dominated discussions on Islam in America and 2) there are some Arab immigrants who use the N-word in conversations. My professor, who is Lebanese American, has also used the N-word in class. One of my classmates voiced her concern with her peers, but I do not think any other steps were taken.

This documentary "Not Quite White" by Jamil Khoury is also useful for understanding the long historical process of Arab American identity formation.

Some personal factors are also involved in making this certificate, and some of you may detect my spite. Simply, Mahmoud decided to invite us over for lunch. We traveled 5 hours from Boston and was 20 minutes late. He ended up ditching us altogether and was spotted eating lunch instead at Walid's old workplace in Astoria, NY.

Retracing the Uyghur Identity in Chinese / East Turkestan

This is a paper I wrote for a graduate history course taught by Prof. Ayesha Jalal at Tufts University in 2017. Prof. Jalal encouraged me to write on this subject and I am grateful for her interest. I have not edited it significantly since I submitted it. All mistakes are my own.

I had my own reservations of sharing my findings then; things in Turkestan have exacerbated significantly since my writing of this paper. As a non-Muslim Han Chinese who is in solidarity with Uyghur aspirations for autonomy, I am feeling increasingly powerless and voiceless. I am drained from feeling sad and angry from news of the concentration camps, such as the recent Vice documentary on how the Chinese communist state systematically separates Uyghur children from their relatives and parents, many who have left East Turkestan for better opportunities.

I am also disappointed at the many nations and international bodies who have not denounced this well-documented atrocity. Some of the protesters of Hong Kong this summer expressed their solidarity with the Uyghurs in concentration camps and are a delightful exception. While the cause for discrimination and torture against Uyghurs in East Turkestan ("Xinjiang") is rooted in some of the racist attitudes and/or ignorance of religious practices, it is important to remember that the current system uses Uyghur men and women to torture Uyghur men and women, just as Han Chinese are used by the system to other police Han Chinese. While the degrees of suffering under the current regime vary, the flagrant denial of human rights can be felt by any person in China (as well as Hong Kong) under the current regime. Still, I think it is appropriate to use the word "cultural genocide" for the present situation of East Turkestan.

from @AbdugheniSabit on Twitter: "More Hong Kong protesters who occupied the Legislative Council spraypainted the below to show who they stand in solidarity with #Uyghurs."
The graffiti text says: "China will pay for its crimes against Uyghur Muslims."

This paper has been written with care and compassion, though I am aware that the findings can upset anyone, as history often does. I have never visited "Xinjiang" or East Turkestan. Still, I am publishing it here in hopes that this paper can create a sense of continuity for whoever is interested in this area's history, regardless of ethnicity or religion. The former title I submitted was "Retracing the Uyghur Identity in Chinese Turkestan" but I have modified it for this blog post.

Sketch of Malden's Minorities

I moved to malden from arlington because I found that there were more non-white people on occasion of visiting a friend around two years ago. He warned me that it might unsafe to travel at night, even though I enjoyed the commuting atmosphere. It is quite interesting to contrast the malden scenery every day with that of my school, both of which are at higher altitudes. I almost feel self-conscious when I press stop on the bus around the private university.

Later I realized that despite the new immigrant population, my new neighborhood that bordered the other town, melrose, still had many white inhabitants. Some may even stretch back to the first white settlers. (Malden's history as a settlers' town precedes Boston.) Many were conscious of their decreasing numbers. They made their presence known by hanging American flags and letting their dogs hover in the backyard; sometimes the dogs barked at me. I also responded sometimes with Arabic slurs. English failed to serve this purpose, since I did not intend to address their owners. Some parked their trucks on the street while others (often new to the neighborhood like me) hid theirs in a car garage. One old white male neighbor parked his brown pickup in a fenced orchard and burned wood during cold days, seemingly defiant of state-owned institutions like National Grid. His American flag even had a post. The fence seemed very sturdy against the encroaching chinese immigrants like me, as well as for the wildlife animals. His wife sometimes opened and closed the gate for him.

I was also defiant because I did not enjoy climbing up the hill to where I lived every day. Still, this regimen helped me from any sickness during my short year stay. My immediate neighbors are also ethnic chinese, but often strove to maintain their superiority in comparison to us female neighbors, due to their male gender. They did not care what I was studying. After learning about fengshui, I begin to understand their attitude more specifically related to the less-than-ideal housing conditions we shared.

Waitts Mount (image from the internet)

I often thought of pulling pranks on the neighbors when I was especially bitter about racial capitalism and the barking dogs. I also muse about who among them own a gun. The nearby settler landmark--waitts mount--is a reminder of how guns established the place and delineated property. I learned at waitts mount that the First Baptist Church has been on the map since the founding in the mid-1600s, and now primarily serves immigrant communities. Americans suffering from homeless conditions also appear during days of food handouts.

Taste of India (image from Foursquare)

We have no immediate black neighbors. One African American family lives at the edge of the hill and is occluded from direct view by a car-path ledge. They also own a small dog that barks. Caribbean stores and the french-speaking seventh adventist church for Haitians also male up for the otherwise lack of black presence. My favorite place to eat--an Indian restaurant--is also nearby. I like it partly because of the food, and partly because the same chef usually plays videos on TV.

Walid has been more mellow than me, even though he also feels tired walking up the hill. He admired some of my neighbors' cars. The flora also adds a beautiful touch this summer, though we are careful to distinguish which flora is of whose private property. 

Ramadan 2019: Day 25 - Eid al-Fitr

I will skip writing about some days, partly because I am lazy, and partly because I want to discuss the feelings of the end right now. I usually did not have a lot of opportunities for making meaning with others in previous endings of school or relationships. Eid is very special in that sense because it is a public celebration of the end of an intimate matter related to the body and soul. Astrology appeals to me for the same reason, because some humans become aware of the lunar calendar and celestial order through astrology as well. The lunar calendar of Chinese Han culture did not make a very deep impression on me prior to the discovery of Islamic months and astrology.

On Day 24, Khalid, Walid's brother, called us and Walid told him about my day of fasting. Khalid has two sons, who are very cute in their different ways. He recently went through a divorce, and I was curious to see that he was still wearing his wedding ring. He reminded me of my parents' experiences, even though I know very little of either case. He asked if I was happy being with Walid, and I said sometimes. He said it's ok, we are also only sometimes happy with Walid. I enjoyed his self-deprecating humor and openness to my emotions. He told us that he was learning English because he wants to communicate with me when I visit their house.



Day 25 Thursday

Stills from the film Shadow Play (2018) directed by Lou Ye

In the afternoon, I watched a Chinese thriller film, The Shadow Play. The Chinese name of the film is also adapted from a famous Mandarin song, "there is a cloud made up of rain, floating in the wind." The Taiwanese woman A-yun, whose name means cloud, made a fortune in mainland China during the prime years of her youth. Her untimely death despite her wish to return to Taiwan also reminded me of the lack of ritual that can mediate my coming and going from mainland China to the U.S. In contrast, I really appreciate the different Islamic ways of mediating different forms of existence and relationships to place, such as the verse read before traveling.


Afterward, I went to the big mosque because Walid told me that there would be fish in the evening. I sat at my usual corner and continued to read Empire of Guns. It was my first time visiting there without wearing a hijab. Walid later introduced me to his co-worker's fiancee, who is a practicing convert. She told me that the mosque during Night of the Decree (laylat-ul-qadr) was fully packed. We both were curious about each other and talked for over an hour. She started her studies in Boston last year and lived along the green MBTA line. I also met one of her friends, a student from Turkey. But in the end, the curiosity seemed to be largely intellectual and felt like fieldwork. She did not seem to have had many Asian American friends and was surprised that I could be both Asian American and Han Chinese. It is also partly due to the fact that fewer women of color engage in the public sphere. She seemed to be self-conscious about her origins and her single-parent mother, as was I. I congratulated her on Eid in advance because I knew I would not see her before then. The fish was a little bland but I was grateful for the free food.


Day 26 Friday - Eid al-Fitr (Tuesday for some, Wednesday for others)

On Saturday, Walid and I bought some more food and a blender from C0stco. He thought he might give the soon-to-be-wed couple a blender as a gift as well.

I received my first issue of the International Journal of Middle Eastern Studies in the mail today. I joined their membership recently because I will present at the upcoming conference in New Orleans. I was very happy to read Dr. Max Weiss's article, which called for critical Ba'ath studies, rather than reproducing the "war-mongering" rhetoric of the post-2003 era.

On Sunday, I watched an interesting video about feminine energy. Walid and I walked to the park nearby to bathe in the sunlight and I tried to discuss some of my spiritual goals in life. He and I talked, looked at animals and also heard some children play nearby. He also climbed a tree, which I thought was quite cool and funny.

During the following days, Walid and I continued to have conflicts over our interpersonal relationships. We ate his last iftar together and he sang an Arabic song jokingly, that said, "I wish Ramadan was longer." I mourned June 4th, which was the 30th anniversary of the Tiananmen Massacre. Walid celebrated Eid with the mosque community while working on that day. He started work at 5am for necessary preparations. He met Omar, from Taha collective, and wrote a Faceb00k post about it. The other people from Taha collective started celebrating Eid mostly on the later day, Wednesday.

I was glad and relieved that it was over. I felt overwhelmed with the connotations of the holiday and Walid's work schedule. I wished Ahmad and some other close friends "Eid Mubarak", but not as much as I had expected when this month first. I was happy to see snaps of people in Gulf countries all dressed up, hanging out, giving children money and getting new haircuts. I, meanwhile, gave and received zero gifts.

On the bright side, at least I did not have to call any relative I did not want to call:

from a meme group on Faceb00k

Reading the following tweets saved me from more bitterness--

I would like to congratulate the Muslim world on the occasion of #EidAlFitr. I ask Allah to bless your eid & grant you your wishes. On the day of Eid families exchange gifts, however the best gift one can receive is from God. Continue your prayers and devotion even after Ramadan.

— Sayed Saleh Qazwini (@SalehQazwini) June 4, 2019

Eid Mubarak! Praying for all those celebrating under occupation, in refugee camps, in detention centres, incarceration, those who are homeless, stateless, community and family-less, those in hospital, unable to receive medical aid, undocumented, or persecuted anywhere today!

— Suhaiymah Manzoor-Khan (@thebrownhijabi) June 4, 2019

I wondered to Walid, why I only hear from people who are distributing food to the poor, but not poor people receiving food offerings during Ramadan (except me)? The good news is that I finally successfully submitted all documents for food stamps received news from the Massachusetts DTA on this issue. I was grateful that this unusual schedules ended and Walid's non-Ramadan schedule is more similar to my summer schedule. Walid ate plenty of dates at his workplace and perhaps will return to his non-date diet, which usually lacks fruit. I also finished my box of dry dates that I bought a long time back during the last days of Ramadan, 2019.

Doraemon themed Eid al-Fitr Celebration graphic. Interesting to see the Japanese anime characters in Islamic clothes....

Ramadan 2019: Day 22-24

Day 22 Monday

In the morning, Ian made some annoying comments about my snaps of the ICE protest and mentioned for Brexit. I was perplexed by how he made the connections between "problems" at "home" and problems in the U.S.
At 2pm, Walid accompanied me on the bus headed school. Few people appeared on the street during this holiday. Walid departed for work while I went to the department and printed some forms. I met Michael, who was still working on his never-ending paper, and we discussed issues like his favored online community--Reddit. He asked if I was free to take over his plant. I obliged and followed him while he discussed his non-South Asian advisor with me. We saw his roommate Mackenzie packing to go on her vacation just as we approached his house.

I heated my food and ate some at his place. I also borrowed some books from him. The downside was that he continued to make weary comments about his relativistic attitude toward historical research and fussing over his future. Some interesting conclusions we reached: 1. Russian socialist architecture (and the Chinese derivative) are ableist and often carry eugenic assumptions about the productive proletariat.  2. High school history education in both China and the U.S. are much more patriotic than their college versions.

Later, I left for home on a cab with the plant while I gave some reproductive advice over the phone to a person in need. I remembered the restfulness worthy of any holiday and enjoyed watching the sunset from my room. Walid arrived at my place after work at 11pm. We listened to some tracks by Belafeesh, and Walid knew some of the music quite well. We also listened to Surat Sakinah and I thought about the question about why the nonbelievers do not have access to Allah's tranquility.  I drank pomegranate juice and mentally prepared for---

Day 23 Tuesday - My day of fasting

Walid and I woke up for suhoor at 3am. Walid prepared for us sweet fateer, jam, and told me a trick: ignore the feeling of being full... I later found out that we could have stopped eating at a later time, which was what I did last year, but Walid preferred to stop before fajr.

We watched the film Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. I found it quite depressing and joked that the film could have only been shot before the social media era since nothing is truly erasable from the internet.

During the afternoon, we went to buy some marinated chili (harissa) from the Arab shop for only $2.7. We also bought fish and other vegetables from the Super88 market. Walid instructed the man in charge of cutting fish and the other fishermen watched attentively. He expected me to translate and eventually tried.
After arriving back to my place, Walid and I filled out some of the forms despite our fatigue and my dizziness. I felt frustrated, as usual, over the information requested. Walid also read from his book.


When the clock approached 6:30pm, Walid started preparing for the Egyptian dish--sengari fish--for dinner. He learned about the recipe from watching a DIY video on Y0utube. I also busied alongside him as the sous chef. The end result was more watery than he expected, but I liked it since it was closer to the fish I was used to eating. We broke our fast after bismillah at 8:17pm. I ate while my brain was on autopilot. When we finished eating, I sent some of the pics to my grandfather and mom. Tea, among other food items, tasted much better after I broke my fast.


Day 24 Wednesday 

I woke up around 9am and read a very annoying rejection email from an organization. Walid comforted me and said that at least I can spend more time with him.

In the afternoon, I tried going to Zumba but physical conditions prevented me. Walid and I toured around Newbury street and we ventured into an art gallery for the first time. We saw an old French sketch of Egypt for $300. Walid pointed to exactly where he lived on the sketch. I debated whether to drink coffee (in the end I did not). We also browsed at some books in Trident Bookstore. Walid accompanied me back to my place, made the special Syrian apricot drink Qamar-a-din, prepared the thermo-pillow for me, and then left for work. I also missed the last Purifying the Nafs event organized by the Taha Collective, which I planned to attend before.

Captured still from the music video Asrab Shai

In the evening, I visited the big mosque. I saw the green lights shining from the minarets for the first time. Three elderly people walked in front of me. I followed them slowly. Later, I entered the bustling canteen. Walid introduced me to his Egyptian colleague and gave me a plate of mixed pasta and rice. She said hello very warmly. She resembled the ideal Egyptian middle-aged woman, with a very functional headdress, I see on tv sometimes.

I sat in a corner facing the window while Walid busied around with his Kuwaiti colleague. He complained later that he was never scheduled for the same time slot as his Turkistani colleague. He suspected that this was because the management recognized that both of them had good work ethics. Walid later told me that he also made Somali tea with sugar. He was annoyed that I missed it, among other snacks, but I did not mind since I thought that priority for food should be given to those who are fasting.

I also saw the Turkistani man and his wife, among other people coming-and-going around the parking lot or in the canteen. The call to prayer happened and Walid cleared the canteen with his colleague. Some girls sat in the canteen during prayer time as well, which I found comforting. In different contexts, public space meant different things to different people: in Boston, where space is charged for increasingly high rent, I was very grateful to have a warm place to stay, away from the place where I pay for rent. I almost teared up when I first sat down and felt the warmth of people relaxing and chatting.

After the prayer, Walid returned and he continued to serve people, including some black kids. I sipped the coffee prepared by Walid. I finished the book Being Muslim and wrote down some of my thoughts. I overheard one of the guest imams lecturing about the importance of knowing that one's actions are always being watched. I found the overall message of his sermon to be quite confusing since one could easily use that in a pro-surveillance context. I also reflected on my own position of watching others (including Walid) and being watched in the canteen. I saw a man holding a cushion in his hand, and I realized that Walid did not joke when he said people camped at the mosque during the Night of the Decree (laylat-ul-qadr).

I waited to give Walid his advil until he told me that he did not need it. Later, the imam delivered 12 raqa'as. I did not know that this was only one segment and thought that he would go on forever.
I used the restroom upstairs; while I was waiting, I saw a Moroccan man cleaning the floors.

At the T station, I went on the wrong train and waited an addition 14 minutes for the next. Two Turkish-speaking girls, one wearing a hijab, arrived on the new train and they were overjoyed with the festivities of Ramadan. I felt lucky to participate in the events more than last year, despite my initial apprehensions.

Ramadan 2019: Day 19-21

Day 19 Friday

Walid visited me but we did not arrive at the same understanding. I lost my temper and said "STFU." He left my place in anger.
In the afternoon, he asked after my wellbeing. I still was not ready for reconciliation, especially given his adamant refusal to clean some areas of his living space. I went to my university and cleared some of my class materials. I met Michael and he complained about his visa application for Russia. A lot of his frustration seemed to stem from his idea that all plans are connected; in my experience, I learned that "real life" hardships imposed by others did not necessarily hinder my scholarly achievements. But perhaps Micheal will only find that part out through his own experience.

Similarly, academic support is only one aspect of success. Academic book acknowledgments sometimes over-do the whole "naming those who have supported me;" it is important to remember that even people who have little or no support from other scholars have also written stellar scholarship. Perhaps a page in a book called "those who have trolled or backstabbed me" would be an even more indicative sign of academic tenacity.

In the evening, I shared some of the electoral successes from Dalit politicians in India on faceb00k, as well as a nice Nipsey Hussle song. The post-production happened after his untimely death.

Day 20 Saturday

I finished Zumba--the first time I went to exercise in the morning, probably since I left India. I felt lightheaded afterward. On my way back, I still had to fight with Walid over when he will clean his living space. He finally conceded to clean it. He also visited me in the evening.


In between our fight, I also snapped and retweeted the following uplifting message:

@Kylo_Reine May 25

Today, May 25th, marks 19 years since the Israeli Defense forces withdrew from Lebanese land after 15 years of terrorising it, marking the end of the South Lebanon conflict (1985-2000), when South Lebanon was finally liberated. Happy Liberation Day!

N, a colleague from my university, visited the big mosque with her friend and recognized Walid from my snaps. Walid joked that he became famous because of me. I was not happy with the new prospects that might involve too much of his energy, but I have gradually realized that his new opportunities are good for both of us.

Day 21 Sunday

Our signs

I called Chiansan in the morning and discussed my concern with my role in America's society. He discussed how to view the legal profession in America anthropologically, which I found to be useful. He also told me about his discussions about property ownership with his colleagues. He found the statement "Rent is theft" not radical enough, since, in his opinion, all property is organized around the right to use violence to defend it. I was encouraged by him to attend a vigil for ICE detainees and started to make signs for both Walid and me.


Walid and I met up at Downtown Crossing. We arrived at Andrew station and walked to the crowd that led the others to protest against ICE detention. During our walk to the site where we could see the non-adult detainees, we talked to a peace activist, Glenda, who asked which church did we belong. I fumbled over the words and finally settled on something like "Muslim organization." I did not find an equivalent vocabulary for "ummah" in English at the time. She then tried to make a freedom song with the Arabic word for freedom, "hurriya," which was nice. When we arrived at the place where we could see the detainees, we made eye contact with them as well as some friendly, non-verbal gestures. We chanted some slogans and posed for some photos. I realized that I had met one of the participants, Zeba, at a previous Taha Collective event.

After the protest ended, Omar, Zeba, Walid and I visited a homeless shelter, probably one of the biggest in Boston. Walid and I had passed by this place on the way; it smelled like piss but many people seemed to like hanging out there. Such presence would have otherwise been seen as loitering by private police, such as mall security. I felt uneasy because, like Foucault said, many modern institutions resemble a prison. We were chaperoned by public health officials, who guarded us with silent amusement. Omar did his best to befriend the guards and maintained social distance from the homeless.

Upon leaving, we met Majid. He exclaimed that the timing was wrong. Omar said it is good that you showed up. We went back to the parking lot and took more pictures. Then we parted ways. Zeba was kind enough to drop us off at the South end Whole Foods. We browsed the large selection of fancy things and I ate sample cheese. Other people soon followed my footsteps in eating the samples. When we exited the store, we realized that we had also fought near this site. Yet this day we were in high spirits.

-------

6pm, Walid, Michael and I were on the same green line train headed for Riverside. Our classmate S  invited us to dinner at her suburban home. Despite the quiet look, she shared with us some harrowing stories of being surveilled and disturbed by unknown people. After some conversation in the living room, Walid broke his fast with tea and dates in the kitchen. We started watching S prepare dinner in the backyard.

S did not know I was pescatarian so I ended up eating some unwanted meat. Over dinner, Michael bemoaned the state of affairs of the American public, to which I usually found to be elitist. He also said that South Koreans would not grow as tall as they do now if they did not have milk introduced by the American people. I found such imperialist statements nauseating. Otherwise, the night was lovely and we chatted up till 11pm.

Both Walid and Michael appreciated her energetic dog. We had an interesting conversation on women's virtues and dress codes. Michael and S discussed the lack of funding in our department. He tried to dismiss my participation against ICE protests as "activism" that would interfere with "scholarship," a binary that only those with white privilege invoked to discredit others whose life is at risk for not speaking in defense. ("Your silence will not protect you." - Audre Lorde)
Michael also wanted to make a point about Buddhism and its reliance on "magic," which I found to be very self-centered. (His "rational" "secularism" could not explain "magic," and therefore something had to be categorized as "Buddhism" vis-a-vis "magic.") I tried to argue another point, but he found it irrelevant to his concern. After we left, Michael attempted to share impressions about S, to which I found to be a tiring and distrustful exercise. I tried my best to divert such conversations since some infighting between S and others had already occurred prior to Michael's arrival. Yet he somehow wanted to be "in," without even knowing what it means. Walid and I parted with Michael at Park St.